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Inescapable

Entrapments?

The Civil-Military Decision Paths to Uruzgan and Helmand

Mirjam Grandia Mantas

Leiden University Press

Cover design: Andre Klijsen
Lay-out: Coco Bookmedia
ISBN 978 90 8728 364 3
e-ISBN 978 94 0060 408 7 (e-PDF)
e-ISBN 978 94 0060 409 4 (e-PUB)
NUR 680
© Mirjam Grandia Mantas / Leiden University Press, 2021
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved
above, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into
a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic,
mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the written
permission of both the publisher and the author of the book.
This book is distributed in North America by the University of Chicago
Press (www.press.uchicago.edu).
Experience without theory is blind, but theory without experience is mere intellectual
play
—Immanuel Kant
Contents

Introduction by Professor Hew Strachan

Acknowledgements
1 Introduction: The Script and Its Cast
2 Civil-Military Decision-makers within Their Theoretical Context
3 The Analytical Prism
4 The context: From Regime Change, to Peace Building, to Countering
Insurgents: Stabilising Afghanistan
5 Case Study: The Decision Path to Uruzgan
6 Case Study: The Decision Path to Helmand
7 Cross-Case Analysis: A Powerful Idea Meets a Window of Opportunity
8 Findings Inescapable Entrapments: Informal Action Channels, and
Path-Dependent Reasoning
9 Avenues for Future Research: Bridging the Theory-Practice Nexus in
Strategic Studies
List of Respondents
Bibliography
Notes
Index
Introduction
By Professor Hew Strachan

In Missionaries, Phil Klay’s 2020 novel about war (among other things),
one of his protagonists, Lisette, an American journalist, talks to a friend
and former soldier, Diego, about the conflict in Afghanistan. ‘Go through
the mission set of every unit operating in Afghanistan right now’, Diego
challenges her; ‘tell me a single one that doesn’t make sense.’ Lisette
concedes the point. Individual missions did make sense. ‘It was the war as
a whole that was insane, a rational insanity that dissected the problem in a
thousand different ways, attacked it logically with a thousand different
mission sets, a million white papers, a billion “lessons learned” reports,
and nothing ever approaching a coherent strategy.’
Lisette’s views presumably reflect those of their author: Klay served
with the United States Marine Corps during the ‘surge’ in Iraq. The war in
Afghanistan may have been different in many respects but, even if its
veterans disagree over specifics, they will recognise the force of Lisette’s
point. British and Dutch units in southern Afghanistan did their best to
bring stability and security to Helmand and Uruzgan. At the end of each
tour, their commanders could and did reflect with pride on what they had
achieved – what Lisette calls ‘a thousand tight logical circles’ as each task
was executed ‘with machinelike precision, eyes on the mission amid the
accumulating human waste’. Nonetheless, by the end of 2014, when NATO
ceased active offensive operations, nobody could be quite sure what lasting
results had been achieved. That uncertainty has only increased with the
passage of time.
The British and Dutch armed forces were good at addressing what
Mirjam Grandia in this important book calls the ‘how’ of the war in
Afghanistan but neither government proved able to provide a consistent
and coherent answer to the question ‘why’. Throughout the Cold War, for
both countries the ‘why’ of military effectiveness had been simple: the
defence of western Europe from Soviet aggression, most probably along
the inner German border. It was the ‘how’ that generated the big
questions: whether NATO had sufficient conventional military strength to
mount a successful defence without an early recourse to nuclear weapons,
whether Dutch conscripts of the 1960s or ‘70s would be ready to fight, and
whether either army was intellectually equipped for war at the operational
level. None of these issues mattered when the two countries finally found
themselves fighting alongside each other, albeit in a theatre of war that was
geographically distant from the imperatives of their own national security.
Two former colonial powers that had withdrawn from east of Suez decades
before committed themselves to a protracted conflict in a land-locked
country in central Asia.
For both, Afghanistan was the ‘good war’, a way to atone for Srebrenica
and to regain the public backing seemingly forfeit in Iraq. And yet since
2014, despite the continuing challenge of the Taleban and the mounting
threat of Islamic State, the British and the Dutch have largely turned their
backs on Afghanistan. Their indifference raises serious doubts as to
whether ever they really cared about the political, social and economic
progress of a deprived country afflicted by more than three decades of
persistent conflict. As Mirjam Grandia makes clear, for NATO and its
members this was never a war about the future of Afghanistan, however
much many of those who served there came to care deeply about the
welfare and prospects of its people. Since 2014 both the British and Dutch
armies, propelled by Russia’s resurgent challenge, have been quick to turn
their attentions back to Europe’s security.
This is not just morally reprehensible; it is also strategically imprudent.
The effort expended in the ‘tight logical circles’ of Helmand and Uruzgan
make the United Kingdom and the Netherlands, as well as Australia,
Canada, Denmark, the United States and others, part-authors of the
travails which both provinces continue to undergo: having contributed to
the problem, they continue be its part-owners. Failing to reflect on the
implications of the war in Afghanistan is also stupid. The ‘billion’ reports
may have identified many lessons but few have been ‘learnt’, internalised
or digested.
The most obvious of these focused on counter-insurgency and
stabilisation, and on the political-military tools required for their
implementation – the ‘comprehensive approach’ as Mirjam Grandia calls
it, reflecting the vocabulary generated by Afghanistan itself, or ‘fusion
doctrine’, to use the more recent coinage of British national security policy.
Armies are often criticised for fighting the next war with the tools acquired
as a result of the last. That charge, when justified, is the product of
superficial analysis but even that is better than no analysis. The threat of
such an accusation is not a reason for not thinking in the first place.
Whether NATO will ever again undertake a comparable operation is a
legitimate question, but it would be absurd to presume that it will not at
some point in its future. More immediately, NATO’s armies need to
disaggregate from the experience of Afghanistan the lessons specific to
that country, context and time and those of more general application. This
is where Inescapable entrapments makes such a significant contribution.
It offers a set of conclusions which we should draw from the British and
Dutch experience in Afghanistan that reach back into our own capitals and
forward into our own futures. Inescapable entrapments works at two
levels. Its core provides a comparative account of how the two armies
worked as partners and learnt to respect the constraints under which each
operated and how they could best combine their efforts. Secondly, it goes
on to pose major questions about how strategy is conceptualised. They are
applicable to all democracies and to their models of civil-military relations.
Governments too often focus on the form of civil-military relations rather
than their substance. They judge them on the basis of their inputs, not
their outputs, shaping them according to the theoretical norms of military
subordination to civilian control, not according to the purpose they are
designed to serve, which is the making of strategy. The most important
yardstick with which to measure the effectiveness of civil-military relations
in war is their capacity to develop strategy. That task is too often treated as
a secondary consideration.
Although Mirjam Grandia develops her argument in relation to Britain
and Holland, it clearly applies with equal force to all their allies, including
the United States, The war in Afghanistan re-emphasised that at its heart
strategy is about action. It is pragmatic and in some respects even intuitive;
it is also contingent, however much it needs to look to second and third
order consequences. Moreover, it is not linear in the way which civil-
military relations theory demands. The politicians do not lay down a
policy, from which strategy is developed and then put into practice by
fighting. Politicians in modern democracies frequently prefer to postpone
difficult decisions and to wait on events. While they do so, the military
have to plan so that they can be ready to act if required. Strategic planning
is not the same as strategy, but military planners need strategy as a tool
with which to shape the assumptions which underpin their assessments
and appreciations. They study strategy as part of their professional
education in ways that politicians do not. They test their assumptions in
war games and crisis management exercises which civilians would be well
advised to emulate but on the whole resist. As a result the civil-military
relationship is an unequal partnership, in which the military – especially in
a crisis – holds the whip hand, and in which strategy, if it is to exist at all,
develops through interaction.
Grandia argues forcefully for theoretical approaches to both strategy
and civil-military relations which are grounded not in abstractions about
normative behaviour but in these realities. If her call is not heeded, then we
risk further failures, probably greater than those in Iraq and Afghanistan.
Neither defeat (for that is what the outcomes look like when judged against
their opening ambitions) has been sufficiently humiliating to prompt the
fundamental rethink which both logically demand. Their consequences
have, moreover, been diffused because the states which suffered them did
so as members of an alliance. Each army has been able to sustain its sense
of self-worth through its own operational and tactical successes while
distancing itself from the overall political outcome.
 Even NATO itself has been able to play this game. As Mirjam Grandia
points out, NATO was never the driving force in making strategy in
Afghanistan. NATO has deemed Afghanistan a success. It was the biggest
post-Cold War challenge the alliance has faced and it emerged intact.
Afghanistan involved operations which were not only ‘out of area’ but also
beyond the immediate national security concerns of most members. And
yet they rallied to the cause with remarkable solidarity. In response to the
9/11 attacks, for the first time in its history NATO invoked article 5, the
principle that an attack on one member is an attack on all. It did so in
defence of the United States, the member best able and most inclined to
act on its own. America’s allies responded in large part out of self-interest.
By showing support for the United States, they invested in the hope that
the United States would support them too if they came under attack.
Since 9/11, both sides in this equation seem at times to have forgotten
the terms of their contract. It was designed for far greater challenges than
Afghanistan. As the United States ‘pivots’ to Asia and the Pacific, the
European states which abut the north Atlantic have to decide how they will
shape their response to China. Thirty years ago, in celebrating the end of
the Cold War in their own backyard, they overlooked its continuation in
Asia. Now strategists have begun to wake up to the emergent threat
presented by China, but as a result strategy in Europe is once again being
made – to quote Mirjam Grandia’s description of what happened in
Afghanistan – from the bottom up. NATO has opened discussions about its
response to China, but its political leaders will prevaricate and hedge their
bets as long as possible, eying the economic opportunities of cooperation
and reluctant to weigh them against the security threat. For totally
understandable and proper reasons, their messages to their nations will
equivocate and their peoples will be confused in consequence – just as they
were over Afghanistan. They will be told to see China both as a commercial
partner and as an ideological opponent, and will be unsure as to which to
prioritise.
The making of strategy is a transactional process, and one whose
partners are not just political leaders and strategically-minded generals but
also the electorates to whom, at least in democratic states, they are
accountable, especially in matters involving the use of force. Now more
than ever, we need to respond to Mirjam Grandia’s call for a more realistic
approach to civil-military relations and to the making of strategy.
Acknowledgements

