24. Chapter XXIV: Causes Which Render Democratic Armies Weaker Than
Other Armies At The Outset Of A Campaign, And More Formidable In
Protracted Warfare
Any army is in danger of being conquered at the outset of a
campaign, after a long peace; any army which has long been
engaged in warfare has strong chances of victory: this truth is
peculiarly applicable to democratic armies. In aristocracies the
military profession, being a privileged career, is held in honor
even in time of peace. Men of great talents, great attainments,
and great ambition embrace it; the army is in all respects on a
level with the nation, and frequently above it. We have seen, on
the contrary, that amongst a democratic people the choicer minds
of the nation are gradually drawn away from the military
profession, to seek by other paths, distinction, power, and
especially wealth. After a long peace -and in democratic ages
the periods of peace are long -the army is always inferior to
the country itself. In this state it is called into active
service; and until war has altered it, there is danger for the
country as well as for the army.
I have shown that in democratic armies, and in time of
peace, the rule of seniority is the supreme and inflexible law of
advancement. This is not only a consequence, as I have before
observed, of the constitution of these armies, but of the
constitution of the people, and it will always occur. Again, as
amongst these nations the officer derives his position in the
country solely from his position in the army, and as he draws all
the distinction and the competency he enjoys from the same
source, he does not retire from his profession, or is not
super-annuated, till towards the extreme close of life. The
consequence of these two causes is, that when a democratic people
goes to war after a long interval of peace all the leading
officers of the army are old men. I speak not only of the
generals, but of the non-commissioned officers, who have most of
them been stationary, or have only advanced step by step. It may
be remarked with surprise, that in a democratic army after a long
peace all the soldiers are mere boys, and all the superior
officers in declining years; so that the former are wanting in
experience, the latter in vigor. This is a strong element of
defeat, for the first condition of successful generalship is
youth: I should not have ventured to say so if the greatest
captain of modern times had not made the observation.
These two causes do not act in the same manner upon
aristocratic armies: as men are promoted in them by right of
birth much more than by right of seniority, there are in all
ranks a certain number of young men, who bring to their
profession all the early vigor of body and mind. Again, as the
men who seek for military honors amongst an aristocratic people,
enjoy a settled position in civil society, they seldom continue
in the army until old age overtakes them. After having devoted
the most vigorous years of youth to the career of arms, they
voluntarily retire, and spend at home the remainder of their
maturer years.
A long peace not only fills democratic armies with elderly
officers, but it also gives to all the officers habits both of
body and mind which render them unfit for actual service. The
man who has long lived amidst the calm and lukewarm atmosphere of
democratic manners can at first ill adapt himself to the harder
toils and sterner duties of warfare; and if he has not absolutely
lost the taste for arms, at least he has assumed a mode of life
which unfits him for conquest.
Amongst aristocratic nations, the ease of civil life
exercises less influence on the manners of the army, because
amongst those nations the aristocracy commands the army: and an
aristocracy, however plunged in luxurious pleasures, has always
many other passions besides that of its own well-being, and to
satisfy those passions more thoroughly its well-being will be
readily sacrificed. [14]
I have shown that in democratic armies, in time of peace,
promotion is extremely slow. The officers at first support this
state of things with impatience, they grow excited, restless,
exasperated, but in the end most of them make up their minds to
it. Those who have the largest share of ambition and of
resources quit the army; others, adapting their tastes and their
desires to their scanty fortunes, ultimately look upon the
military profession in a civil point of view. The quality they
value most in it is the competency and security which attend it:
their whole notion of the future rests upon the certainty of this
little provision, and all they require is peaceably to enjoy it.
Thus not only does a long peace fill an army with old men, but it
is frequently imparts the views of old men to those who are still
in the prime of life.
I have also shown that amongst democratic nations in time of
peace the military profession is held in little honor and
indifferently followed. This want of public favor is a heavy
discouragement to the army; it weighs down the minds of the
troops, and when war breaks out at last, they cannot immediately
resume their spring and vigor. No similar cause of moral
weakness occurs in aristocratic armies: there the officers are
never lowered either in their own eyes or in those of their
countrymen, because, independently of their military greatness,
they are personally great. But even if the influence of peace
operated on the two kinds of armies in the same manner, the
results would still be different. When the officers of an
aristocratic army have lost their warlike spirit and the desire
of raising themselves by service, they still retain a certain
respect for the honor of their class, and an old habit of being
foremost to set an example. But when the officers of a
democratic army have no longer the love of war and the ambition
of arms, nothing whatever remains to them.
I am therefore of opinion that, when a democratic people
engages in a war after a long peace, it incurs much more risk of
defeat than any other nation; but it ought not easily to be cast
down by its reverses, for the chances of success for such an army
are increased by the duration of the war. When a war has at
length, by its long continuance, roused the whole community from
their peaceful occupations and ruined their minor undertakings,
the same passions which made them attach so much importance to
the maintenance of peace will be turned to arms. War, after it
has destroyed all modes of speculation, becomes itself the great
and sole speculation, to which all the ardent and ambitious
desires which equality engenders are exclusively directed. Hence
it is that the selfsame democratic nations which are so reluctant
to engage in hostilities, sometimes perform prodigious
achievements when once they have taken the field. As the war
attracts more and more of public attention, and is seen to create
high reputations and great fortunes in a short space of time, the
choicest spirits of the nation enter the military profession: all
the enterprising, proud, and martial minds, no longer of the
aristocracy solely, but of the whole country, are drawn in this
direction. As the number of competitors for military honors is
immense, and war drives every man to his proper level, great
generals are always sure to spring up. A long war produces upon
a democratic army the same effects that a revolution produces
upon a people; it breaks through regulations, and allows
extraordinary men to rise above the common level. Those officers
whose bodies and minds have grown old in peace, are removed, or
superannuated, or they die. In their stead a host of young men
are pressing on, whose frames are already hardened, whose desires
are extended and inflamed by active service. They are bent on
advancement at all hazards, and perpetual advancement; they are
followed by others with the same passions and desires, and after
these are others yet unlimited by aught but the size of the army.
The principle of equality opens the door of ambition to all, and
death provides chances for ambition. Death is constantly
thinning the ranks, making vacancies, closing and opening the
career of arms.
There is moreover a secret connection between the military
character and the character of democracies, which war brings to
light. The men of democracies are naturally passionately eager
to acquire what they covet, and to enjoy it on easy conditions.
They for the most part worship chance, and are much less afraid
of death than of difficulty. This is the spirit which they bring
to commerce and manufactures; and this same spirit, carried with
them to the field of battle, induces them willingly to expose
their lives in order to secure in a moment the rewards of
victory. No kind of greatness is more pleasing to the
imagination of a democratic people than military greatness -a
greatness of vivid and sudden lustre, obtained without toil, by
nothing but the risk of life. Thus, whilst the interests and the
tastes of the members of a democratic community divert them from
war, their habits of mind fit them for carrying on war well; they
soon make good soldiers, when they are roused from their business
and their enjoyments. If peace is peculiarly hurtful to
democratic armies, war secures to them advantages which no other
armies ever possess; and these advantages, however little felt at
first, cannot fail in the end to give them the victory. An
aristocratic nation, which in a contest with a democratic people
does not succeed in ruining the latter at the outset of the war,
always runs a great risk of being conquered by it.