Category Archives: Military History

What Can We Learn About Byzantium from the Strategikon?


















[5] Ibid., 90.

[6] Ibid., 80.

[7] Ibid., 11.

[10] Ibid., xiv.

[11] Ibid., xii.

[12] Ibid., 8.

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Hannibal and Rome – What’s the Angle for Polybius and Livy?

One of the most important things to keep in mind about many ancient sources is that, frequently, they were written many years after the events described in those sources. This leads to two things: the event described will be flawed in some way – possibly a large way – and the narrative will tell the reader as much about the time of the author as it will about the event in question.

Polybius hung out with some pretty powerful people. How do you think that may have affected his work?

A good example of this are two accounts of the Battle of Cannae and its aftermath, provided to us by Polybius and Livy. In each historian’s narrative, they rightfully praise Hannibal’s tactical brilliance and describe him as a legitimate danger to the existence of Rome. I think that Hannibal’s tactical achievements stand for themselves, and would be apparent no matter who tells the tale. I also think that even though Polybius and Livy contribute to his legend, they do so in a way that speaks for the glory of Rome. By painting Hannibal as a terrible and cunning opponent, Polybius and Livy cast the Roman Republic as a determined and unbreakable entity that can withstand a threat like Hannibal, take on any challenge, and stand the test of time.

Both Polybius and Livy had personal connections to powerful Roman aristocracy. Polybius was the tutor of Scipio Aemilianus, the grandson (by adoption) of Publius Scipio Africanus, the hero of the Second Punic War. Livy frequented the court of Augustus Caesar and was known in the halls of power at the time. Being close to powerful people, neither writer is motivated to paint Rome as easy to defeat, or the victory over Carthage as anything but a glorious act of national willpower by Rome. Praising Hannibal is in line with this notion. After all, who could defeat the terrible and brilliant Hannibal but the more brilliant and resourceful citizen-soldiers of the Roman Republic?

Both Polybius and Livy were writing large-scale histories of the Republic. In telling the story of Cannae and the ravages of Hannibal upon Italy, ultimately their focus is on Roman fortitude and determination – the unbreakable Roman character.

Following his account of Cannae, Polybius brings the reader’s attention back to the real story. “Yet the Senate neglected no means in its power, but exhorted and encouraged the populace, strengthened the defences of the city, and deliberated on the situation with manly coolness. And subsequent events made this manifest. For though the Romans were now incontestably beaten and their military reputation shattered, yet by the peculiar virtues of their constitution and by wise counsel they not only recovered their supremacy in Italy and afterwards defeated the Carthaginians, but in a few years made themselves masters of the whole world.” [1]

Livy also brings the post-Cannae focus back to Roman resilience: “Certainly there is no other nation that would not have succumbed beneath such a weight of calamity.”[2]  Livy later praises the Roman civic traits of remaining level-headed and cool under threat of extermination: “… no one anywhere in Rome mentioned the word ‘Peace,’ either before the consul’s return or after his arrival when all the memories of their losses were renewed. Such a lofty spirit did the citizens exhibit in those days that though the consul was coming back from a terrible defeat for which they knew he was mainly responsible, he was met by a vast concourse drawn from every class of society, and thanks were formally voted to him because he ‘had not despaired of the republic.’ Had he been commander-in-chief of the Carthaginians there was no torture to which he would not have been subjected.”[3]

Because the Livy and Polybius make sure the focus is in the proper place, on the glory of Rome, it becomes safe to praise Hannibal. By the time Polybius and Livy wrote their histories, the Carthaginian leader and all his people had long been vanquished. The city of Carthage itself lay in ruin, never to revive. What harm could it do to praise a valorous enemy, who threw his best punch at Rome, but still could not finish the job?

Over the years, the Roman defeat at Cannae remains more famous than the Roman final victory at Zama, where Hannibal ran for his life and lost tens of thousands of men. Why?

