ussia’s expanded invasion of Ukraine brought home the reality that, while we may wish otherwise, war is very much a part of the 21Century. As the world watches, Ukraine is turning the tide—going on the offensive against what was thought to be a far more capable Russian military. The Kremlin’s efforts to stabilize the front against Kyiv’s momentum brings home the reality that the art and science of political and battlefield command are still very much with us. Despite the urgency of reflecting on command, and despite libraries full of analyses doing just this, it remains a complex and opaque a subject, one that many know and can see, but few can master. In his new book “Command,” Sir Lawrence Freedman tells a compelling story of modern command, one that holds deep lessons for politicians and militaries alike, for the crises of today and the conflicts of tomorrow.
Freedman is one of those rare writers who demands to be read. He is, perhaps, one of the finest living historians of the intersection of politics, strategy, and military affairs. His incisive analysis and eminently readable prose illuminate the complexities of high politics and battlefield trenches. “Command” only serves to reinforce his position. (In the interests of full disclosure, I did have the distinct honor of taking one of his seminars at King’s College London—though I suspect I left far less of an impact on him and the program than he did on myself and my thinking.)
The diversity of the battlefields onto which he takes readers is sublime. It truly is a tour de horizon from Korea to the Falklands and into Ukraine, today. Along the way he explores Vietnam and Algeria, the former East Pakistan, the Congo, and Chechnya. It is this diversity of settings and conflicts that is perhaps most enjoyable. I inevitably found myself hopping from chapter to chapter (undoubtedly to Sir Lawrence’s chagrin when he reads this), exploring this theater and that, devouring a chapter on Afghanistan before jumping back to the French experience of Vietnam and Algeria.
While Freedman crafts a history of the intersection of politics and war, he also—perhaps unintentionally—crafts a history of the modern world since the Korean War. The flashpoints of history and the major geopolitical upheavals across the globe are all told through the critical lens of leadership on, from, and through the battlefield. Along the way he explores the complexities of civil-military relations (and what happens when they break down), the challenges of managing international coalitions, and the transformation of modern warfare up through the Global War on Terror.
Even while discussing crises that are fairly well known, such as Korea and the Cuban Missile Crisis, he finds novel angles to explore and depths to plumb. His exploration of the naval angle of the standoff between Moscow in Washington in 1962 is particularly fascinating—how the rules of engagement were developed, how the Navy sought to assert its grip over the crisis and independence from the civilian chain of command, and what was known and unknown about the possibilities of escalation via nuclear torpedo. There are innumerable lessons here for the crisis of today (Russia and Ukraine), and the risks of future war over Taiwan with China. Indeed, it is the accumulation of moves and countermoves, signals and misunderstood intentions, and incomplete information that causes states to climb the escalatory ladder. Command in crisis will forever be very much a human endeavor with all of the attendant strengths and weaknesses.
Reading the section on the Falklands is particularly illuminating. That this section is a standout is unsurprising. Freedman did, after all, author the official history of the Falklands War. For all of the attention on Russia’s war in Ukraine and the lessons it holds for a potential conflict with China over Taiwan, one can’t help but wonder if there is more to be learned from the fight in the South Atlantic. Indeed there are striking similarities: unclear geopolitical red lines and the need to demonstrate political resolve for domestic and international audiences; exceedingly distant lines of communication (and inconsistent communication at that), and logistics; fighting an adversary who is on the doorstep of the territory in question; surface combatants against submarine assets; complex air operations and questions of air defense; and an authoritarian junta’s system of command and control levied against that of a liberal western democracy.
Naturally the parallels are not perfect. The technology of warfare has fundamentally transformed in the intervening 30-plus years. That evolution in computing and communicating power has changed the speed of war and the pressures of political and military command. The scale of the fight between Washington and Beijing over Taipei is markedly different than London’s war against Buenos Aires. The boundaries of the war will not be limited to the South China Sea as the economic, financial, and political ramifications will swiftly be felt globally.
His exploration of the war in Ukraine pre-2022 is very insightful, especially alongside his other book “Ukraine and the Art of Strategy.” In “Command” he highlights the bottom-up nature of a good element of the agitation for Crimean annexation in 2014, something onto which the Kremlin seized for its own designs. Here he explores the role of political entrepreneurs such as Igor Girkin in stirring up this sentiment, as well as the Kremlin’s own role in this process. Yet, the expanded section on Ukraine post-February of this year feels a touch premature—as though Freedman’s editors were pushing to include as much as possible with regard to what has transpired since February of this year before the book went to print. There is still much that is unknown about the war’s conduct and indeed its outcome. While much is divinable from the preliminary contours of the war—Russia’s abysmal performance, Ukraine’s superb defense, offense, and increasing momentum—it is too early to cast judgment on the ultimate performance of Kyiv’s and Moscow’s battlefield and strategic command.
