Another example from that same period demonstrates both the importance of works like O’Hanlon’s and the perils of study in insufficient breadth. Russell Weigley’s The American Way of War: A History of United States Military Strategy and Policy, first published in 1973, was an unusually influential academic work within the military; the book was a staple not just in graduate and undergraduate history instruction, but also within professional military education. Weigley’s description of a U.S. military historically spoiled by riches, and so tending to a firepower-based model of warfare that was unartfully attritional and unthinkingly astrategic, resonated in the aftermath of Vietnam. Though a useful foil for military reformers, Weigley’s portrait was in many respects a caricature. Yet the eminence of Weigley was such that it was not until 2002 that historian Brian Linn noted both the significant flaws of Weigley’s muddled theoretical construct and that the narrative relied almost entirely on a selective history focused largely on the American Revolution, the Civil War, and World War II. Linn demonstrated that the patterns discerned by Weigley did not hold up even when applied to conventional conflicts like the Spanish-American War and World War I, much less the many other less conventional conflicts and uses of force.[7] In short, Linn highlighted that a narrow focus on a few cases can lead to skewed understandings of the past, particularly when they confirm our contemporary biases.
Antulio J. Echevarria II employs a wider vantage in Reconsidering the American Way of War: U.S. Military Practice from the Revolution to Afghanistan. As suggested by the title, Echevarria builds upon Linn’s critique of Weigley to offer a more nuanced appraisal of U.S. military history by examining all its uses, including those outside of major conflicts. That greater breadth yields more nuanced findings. Viewing U.S. military history through a narrower lens, O’Hanlon offers three major lessons for strategists: outcomes in war are not preordained; wars tend to be harder and more costly than policymakers anticipate; and American grand strategy is sufficiently strong to weather some setbacks. Those lessons are certainly sound, and strategists would do well to heed each of them. Collectively, they also make a strong case grounded in empirical historical evidence for O’Hanlon’s preferred grand strategy of “resolute restraint.” Yet there is more to be gained from a survey of so much history. In contrast, Echevarria’s final “Conclusions and Observations” chapter offers provocative insights into the relationship of politics and strategy, the quality of U.S. military strategy, and how the “American way of battle” has yielded both success and failure over the centuries. Though a full overview of Echevarria’s conclusions is beyond the scope of this review, it is worth noting his observation that the exigencies of domestic politics—contrary to Weigley’s contention of a norm of overwhelming and decisive force—has actually led the U.S. military to conduct operations and campaigns with only a slight quantitative advantage, at parity, or even outnumbered.[8] This insight sheds light on both recent experiences in Afghanistan and Iraq, as well as providing a useful starting point for considering potential conflicts with Russia or China.
History in Depth and Context
Howard’s framework of studying history in width, depth, and context was advice for a lifetime of study, not something a single volume can achieve. The difficult trade-offs facing authors and publishers are evident in a comparison of Military History for Modern Strategists with Reconsidering the American Way of War. Because Echevarria covers much more ground, his discussions of each case are far more cursory than O’Hanlon’s. In respect to depth, Military History for Modern Strategists does not provide the best guide to those interested in further reading in depth. History is an active field, yet O’Hanlon’s footnotes suggest a significant reliance on aging standard works from a previous generation (or two).
Similarly, Howard’s final element of context is not as applicable to a survey such as O’Hanlon’s. Context generally, though not always, is a by-product of greater depth. A brief remark in the preface, however, suggests that O’Hanlon might not entirely understand what history provides in this regard. In contrasting his self-described concise and conceptual approach, O’Hanlon suggests that the main reason why historians go into greater detail is “the courage, sacrifice, and drama of individuals and peoples trying to achieve victory and avoid defeat and death that inspires us at the human level.”[9] Many popular histories are indeed filled with “human interest” stories or additional layers of technical detail, such as the precise number and type of aircraft in some bombing raid. Hopefully, O’Hanlon does not believe that the only difference between a shorter or longer work of history is the inclusion of such material. If so, that incorrectly conflates detail with context.