The Roman victory at Zama ended in a peace treaty. There’s nothing more to say after that battle, which ended the Second Punic War. Cannae, however, is not the end of the story. It’s the high point of the story, in which Rome’s survival is hanging in the balance. Enter the final act, in which Rome recovers and a hero, Scipio Africanus, emerged. Polybius and Livy take the opportunity to cast Hannibal as the tactically brilliant but doomed villain, who defeated the soldiers of Rome, but not the spirit of Rome.

There are more factors that come into play than just Roman moral fortitude, but it’s interesting that the writers choose focus on this. As an institution, Rome was always very concerned with its image, both to its own people and to people outside of Rome. It was important for the people of Rome to feel as though they came from good stock, that their ancestors were morally righteous and virtuous, worthy of the ancestral veneration practiced in their homes and in the Senate. Livy and Polybius acknowledge that need with their writing, which elevates the idea of Rome. But the nitty-gritty of how Rome won is another story.

The GOAT of transcontinental road-trips involving elephants.

Keeping an invasion force well supplied deep into enemy territory was quite the challenge for any nation in the ancient world, but for Hannibal, it was almost a worst-case scenario. Hannibal’s only hope for resupply would be what he could forage from the countryside or wiggle out of Rome’s shakier Italian neighbors. For supplies to come from Carthage, they would have to come the same way Hannibal came, over the Alps. The sea wasn’t an option. Rome had control of the Western Mediterranean at the time (thanks to the First Punic War), and surely if Hannibal could have launched his invasion by sea, he would have done so.

Resupply would have been essential in a protracted siege of Rome, which had walls, manpower and, most importantly, river access.  Perhaps Hannibal’s best options, strategically, were to either force a political settlement to end the war, or find a way to rally the Italian cities and countryside against Rome.

Communication also played a vital role. It was much easier for Rome to communicate the will of the Senate to its people and nearby allies than it was for the Carthegians to coordinate strategy with Hannibal, across a sea that they did not control.

Surely, if we can see the difficulty/near impossibility of capturing Rome in this scenario, then Hannibal himself could as well. Is it possible, then, that Hannibal underestimated Roman resolve? In that case, the mistake would have been in assuming that the Romans thought like everyone else did. They clearly do not. That was one tough town, and it is a culturally unique element of Romans. The uniqueness of Rome – the things that make them exceptional – are the traits that the people of Rome celebrated most about themselves, and wanted to hear most from their writers and see from their artists. Busts, statues, arches, triumphs, celebratory games, theater, legends, and histories were all dedicated to their city, its heroes and its ancestors. It’s quite the multimedia public relations machine. The extent to which Livy and Polybius contribute to that machine is worth much consideration.


[1] Polybius: The Histories II, W. R. Paton, trans., (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1979), 293.

[2] Livy, The History of Rome, Vol III, 22.54.

[3] Ibid., 22.61.

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A Closer Look at Sources: Herodotus, Polybius, and Aeschylus




Herodotus, the “Father of History.”





Polybius on a pedestal.




“Remember Athens: henceforth let not pride,

Her present state disdaining, strive to grasp

Another’s, and her treasured happiness

Shed on the ground: such insolent attempts

Awake the vengeance of offended Jove.

But you, whose age demands more temperate thoughts,

With words of well-placed counsel teach his youth

To curb that pride, which from the gods calls down

Destruction on his head” [6]

Aeschylus, warrior-poet.






[2] Ibid.

[3] Polybius, Histories, trans. W.R. Paton, accessed June 25, 2015,, 28.10.

[4] Ibid., 22.3.

[5] Ibid., 23.5.


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The End of the Bronze Age – When is Guessing Okay?

Recommended. You should check it out.