My deployments to Afghanistan as a serving officer in the Royal

Netherlands Army made me wonder about international military
commitments, even at times question them. Although professional
military personnel are trained not to question the political use and
necessity of military engagements, my curiosity led me to dig into the
concepts that had put us there. I also became curious about the influence
“we” as the military actually have on foreign policy decision-making and
the ultimate decision to deploy military forces. This inquisitiveness
transpired, initially, into my PhD research and ultimately produced this
book, Inescapable Entrapments.
A few people have been instrumental in converting my PhD manuscript
into this book. Professor Georg Frerks and Professor Air Commodore
Frans Osinga successfully requested the Director Personnel of the Army,
Brigadier-General Kees De Rijke, to provide the position of Assistant
Professor for me at the War Studies Department at the Faculty of Military
Sciences of the Netherlands Defence Academy. He approved and supported
my ambition to further develop myself as an officer scholar. The concept of
an officer scholar is rather new and not yet well developed in terms of a
career path, but the Director Personnel kindly gave me the freedom to
pioneer and make it happen.
The book that has evolved from there could not have been realised
without the support of one person in particular. Professor Isabelle
Duyvesteyn has been and remains an exemplary person and a great source
of support. Her unfailing trust in my work and in my abilities has been
truly bolstering and gives me the strength to pursue a career as an officer
scholar. Thank you, Isabelle, not only for being a mentor but also a true
friend.
My academic journey was, and continues to be, greatly inspired by
General Sir Rupert Smith, one of the first contemporary officer scholars, by
Professor Hew Strachan’s work on strategy, by Professor Margaret
Hermann’s work on foreign policy decision-making and last, but definitely
not least, by Professor Michael D. Shafer’s work, which lies at the heart of
my academic awakening. Shafer’s book on the deadly paradigms and
assumptions that underlie Western counter-insurgency operations remains
as much in vogue today as when he wrote it over four decades ago. Our
personal correspondence on how to set up my research and explore the
thoughts I had developed during my deployments in Afghanistan, at times
still resonates in my head.
The claims and findings of this book have been further sharpened by
including the comments and advice of the reviewers in the peer-reviewing
process. Also, many people have participated in the editorial process of
this book. The input of linguists at times left me in an utter state of
confusion since there were so many differing opinions on wording and
style. However, all of them have contributed to a comprehensible script.
Thank you Anne, Liz, Karishma and, especially, Alexander, who has read
every single word of this book. Thank you also, Nadine, for your
impeccable work on the annotation and bibliography, which is a horrid job.
Last, but definitely not least, I would like to thank my family. Just as I
was taking the first steps to convert my dissertation into a proper book,
Coronavirus hit the Netherlands and we found ourselves in a lockdown.
The chaos within many homes where parents tried to combine home
schooling with their own work through online meetings and school was
not the most opportune situation for one to structure one’s thoughts and
get into the flow of writing. My husband, who due to his work as an
infantry officer has been away quite a bit over the last years, was now
confined to working from the kitchen table. He saw the growing panic in
my eyes as I was trying to figure out how to write in between MS teams
meetings, online teaching programmes, and the humming of four different
computers. He turned out to be my saving angel. He suggested I should
leave our home early in the morning before the kids would wake up and
escape to my office at the faculty.
Getting into the flow of writing is quite difficult, but withdrawing to an
empty office at the faculty, away from the bustle of a young family, does
help. These daily early morning sessions started with a freshly brewed cup
of coffee made by my colleague, Willem. After coffee, I would devote my
time to converting the findings of my research into this book. Keeping my
sanity whilst writing and struggling to structure the central claims and
arguments was greatly, if not predominantly, aided by being the mother of
the world’s two most lovely and special creatures, Zoë and Costís. Their
existence puts everything in perspective and enabled me to recharge. The
love and support of my husband and my children and their trust in my
abilities have been the driving force behind the coming together of this
book.
1 Introduction: The Script and Its Cast

Introduction

Imagine an afternoon at military headquarters in the United Kingdom.

Two generals are smoking a cigar during a short meeting break. They are
discussing a possible deployment of their armed forces, anticipating an
upcoming request of NATO to its member states to contribute military
forces for an expansion of the Alliance’s presence in Afghanistan. Whilst
talking, the first contours of a plan to deploy their forces into south
Afghanistan see the day of light.
What appears to be a collegial talk between two military senior officers
sharing their thoughts on a potential deployment of their forces is actually
not as futile as one might think. In fact, these generals are the directors of
operations of their respective militaries. One is from the United Kingdom
and the other is from the Netherlands. Their initial ideas came to fruition
in a series of actions and decisions that, ultimately, led to the deployment
of British and Dutch armed forces into southern Afghanistan.
The deployment of military forces for international military
interventions raises fundamental questions such as why these
interventions are undertaken in the first place but also how these decisions
were taken. The use of military means is often treated as a neutral, an ‘all-
in-one toolkit’, to be utilised when other methods for achieving a
particular political goal fail. By learning about why and how foreign policy
decisions on the deployment of military forces are made, we gain
information about the intentions and strategies of governments and,
respectively, how definitions of the problems at hand are translated into
action.1 Put differently: “Who becomes involved in a decision, how, and why
is essential to an explanation of why decision-makers decided the way that
they did”.2
The particular focus of this study is the role of the military in foreign
policy decision-making on the deployment of military forces. Hence,
investigating the ‘how’ of their role in foreign policy decision-making is as
important as investigating the ‘why’ of their involvement.3 The outcome of
this study will inform various academic fields and policymakers since
direct military involvement in foreign policy decision-making has long
been anathema in both academic and practitioner circles. The notion of
the existence of informal military action channels and their effect on the
initiation and shaping of decision paths on the deployment of military
forces deserves greater attention in the field of security studies, foreign
policy analysis and civil-military relations.
This study closely examines the history of the decision paths of senior
civil and military decision-makers in the Netherlands and the United
Kingdom all the way back to the initial idea that caused a certain decision
path to materialise. During the examination several questions will be asked
such as: whether the primacy of politics, as text books would prescribe,
guide the actions of senior civil and military decision-makers; how this
decision group interpreted and made sense of the task at hand; whether
there was a strategy and a subsequent narrative articulating the purpose of
the use of the military means.
The findings of the case studies illustrate the emergence of a powerful,
hardly contested idea that engendered a path-dependent reasoning in
which senior civil and military decision-makers joined forces.
Furthermore, the reconstruction of their decision paths brings to light the
emergence of agency at a level which is believed to be unlikely. A trilateral
military initiative was foundational to the initial decision-making on the
deployment of forces to southern Afghanistan.
The book presents both empirical and theoretical findings. A detailed
account of how the senior civil and military decision-makers in the
Netherlands and the United Kingdom came to the decision to deploy their
militaries respectively to Uruzgan and Helmand and how they,
subsequently, drafted their strategies for the stabilisation of southern
Afghanistan is put forward. The systematic reconstruction and
comparison of the activities of these decision-makers allowed us to reach a
sound judgement about why and how the decision to commit military
troops was made.
The theoretical contribution of this book is its claim to further advance
the research agenda of strategic studies and civil-military relations. Several
assumptions and dominant beliefs within these fields are challenged by the
findings of this study. The analysis, as presented in this study, gives rise to
a more rudimentary approach to practices in the field. These practices go
beyond an invented theoretical world in which the dynamics of the logics
at play in the minds of agents are often downplayed, ignored, or denied.
We ought to focus more on the entrapments and path dependency that
seems to occur between the senior civil and military decision-makers
whilst discussing a deployment of military forces. Assuming prescriptive
theory on roles and rules to prevent path-dependent reasoning and
entrapment would be naïve. Instead, let us focus on fostering a structural
dialogue between civil and military decision-makers, a dialogue that is to
inform strategic thought and practice.
The book calls for a more profound use of contingency-based logic of
decision-making analysis within strategic studies. This approach facilitates
a dynamic investigation of sequential decision-making over time and
allows for incorporating the influence of agency.4 The study emphasises
the importance of the senior civil and military decision-makers’ agency
and scrutinises the ways in which they made up their minds and acted
accordingly. In the process of figuring out what to do, the political agency
of actors surfaces in case they are able to put their capacity into use.
Whether the actors fail or succeed to influence political decisions defines
the result of their actions.5
Hence, this study challenges the dominantly held belief, within
strategic studies, on rational actor linear decision-making. The main
argument is that using frameworks, codes and regulations that are
designed to facilitate rational linear decision-making do not result in
objective, coherent, qualified or transparent decision-making. It also
downplays the notion of human creativity in reasoning and decision-
making.
Another important aspect of this study is the notion of Western-
centrism. This approach, more often than not, fails to take into
consideration the perspectives of the states subject to military
intervention. The findings of this research illustrate that when it comes to
military interventions, Western states habitually ask preconceived
questions, which often leads to biased analysis and, typically, results in a
collective focus on how the intervention should be carried out before
sufficiently addressing the reasons why intervention is necessary.
The senior civil and military decision-makers in this book are
conceptualised as a ‘decision unit’. The concept of a decision unit allows a
focus on how a group of actors acquires agency, its primary feature being
the ability to commit government resources. The work of Hermann,
Hermann and Hagan on decision units expands on an extant body of
research on foreign policy decision-making that has traditionally focused
on bureaucratic politics, group dynamics and presidential advisory
systems.6
Furthermore, it takes into account the ways in which those involved in
policymaking can shape events instead of focusing on constraints that
limit what decision units can do. By shaping events, decision units can
become active participants in the making of foreign policy. Lastly, the
decision-unit model facilitates research on foreign policy decisions that go
beyond current models, which focus largely on the American political
system. This allows for a more inclusive and comparative study of how
decisions are made in and between different political systems.7
Most importantly, the model provides for a systematic analysis of
sequential decisions whereby the decision unit members potentially
change and/or revert back to their initial configuration. The is often
dependent on the type of decision within space and time. The contingency-
based logic of the model facilitates a dynamic analysis of the series of
decisions that are made.8 Furthermore, this level of analysis bridges the
individual and organisational level, facilitating switching between these
levels.9
The added value of closing in on the particular group of civil and
military actors highlights an informal decision-making process that
conditions, shapes, and even predetermines the ultimate decision. The
application of the framework to the sequential decision-making of the
deployment of military forces, exhibits the viability of the dynamics at play.
Hence, by focusing on the series of choices that follow multiple occasions
for decision, one can capture the emerging decision path in great detail
and it enables the unravelling of informal action channels.
This book will provide insights into the decision-making process over
time through reconstructing how results from one occasion for decision
influence and/or intertwine with information from the national and
international environment and consequently shape the nature of the next
occasion for decision. The interdisciplinary approach of this study is
supposed to advance to a more thorough understanding of how decisions
to deploy military forces at large are made and the difficulties of strategy
making.10 As indicated by Lawrence Freedman, many important academic
divides cut across these boundaries. Consequently, practical problems,
such as deciding on the use of the military for interventions, can rarely be
encapsulated in terms of a single discipline. In fact, every so often, an
interdisciplinary approach facilitates innovation and influences new
thinking.11
The book will also reveal how these civil-military strategically-engaged
agents made inferences about their counterparts in order to best suit the
achievement of their goal. The reconstruction of their actions illustrates
how the commitments and beliefs of these agents informed the basis on
which they were prepared to act.12 As Alexander Macleod points out, black-
boxing senior decision-makers would be perfidious since their
communication is usually the outcome of a collective process, involving
power struggles, policy disagreements and partisan infighting.13 As such,
the selection of this group of actors as the primary unit of analysis will best
serve the possibility of reconstructing the events and activities that led to
the deployment of military forces to Helmand and Uruzgan.

