ith Russia’s expanded invasion of Ukraine, debates on the art and science of warfare took on not only new urgency, but also increasing centrality in the public consciousness and discussion. As is often the case, insta-pundits emerged, tame journalists were released onto the news networks, and everyone seemingly became an expert overnight on all aspects of conventional warfare. Were these talking heads left to their own devices the damage would be minimal, but the commentary quickly began to crowd out real analysis and expertise.
Finding the proper experts, like Michael Kofman of CNA, became increasingly challenging, and those same experts found themselves spending inordinate amounts of time correcting basic facts and combating the latest issue du jour—winter is coming and the mud will halt operations; the tank is dead, long live the tank; the fixation on the undead tank to the exclusion of breaching equipment and mine-clearing tools; Ukraine needs F-16s; the West’s technology will win the war, etc.
What quickly became apparent is that the general public, and an alarmingly large number of so-called “experts,” lacked proficiency with the basics of warfare and military science. That this is the case is not surprising—the growing gap between the civilian population and those serving in uniform in the United States has steadily grown. That lack of familiarity has consequences though, particularly when elected leaders are ignorant of the complexities of military operations and the public discourse is driven in unhelpful directions.
Mike Martin, a senior fellow in War Studies at King’s College London (a superb institution if I may say so), offers a highly accessible refresher (or introductory) course on the art and science of war in his recently published book “How to Fight a War,” a copy of which was kindly provided by the publisher. Martin serves as a dispassionate advisor to the reader in the model of Niccolò Machiavelli in his “Prince.” It is breezily readable—I finished it on a recent flight from Washington, D.C.—but still possesses a good amount of depth for its intended general audience.
Martin focuses solely on the conventional side of warfare, including cyber operations, in his narrative, eschewing any deep dive into information or non-military aspects of warfare. This is a sensible bounding and allows him to focus on his core subject, rather than attempting to do too much and end up accomplishing too little. Mark Galeotti’s latest book “The Weaponization of Everything” serves as a useful partner book, covering the broader conception of warfare and non-military tools such as sanctions, information, espionage, and economic warfare.
Martin places the intangible elements of warfare up front, in the first third of his book, and it is refreshing. “How to Fight a War” humanizes war, taking a step back from the techno-obsession that characterizes much of the writing on military art and science. He writes of war as a form of violent communication, whether attempting to unseat a dug-in unit on top of a hill or compelling a nation-state to act in a certain way. For the average person, this is perhaps a strange way of thinking about armed conflict, but it is a particularly apt framework.
For Martin, and real military professionals, while the kit is important, it is the software that matters far more than the hardware. Strategy (and intelligence), morale, logistics, and training (all of which have hardware elements to be sure) are often overlooked in favor of the tank, jet, or bomb. While technology does matter, it is not a panacea for bad strategy, the wrong intelligence, or poorly led or trained soldiers—just ask Russia.
The second part of his book focuses on the tangible, hard power, and hardware aspects of war. Spending the bulk of his energy on land war, Martin also explores the naval and air domains of conflict, as well as cyber and weapons of mass destruction. His focus on land war is sensible—it is the theater where conflicts are ultimately decided. He concludes his book by combining the software and the hardware in a titular concluding third—“how to fight a war”—that brings the intangible and tangible together. Here Martin jumps between the tactical, operational, and strategic levels of war, showing readers how (in broad strokes) to carry out military art and science on the battlefield.
The real core strength of Martin’s book is those intangible elements and serves as a good analytical lens through which to look at the war in Ukraine. On strategy, it became increasingly clear that Russia’s strategy was predicated on faulty assumptions of Ukraine’s political situation, military disposition, and the expected support of the people for Russia’s invasion. Equally, the West overestimated Russia’s military capabilities and underestimated Ukraine’s by comparison. The West’s analysts (me included) expected a far better performance from Russia’s military—certainly not to the level of Moscow’s cheerleaders, but equally expecting more than the level of military incompetence quickly shown by the Kremlin’s generals.