Robert Drews’s book, The End of the Bronze Age, is an interesting read in terms of content and methodology. Drews attempts to explain the sudden end of the Bronze Age in the Eastern Mediterranean by attributing it to a mysterious Catastrophe, which  has its origins in military change.  According to Drews, the losses of palace-based aristocratic chariot soldiers both on the battlefield and in societies created a disruption within many Late Bronze civilizations from which there was no recovery [1]. Drews makes the case that this military change was the direct cause of the Catastrophe, which ended or weakened dominant civilizations across the Eastern Mediterranean around the year 1200 BC, and marked the transition from the Bronze Age to the Iron Age.

When determining his hypothesis for the Catastrophe, Drews considers a number of factors. First, what was the Catastrophe and, specifically, what was the difference between the civilizations of the Late Bronze Age and the Early Iron Age? Drews spends the first two parts of his three-part book explaining both the nature of the Catastrophe and debunking the alternate explanations for it: earthquakes, migrations, drought, systems collapse and raiders. Critics of Drews’s work have varying opinions on this analysis of the alternate causes of the Catastrophe. Young and Thomas make generally favorable remarks, but there is tough criticism from Van Wees and Cline. The former characterizes Drew’s attempts to discredit the alternate explanations, particularly the “raiders” theory as unconvincing due to a lack of evidence [2]. Cline accuses Drews of distorting conflicting explanations for the Catastrophe to fit his hypothesis [3] and of incorrectly labeling systems collapse and raiders as consequences of the Catastrophe, instead of causes. In part three of the book, Drews details the prominence of chariot warfare in the Late Bronze Age and its disappearance in the Iron Age. The decline of the chariot coincided with the rise of infantry as the main focus of the Iron Age military. This distinction is the focal point of Drews’s work.

Let’s be real. We all know it was the Sea People, right?

This begs a question: do the sources exist to explain what happened in the Catastrophe, and to solidly support Drews’s hypothesis? The short answer is no, and Drews seems to be the first to admit it. “On many questions one can only guess, and since guessing seems unprofessional, historians do as little of it as possible,” Drews writes. “The result, however, is that for lack of evidence one of the most important things about the preclassical world is largely ignored. There is good reason to think that the evolution of warfare made and unmade the world of the Late Bronze Age. Even though we cannot be certain about this evolution, and especially about its details, it is time that we begin to guess.”[4]

Now comes the philosophical question which I think is very important to history: is it okay to guess? I was quite surprised to see that many of Drews’s reviewers failed to address the act of guessing directly. Rather, most who criticized Drews’s hypothesis as inconclusive, such as Cline [5] and Haggis [6], did so by pointing out a lack of evidence. Only Young directly addressed the issue of guessing. Of Drews, he says, “…he marshals old and new evidence on what he calls ‘the Catastrophe’ in a masterly fashion which, mixed with a little guesswork, provides us with significant and exciting new scholarly insights on a pivotal period in ancient history. Would that we could all ‘guess’ as effectively.”[7]

The great obstacle to any study of the ancient world is a scarcity of sources. Even within the range of available sources, there are bad translations, bias,  and great variances in quality of authorship. Does this great obstacle and its associated, smaller obstacles excuse Drews’s approach, in which he unabashedly admits guessing at the main points in his work? Young seems to applaud the effort. I am conflicted. On the one hand, all hypotheses are guesses to some degree, backed by evidence. On the other, when evidence is so lacking, is it better to not present a half-baked hypothesis?

There are more questions to ask when confronting this particular historical issue: is there a single cause for the Catastrophe or multiple causes? Is the cause the same from civilization to civilization? How sudden was the transition from chariot to infantry?

Drews presents the idea of a military shift as singular causation, but there are critics that remain unconvinced. Cline states that Drews’s explanation for the Catastrophe is not the only possible explanation, and does not provide the final answer [8]. Young states that Drews’s argument does not negate the theory of systems collapse effectively, and that a military change and systems collapse are not mutually exclusive [9].

Haggis is concerned with Drews’s one-size-fits-all approach to causation. Drews presents the military shift as the singular cause of the Catastrophe for civilizations from one end of the eastern Mediterranean to the other. Were these cultures not different from one another? Haggis suggests this hurts Drews’ assertion of singular causation, and that Drews should provide more explanation regarding to the culturally specific variables of each region, relative to his thesis [10].