The Method

A contextualised approach is employed for this study stemming from the

belief that a social phenomenon cannot be adjudicated separately from the
context in which the phenomenon occurs. Therefore, to unravel the
mechanisms at play, the method of structured focused comparison is used,
allowing an in-depth analysis of the cases at hand. The structure is
provided through ‘semi-structured’ interviews in which the theoretical
focus resonates but it also allows for the interviewees to provide
information on matters unique to their experience and matters they
themselves view to be important.14
Particularly, in political science, process-tracing frequently involves the
analysis of developments at the highest level of government.15 The method
reduces randomness as much as possible. The most important actors need
to be identified and approached directly.16 The framework of the decision
unit is particularly suited for process-tracing purposes since it facilitates
isolating and examining the sequence of decisions by breaking the
sequence down into its parts. In the reconstruction of the flow of decisions
and who was involved in which decision with what consequences to the
decision process, actual choice comes to light.17
In-depth (semi-structured) interviews with the focus group of senior
civil and military decision-makers were carried out as elite interviews.
These kinds of interviews shed light on decisions and actions that lay
behind an event or series of events, through direct and focused
questioning. The opinions of the interviewees are not only an important
source for reconstructing the process, but their experiences and beliefs
about how and why military means were used for the stabilisation effort in
southern Afghanistan are crucial to this research as well. Their actions are
purportedly based on their ideas of what would be acceptable to the
constituents. These acceptable ideas are grounded on orientations such as
internationalism and/or pacifism relating to public notions of national
roles. These build upon the structuring of the public’s views and their
underlying core values.18

The Cases

The primary criterion for the case selection was its relevance to the
research objective of the study.19 Consequently, the least-likely case
selection was applied. This decision was founded in the author’s
preliminary knowledge of the cases at hand, thereby allowing a stronger
research design.20 However, a sense of pragmatism was also attributed to
the case selection decision due to funding and possibilities to access data.
The two case studies present the decision paths of the senior civil and
military decision-makers in the Netherlands and the United Kingdom on
the deployment of their respective military forces to southern
Afghanistan.21 These selected countries are NATO members and two
important Western European states when it comes to providing troops for
stabilisation missions but differ to one another to a great extent as well.22
The main differences lie in their political systems and their security
posture within the international arena. While the United Kingdom is often
criticised or applauded for their ‘warrior proneness’, the Netherlands are
often criticised or applauded for their ‘soft’ and ‘a-military’ appearance.
International views on the use of military force by these two countries vary.
Generally put, one can distinguish a difference between Atlantic and
European views about the purpose of the military, especially with regard to
their role in foreign policy. The principal realist assumption that states use
armed force to advance their security interests seems to appeal more to
major and medium military powers such as the United States and the
United Kingdom.23 Small states like Denmark, the Netherlands and
Sweden tend to doubt whether armed force is a useful means for achieving
security.24
 The major difference between these countries, that could potentially
affect decision-making on the use of military means, lies in their political
systems. The Netherlands has a multi-party system, which is often ruled by
a coalition government. Coalition governments by definition need to work
on building consensus within their cabinet, parliament and senate in order
to be effective. The Prime Minister is primus interparis (first among equals)
and the role of government and the use of military means are laid down in
the constitution.25 The United Kingdom has a majority system, also known
as the Westminster model. It is named after the palace of Westminster in
London, which is the location of the British parliament. The main
characteristic of the model is that the Queen, the head of state, is the
nominal or de jure source of executive power while the de facto head of the
executive is the Prime Minister. He exercises executive authority on behalf
of the head of state. This system of government originated with
parliamentary convention, practices and precedents and has never been
formally laid out in a written constitution. 26
An aspect closely related to the different political systems of these
states is the set of procedures underpinning the deployment of their
troops. These differences are founded in the dissimilarities in their
political systems. In the United Kingdom, the Prime Minister possesses
great powers to employ military means, whereas in the Netherlands,
Parliament has acquired itself a prominent role in the endorsement of
deploying military means.27
Moreover, in the Netherlands, the use of the military is a sensitive and
often debated issue in the Dutch parliament, especially after the events in
Srebrenica.28 As a result, an assessment framework and consequently a
parliamentary procedure was developed and implemented. The
framework, as will be explained in chapter four, consists of a series of
political and military criteria that are used to consider the desirability and
feasibility of contributing military resources to an international military
operation.29 When applied, the Dutch government prepares an Article 100
Letter. On the basis of this letter, parliament can debate the issues related to
the deployment. In order for the government to deploy its military forces,
the majority of parliamentary members must endorse the proposal.
Without a majority in parliament, the government could decide to deploy
its forces anyway but this is not viewed as desirable.30 The United Kingdom
does not have such a thorough and formal set of procedures when it comes
to deploying their troops, which adds to the comparative advantage of the
two cases.
An additional difference between the two states is the fact that the
United Kingdom institutionalised a comprehensive approach to operations
in its Post Conflict and Reconstruction Unit (PCRU) (now referred to as
Stabilisation Unit). The interdepartmental unit jointly serves the
Department for International Development (DFID), Foreign &
Commonwealth Office (FCO) and the Ministry of Defence (MOD). PCRU
plans missions to fragile states, according to a single British aim and
strategic framework. Consequently, they deploy civilian experts as well as
military forces. The Netherlands has not institutionalised its
interdepartmental cooperation, but coordinates the planning and
execution of its military missions through the Steering Group Military
Operations (SMO).
An important benefit of a comparative research strategy is its ability to
study events in depth.31 The case studies are structured in the following
way: first of all, the context in which the senior civil and military decision-
makers chose to engage their armed forces to stabilise southern
Afghanistan is presented. Secondly, the actions and events featuring the
complex political and military interplay of launching a military operation
and the articulation of its purpose will be outlined. The cases are
concluded once political approval for the operations was granted and the
plans for the operations were delivered. As such, the timeframe of the case
studies is limited to the duration of the military and political decision-
making process that started in 2004 and ended in the first quarter of 2006.
The analysis of the cases employs both a deductive and an inductive
method since existing theories on human action, decision-making, civil-
military relations, and strategy are guiding the propositions formulated for
the collection of the data. However, possible explanations, as to what
accounts for current developments in the translation of political goals into
a military operation, follows an inductive logic. This is informed by
combining theoretical insights with empirical findings.
This study contains some limitations. First of all, access to classified
data has been allowed for the Dutch case but could not be arranged for the
British case. Archive material was important for the triangulation of the
gathered data through interviews. However, many studies and reports
regarding the decision-making process on the deployment to Helmand
have appeared in the United Kingdom and public hearings have been
conducted. As such, much secondary data could be collected, allowing
triangulation for the British case as well.
Secondly, this study relies heavily on elite interviews and, as such, on
the memories of the interviewees. In retrospect, their memory of events
might not be accurate or might even have been manipulated for self-
serving purposes. The data from these interviewees was cross-checked
with data from other actors who were interviewed. Subsequently, this data
was triangulated using archive material and other secondary data.
Therefore, the data collected from these interviews was carefully selected
before being presented. Although there is a certain level of subjectivity in
the facts recollected from these interviews, the comments are validated
through triangulation with other sources, as mentioned earlier.
Thirdly, it is the essence of interpretive research to study the acts of
social agents. Ultimately, observation is interpretation: social reality
constitutes meanings and these meanings cannot be studied in any
‘objective’ manner. This could be viewed as a limitation to this study.
However, the impossibility of objective observation should by no means
justify not trying to pragmatically interpret social reality with as much
detachment as possible. Hence, ‘to know if social reality is really real
makes no analytical difference: the whole point is to observe whether
agents take it to be real and to draw the social and political implications
that result’.32
Lastly, the author is an active duty officer, which comes with both
advantages and disadvantages. The principal advantage is her field
experience and her privileged access to various (classified) operational
documents and reports. This also constitutes the disadvantages of her
position, namely, she is ‘part’ of the instrument under study and much of
the data to which she has access is classified. By being aware that she
already has some preconceived ideas based on her experience, she tried to
keep distance and she received feedback from a team of reviewers when
necessary. The classified information about the planning and execution of
the mission and the operational debriefs that she gained access to
formulated the questions for the semi-structured interview lists, which
were designed for the structured and focused comparison. The
information has been triangulated with other information gathered
through interviews and has served as a reliability test of the gathered
qualitative data.

Book Outline

The book is divided into three parts. Part One deals with the conceptual
and theoretical framework that guides the careful dissection of the
decision paths of the senior civil and military decision-makers in the
Netherland and the United Kingdom. Chapter Two introduces the main
concepts and their status quaestionis. First of all, the context of
contemporary military interventions will be set out, with a particular focus
on the concept of stabilisation operations. The use of stabilisation
operations was the dominant concept at the time when the decisions that
lie at the centre of attention for this study were made. Subsequently, the
senior civil and military decision-makers and the nature of their relations
will be attended to, followed by a theoretical description of their core
process, the delivery of strategy. Chapter Three sets out the analytical
framework foundational to the reconstruction of the decision paths of the
group of senior civil and military decision-makers. It commences with
sketching the institutional context and its conditioning mechanisms,
thereby providing the setting in which the senior civil and military
decision-makers are to come to a decision. Henceforth, the concept of
decision units is introduced as a vehicle to reconstruct the series of events
and decisions that ultimately led to the deployment of military forces. The
concept also allows us to operationalise the civil and military decision-
makers.
Part Two of the book commences by providing a short overview of the
genesis of the Western intervention in Afghanistan up to the time the
Netherlands and the United Kingdom decided to deploy their military
means for the stabilisation of southern Afghanistan (Chapter Four). This
chapter serves merely to set out the developments in Afghanistan since the
intervention of the ‘coalition of the willing’, a formation of Western
military powers led by the United States that invaded Afghanistan in
October 2001 until NATO’s expansion into southern Afghanistan in the
summer of 2006. The chapter is designed to provide an understanding of
the environment in which the Netherlands and the United Kingdom felt
they needed to engage by contributing to NATO’s expansion in this
country.
Successively, Chapter Five discusses the case of the Netherlands. The
chapter embarks by outlining the foreign and security policy of the
Netherlands and provides a description of its senior civil and military
decision-makers and the procedures for deciding to use military means
within their specific political context. Subsequently, the actions and
decisions of the senior civil and military decision-makers in the
Netherlands are carefully reconstructed. Chapter Six presents the case of
the United Kingdom and commences by presenting the foreign and
security policy and provides a description of its senior civil and military
decision-makers and the procedures of deciding to use military means
within their specific political context. Subsequently, the actions and
decisions of the senior civil and military decision-makers in the United
Kingdom are carefully reconstructed.
Subsequently, in Chapter Seven, a cross-case comparison is conducted.
The workings of the actions undertaken and the decisions made by the
senior civil and military decision-makers in both nations will be compared
in this chapter.
Part Three, commences with the concluding chapter (Chapter Eight) in
which questions that instigated and guided this research will be answered:
firstly, why the senior civil and military decision-makers in the Netherlands
and the United Kingdom decided to provide military means for the
stabilisation of southern Afghanistan and, secondly, how this political
ambition was converted into a military operation. Lastly, the final chapter
(Chapter Nine) of this book confronts the most salient findings of this
study with prominent matters in the field of strategic studies and civil and
military relations in need of reappraisal.
2 Civil-Military Decision-makers within their
Theoretical Context

