The Origins of a Contested Concept

The idea of a “key position” in warfare has long captivated military theorists and historians alike. This nebulous concept, sometimes referring to a nation’s most vulnerable point and other times its most fortified stronghold, emerged from centuries of strategic thought attempting to simplify the complexities of territorial control. Early military writers grappled with the paradox: how could a single geographic feature simultaneously represent both an unlocked door and an impenetrable barrier?

The metaphor gained traction during the Enlightenment, when European armies sought systematic approaches to campaign planning. Eighteenth-century theorists, influenced by Newtonian mechanics and the era’s obsession with classification systems, attempted to reduce warfare to geometric principles. They envisioned nations as puzzles where occupying specific points—mountain passes, river confluences, or fortified cities—would grant control over entire territories. This intellectual climate birthed the exaggerated notion that capturing a “key position” could decisively influence a war’s outcome.

The Evolution of a Military Doctrine

By the mid-1700s, the concept bifurcated into two competing interpretations. The pragmatic view, exemplified by Frederick the Great’s campaigns, treated key positions as logistical hubs—road junctions or supply depots whose capture offered tangible advantages. Meanwhile, academic theorists like Henry Lloyd developed elaborate systems where geographic features, particularly watersheds and mountain ridges, allegedly held mystical strategic value.

The 1737-1738 Russo-Turkish War over Crimea demonstrated this dichotomy. While practical commanders understood the Perekop isthmus as a chokepoint requiring occupation for secure operations, theorists absurdly claimed its capture alone guaranteed control of the entire peninsula. This intellectual divergence reached its zenith during the French Revolutionary Wars, when Parisian geographers famously declared Langres Plateau the “key to France,” arguing its elevation dominated the Seine, Marne, and Saône river systems. Napoleon’s generals would later ridicule such notions when they effortlessly bypassed these theoretical strongpoints.

Cultural Impact and Strategic Delusions

The key position myth permeated military education with dangerous consequences. Prussian staff officers in the 1793-1794 Vosges campaigns, indoctrinated by Gravett and Massenbach’s treatises, wasted months securing meaningless high ground. More catastrophically in 1814, Schwarzenberg’s 200,000-man coalition army detoured through Switzerland to reach Langres, obeying textbook dogma rather than operational realities.

This intellectual fashion mirrored broader Enlightenment trends. Just as natural philosophers sought singular “keys” to understanding nature—phlogiston in chemistry or the “great chain of being” in biology—military theorists pursued illusory geographic panaceas. The pseudoscientific blending of nascent geology with strategy proved particularly seductive, with writers like Johann von Bourscheidt claiming control of river sources granted hydrostrategic dominion over entire regions.

The Napoleonic Correction and Modern Legacy

Napoleon’s campaigns systematically dismantled these fantasies. His 1805 Ulm maneuver demonstrated how mobile armies could neutralize fortified positions through operational artistry, while the 1809 Danube campaigns showed river sources held no inherent military value. As Clausewitz later observed, these campaigns proved that “the best key to any country is the defeated enemy army.”

Yet the concept’s allure persists in modified forms. Twentieth-century geopoliticians like Halford Mackinder adapted it into theories about controlling the “Heartland,” while Cold War strategists identified symbolic choke points like the Fulda Gap. Modern military thought recognizes logistical hubs and communication nodes as contemporary key positions, though with far more nuanced understanding than 18th-century theorists could muster.

The historical journey of this military concept reveals a timeless truth: in warfare as in all human endeavors, systems promising simple solutions to complex problems often prove most dangerous when they appear most elegant. The real “key” to strategic success lies not in geographic mysticism, but in understanding the ever-shifting interplay of forces, terrain, and human will that defines the art of war.