Lastly, the lack of sources and frames of reference on time have the potential to make events in the ancient world seem closer together and more connected in the causal chain. This is another criticism that Haggis has of Drews’s argument. Haggis suggests Drews’s narrative makes the Catastrophe seem like it occurred more quickly than it actually did. Haggis says that length of time could have allowed for a more gradual, internal shift to dominant infantry than Drews suggests [11]. Young defends Drews by stating that the destructions of the Catastrophe took place in a compressed enough period of time for them to be considered closely related events.

After thinking about it for a bit, I can see that Drews is sincere about what he is attempting to do. At one point, he even unnecessarily apologizes for writing a military history while not being a military historian [12]. So he is aware that he is operating in an imperfect situation and he makes it clear that he’s doing the best he can with the resources he has.

I also suspect that his reviewers were happy to see a new work of scholarship on the Late Bronze Age Catastrophe and were respectful of an attempt to inject new life into an old mystery. Ancient history can be very intimidating to write. Ideas are often stopped before they start because of the vast amount of writing that has already been done on the era, combined with the scarcity of sources.

It just struck me odd when I was reading Drews’s conclusion that I came across so many terms indicating uncertainty. This is the thesis wrap, where the author is supposed to be most convincing in his argument. On page 216 and 217, I flagged a “whatever,” a “very likely”, two “imagines” and a “perhaps” all in a pretty close arrangement regarding a key point of support for his thesis [13].

I agree with Young, who says that Drews’s work seems partially developed and he would like to read more of what Drews has to say [14]. It’s a very entertaining book, but I think Drews is really stretching his reasoning pretty thin. I want to believe him, but I’m sticking with multiple causation when it comes to the Catastrophe.


[1] Stephen Morillo, Jeremy Black, and Paul Lococo, War in World History: Society, Technology, and War from Ancient Times to the Present, vol. 1 (New York, NY: McGraw Hill, 2009), 14.

[2] Hans Van Wees, “Review,” Greece and Rome, Second Series, vol. 41, No. 1, (April 1994), 75

[3] Eric H. Cline, “Review,” Journal of Near Eastern Studies 56, no. 2 (April 1997): 127.

[4] Robert Drews, The End of the Bronze Age: Changes in Warfare and the Catastrophe CA.1200 BC (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1993), 98.

[5] Cline, “Review,” 129.

[6] Donald C. Haggis, The American Journal of Philology, Vol. 116, No. 2 (Summer 1995), 323.

[7] T. Cuyler Young, Jr., “Review,” Journal of the American Oriental Society 115, no. 2 (June 1995): 312.

[8] Cline, “Review,” 129.

[9] Young, “Review,” 312.

[10] Haggis, “Review,” 324.

[11] Ibid., 323.

[12] Drews, “The End,” 102.

[13] Ibid., 216-17.

[14] Young, “Review,” 312.

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Two Takes on Training the Ancient Warrior: Vegetius and Sun Tzu

If there’s one military maxim that has been proven time and again over many centuries of history, it is that the best trained militaries typically perform much better than their poorly trained enemies. It’s not a radical concept to understand, but what might surprise some people is how organized and committed certain commanders and societies were at training their soldiers. Two outstanding documents on training that have survived to this day are the well-known Sun Tzu’s Art of War and the not-as-well-known De Re Militari, by the Roman general Pulius Flavius Vegetius Renatus (or, simply, Vegetius). Both training manuals have a distinct style, and show us how two very different cultures held similar viewpoints regarding war.

Vegetius’s De Re Militari

Vegetius (5th century AD, around AD 435-450) and Sun Tzu (544 BC to 496 BC) have much in common because their goals are similar from the outset. Both generals wrote manuals describing the ideal conditions of conducting a campaign and managing men under their banners. This commitment to the ideal draws the philosophy of two men from different lands, cultures, and times together.