Introduction

The act of deciding if and how military force ought to be deployed lies at
the heart of what is known as the strategic civil-military interface.33 In this
interface military operations are designed and directed by a group of senior
civil and military decision-makers. These agents and their actions are the
focus of the theoretical and empirical puzzle of this book. Yet, one cannot
comprehend their decisions without an understanding of the context in
which this decision transpires and without an understanding of the
prescriptive theories foundational to the roles the actors fulfil.34
This chapter explains the theoretical concepts that are foundational to
the rule-based international and national environments in which the civil
and military decision-makers operate. First, the context of contemporary
military interventions is delineated with a particular focus on the concept
of stabilisation operations. Above all, this was the dominant concept at the
time when the decisions at the centre of this study were made. The concept
of stabilisation operations serves as an organising framework and, as such,
has ideological utility for the civilian and military decision-makers at the
time under study.
Subsequently, the theoretical underpinnings of Western rules on civil-
military relations are delineated, followed by a theoretical description of
their shared process, which is strategy-making. These two theoretical
concepts contain prescriptive models of the way the relations between civil
and military actors ought to be organised and upheld and are, in theory,
foundational to their respective roles in decision-making and to the
process of drafting strategies for military interventions.
The Context: Contemporary Military Interventions

The context of Western military interventions has exhibited considerable

variations in terms of its normative dimension.35 Hence, the pattern of
military interventions throughout the last few decades cannot be
understood when separated from the changing normative framework in
which they occurred and which also shaped the various conceptions of
interest. Standard analytical (mostly realist) assumptions about states and
other actors pursuing their interests tend to leave the sources and
motivations of interests vaguely defined or unspecified.36
The end of the Cold War heralded a rapid and dramatic transformation
in the practice of military interventions. The majority of interventions were
multinational peacekeeping operations instead of unilateral interventions
by world powers. Ever since then the number of this type of mission has
increased greatly.37 Moreover, a qualitative shift in the nature of
peacekeeping towards ‘second-generation’ peacekeeping missions has
emerged. Since the early nineties, an increase in intrastate conflicts has
been perceived to endanger international security. Consequently,
peacekeepers were sent to intrastate conflicts, stretching the traditional
peacekeeping principles of consent, neutrality, and limited use of force.
Hence, in addition to the traditional truce observation role of
peacekeepers, this style of peacekeeping also entailed significant nation-
building activities.38 Prominent examples of these types of missions are
Cambodia, Angola, Namibia, Rwanda, Mozambique, Bosnia, Croatia, El
Salvador, Nicaragua, Guatemala, Liberia, Sierra Leone, East Timor and
Kosovo.39
One of the striking features of these peacekeeping operations is that
they all sought to remake (post-) conflict states into liberal democracies on
the grounds that liberal democracies are the ‘appropriate’ model of the
ideal domestic political organisation.40 These set objectives, however, were
not without their own difficulties. The most prominent peacekeeping
operations revealing the growing difficulties of competing mandates and
unclear political objectives were the UN and NATO missions in the
Balkans.
In addition to the transformation of types of interventions, Western
powers demonstrated a growing reluctance to intervene without
justification in terms of widely-shared normative principles. Although
political interest continued to play a significant role in contemporary
intervention by major powers, these powers were now required to justify
their actions in terms of general normative principles. Consequently, they
rarely intervened in the internal affairs of other states without
authorisation based on these general principles from legitimate
multilateral institutions, in particular the United Nations.41
In turn, the notion that sovereignty is conditional and contingent upon
state performance in terms of protecting the rights of citizens became
increasingly influential. The legal prescription for intervention became
weaker as a consequence, as applicability of the principle of non-
intervention started to depend on ‘standards of civilisation’.42 More
specifically, ‘civilised’ states engaged in the protection of norms whereas
‘uncivilised’ states or polities did not.43 After the end of the Cold War,
Russia was increasingly viewed as an ‘uncivilised state’ and was therefore
excluded from participating in most multinational interventions.44 Russia
has often criticised Western states for employing the ‘humanitarian
argument’ as legitimation for their interventions.
The concept of the Responsibility to Protect (R2P) is a case in point.45
R2P articulates that it is the responsibility of a state to protect its
population from mass atrocities. When states fail to do so, the
international community ought to assist or even intervene in order to
alleviate human suffering. However, international responsibility to
intervene in cases where states are powerless or unwilling to protect their
population remains a point of contention with the United Nations (UN)
Security Council member states.46
The deadlock within the UN Security Council during the start of the
Syrian war, illustrated the politics of R2P. It revealed the depth of political
and ideological differences regarding international intervention between
UN member states and resulted in a debate on its effectiveness as a norm.
Russia and China were unambiguously against forced regime change,
which constitutes a key ideological difference with Western states that
contended the removal of the Assad regime in order to take Syria forward.47
According to some, the Security Council’s stalemate over Syria is
attributed to NATO’s operation in Libya where, for the first time, a military
intervention using R2P without the consent of the host government was
authorised. Many, including Russian and China, viewed Libya’s lack of
consent to the intervention as a violation on the part of NATO, displaying
the fact that Western powers would use R2P to advance their own interest.
However, Russia and China’s position in the Syrian matter should not be
solely attributed to NATO’s intervention in Libya, as this would ignore
other crucial factors of their political resistance, such as their shared
interest to jointly challenge American supremacy.48
Using the term ‘humanitarian’ in concordance with military
intervention started to become rather prominent about two decades ago.
One of the legacies of the NATO operation Allied Force in Kosovo was the
emergence of a new phenomenon known as humanitarian intervention.49 Ever
since, many prominent political leaders have become strong proponents of
the use of force for humanitarian purposes. Although the causal weight of
these principles in determining state behaviour in the international arena
is contestable, it limited (Western) states’ flexibility in contemplating
intervention on the pure grounds of self-interest.50 However, states’
interventionist behaviour in the internal affairs of other states was
facilitated by employing a normative framework as justification for the
intervention.51
Consequently, interventions nowadays are increasingly accompanied
by normative justification and rhetoric.52 Collective values, such as conflict
resolution, the protection of human rights, and the promotion of
democracy have gained influence at the expense of more clearly self-
interested political objectives.53 One of the critiques voiced is the
discernible trend toward less clear political guidance and less profound, or
even absent, objectives to guide military interventions.54 Some describe
the contemporary era of value-based foreign policy-making as marked by
the inability to construct a clear political goal, coherent values,
frameworks, and strategic interests.55
The way interests are defined largely depends on one’s theoretical
standpoint. Is interest looked upon as being material in its existence or as a
‘social construction’? The realist interpretation of interest as the basis for
state action in pursuit of power is an often-heard axiom in the debate about
the stabilisation of (post) conflict states. In essence, stabilisation of (post-)
conflict states is arguably about powerful Western states seeking to forge,
secure, or support a particular political order in line with their particular
strategic objectives.56
If interest, however, is viewed as a social construction, a process of
interpretation is required in order to understand both the situation the
state faces and how the state should respond to it. It presupposes a shared
language among those who determine state action and its public. In
addition, rhetoric is driven by interests as well as used to justify the pursuit
of those interests. This rhetoric mediates between clear state interests as
dictated by the international system and state action.57 In the case of
contemporary operations, the construction of legitimacy seems to be an
inextricable part of building national interests.58 In other words, this
perspective acknowledges norms as instrumental to the structuring of
state’s interests. The contraposition on the use of normative rhetoric is
that norms are in fact employed as a vehicle to acquire justification for
purely self-serving purposes of states.59
As postulated earlier, the influence of norms with regard to military
intervention has been evident over the last three decades.60 It has become a
requirement for states to combine their interests with prescriptive norms
that affect not only their interests, but also shape the instruments or means
that states deem available and appropriate to use. Hence, even when actors
are aware of a wide array of means to accomplish their policy objectives,
they may nevertheless reject some means as inappropriate due to
normative constraints.61
 An eminent example of value-laden intervention is called stabilisation
operations. Contemporary writings on the stabilisation of (post-) conflict
states and stabilisation operations draw heavily on operations as
conducted in Iraq and Afghanistan. As a matter of fact, the stabilisation
discourse emerged on the basis of the experiences of Western stabilisation
efforts in these countries. The objectives of stabilising (post-) conflict
states and the process of meeting these objectives remain deeply
controversial. This controversy stems from competing mandates, priorities
and interests, but also from the different capacities of the various actors
involved. Approaches tend to be divided between prioritising security
imperatives and taking immediate action to counter perceived threats,
such as insurgents, or pursuing wider peace-building, state-building and
development goals.62
The (post-) conflict states subject to the stabilisation efforts of Western
states are typically characterised as having weak governments that lack the
monopoly on the use of violence. The stability of these states is frequently
threatened by various groups invariably known and defined as insurgents.
Consequently, the terms ‘counterinsurgency’ (COIN) and ‘stabilisation
operations’ are frequently intertwined and have been used
interchangeably.63 This highlights the lack of conceptual clarity
surrounding the concept of stabilisation and is indicative of the
overwhelming influence of, and current focus on, Afghanistan and Iraq.64
The intangibility of the two concepts seems to originate in the way
military operations were conducted as a response to 9/11. The relationship
between peace operations and counterinsurgency has grown significantly
ever since: rapid offensive successes in Afghanistan and Iraq were followed
by classic protracted ‘pacification campaigns’. These types of operations
encompass a diverse array of activities ranging from peace operations, state
building, counterinsurgency to counter-terrorism. Consequently, labels
like ‘stabilisation’, or ‘reconstruction’ have been attached to these
missions. Integrated responses, most commonly known as ‘comprehensive
approaches’, were developed.65 The concept of a ‘comprehensive approach’
contains various elements of the most effective counterinsurgency
practices: a mix of economic, political, and security components, civil-
military hybrids as implementing tools, and a focus on strengthening local
governance and security forces. The main aim is to foster development to
create a local host-nation administrative capacity, capable of providing
security, meeting basic needs and providing services to citizens in a
manner perceived as legitimate in the eyes of the local population.
The term stabilisation operation became a ‘catch all’ description. More
often than not, such operations contain a substantive military component,
although the potentially violent aspects of the stabilisation effort are
habitually downplayed for various (domestic) political reasons.66 The
principle of military response in this complex politicised context concerns
the use of force, but explicitly recognises the limitations of the use of
force.67 Military successes alone are no longer sufficient as such, but must
also facilitate and foster sustainable peace or stability.68
The normative dimension of these interventions is part of the broader
conception of intervention as a political/military instrument used by states
to pursue their perceived interests.69 The concept of stability operations is
relatively new to both scholars and practitioners in the field. The term
‘stabilisation’ and its derivative ‘type of operation’ have primarily been
used by Western governments and are shaped by their political and
strategic interests and priorities.70
The role of the military in stabilisation operations seems to lie in
creating the conditions for stability. Many scholars argue that military
operations with the political aim of ensuring stability, democratisation,
and economic development have been the most prominent since the end of
the Cold War.71 Studies have indicated a sharp increase in the number of
responses and interventions seeking to stabilise (post-) conflict states.72 In
fact, military means are increasingly applied as viable instruments for
transforming non-liberal countries or regions into liberal ones, thereby
extending the ‘zone of peace’.73
The application of the term stabilisation operation also reveals changes
in the language used to describe contemporary military undertakings by
Western states. The application of the term “war” has proven to be
problematic in a number of countries for several reasons. First of all, there
are different conceptions of what war is. Originally, war was understood as
an instrument of policy, but it is equally an instrument in terms of the
analytical framework it provides for the military: the ability to use force to
transmit a political intention.74 Secondly, force is often not a ‘role’ states
like to employ, regardless of whether or not the ends they seek to attain are
ultimately the same as those of countries who do employ this terminology.
Here, a distinction must be made between smaller European military
powers and major military powers such as the United States.75 In the
United States the use of the word ‘war’ in foreign policy and foreign policy
actions does not seem to disturb its citizens. Conversely, amongst
constituents of smaller European nations, the very use of the word war may
cause some distress.76
Thirdly, war as an interpretative entity assumes mutual understanding
of the term, but this is not always the case amongst those who wage war, let
alone amongst those who had it forced upon them, as was the case in
Libya.77 In traditional interstate war, the use of force was intended to yield
a military outcome, facilitating a political solution. Consequently, for force
to be used effectively, the enemy needs to be identified and the purpose of
the war needs to be defined.78 However, identifying ‘the enemy’ has proven
to be a complex undertaking since it is often a diverse group of actors
constituting a threat. Furthermore, the purpose of armed engagement
often remains vague for primarily political (diplomatic) purposes.79
In summary, the contemporary approaches of Western states towards
third party intervention are tangled with normative prescriptions of how
states ought to behave. These prescriptions derive from neo-liberal models
of governance and set out how states should be designed and ruled. The
various debates on military intervention put forward the values and norms
that have conditioned its use. The prominence of values and norms in the
arguments for the use of military force does not diminish or deny the
importance of the interests, however varied they may be, that states pursue
in their international relations. The label currently attached to these
interventions is ‘stabilisation operations’. The term carries a considerable
degree of conceptual indistinctiveness about what it is and is not, but
nevertheless it remains a powerful normative mobilising concept on the
basis of which Western nations engage in the ‘stabilisation’ of (post)
conflict states.