Will the Kremlin be able to stabilize the front and consolidate its gains with a partial mobilization, finding some measure of victory in not losing? Will Ukraine continue its marked successes? How much are those successes predicated on Kyiv’s offense versus Moscow’s poor defense? Will the West’s political resolve remain sustainable as winter descends on Europe and elections are held in the United States? Indeed, in the main the Russia sections are the relative weakest of this otherwise exceptional book.
Reading “Command,” I wanted there to be more Freedman. His brevity in covering the case studies allows for greater diversity of theaters of operation, but only a cursory review of the command cultures themselves. To be sure, the reader notes the differences between democratic command structures and the benefits of civil-military relations versus authoritarian systems of control and the attendant “coup-proofing” of the armed forces. At a broad-brush level this demonstrates the benefits of liberal democratic systems over authoritarian orders—something that sadly needs oft-repeating today.
The downside is that there is little opportunity to dive into the complexities of different command cultures and structures. Despite speaking the same language, we do learn that the American and British systems are markedly different, as evidenced by General Wesley Clark’s interactions with General Sir Mike Jackson in Kosovo. Yet, we don’t get a deep look at Russian command in theory versus practice. We see glimpses of the difference between India and Pakistan in the fight over East Pakistan, but here again, the reader wishes Freedman had dived deeper into these waters. His book “Strategy” is a rich and truly indulgent exploration of the history of Western strategy, and “Command” would have been even better had he indulged himself and the reader more of the nuances and complexities of differing command systems.
The discrepancy between theory and practice is vividly on display on the battlefields of Ukraine, as Freedman has taken to his Substack to explain. It will be even more important as the United States looks to a possible conflict with China. Beijing has not fought a major land war since the Sino-Vietnamese War of 1979 and has not fought a major naval engagement in the 20century. For all of the investment in arms and equipment, it is an open question how the People’s Liberation Army and its Navy will operate in a major conflict with the world’s most advanced and capable military. Given the tensions over Taiwan and the potential risks of escalation and unintended consequences, this is a subject of particular importance.
Command, as Freedman illustrates, is truly an art; one that few master, but many manage well. Its mastery requires a fine balance of temperament, sensibility, operational art and performance, politicking, networking, with a not insignificant amount of coup d'œil. This art may become more of a science in the future with machine learning, artificial intelligence, and the kill chain of modern combat becoming nearly instantaneous. Yet an art it will remain. There are some things that will never be automatable and command is one that will remain necessary so long as there are wars.
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From the Cabinet Room to the War Room
Photo by Filip Andrejevic via Unsplash.
November 5, 2022
In his latest book review, Joshua Huminski delves into “Command” by Sir Lawrence Freedman, which tells a compelling story of modern command, one that holds deep lessons for politicians and militaries alike, for the crises of today and the conflicts of tomorrow.
R
ussia’s expanded invasion of Ukraine brought home the reality that, while we may wish otherwise, war is very much a part of the 21Century. As the world watches, Ukraine is turning the tide—going on the offensive against what was thought to be a far more capable Russian military. The Kremlin’s efforts to stabilize the front against Kyiv’s momentum brings home the reality that the art and science of political and battlefield command are still very much with us. Despite the urgency of reflecting on command, and despite libraries full of analyses doing just this, it remains a complex and opaque a subject, one that many know and can see, but few can master. In his new book “Command,” Sir Lawrence Freedman tells a compelling story of modern command, one that holds deep lessons for politicians and militaries alike, for the crises of today and the conflicts of tomorrow.
Freedman is one of those rare writers who demands to be read. He is, perhaps, one of the finest living historians of the intersection of politics, strategy, and military affairs. His incisive analysis and eminently readable prose illuminate the complexities of high politics and battlefield trenches. “Command” only serves to reinforce his position. (In the interests of full disclosure, I did have the distinct honor of taking one of his seminars at King’s College London—though I suspect I left far less of an impact on him and the program than he did on myself and my thinking.)
The diversity of the battlefields onto which he takes readers is sublime. It truly is a tour de horizon from Korea to the Falklands and into Ukraine, today. Along the way he explores Vietnam and Algeria, the former East Pakistan, the Congo, and Chechnya. It is this diversity of settings and conflicts that is perhaps most enjoyable. I inevitably found myself hopping from chapter to chapter (undoubtedly to Sir Lawrence’s chagrin when he reads this), exploring this theater and that, devouring a chapter on Afghanistan before jumping back to the French experience of Vietnam and Algeria.
While Freedman crafts a history of the intersection of politics and war, he also—perhaps unintentionally—crafts a history of the modern world since the Korean War. The flashpoints of history and the major geopolitical upheavals across the globe are all told through the critical lens of leadership on, from, and through the battlefield. Along the way he explores the complexities of civil-military relations (and what happens when they break down), the challenges of managing international coalitions, and the transformation of modern warfare up through the Global War on Terror.