This is closely tied to the respective morale of Russia and Ukraine. Many of Russia’s soldiers were unaware they were invading Ukraine as it appears that the decision to expand the invasion was closely held by Putin and his inner circle, and not unveiled until the last moment. Russian conscripts, prison recruits, and other assorted soldiers do not hold a candle in terms of morale to Ukraine’s men and women in uniform and under arms. Defending one’s homeland and national identity is far greater a motivator than Moscow’s narrative of de-Nazification. The morale of Ukraine’s citizenry is just as admirable. Under near constant bombardment—a bombardment wholly intended to undermine that very morale—Ukrainian civilians are largely carrying out their daily lives.
The logistics war is equally as fascinating (and indeed a key telling factor in determining a true analyst versus an armchair general). Ukraine’s “frankenforce” of Soviet-era equipment and modern NATO arms created a logistics supply chain of immense complexity. Maintaining multiple different types of tank, infantry fighting vehicle, and artillery would strain any modern military. Doing so while ingesting increasingly diverse types of equipment and becoming proficient on these arms while at war is even more impressive. The real challenge is in transitioning Ukraine’s Soviet-era doctrine to a modern and Western operational doctrine. Ukraine’s consumption of artillery rounds reflects its Soviet foundations, but also exposes how the West was and is ill-prepared for a sustained conflict—Ukraine is simply firing rounds at a rate that exceeds the West’s ability to refill these munitions.
Russia, for its part, was also expending munitions at a far greater rate to offset personnel weaknesses, which have since been somewhat ameliorated with the partial mobilization. Yet, Russia’s conventional force losses are resulting in it mobilizing increasingly outdated stocks of tanks and artillery. The arrival of T-62s and older models of tanks is certainly reflective of these losses, but equally reflective of the deep stocks Moscow retains and its willingness to sustain its own fight. The lonely T-34 fielded in the recent Victory Day parade was masterfully weaponized in a superb video by Ukraine’s Ministry of Defence.
Finally, the training Martin discusses is of paramount importance. The West is providing training to Ukraine’s armed forces, but of uneven quality and duration. A course of a few weeks will get the average Ukrainian to basic proficiency with a rifle and some general tactics, but developing the combined arms capability needed to conduct effective offensive operations is a much longer course. Yet, even the basic course is better than what many Russians receive. The West largely centralizes its basic and advanced training, while Russian training is largely conducted at the unit level, something that is particularly challenging when most of the competent soldiers and trainers are either at the front, dead, or both. Russia has sought to use Belarus for some of its training, but Moscow is substituting quality for quantity, though quantity often has a quality all of its own.
These software elements are at their core largely immutable: strategy (and intelligence), morale, logistics, and training, and leadership may change in execution, but failing to be proficient in these will almost certainly lead to defeat no matter how much mass is brought to bear. Indeed, this is a core reason why Ukraine is proving so effective against Russia. Moscow may have had more mass and more personnel, but Kyiv is backed by the West’s intelligence, is fighting for national survival, is leveraging a Euro-Atlantic logistics pipeline, and is receiving training from the West’s premier fighting forces. Ukraine’s forthcoming counteroffensive may not (and almost certainly won’t) lead to outright victory, but it will signal ifUkraine and Russia have the ability to generate additional forces for the future and sustain its operations. This is the key determinant of the offensive’s success or failure, and one that will not be immediately evident.
“How to Fight a War” does have the odd factual error. Martin states that there have only been two ships sunk by submarines since World War II. The ROKS Cheonan of the South Korean Navy was, however, sunk by a North Korean submarine in 2010. He also writes that the “technological hurdles to producing a nuclear weapon are not that significant” (I imagine that both North Korea and Iran would beg to differ). The odd issue aside, Martin’s book remains a useful articulation of the first principles of warfare.
Many of today’s pundits, journalists, and so-called “experts” would do well to put down their phones, give their thumbs a rest, and pick up Martin’s “How to Fight a War.” Refreshing one’s recollections of the basics of war or simply encountering them for the first time, would make for far more enlightened and productive discussions. Beyond the commentariat, politicians would equally do well to become acquainted with War 101. When the lives of men and women in uniform are at stake, anything less than absolute familiarity with the art and science of war is unworthy of their sacrifice and patriotism.
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Returning to the First Principles of War
May 13, 2023
The high profile invasion of Ukraine has brought debates on the art of warfare into the mainstream. Pundits are proliferating, creaing an ever more confusing environment, but a few experts, like Mike Martin in his new book How to Fight a War, bring much needed clarity, writes Joshua Huminski.