The Norms: Civil and Military Decision-Makers and the

Nature of their Relations

The Western norms that cater for relations between senior civil and
military decision-makers are a frequent point of debate. These debates
about civil-military relations are widely held in the United States, the cradle
of the traditional prescriptive theories on civil-military relations. Points of
discussion vary from the ‘Runaway General’, a military commander
expressing his distaste for President Obama, to the power of military
advisors in the decision-making process about the American troop surge in
Iraq and Afghanistan.80 The main arguments concern the role of the
military and the boundaries it is believed to cross in terms of influencing
foreign policy decision-making. In Europe, these debates are less in the
forefront, although contemporary military interventions instigated
discussions on alleged ‘strategic illiteracy’ amongst civil and military
decision-makers, linking the quality of civil-military relations to their
ability to devise sound strategy.81
The nature of civil-military relations, which has been studied
extensively from a normative perspective, addresses the need for civilian
control over the military and primarily derives from two key authors,
Samuel Huntington and Morris Janowitz. Their works put forward an
American perspective on civil-military relations founded in the realities of
the Cold War, and nevertheless continue to be authoritative works
primarily adhered to by Western states.
The Huntingtonian approach advocates a clear divide between civilian
and military leadership and the Western liberal societal ideology that
supports objective control of the military, allowing the military to develop
its own set of skills based on its view of the functional imperative.82 It
assumes the possible segregation of an autonomous area of military
science from political purpose.83
Military deference to civilian control, rooted in a conservative realist
perspective, is one of the core premises of Huntington’s work and has
dominated thought on civil-military relations up to the present time. This
perspective was challenged over three decades ago by the sociologist Sam
Sarkesian when he stated that ‘the generally accepted idea of acceptance of
the military in democratic societies as an apolitical organization,
characterised by civilian control and supremacy is, in practice, mere
ignorance of history and reality’.84
The contemporary context of civil-military relations, the belief in a
concerted civilian-military effort to stabilise (post-) conflict states, adheres
more to the framework of the work of yet another notable theorist in the
field of civil-military relations, Morris Janowitz. His framework prescribes
a politically attuned military and therefore advocates civil-military
integration in order to create coordinated advice and to develop increased
mutual understanding and trust between the actors in the civil-military
interface.85
The logic underlying his argument is his belief about the need for
intertwined political and military policy and decision-making. Janowitz’s
notion of civil-military relations advocates the officer corps to be politically
educated in order to be able to function well in the political domain. He
refers to the military as a ‘constabulary force’ and denounces a clear
separation of the civil-military domain. In his view, civilian control cannot
be achieved through the professional military tradition not to intervene in
politics, but through ‘self-imposed professional standards and meaningful
integration with civilian values’.86
Peter Feaver expanded the body of literature on civil-military relations
by applying the principal-agent theory and exposing the ‘civil-military
problematique’ as a strategic game: civilians control the military by
monitoring and punishing, whereas the military either ‘work or shirk’.87 He
suggests civilians might exercise oversight of the military by monitoring
(or not monitoring) whether the military has obeyed their orders. In the
event that the military has not executed its orders, civilians can decide to
either punish the military or not. According to Feaver, when managing the
military, civilians have the ‘right to be wrong’, i.e. to make mistakes in
their strategic guidance directing key decisions, even when the military
disagrees with that direction.88
An interesting but less-known perspective on civil-military relations
has been developed by Rebecca Schiff. She views the citizenry as a party, in
addition to the civil and military actors, and articulates that these parties
should aim for a cooperative relationship, which is a relationship that may
or may not involve separation as a necessity. Her ‘concordance theory’
argues that the type of civil-military relationship matters less than the
ability of the three partners to agree on the social composition of the
officer corps, the political decision-making process, the recruitment
method, and military style. In addition, she argues for the inclusion of
elements of society, amongst which culture is central in both the
prescriptions and descriptions related to civil-military relations.89
The majority of Western scholars and military practitioners agree on
the fact that the military should be under civilian control. How the military
ought to engage with their civilian masters is a point of debate. Strict
obedience to the demarcation line as drawn by Huntington gives an
unrealistic picture of the ‘real-life intricacies’ between the civil and military
decision-makers and would simplify the nature of their relations to a large
degree. Especially, those who have operated at various levels while
planning and executing present-day operations have experienced the
untenability of categorising the military as politically inert operators
merely executing policy.90
The relationship between civil and military decision-makers is often
portrayed as a dichotomous relationship nurturing distrust amongst all
parties involved. Feaver recognises a reciprocal relationship between civil
and military decision-makers but advances the premise that the military
needs to be restrained or else it will exercise a disproportionate amount of
influence on politics and decision-making. He draws a distinction between
theorists he refers to either as ‘professional supremacists’ or as ‘civilian
supremacists’. According to him, professional supremacists are
prescriptively focused on permitting the military to speak more bluntly to
their civilian superiors to the degree of ‘carving out large areas of
professional autonomy’ by trumpeting military preferences over civilian
ones. Feaver himself is a firm adherent to the civilian supremacist school,
which is prescriptively focused on enabling civilian leaders to directly and
cogently engage themselves in the ‘business of war-making’ questioning
military advice to the degree of affecting the professional autonomy of the
military apparatus. 91
However, if there is too much emphasis on military influence, in other
words on political control, one runs the risk of overlooking the interactive
nature of the civil-military relationship. As stressed by Hew Strachan:
“[w]e have tended to assume that the danger is a military coup d’état, when
the real danger for Western democracies today is the failure to develop
coherent strategy”.92 An emphasis on which side (civil or military) prevails
in the decision-making process overlooks the interactive nature of the
process. Hence, the focus should lie on the nature of the interactions
between the military and their civilian masters and on building a safe path
in between.
The civil-military dialogue could get beyond their dichotomy by
applying a more inclusive approach to facilitate a more profound
cooperation between civil and military decision-makers. Richard Betts
suggests framing civil-military relations as ‘an equal dialogue with unequal
authority.’93 Dale Herspring, on the other hand, proposes viewing civil-
military relations as a ‘shared relationship’ in which neither side ‘wins’.94
As illustrated above, the dominant approaches within civil-military
relations derive from American perspectives and very much focus on
institutional analysis. Despite the dominance of these American views,
also adhered to by the majority of other Western nations, it is worthwhile
to draw some distinctions. First of all, smaller nations with a lesser
military capability have tended to view the potential ability of the military
to seize control as a less likely option.95 They might, therefore, provide the
military with some more ‘space to manoeuvre’ in the sense that they are,
for example, not overly worried about the military’s potential influence on
policy. This is notwithstanding the fact that the civil-military structures
embedded within their respective political systems, and the consequent
rules and roles assigned to the civil and military actors, originated from the
American models but no longer reflect the way the civil and military
decision-makers are believed to operate best.
The majority of European studies on civil-military relations concentrate
on the cooperation and relations of these actors during operations.96 A
particular focus is on trying to identify when and how civil and military
organisations should work together in the field they share. As said, this
includes another angle of civil-military relations that extends beyond the
scope of this study, but is indicative of the European operational focus on
the matter.
In conclusion, despite the shortcomings of the organisational and
American-centric view on civil-military relations, Huntington’s model still
very much underpins the thoughts of theorists and, arguably to a lesser
extent, practitioners. His theoretical prescriptions are deeply embedded in
the Western organisational setting, rules, and codes that exist between civil
and military actors.