Even while discussing crises that are fairly well known, such as Korea and the Cuban Missile Crisis, he finds novel angles to explore and depths to plumb. His exploration of the naval angle of the standoff between Moscow in Washington in 1962 is particularly fascinating—how the rules of engagement were developed, how the Navy sought to assert its grip over the crisis and independence from the civilian chain of command, and what was known and unknown about the possibilities of escalation via nuclear torpedo. There are innumerable lessons here for the crisis of today (Russia and Ukraine), and the risks of future war over Taiwan with China. Indeed, it is the accumulation of moves and countermoves, signals and misunderstood intentions, and incomplete information that causes states to climb the escalatory ladder. Command in crisis will forever be very much a human endeavor with all of the attendant strengths and weaknesses.
Reading the section on the Falklands is particularly illuminating. That this section is a standout is unsurprising. Freedman did, after all, author the official history of the Falklands War. For all of the attention on Russia’s war in Ukraine and the lessons it holds for a potential conflict with China over Taiwan, one can’t help but wonder if there is more to be learned from the fight in the South Atlantic. Indeed there are striking similarities: unclear geopolitical red lines and the need to demonstrate political resolve for domestic and international audiences; exceedingly distant lines of communication (and inconsistent communication at that), and logistics; fighting an adversary who is on the doorstep of the territory in question; surface combatants against submarine assets; complex air operations and questions of air defense; and an authoritarian junta’s system of command and control levied against that of a liberal western democracy.
Naturally the parallels are not perfect. The technology of warfare has fundamentally transformed in the intervening 30-plus years. That evolution in computing and communicating power has changed the speed of war and the pressures of political and military command. The scale of the fight between Washington and Beijing over Taipei is markedly different than London’s war against Buenos Aires. The boundaries of the war will not be limited to the South China Sea as the economic, financial, and political ramifications will swiftly be felt globally.
His exploration of the war in Ukraine pre-2022 is very insightful, especially alongside his other book “Ukraine and the Art of Strategy.” In “Command” he highlights the bottom-up nature of a good element of the agitation for Crimean annexation in 2014, something onto which the Kremlin seized for its own designs. Here he explores the role of political entrepreneurs such as Igor Girkin in stirring up this sentiment, as well as the Kremlin’s own role in this process. Yet, the expanded section on Ukraine post-February of this year feels a touch premature—as though Freedman’s editors were pushing to include as much as possible with regard to what has transpired since February of this year before the book went to print. There is still much that is unknown about the war’s conduct and indeed its outcome. While much is divinable from the preliminary contours of the war—Russia’s abysmal performance, Ukraine’s superb defense, offense, and increasing momentum—it is too early to cast judgment on the ultimate performance of Kyiv’s and Moscow’s battlefield and strategic command.
Will the Kremlin be able to stabilize the front and consolidate its gains with a partial mobilization, finding some measure of victory in not losing? Will Ukraine continue its marked successes? How much are those successes predicated on Kyiv’s offense versus Moscow’s poor defense? Will the West’s political resolve remain sustainable as winter descends on Europe and elections are held in the United States? Indeed, in the main the Russia sections are the relative weakest of this otherwise exceptional book.
Reading “Command,” I wanted there to be more Freedman. His brevity in covering the case studies allows for greater diversity of theaters of operation, but only a cursory review of the command cultures themselves. To be sure, the reader notes the differences between democratic command structures and the benefits of civil-military relations versus authoritarian systems of control and the attendant “coup-proofing” of the armed forces. At a broad-brush level this demonstrates the benefits of liberal democratic systems over authoritarian orders—something that sadly needs oft-repeating today.
The downside is that there is little opportunity to dive into the complexities of different command cultures and structures. Despite speaking the same language, we do learn that the American and British systems are markedly different, as evidenced by General Wesley Clark’s interactions with General Sir Mike Jackson in Kosovo. Yet, we don’t get a deep look at Russian command in theory versus practice. We see glimpses of the difference between India and Pakistan in the fight over East Pakistan, but here again, the reader wishes Freedman had dived deeper into these waters. His book “Strategy” is a rich and truly indulgent exploration of the history of Western strategy, and “Command” would have been even better had he indulged himself and the reader more of the nuances and complexities of differing command systems.
The discrepancy between theory and practice is vividly on display on the battlefields of Ukraine, as Freedman has taken to his Substack to explain. It will be even more important as the United States looks to a possible conflict with China. Beijing has not fought a major land war since the Sino-Vietnamese War of 1979 and has not fought a major naval engagement in the 20century. For all of the investment in arms and equipment, it is an open question how the People’s Liberation Army and its Navy will operate in a major conflict with the world’s most advanced and capable military. Given the tensions over Taiwan and the potential risks of escalation and unintended consequences, this is a subject of particular importance.
Command, as Freedman illustrates, is truly an art; one that few master, but many manage well. Its mastery requires a fine balance of temperament, sensibility, operational art and performance, politicking, networking, with a not insignificant amount of coup d'œil. This art may become more of a science in the future with machine learning, artificial intelligence, and the kill chain of modern combat becoming nearly instantaneous. Yet an art it will remain. There are some things that will never be automatable and command is one that will remain necessary so long as there are wars.
