In 1870 an obscure French army officer and military theorist named Charles Jean Jacques Joseph Ardant du Picq died from wounds he received during an engagement of the Franco-Prussian War.

In his free time he had assembled a variety of observations on the nature of warfare. His reflections on man’s psychology under the duress of combat were published posthumously in 1902 under the title Battle Studies.  While du Picq of course could not have foreseen many of the technological developments that have shaped the world since his day, his treatise remains surprisingly relevant to the modern era.  He was an apostle of the importance of morale:  the psychological dimension of conflict.  Man does not enter battle to fight, he reasoned, but for victory.  “He does everything he can to avoid the first,” says du Picq, “and attain the second.”

The purpose of discipline is to replace the fear of death with another type of fear, the fear of what will happen if orders are not obeyed.  But discipline that depends on fear alone can never be fully effective.  There must be a unity among men, a certain cohesion, that derives from a wellspring of deeper sources.  The men must know each other, trust each other, and have trained and lived together for a significant period of time:

A wise organization insures that the personnel of combat groups changes as little as possible, so that comrades in peace time maneuvers shall be comrades in war.  From living together, and obeying the same chiefs, from commanding the same men, from sharing fatigue and rest, from cooperation among men who quickly understand each other in the execution of war like movements, may be bred brotherhood, professional knowledge, sentiment, above all unity.  The duty of obedience, the right of imposing discipline and the impossibility of escaping from it, would naturally follow.

This was a principle that the United States grievously violated during the Vietnam War, when men were rotated in and out of the combat zone without a thought to the resultant effect on combat effectiveness.  Cohesion and unity alone will produce good fighters; nothing else will.  To illustrate this point, du Picq offers a brilliant analogy:

Four brave men who do not know each other will not dare to attack a lion.  Four less brave, but knowing each other well, sure of their reliability and consequently of mutual aid, will attack resolutely.  There is the science of the organization of armies in a nutshell.

How true this is! But how may this unity, this cohesion, be achieved?  There is of course a great difference between the conditions of ancient and modern combat.  Ancient battles took place at close quarters; in many ways, they resembled scripted drills.  Men were arranged in ranks or phalanxes, and pressed close against an opposing force.  Ranks of combatants engaged each other face to face with swords, javelins, or other weapons; if a man turned his back and fled, he would be cut down.  Generals could, with relative ease, survey the battlefield and see what was happening.  Forces could be adjusted and moved to meet the tactical requirements that arose.  The deafening noise of modern combat was absent.

All of this changed with the advent of modern technology in the nineteenth century.  Battles now took place over vast distances; instead of lasting one day, they could now drag on for weeks or even months (in the case of Verdun in the First World War).  In ancient times, a man on the battlefield could derive support from the close proximity of his fellows.  The immense distances and separations of the modern battlefield demand a greater level of unity and cohesion.  But it is not only this.  In ancient battles, it was difficult, if not impossible, for a soldier to disengage himself individually from a battle.  He was part of a formation, a unit; and if he turned and fled, he would be killed by the opposing force. 

But the modern soldier, crouching in his foxhole amidst an immense area of operations, apprehensive of both incoming artillery shells and silent drones hunting him from the air, may be more tempted to withdraw from the fight and save himself.  Ancient military units saw their leaders and drew inspiration from watching them fight.  Modern soldiers are far more isolated and disconnected from the centers of command.  His own comrades may not know him well.  Under these conditions, unity and cohesion take on a supreme importance. 

It seems clear, to me at least, that du Picq’s observations on unity and cohesion can be applied to other areas of endeavor besides warfare.  Organizations cannot function effectively unless their members have trained and suffered together for extended periods.  Societies as a whole cannot operate properly when its constituent member see themselves as isolate individuals, and not part of a cohesive whole.  When a man feels abandoned or marginalized, he sees himself as having no stake in his society’s future. He becomes sullen, resentful, and withdrawn.     

Wise leaders possessed of foresight will take steps to counter the isolating and atomizing effects of modern technology.  They will promote social cohesion and unity by advocating shared experiences among the youth, such as a military draft.  They will punish vigorously those who attempt to foment cleavages or antagonisms among ethnic groups.  They will enact policies and programs to give every citizen the idea that he is cared for and valued.  Subsidized health care and education remind every person that, as citizens, they are part of a collective unit that cares about their well-being and advancement.  In turn, the citizen is made to understand that he or she owes reciprocal duties to the nation that must be respected and honored.  When selfishness, greed, and individualism are allowed to proliferate at the expense of the common good, invisible fractures are introduced into the social structure.  And upon the deliverance of a powerful external blow, this cracked structure may shatter entirely.      

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Take a look at the new translation of Cicero’s On The Nature Of The Gods:

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