The Interaction: Strategy as the Product of a Dialogue

between Politicians and Soldiers

The quality of the interaction between senior civil and military decision-
makers is often linked to the quality of the strategies they devise. Recently,
the Washington Post has published more than two thousand pages of
previously unpublished notes from interviews with generals, diplomats,
aid workers and Afghan officials who played a direct role in the war.
General Douglas Lute, former top White House adviser on Afghanistan
during the Bush and Obama administrations, stated: “We were devoid of a
fundamental understanding of Afghanistan – we didn’t know what we were
doing…. What are we trying to do here? We didn’t have the foggiest notion
of what we were undertaking.”97
Western governments typically encounter considerable difficulty
formulating political goals and explaining the purpose of the
intervention.98 Consequently, increasing moral justification often provides
legitimacy for military interventions.99 Moreover, politicians employ
euphemisms to generate popular support for these interventions, creating
confusion amongst constituents. Framing a military engagement as a
‘reconstruction mission’, whilst in reality soldiers are conducting combat
operations, is just one example of a euphemism that bewilders the general
public. The use of euphemisms by politicians also endangers the use of
military means because its purpose remains vague and abstract.
Ultimately, the deployment of military forces becomes pointless, even
questionable, when there is no clear definition of the goal to be obtained.
Practitioners and scholars have frequently raised questions related to
the reason and purpose of military interventions. Iraq and Afghanistan are
the most significant contemporary cases in this ongoing debate.100
Moreover, the search for sound strategy, linking the use of military action
to predefined political outcomes and the relations between the civil and
military actors, has been a source of controversy. One of the most
prominent foundations for decent strategy is the relation between civil and
military decision-makers and the level of trust and confidence they have
amongst each other. A distorted relationship between them not only
endangers the evolvement of strategy but also affects the execution of the
military operation itself.
[…] Since the Cold War’s end, we have become confused about strategy not
least because the actual experience of war has required us to re-integrate
the two approaches [MGM the distinction between military strategy and
grand strategy] in ways that had not been necessary when war was more a
threat than an actuality. As a result, we are uncertain what strategy means
and unclear who makes it. Is it the responsibility of its nineteenth-century
protagonists, the armed forces, or of governments?101
Recent interventions showcased that when the strategic political level
neglects to draft a comprehensive strategy, the operational military level
will fill the void.102 The ‘Afghanistan Strategy’, developed by International
Security Assistance Force (ISAF) Commander Stanley McChrystal in
October 2009, became the definitive guiding document for the Western
stabilisation effort in Afghanistan.103 It painfully illustrated the negligence
of the international community and its civilian agencies in providing
political direction for what had become a predominantly military
campaign in Afghanistan.
Western contemporary thought on what strategy for the use of military
means is, and is not, is a point of dispute. The first point of debate
concerns the question whether strategy is to be viewed purely as an
instrumental means-end link or whether it is to be understood as a
process. Moreover, the main difference between the two is viewing
strategy-making as a linear practice or as a circular iterative practice. The
second point of debate is the matter of distinguishing between strategy in
theory and strategy in practice.104
Much of the difficulties of formulating coherent strategy for military
interventions appear to lie in the fact that the well-ordered, policy-
operational distinction has proved to be untenable in modern conflicts.
This distinction is firmly engrained in both strategic thought and in
Western states’ constitutions.105 The danger of maintaining a
compartmentalised approach between national and military strategy is
that it can cultivate a pretext to elude producing a tangible strategy since it
allows for a breach between policy objectives and military plans.106
Moreover, the military courses of action of Western states are often
based on a feeling that ‘something must be done’ and they are not
necessarily grounded in a realistic evaluation of possibilities and costs.107
As such, the constitutive act of strategy-making seems to be complicated
because of the absence of ends-based meaning or purpose, i.e. political
responsibility.108
Traditionally, both in the domains of scholars and practitioners, the
existence of strategy is believed to be a crucial determinant of military
efficacy since it entails linking political objectives to military means. As
delineated by Collin Gray, the use of military means ought to be
approached with reference to its strategic effectiveness. In other words,
officials need to be able to explain the strategic utility of the means
applied, since military actions only have meaning in relation to political
purpose.109
Most, if not all, of the traditional theoretical prescriptions of Western
military strategy are founded upon the writings of Carl von Clausewitz. His
definition of strategy as ‘the use of the engagement for the purpose of the
war’ is probably the most cited, but also the most misunderstood
definition ever, since he made a distinction between the concepts of Politik
and strategy. In doing so, he emphasised the two are in fact interwoven.110
As delineated by military historians Hew Strachan and Andreas Herberg-
Rothe, ‘On War is the ‘prism through which we have come to look at war
(…) military commentators have used this text as a departing point at least
for their questions, if not for their answers’.111
The ideas following from classic writings present the making of
strategy as a linear process that is objectives-driven and based on
rationalist calculations conducted by the political elite. However, strategic
theory tends to downplay the dynamic interaction between the political
and military levels, which cannot be described as a linear process based on
rational calculation. In the current complex international order, threats, in
particular, are no longer as static as during the Cold War and attaining
political objectives no longer requires military victory in the traditional
sense.112 After the nature of the conflict has been properly analysed, theory
prescribes strategy to manage and direct the conflict. However, if it
commences from an incorrect premise, strategy cannot comply. In
practice, strategy is, more often than not, pragmatic since it habitually
derives from underlying assumptions and educated guesses about the
situation at hand. For this very reason, most strategic theory is
retrospective by design and grounded in military history. By means of
explaining events that seemed unclear at the time, strategic theory
provided interpretative and didactic tools for the future, as is the case in
the writings of many strategists.113
The narrow interpretation of the Clausewitzian dictum of war as being
an extension of politics by other means only recognises the actual use of
force as the instrument by which war affects policy.114 As military writer
Rupert Smith argues, military objectives must be chosen for their value in
achieving the political objective, not merely because they are possible. As
such, activity should not be confused with outcome. Furthermore, Smith
stresses the need to understand the nature of the problem on its own
terms, in order for force to have political utility. He points to the tendency
in Western nations to analyse contemporary conflicts through
dogmatically applied ideological or doctrinal lenses.115
This touches upon a fundamental problem, namely that before the use
of military means can even be contemplated, the degree of intractability of
the conflict should be understood. Before intervention can be considered,
accurate assessments must be made that are crucial to understanding the
development of the conflict at hand. A proper set of instruments can only
be developed when the perspective of the conflict, its causes, and the
factors affecting its continuation, are taken as a starting point for
analysis.116 The political context of the conflict and to a lesser extent the
identity of those who are a party to it, seem to be the key characteristics.117
However, a thorough comprehension of the complexity of contemporary
conflicts is quite demanding for strategists.
The actual articulation of the objective that needs to be attained
through the deployment of military means is, as mentioned earlier, often
missing in modern-day missions.118 A possible explanation could be that
Western nations have fallen out of the habit of strategy-making and,
arguably, may never even have been engaged in strategy making as
described in the textbooks. Ever since the end of the Cold War, Western
military powers have not occupied themselves much with the development
of strategy, including the formulation of grand strategy and the drafting of
strategic-level military appreciations. Classic strategy-making, dating back
to the nuclear era, entailed threat-based planning, whereas post-modern
Another random document with
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Story! God bless you! I have none to tell, sir;
Only, last night, a-drinking at the Chequers,
This poor old hat and breeches, as you see, were
Torn in a scuffle.

Constables came up for to take me into

Custody; they took me before the justice;
Justice Oldmixon put me into the parish
Stocks for a vagrant.

I should be glad to drink your honor’s health in

A pot of beer, if you will give me sixpence;
But for my part, I never love to meddle
With politics, sir.
FRIEND TO HUMANITY

I give thee sixpence! I will see thee damned first,—

Wretch! whom no sense of wrongs can rouse to vengeance,—
Sordid, unfeeling, reprobate, degraded,
Spiritless outcast!

(Kicks the knife-grinder, overturns his wheel, and exit in a transport of

republican enthusiasm and universal philanthropy.)

Robert Burns, one of the chief names in Scottish literature, has

been called the Dictionary of Poetical Quotations.
Byron said, “The rank of Burns is the very first of his art”; and the
many-sided Scotchman had both admirers and detractors galore.
It has been noted that the Scotch have a sense of humor,
“because it is a gift.” Burns’ sense of humor secures for him a high
place among humorists, and though coarse in his expressions, he is
not intentionally vulgar.

HOLY WILLIE’S PRAYER

Holy Willie was a small farmer, leading elder to Dr. Auld, austere in speech,
scrupulous to all outward appearances, a professing Christian. He experienced,
however, “a sore fall”; he was “found out” to be a hypocrite after Burns’ castigation,
and was expelled the church for embezzling the money of the poor of the parish.
His name was William Fisher.

O Thou, wha in the Heavens dost dwell,

Wha, as it pleases best thysel’,
Sends ane to Heaven and ten to Hell,
A’ for thy glory,
And no for onie guid or ill
They’ve done afore thee.

I bless and praise thy matchless might,

Whan thousands thou hast left in night,
That I am here afore thy sight,
For gifts and grace,
A burning an’ a shining light
To a’ this place.

What was I, or my generation,

That I should get such exaltation?
I, wha deserve such just damnation,
For broken laws,
Five thousand years ’fore my creation,
Thro’ Adam’s cause.

When frae my mither’s womb I fell,

Thou might hae plung’d me into Hell,
To gnash my gums, to weep and wail
In burnin’ lake,
Where damned Devils roar and yell,
Chain’d to a stake.

Yet I am here a chosen sample,

To show thy grace is great and ample;
I’m here a pillar in thy temple,
Strong as a rock.
A guide, a buckler, an example,
To a’ thy flock.

O L—d, thou kens what zeal I bear,

When drinkers drink, and swearers swear,
And singin’ here, and dancing there,
Wi’ great and sma’:
For I am keepit by thy fear,
Free frae them a’.
But yet, O L—d! confess I must,
At times I’m fash’d wi’ fleshly lust,
An’ sometimes, too, wi’ warldly trust—
Vile self gets in;
But thou remembers we are dust,
Defil’d in sin.

O L—d! yestreen, thou kens, wi’ Meg—

Thy pardon I sincerely beg,
O! may it ne’er be a livin’ plague
To my dishonor,
An’ I’ll ne’er lift a lawless leg
Again upon her.

Besides, I farther maun allow,

Wi’ Lizzie’s lass, three times I trow;
But, L—d, that Friday I was fou,
When I came near her,
Or else thou kens thy servant true
Wad ne’er hae steer’d her.

May be thou lets this fleshly thorn

Beset thy servant e’en and morn,
Lest he owre high and proud should turn,
’Cause he’s sae gifted;
If sae, thy hand maun e’en be borne,
Until thou lift it.

L—d, bless thy chosen in this place,

For here thou hast a chosen race;
But G—d confound their stubborn face,
And blast their name,
Wha bring thine elders to disgrace,
An’ public shame.

L—d, mind Gawn Hamilton’s deserts,

He drinks, an swears, an’ plays at cartes,
Yet has sae monie takin’ arts,
Wi’ great and sma’,
Frae God’s ain priests the people’s hearts
He steals awa’.

An’ whan we chasten’d him therefore,

Thou kens how he bred sic a splore,
As set the warld in a roar
O’ laughin’ at us,
Curse thou his basket and his store,
Kail and potatoes.

L—d, hear my earnest cry an’ pray’r,

Against that presbyt’ry o’ Ayr;
Thy strong right hand, L—d, make it bare,
Upo’ their heads;
L—d, weigh it down, and dinna spare,
For their misdeeds.

O L—d, my G—d, that glib-tongued Aiken,

My very heart and saul are quakin’,
To think how we stood sweatin’, shakin’,
An’ swat wi’ dread,
While he wi’ hingin’ lips gaed snakin’,
And hid his head.

L—d, in the day of vengeance try him,

L—d, visit them wha did employ him,
And pass not in thy mercy by ’em,
Nor hear their pray’r;
But, for thy people’s sake, destroy ’em,
And dinna spare.

But, L—d, remember me and mine

Wi’ mercies temp’ral and divine,
That I for gear and grace may shine,
Excelled by nane,
An’ a’ the glory shall be thine,
Amen, Amen.

ADDRESS TO THE TOOTHACHE

My curse upon thy venomed stang,
That shoots my tortured gums alang;
An’ through my lugs gies mony a twang,
Wi’ gnawing vengeance!
Tearing my nerves wi’ bitter pang,
Like racking engines.

When fevers burn, or ague freezes,

Rheumatics gnaw, or cholic squeezes;
Our neighbor’s sympathy may ease us,
Wi’ pitying moan;
But thee,—thou hell o’ a’ diseases,
Aye mocks our groan.

Adown my beard the slavers trickle;

I throw the wee stools o’er the mickle,
As round the fire the giglets keckle
To see me loup;
While, raving mad, I wish a heckle
Were in their doup.