W
ith Russia’s expanded invasion of Ukraine, debates on the art and science of warfare took on not only new urgency, but also increasing centrality in the public consciousness and discussion. As is often the case, insta-pundits emerged, tame journalists were released onto the news networks, and everyone seemingly became an expert overnight on all aspects of conventional warfare. Were these talking heads left to their own devices the damage would be minimal, but the commentary quickly began to crowd out real analysis and expertise.
Finding the proper experts, like Michael Kofman of CNA, became increasingly challenging, and those same experts found themselves spending inordinate amounts of time correcting basic facts and combating the latest issue du jour—winter is coming and the mud will halt operations; the tank is dead, long live the tank; the fixation on the undead tank to the exclusion of breaching equipment and mine-clearing tools; Ukraine needs F-16s; the West’s technology will win the war, etc.
What quickly became apparent is that the general public, and an alarmingly large number of so-called “experts,” lacked proficiency with the basics of warfare and military science. That this is the case is not surprising—the growing gap between the civilian population and those serving in uniform in the United States has steadily grown. That lack of familiarity has consequences though, particularly when elected leaders are ignorant of the complexities of military operations and the public discourse is driven in unhelpful directions.
Mike Martin, a senior fellow in War Studies at King’s College London (a superb institution if I may say so), offers a highly accessible refresher (or introductory) course on the art and science of war in his recently published book “How to Fight a War,” a copy of which was kindly provided by the publisher. Martin serves as a dispassionate advisor to the reader in the model of Niccolò Machiavelli in his “Prince.” It is breezily readable—I finished it on a recent flight from Washington, D.C.—but still possesses a good amount of depth for its intended general audience.
Martin focuses solely on the conventional side of warfare, including cyber operations, in his narrative, eschewing any deep dive into information or non-military aspects of warfare. This is a sensible bounding and allows him to focus on his core subject, rather than attempting to do too much and end up accomplishing too little. Mark Galeotti’s latest book “The Weaponization of Everything” serves as a useful partner book, covering the broader conception of warfare and non-military tools such as sanctions, information, espionage, and economic warfare.
Martin places the intangible elements of warfare up front, in the first third of his book, and it is refreshing. “How to Fight a War” humanizes war, taking a step back from the techno-obsession that characterizes much of the writing on military art and science. He writes of war as a form of violent communication, whether attempting to unseat a dug-in unit on top of a hill or compelling a nation-state to act in a certain way. For the average person, this is perhaps a strange way of thinking about armed conflict, but it is a particularly apt framework.
For Martin, and real military professionals, while the kit is important, it is the software that matters far more than the hardware. Strategy (and intelligence), morale, logistics, and training (all of which have hardware elements to be sure) are often overlooked in favor of the tank, jet, or bomb. While technology does matter, it is not a panacea for bad strategy, the wrong intelligence, or poorly led or trained soldiers—just ask Russia.
The second part of his book focuses on the tangible, hard power, and hardware aspects of war. Spending the bulk of his energy on land war, Martin also explores the naval and air domains of conflict, as well as cyber and weapons of mass destruction. His focus on land war is sensible—it is the theater where conflicts are ultimately decided. He concludes his book by combining the software and the hardware in a titular concluding third—“how to fight a war”—that brings the intangible and tangible together. Here Martin jumps between the tactical, operational, and strategic levels of war, showing readers how (in broad strokes) to carry out military art and science on the battlefield.
The real core strength of Martin’s book is those intangible elements and serves as a good analytical lens through which to look at the war in Ukraine. On strategy, it became increasingly clear that Russia’s strategy was predicated on faulty assumptions of Ukraine’s political situation, military disposition, and the expected support of the people for Russia’s invasion. Equally, the West overestimated Russia’s military capabilities and underestimated Ukraine’s by comparison. The West’s analysts (me included) expected a far better performance from Russia’s military—certainly not to the level of Moscow’s cheerleaders, but equally expecting more than the level of military incompetence quickly shown by the Kremlin’s generals.