In the ideal, armies are made of disciplined troops, who are well supplied and organized, and who exercise caution and aggression at just the right moment. Of course, these ideal troops always operate from advantageous terrain, in the proper formation and end the battle victorious, with as few losses as possible to their side. They are controlled in pursuit of the fleeing enemy and they allow the enemy the opportunity to flee. An ideal campaign is not protracted and lengthy, and an army’s soldiers stay motivated and level-headed. These are goals that both Vegetius and Sun Tzu value and mention in their works. But that says more about military culture than the cultures of Rome and China. All militaries, with few exceptions, would agree to these commonalities, so it’s not surprising at all to find them in the works of both Vegetius and Sun Tzu.

What makes Vegetius and Sun Tzu different from many is that they placed value on educating others about war. They viewed their professional duties from a systematic standpoint, and did not place value on chance and random events. Both men believed, as Vegetius says, that “…he who hopes for success, should fight on principal, not chance.”[1] As both men held prominent positions as military leaders, this attitude reflects an appreciation in both cultures for reason, rule and order. The fact that these manuals were meant to be shared also reveals a value placed on education and literacy in both cultures, at least for the ruling classes.

Both men lived their lives in periods of time where warfare was common, even constant. Consider the references to war as an art form. The title of Sun Tzu’s work is “The Art of War.” Vegetius, in his final words of his manual, refers to the “art of conquest.”[2] If you had never encountered war before, and saw it for the very first time, would you refer to it as art? Probably not. War is chaotic, bloody, violent, and centered on death and destruction. Yet, Vegetius and the Chinese referred to war as art. Regardless of medium, art is almost always controlled, deliberate, expressive, inspired, and provokes thought and/or emotion. This is how the two men viewed war. How many conflicts would a person have to bear witness to, and be a participant in, before his point of view shifted from the fear and confusion of the first battle to the visionary experience of a master artist? How indoctrinated in war must these societies be in order for this viewpoint to seem normal?

Read either Sun Tzu or Vegetius and you will also encounter many references to how “the ancients”[3] did things or how the heroes who came before them conducted themselves in war. [4] This is indicative of cultures that share ancestor veneration in common. Ancestral altars and memorials are well-known features of both Roman and Chinese homes. Both cultures observe filial piety across all classes of society, and this tendency is reflected in the constant presence of the ancients in the works of Sun Tzu and Vegetius. Indeed, both generals may have acquired instant credibility for their views by linking them with the actions of respected figures from the past.

Sun Tzu

One of the main differences that is noticeable between Sun Tzu and Vegetius is how they operate in different planes. Sun Tzu is more strategic in view and his philosophy is ethereal and spiritual. He talks of balances and relationships between one variable and another, such as rest and exertion, union and separation, confidence and surprise. [5]  He draws parallels between war and nature [6] and makes references to ch’i.[7] He is the more cerebral of the two authors, and his philosophy seems to fall in line with the traditional Chinese emphasis on harmonious relationships.

Vegetius is more tactical in his recommendations, and his tone is flavored with traditional Roman practicality. This is exemplified in his general maxims, nearly all of which apply to common situations within a campaign’s ground-level operations. “Valor is superior to numbers.” “The nature of the ground is often of more consequence than courage.” “Novelty and surprise throw an enemy into consternation, but common incidents have no effect.”[8]

Many people have read Sun Tzu’s Art of War, and have attempted to apply the work to everything from organized sports to business. My personal view is that this is a less than ideal way to view this work. The Art of War is a relic of a particular place and time. So is De Re Militari. We can learn much from these works about how the Chinese and the Romans viewed war, the role of the commander, and how they viewed the men who served as soldiers in the rank and file. Of course, one can learn from both books and be influenced by the lessons within each, but I urge you to spend more time thinking about the time and the setting of both books, rather than how they apply to modern life. Both manuals are a gold mine of insight into the past, and a wonderful opportunity to learn more about ancient Romans and Chinese.