O’ a’ the numerous human dools,

Ill har’sts, daft bargains, cutty-stools,
Or worthy friends raked i’ the mools,
Sad sight to see!
The tricks o’ knaves or fash o’ fools,
Thou bear’st the gree.

Where’er that place be priests ca’ hell,

Whence a’ the tones o’ mis’ry yell,
And rankèd plagues their numbers tell,
In dreadfu’ raw,
Thou, Toothache, surely bear’st the bell,
Among them a’;

O thou grim mischief-making chiel,

That gars the notes of discord squeal,
Till daft mankind aft dance a reel
In gore a shoe-thick!—
Gie a’ the faes o’ Scotland’s weal
A fowmond’s Toothache!

THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

Quite lately, a well known humorist of the present day was making
an after dinner speech. A voice from the audience called out,
“Louder!—and funnier!”
Some such voice must have called out to the World’s Humor at
the close of the Eighteenth Century, for the beginning of the
Nineteenth finds the Humorous element in literature decidedly louder
and funnier.
The Romantic Revival which at this time affected all literature and
art has been called both the effect and the cause of the French
Revolution.
It has also been called the Renascence of Wonder, and as such it
let loose hitherto hidebound fancies and imaginations on boundless
and limitless flights. In these flights Humor showed speed and
endurance quite equal to those of Romance or Poesy.
Both in energy and methods, Humor came to the front with
tremendous strides. In quality and quantity it forged ahead, both as a
component part of more serious writings and also independently.
And while this was a consummation devoutly to be wished, it
makes harder the task of the Outliner.
Many great writers held to the conviction that in Romantic poetry
humor has no place. Others were avowed comic writers of verse or
prose. But others still allowed humor to meet and mingle with their
numbers, to a greater or less degree.
And the difficulty of selection lies in the fact that the incidental
humor is often funnier than the entirely humorous concept.
It is hard to omit such as Jane Austen, Sir Walter Scott, William
Wordsworth, yet quotations from their works, showing their
humorous vein, would occupy space demanded by the humorists
themselves.
So, let us start in boldly with Sydney Smith, one of the most
popular wits of all ages.
Aside from this author’s epigrams and witty sayings, he wrote with
great wisdom and insight about the principles of humor itself, from
which we quote his sapient remarks on punning.
“It is imagined that wit is a sort of inexplicable visitation, that it
comes and goes with the rapidity of lightning, and that it is quite as
unattainable as beauty or just proportion. I am so much of a contrary
way of thinking, that I am convinced a man might sit down as
systematically and as successfully, to the study of wit as he might to
the study of mathematics; and I would answer for it that by giving up
only six hours a day to being witty, he should come on prodigiously
before midsummer, so that his friends should hardly know him again.
For what is there to hinder the mind from gradually acquiring a habit
of attending to the lighter relations of ideas in which wit consists?
Punning grows upon everybody, and punning is the wit of words. I do
not mean to say that it is so easy to acquire a habit of discovering
new relations in ideas as in words, but the difficulty is not so much
greater as to render it insuperable to habit. One man is
unquestionably much better calculated for it by nature than another;
but association, which gradually makes a bad speaker a good one,
might give a man wit who had it not, if any man chose to be so
absurd as to sit down to acquire it.
“I have mentioned puns. They are, I believe, what I have
denominated them—the wit of words. They are exactly the same to
words which wit is to ideas, and consist in the sudden discovery of
relations in language. A pun, to be perfect in its kind, should contain
two distinct meanings; the one common and obvious, the other more
remote; and in the notice which the mind takes of the relation
between these two sets of words, and in the surprise which that
relation excites, the pleasure of a pun consists. Miss Hamilton, in her
book on Education, mentions the instance of a boy so very neglectful
that he could never be brought to read the word patriarchs; but
whenever he met with it he always pronounced it partridges. A friend
of the writer observed to her that it could hardly be considered as a
mere piece of negligence, for it appeared to him that the boy, in
calling them partridges, was making game of the patriarchs. Now
here are two distinct meanings contained in the same phrase: for to
make game of the patriarchs is to laugh at them; or to make game of
them is by a very extravagant and laughable sort of ignorance of
words, to rank them among pheasants, partridges, and other such
delicacies, which the law takes under its protection and calls game:
and the whole pleasure derived from this pun consists in the sudden
discovery that two such different meanings are referable to one form
of expression. I have very little to say about puns; they are in very
bad repute, and so they ought to be. The wit of language is so
miserably inferior to the wit of ideas that it is very deservedly driven
out of good company. Sometimes, indeed, a pun makes its
appearance which seems for a moment to redeem its species; but
we must not be deceived by them: it is a radically bad race of wit. By
unremitting persecution, it has been at last got under, and driven into
cloisters—from whence it must never again be suffered to emerge
into the light of the world. One invaluable blessing produced by the
banishment of punning is an immediate reduction of the number of
wits. It is a wit of so low an order, and in which some sort of progress
is so easily made, that the number of those endowed with the gift of
wit would be nearly equal to those endowed with the gift of speech.
The condition of putting together ideas in order to be witty operates
much in the same salutary manner as the condition of finding rhymes
in poetry;—it reduces the number of performers to those who have
vigour enough to overcome incipient difficulties, and make a sort of
provision that that which need not be done at all should be done well
whenever it is done.”

This quotation from one of Sydney Smith’s Speeches is

characteristic of his style.

MRS. PARTINGTON

I do not mean to be disrespectful, but the attempt of the Lords to

stop the progress of reform reminds me very forcibly of the great
storm of Sidmouth, and of the conduct of the excellent Mrs.
Partington on that occasion. In the winter of 1824 there set in a great
flood upon that town—the tide rose to an incredible height—the
waves rushed in upon the houses—and everything was threatened
with destruction. In the midst of this sublime storm, Dame Partington,
who lived upon the beach, was seen at the door of her house with
mop and pattens, trundling her mop, and squeezing out the
seawater, and vigorously pushing away the Atlantic Ocean. The
Atlantic was roused; Mrs. Partington’s spirit was up; but I need not
tell you that the contest was unequal. The Atlantic Ocean beat Mrs.
Partington. She was excellent at a slop or a puddle, but she should
not have meddled with a tempest.—(From a Speech at Taunton in
1831.)
And we add the ever popular Recipe for a Salad.
SALAD
To make this condiment, your poet begs
The pounded yellow of two hard-boiled eggs.
Two boiled potatoes, passed through kitchen-sieve,
Smoothness and softness to the salad give.
Let onion atoms lurk within the bowl,
And, half-suspected, animate the whole.
Of mordant mustard add a single spoon,
Distrust the condiment that bites so soon;
But deem it not, thou man of herbs, a fault,
To add a double quantity of salt.
And, lastly, o’er the flavoured compound toss
A magic soup-spoon of anchovy sauce.
Oh, green and glorious! Oh, herbaceous treat!
’Twould tempt the dying anchorite to eat;
Back to the world he’d turn his fleeting soul,
And plunge his fingers in the salad bowl!
Serenely full, the epicure would say,
Fate cannot harm me, I have dined to-day!

Charles Lamb, beloved alike of the humorous and serious

minded, disagrees with Sydney Smith regarding the pun.
His opinion,
“A pun is a noble thing per se. It is a sole digest of reflection; it is
entire; it fills the mind; it is as perfect as a sonnet—better. It limps
ashamed in the train and retinue of humour; it knows it should have
an establishment of its own.”
is shown in this instance.
Lamb was reserved among strangers. A friend, about to introduce
him to a circle of new faces, said, “Now will you promise, Lamb, not
to be as sheepish as usual?” Charles replied, with a rustic air, “I
wool.”
 Such masterpieces as Lamb’s Dissertation Upon Roast Pig, and
his Farewell to Tobacco are too lengthy to quote. We give some of
his shorter witty allusions.

Coleridge went to Germany, and left word to Lamb that if he

wished any information on any subject, he might apply to him (i.e.,
by letter), so Lamb sent him the following abstruse propositions, to
which, however, Coleridge did not deign an answer.

Whether God loves a dying angel better than a true man?

Whether the archangel Uriel could knowingly affirm an untruth,

and whether, if he could, he would?

Whether the higher order of seraphim illuminati ever sneeze?

Whether an immortal and amenable soul may not come to be

damned at last, and the man never suspect it beforehand?
Good Actions.—The greatest pleasure I know is to do a good
action by stealth, and to have it found out by accident.
 Paying for Things.—One cannot bear to pay for articles he used
to get for nothing. When Adam laid out his first penny upon
nonpareils at some stall in Mesopotamia, I think it went hard with
him, reflecting upon his old goodly orchard, where he had so many
for nothing.

Nothing to do.—Positively the best thing a man can have to do

is nothing, and, next to that, perhaps, good works.

Robert Southey, though one time Poet Laureate, is not to be too

highly rated as a writer. His humorous poems are largely of the
“jagged categorical” type, and are whimseys rather than wit.
Notwithstanding the aspersion even then cast upon the pun, he
regards it as a legitimate vehicle.

THE TEN LOST TRIBES OF ISRAEL

That the lost ten tribes of Israel may be found in London, is a

discovery which any person may suppose he has made, when he
walks for the first time from the city to Wapping. That the tribes of
Judah and Benjamin nourish there is known to all mankind; and from
them have sprung the Scripites, and the Omniumites, and the
Threepercentites.
But it is not so well known that many other tribes noticed in the
Old Testament are to be found in this island of Great Britain.
There are the Hittites, who excel in one branch of gymnastics.
And there are the Amorites, who are to be found in town and
country; and there are the Gadites, who frequent watering-places,
and take picturesque tours.
Among the Gadites I shall have some of my best readers, who
being in good humour with themselves and with everything else,
except on a rainy day, will even then be in good humour with me.
There will be the Amorites in their company; and among the
Amorites, too, there will be some who in the overflowing of their love,
will have some liking to spare for the doctor and his faithful
memorialist.
The poets, those especially who deal in erotics, lyrics,
sentimentals, or sonnets, are the Ah-oh-ites.
The gentlemen who speculate in chapels are the Puhites.
The chief seat of the Simeonites is at Cambridge; but they are
spread over the land. So are the Man-ass-ites, of whom the finest
specimens are to be seen in St. James’s Street, at the fashionable
time of day for exhibiting the dress and the person upon the
pavement.
The freemasons are of the family of the Jachinites.
The female Haggites are to be seen, in low life wheeling barrows,
and in high life seated at card-tables.
The Shuhamites are the cordwainers.
The Teamanites attend the sales of the East India Company.
Sir James Mackintosh, and Sir James Scarlett, and Sir James
Graham belong to the Jim-nites.
Who are the Gazathites, if the people of London are not, where
anything is to be seen? All of them are the Gettites when they can,
all would be Havites if they could.
The journalists should be Geshurites, if they answered to their
profession; instead of this they generally turn out to be
Geshuwrongs.
There are, however, three tribes in England, not named in the Old
Testament, who considerably outnumber all the rest. These are the
High Vulgarites, who are the children of Rahank and Phashan, the
Middle Vulgarites, who are the children of Mammon and Terade, and
the Low Vulgarities, who are the children of Tahag, Rahag, and
Bohobtay-il.
 —From “The Doctor.”
THE WELL OF ST. KEYNE
A well there is in the West country,
And a clearer one never was seen;
There is not a wife in the West country
But has heard of the Well of St. Keyne.