This is closely tied to the respective morale of Russia and Ukraine. Many of Russia’s soldiers were unaware they were invading Ukraine as it appears that the decision to expand the invasion was closely held by Putin and his inner circle, and not unveiled until the last moment. Russian conscripts, prison recruits, and other assorted soldiers do not hold a candle in terms of morale to Ukraine’s men and women in uniform and under arms. Defending one’s homeland and national identity is far greater a motivator than Moscow’s narrative of de-Nazification. The morale of Ukraine’s citizenry is just as admirable. Under near constant bombardment—a bombardment wholly intended to undermine that very morale—Ukrainian civilians are largely carrying out their daily lives.
The logistics war is equally as fascinating (and indeed a key telling factor in determining a true analyst versus an armchair general). Ukraine’s “frankenforce” of Soviet-era equipment and modern NATO arms created a logistics supply chain of immense complexity. Maintaining multiple different types of tank, infantry fighting vehicle, and artillery would strain any modern military. Doing so while ingesting increasingly diverse types of equipment and becoming proficient on these arms while at war is even more impressive. The real challenge is in transitioning Ukraine’s Soviet-era doctrine to a modern and Western operational doctrine. Ukraine’s consumption of artillery rounds reflects its Soviet foundations, but also exposes how the West was and is ill-prepared for a sustained conflict—Ukraine is simply firing rounds at a rate that exceeds the West’s ability to refill these munitions.
Russia, for its part, was also expending munitions at a far greater rate to offset personnel weaknesses, which have since been somewhat ameliorated with the partial mobilization. Yet, Russia’s conventional force losses are resulting in it mobilizing increasingly outdated stocks of tanks and artillery. The arrival of T-62s and older models of tanks is certainly reflective of these losses, but equally reflective of the deep stocks Moscow retains and its willingness to sustain its own fight. The lonely T-34 fielded in the recent Victory Day parade was masterfully weaponized in a superb video by Ukraine’s Ministry of Defence.
Finally, the training Martin discusses is of paramount importance. The West is providing training to Ukraine’s armed forces, but of uneven quality and duration. A course of a few weeks will get the average Ukrainian to basic proficiency with a rifle and some general tactics, but developing the combined arms capability needed to conduct effective offensive operations is a much longer course. Yet, even the basic course is better than what many Russians receive. The West largely centralizes its basic and advanced training, while Russian training is largely conducted at the unit level, something that is particularly challenging when most of the competent soldiers and trainers are either at the front, dead, or both. Russia has sought to use Belarus for some of its training, but Moscow is substituting quality for quantity, though quantity often has a quality all of its own.
These software elements are at their core largely immutable: strategy (and intelligence), morale, logistics, and training, and leadership may change in execution, but failing to be proficient in these will almost certainly lead to defeat no matter how much mass is brought to bear. Indeed, this is a core reason why Ukraine is proving so effective against Russia. Moscow may have had more mass and more personnel, but Kyiv is backed by the West’s intelligence, is fighting for national survival, is leveraging a Euro-Atlantic logistics pipeline, and is receiving training from the West’s premier fighting forces. Ukraine’s forthcoming counteroffensive may not (and almost certainly won’t) lead to outright victory, but it will signal ifUkraine and Russia have the ability to generate additional forces for the future and sustain its operations. This is the key determinant of the offensive’s success or failure, and one that will not be immediately evident.
“How to Fight a War” does have the odd factual error. Martin states that there have only been two ships sunk by submarines since World War II. The ROKS Cheonan of the South Korean Navy was, however, sunk by a North Korean submarine in 2010. He also writes that the “technological hurdles to producing a nuclear weapon are not that significant” (I imagine that both North Korea and Iran would beg to differ). The odd issue aside, Martin’s book remains a useful articulation of the first principles of warfare.
Many of today’s pundits, journalists, and so-called “experts” would do well to put down their phones, give their thumbs a rest, and pick up Martin’s “How to Fight a War.” Refreshing one’s recollections of the basics of war or simply encountering them for the first time, would make for far more enlightened and productive discussions. Beyond the commentariat, politicians would equally do well to become acquainted with War 101. When the lives of men and women in uniform are at stake, anything less than absolute familiarity with the art and science of war is unworthy of their sacrifice and patriotism.