[1] Vegetius, On Roman Military Matters, trans. John Clarke (St. Petersburg: Red and Black, 2008), 52.

[2] Ibid., 93.

[3] Sun Tzu, “Chapter 3: The Art of Warfare” in The Seven Military Classics of Ancient China, trans. Ralph D. Sawyer (Boulder: Westview Press 1993), 163.

[4] Vegetius, 51.

[5] Sun Tzu, 158.

[6] Ibid., 165.

[7] Ibid., 170.

[8] Vegetius, 91.


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What is Military History (And Why do I Study it)?

On my Facebook feed, I frequently see an advertisement for Norwich University’s Military History program (full disclosure, I’m a master’s degree student there), and the comments that follow the advertisement are a consistent source of wonder for me. It seems most of the commenters don’t really have an idea of what military history is.

The Battle of New Orleans, Jan. 8, 2015. It looked nothing like this, by the way. But this painting is part of history. History = Past Event + Interpreter.

Some question why we study battle plans and tactics all day. Others wonder why we should study war at all. Some dismiss the study as pointless, as what sort of job would a master of military history degree qualify a person for?

First, there is a misconception that military history is the study of tactics and military strategy. That is a part of it, yes, but only as tactics and strategy apply to something that happened in the past. Studying tactics and strategy as it relates to the present and the future is a whole other thing. History requires a past event. Therefore, military history is the study of military matters that happened in the past. This study is not limited to tactics and strategy, though. We study the relationship of the military to the state and vice-versa, the role of the military in shaping perceptions of gender and race, the use of violence as a means of political expression, and the like. When studying military history, knowing how to load a M1 Garand or knowing how to fly an AH-64 Apache will not help you as much as knowing how elections really work, or how public opinion is actually shaped. The ties between the political world and the military world are a big part of what we read and write about.

Secondly, I saw on that post a rather frightening number of replies that suggested it was distasteful to study war, that we should be teaching “peace,” instead. Again, I think we see here another misunderstanding of what it is we study and teach as military historians. We are not in the business of teaching people to kill each other. We are in the business of finding out how and why people are made to kill each other, and to analyze and comment on war as an agent of change in history. War is a constant in human history not because military historians think it’s cool and we want to keep the wars going. If all wars stopped tomorrow, we would celebrate right alongside everyone else, and our jobs would not be in jeopardy one bit. That’s because, again, our purpose is studying the past.

There are lots of different kinds of history: region-based history, like American history or African history; race and gender-based history like Native American history or women’s history; culture-based history like the history of farming in Colorado, or the history of music, or sports, for example. Military history is just one of those different kinds. The key is the word “history.” We have all the same training and ability to scrutinize and synthesize as any other historian. We just specialize in matters related to people under arms.

Lastly, I want to say that I do not study military history because it will help me get a job. I already have a job, and it has nothing to do with military history. Even if my military history degree never helps me land a single minute of employment, I will still consider it worth it. And here’s why: I only get to live one life. The time that I have here is limited, and it’s all I will ever have. When I’m at the end of my time, I want to look back on it and say that I did things that I was passionate about, not necessarily what I was forced to do for money. By studying military history, in audacious defiance of our money-obsessed culture, I’m doing what the hell I want to do with my life. Some people spend their money on trips to the Bahamas. Some people spend their money collecting sports memorabilia. Some people spend their money on expensive camera equipment. I spend my money so I can be a knowledgable person, and so I can understand life. I’m fine with not having a lot of money. What’s more important to me is that I live my life my way, and say what I want to say. That’s why I’m here. I hope that’s how you feel about that thing that you are passionate about. No judging… if you collect Beanie Babies, I say live your life, man. I really hope you get that commemorative purple Princess Diana bear you’ve had your heart set on. But if a war breaks out over it, I’m writing about it!

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