An oak and an elm tree stand beside,

And behind does an ash-tree grow,
And a willow from the bank above
Droops to the water below.

A traveller came to the Well of St. Keyne;

Pleasant it was to his eye,
For from cock-crow he had been travelling,
And there was not a cloud in the sky.

He drank of the water so cool and clear,

For thirsty and hot was he,
And he sat down upon the bank,
Under the willow-tree.

There came a man from the neighboring town

At the well to fill his pail,
On the well-side he rested it,
And bade the stranger hail.

“Now art thou a bachelor, stranger?” quoth he,

“For an if thou hast a wife,
The happiest draught thou hast drank this day
That ever thou didst in thy life.

“O has your good woman, if one you have,

In Cornwall ever been?
For an if she have, I’ll venture my life
She has drunk of the Well of St. Keyne.”

“I have left a good woman who never was here,”

The stranger he made reply;
“But that my draught should be better for that,
I pray you answer me why.”

“St. Keyne,” quoth the countryman, “many a time

 Drank of this crystal well,
And before the angel summoned her
She laid on the water a spell.

“If the husband of this gifted well

Shall drink before his wife,
A happy man thenceforth is he,
For he shall be master for life.

“But if the wife should drink of it first,

Heaven help the husband then!”
The stranger stooped to the Well of St. Keyne,
And drank of the waters again.

“You drank of the well, I warrant, betimes?”

He to the countryman said.
But the countryman smiled as the stranger spake,
And sheepishly shook his head.

“I hastened, as soon as the wedding was done,

And left my wife in the porch.
But i’ faith, she had been wiser than me,
For she took a bottle to church.”

Theodore Hook, recorded as “a playwright, a punster and a

practical joker,” also gives a dissertation on puns and a bit of helpful
advice.

“Personal deformities or constitutional calamities are always to be

laid hold of. If anybody tells you that a dear friend has lost his sight,
observe that it will make him more hospitable than ever, since now
he would be glad to see anybody. If a clergyman breaks his leg,
remark that he is no longer a clergyman, but a lame man. If a poet is
seized with apoplexy, affect to disbelieve it, though you know it to be
true, in order to say, ‘Poeta nascitur non fit’; and then, to carry the
joke one step farther, add that “it is not a fit subject for a jest.” A man
falling into a tan-pit you may call ‘sinking in the sublime’; a climbing
boy suffocated in a chimney meets with a sootable death; and a
pretty girl having caught the small-pox is to be much pitted. On the
subject of the ear and its defects, talk first of something in which a
cow sticks, and end by telling the story of the man who, having taken
great pains to explain something to his companion, at last got into a
rage at his apparent stupidity, and exclaimed, ‘Why, my dear sir,
don’t you comprehend? The thing is as plain as A B C.’ ‘I dare say it
is,’ said the other, ‘but I am D E F.’
“It may be as well to give the beginner something of a notion of
the use he may make of the most ordinary words, for the purposes of
quibbleism.
“The loss of a hat is always felt; if you don’t like sugar you may
lump it; a glazier is a panes-taking man; candles are burnt because
wick-ed things always come to light; a lady who takes you home
from a party is kind in her carriage, and you say “nunc est ridendum”
when you step into it; if it happens to be a chariot, she is a charitable
person; birds’-nests and king-killing are synonymous, because they
are high trees on; a Bill for building a bridge should be sanctioned by
the Court of Arches, as well as the House of Piers; when a man is
dull, he goes to the sea-side to Brighton; a Cockney lover, when
sentimental, should live in Heigh Hoburn; the greatest fibber is the
man most to re-lie upon; a dean expecting a bishopric looks for lawn;
a suicide kills pigs, and not himself; a butcher is a gross man, but a
fig-seller is a grocer; Joshua never had a father or mother, because
he was the son of Nun; your grandmother and your great-
grandmother were your aunt’s sisters; a leg of mutton is better than
heaven, because nothing is better than heaven, and a leg of mutton
is better than nothing; races are matters of course; an ass can never
be a horse, although he may be a mayor; the Venerable Bede was
the mother of Pearl; a baker makes bread when he kneads it; a
doctor cannot be a doctor all at once, because he comes to it by
degrees; a man hanged at Newgate has taken a drop too much; the
bridle day is that on which a man leads a woman to the halter. Never
mind the aspirate; punning’s all fair, as the archbishop said in the
dream.
“Puns interrogatory are at times serviceable. You meet a man
carrying a hare; ask him if it is his own hare, or a wig—there you
stump him. Why is Parliament Street like a compendium? Because it
goes to a bridge. Why is a man murdering his mother in a garret a
worthy person? Because he is above committing a crime. Instances
of this kind are innumerable. If you want to render your question
particularly pointed, you are, after asking it once or twice, to say
‘D’ye give it up?’ Then favour your friends with the solution.”

Richard Harris Barham, author of the Ingoldsby Legends, was an

intimate friend of Hook.
Like many another true humorist he was of the clergy, being a
minor canon of St. Paul’s cathedral.
His delightful tales are too long to quote, and only some shorter
pieces may be given.
Barham was among the first to raise parody to a recognized art.

A “TRUE AND ORIGINAL” VERSION

In the autumn of 1824, Captain Medwin having hinted that certain beautiful lines
on the burial of Sir John Moore might have been the production of Lord Byron’s
muse, the late Mr. Sidney Taylor, somewhat indignantly, claimed them for their
rightful owner, the Rev. Charles Wolfe. During the controversy a third claimant
started up in the person of a soi-disant “Doctor Marshall,” who turned out to be a
Durham blacksmith, and his pretensions a hoax. It was then that a certain “Dr.
Peppercorn” put forth his pretensions, to what he averred was the only “true and
original” version, viz.—

Not a sous had he got,—not a guinea or note,

And he looked confoundedly flurried,
As he bolted away without paying his shot,
And the landlady after him hurried.

We saw him again at dead of night,

When home from the Club returning;
We twigged the Doctor beneath the light
Of the gas-lamp brilliantly burning.

All bare, and exposed to the midnight dews,

 Reclined in the gutter we found him;
And he looked like a gentleman taking a snooze,
With his Marshall cloak around him.

“The Doctor’s as drunk as the devil,” we said,

And we managed a shutter to borrow;
We raised him, and sighed at the thought that his head
Would “consumedly ache” on the morrow.

We bore him home, and we put him to bed,

And we told his wife and his daughter
To give him, next morning a couple of red
Herrings, with soda water.—

Loudly they talked of his money that’s gone,

And his Lady began to upbraid him;
But little he reck’d, so they let him snore on
’Neath the counterpane just as we laid him.

We tuck’d him in, and had hardly done

When, beneath the window calling,
We heard the rough voice of a son of a gun
Of a watchman “One o’clock!” bawling.

Slowly and sadly we all walked down

From his room in the uppermost story;
A rushlight we placed on the cold hearthstone,
And we left him alone in his glory.

RAISING THE DEVIL

A LEGEND OF CORNELIUS AGRIPPA
“And hast thou nerve enough?” he said,
That gray Old Man, above whose head
Unnumbered years had rolled,—
“And hast thou nerve to view,” he cried,
“The incarnate Fiend that Heaven defied!
—Art thou indeed so bold?

“Say, canst thou, with unshrinking gaze,

Sustain, rash youth, the withering blaze
Of that unearthly eye,
That blasts where’er it lights,—the breath
That, like the Simoom, scatters death
 On all that yet can die!

—“Darest thou confront that fearful form

That rides the whirlwind and the storm,
In wild unholy revel!
The terrors of that blasted brow,
Archangel’s once,—though ruined now—
—Ay,—dar’st thou face The Devil?”

“I dare!” the desperate youth replied,

And placed him by that Old Man’s side,
In fierce and frantic glee,
Unblenched his cheek, and firm his limb:
—“No paltry juggling Fiend, but Him,
—The Devil! I fain would see!—

“In all his Gorgon terrors clad,

His worst, his fellest shape!” the Lad
Rejoined in reckless tone.—
—“Have then thy wish!” Agrippa said,
And sighed, and shook his hoary head,
With many a bitter groan.

He drew the Mystic circle’s bound,

With skull and cross-bones fenced around;
He traced full many a sigil there;
He muttered many a backward pray’r,
That sounded like a curse—
“He comes!”—he cried with wild grimace,
“The fellest of Apollyon’s race!”—
—Then in his startled pupil’s face
He dashed—an Empty Purse!!

Thomas De Quincey, one of the best of humorists wrote

Confessions of an Opium Eater, with alas, all the necessary
conditions to speak at first hand.
His clever essay, Murder as a Fine Art, we trust, was not founded
on facts. This delightful bit of foolery, one of his many witty effusions,
can be given only in part.

MURDER AS ONE OF THE FINE ARTS

 The first murder is familiar to you all. As the inventor of murder,
and the father of the art, Cain must have been a man of first-rate
genius. All the Cains were men of genius. Tubal Cain invented tubes,
I think, or some such thing. But, whatever might be the originality
and genius of the artist, every art was then in its infancy, and the
works must be criticised with the recollection of that fact. Even
Tubal’s work would probably be little approved at this day in
Sheffield; and therefore of Cain (Cain senior, I mean) it is no
disparagement to say, that his performance was but so-so. Milton,
however, is supposed to have thought differently. By his way of
relating the case, it should seem to have been rather a pet murder
with him, for he retouches it with an apparent anxiety for its
picturesque effect:
“Whereat he inly raged; and, as they talk’d,
Smote him into the midriff with a stone
That beat out life. He fell; and, deadly pale,
Groan’d out his soul with gushing blood effused.”

Upon this, Richardson the painter, who had an eye for effect,
remarks as follows, in his Notes on Paradise Lost, p. 497: “It has
been thought,” says he, “that Cain beat—as the common saying is—
the breath out of his brother’s body with a great stone; Milton gives
in to this, with the addition, however, of a large wound.”

But it is time that I should say a few words about the principles of
murder, not with a view to regulate your practice, but your judgment.
As to old women, and the mob of newspaper readers, they are
pleased with anything, provided it is bloody enough; but the mind of
sensibility requires something more. First, then, let us speak of the
kind of person who is adapted to the purpose of the murderer;
secondly, of the place where; thirdly, of the time when, and other
little circumstances.
As to the person, I suppose that it is evident that he ought to be a
good man; because, if he were not, he might himself, by possibility,
be contemplating murder at the very time; and such “diamond-cut-
diamond” tussles, though pleasant enough when nothing better is
stirring, are really not what a critic can allow himself to call murders.

The subject chosen ought to be in good health: for it is absolutely

barbarous to murder a sick person, who is usually quite unable to
bear it. On this principle, no tailor ought to be chosen who is above
twenty-five, for after that age he is sure to be dyspeptic. Or at least, if
a man will hunt in that warren, he will of course think it his duty, on
the old established equation, to murder some multiple of 9—say 18,