The Foundational Role of History in Military Science
The study of war, like many empirical sciences, relies heavily on historical examples to validate theories and principles. As the Prussian general Gerhard von Scharnhorst demonstrated in his military manuals, historical case studies offer unparalleled clarity in understanding the complexities of warfare. His meticulous use of past battles and campaigns set a standard for how military theorists should engage with history—not as a mere collection of anecdotes but as a vital tool for extracting enduring lessons.
Military science, by its nature, is an experiential discipline. While theoretical knowledge provides a framework, the true understanding of warfare emerges from analyzing how strategies and tactics have played out in real conflicts. Gunpowder, for instance, revolutionized warfare not because its potential was immediately obvious, but because centuries of trial and error refined its application. Similarly, the psychological effects of artillery barrages—how they could break undisciplined troops while hardened veterans stood firm—were learned through repeated exposure rather than abstract reasoning.
The Four Critical Uses of Historical Examples
Historical examples serve distinct purposes in military theory, each with its own methodological requirements:
1. Illustration of Abstract Concepts
When theoretical discussions risk becoming too detached from reality, a well-chosen historical example can ground the argument. For instance, to explain the importance of defensive positions, one might reference the Battle of Bunzelwitz (1759), where Frederick the Great’s fortified camp withstood superior forces. The example need not be exhaustively detailed—its primary function is to make an idea tangible.
2. Demonstration of Applied Principles
Here, the focus shifts to showing how broad theories manifest in specific scenarios. Unlike the first category, these examples require deeper contextualization. For example, Napoleon’s 1797 crossing of the Noric Alps exemplifies audacious maneuver warfare, but only when examined alongside logistical constraints and enemy dispositions does it become instructive.
3. Empirical Validation of Theories
To prove a tactical or strategic assertion, historians must present meticulously documented cases. A claim like “cavalry performs better behind infantry lines” cannot rely on cherry-picked battles; it demands a thorough analysis of engagements where deployment choices directly influenced outcomes. The 1796 campaigns in Italy and Germany, where divided forces suffered catastrophic defeats, serve as cautionary tales against overextension—but only if the full operational context is presented.
4. Deriving Universal Lessons
The highest form of historical analysis involves synthesizing patterns from multiple events. Medieval battles between Swiss pikemen and Burgundian knights, for instance, revealed infantry’s rising dominance over cavalry—a paradigm shift that reshaped European warfare. Such lessons emerge not from isolated incidents but from recognizing recurring dynamics across eras.
The Pitfalls of Misusing History
Despite their utility, historical examples are frequently mishandled. Superficial references—listing battles without depth—can distort more than they clarify. The same event often supports opposing arguments: General Daun’s campaigns in the Seven Years’ War are cited both as models of caution and as failures of decisiveness. Without rigorous examination of command decisions, terrain, and morale, such examples become rhetorical tools rather than evidence.
Eighteenth-century theorist Folard, despite his valuable compilations of military history, often fell into this trap. His narratives, though rich in detail, sometimes forced conclusions that the source material didn’t inherently support. This underscores a broader challenge: extracting genuine insights requires reconciling an event’s complexity with the need for clear, actionable lessons.
Selecting Relevant Historical Case Studies
Not all historical periods offer equal value to modern strategists. Conflicts like the War of the Austrian Succession (1740–48) remain instructive because they featured linear tactics and gunpowder warfare akin to later eras. By contrast, the War of the Spanish Succession (1701–14) involved markedly different cavalry-centric doctrines, while ancient battles suffer from fragmentary records and radically dissimilar social contexts.
However, even distant conflicts can yield broad strategic wisdom. Hannibal’s campaigns during the Second Punic War (218–201 BCE) demonstrate the potency of indirect pressure—Rome’s strikes in Spain and Africa ultimately undermined Carthage’s resilience. Such examples teach enduring principles about logistics and psychological warfare, though their tactical specifics hold limited relevance today.
The Historian’s Responsibility: Rigor Over Rhetoric
Effective use of military history demands intellectual honesty. Theorists must resist the temptation to mine the past for convenient proof while ignoring counterexamples. As with legal testimony, partial truths mislead more than outright falsehoods. A single thoroughly analyzed case—say, Napoleon’s 1812 Russian campaign—reveals more about the limits of offensive warfare than a dozen shallow references.
This approach requires laborious effort: reconstructing battles from primary sources, accounting for fog-of-war uncertainties, and acknowledging exceptions. Yet the payoff is substantial. When Scharnhorst revised his artillery manuals, he didn’t just cite past bombardments; he dissected how terrain, weather, and unit cohesion shaped their effectiveness. Modern analysts must emulate this discipline, whether studying Waterloo or Waterloo’s digital-age equivalents.
Conclusion: History as a Living Laboratory
Military history, properly engaged, is neither a nostalgia exercise nor a repository of rigid dogma. It is a dynamic testing ground where theories confront the chaos of reality. From the pike squares of Renaissance Italy to drone warfare in the 21st century, the constants—friction, chance, human courage and frailty—remain recognizable across the centuries. By treating historical examples with both reverence and critical scrutiny, strategists and historians alike can illuminate paths forward while honoring the hard-won lessons of the past.
The task is monumental, but as Scharnhorst’s legacy shows, it is also indispensable. Those who undertake it must do so with the historian’s patience, the scientist’s rigor, and the storyteller’s ability to bridge time—for in the echoes of past battles, we find not only warnings but also enduring wisdom.