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Enforced DisarmamentFrom the Napoleonic Campaigns to the Gulf War$

Philip Towle

Print publication date: 1997

Print ISBN-13: 9780198206361

Published to Oxford Scholarship Online: October 2011

DOI: 10.1093/acprof:oso/9780198206361.001.0001

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(p.220) Conclusion
Enforced Disarmament

Philip Towle

Oxford University Press

Abstract and Keywords

For France's Napoleon Bonaparte, Germany's Adolf Hitler, and other dictators, forced disarmament was an interim measure while they decided whether to destroy defeated states completely. Victorious democracies have forced their enemies to disarm in order to justify the losses their own people have suffered and to try to preserve their security. However, such efforts have often made the vanquished more bitter, and their anger and frustration have grown over the years. Aside from its political disadvantages, forced disarmament can damage the environment, as seen in the demilitarization of Dunkirk in the eighteenth century, the allied policy of dropping chemical weapons at the end of the Second World War, and the United Nations disarmament of Iraq. This chapter discusses the advantages and disadvantages of forced disarmament, as well as its ramifications, the resistance and co-operation generated by disarmament in defeated states, and literature on peace-making.

Keywords:   Germany, Adolf Hitler, Napoleon Bonaparte, France, forced disarmament, demilitarization, resistance, co-operation, Second World War, peace-making

The Limitations

Has the effort involved in forcing another state to disarm and keeping it disarmed ever been worthwhile for the victors, or has it simply exacerbated tensions between the nations without preserving the imbalance of power caused by war?

For Napoleon, Hitler, and other dictators, forced disarmament was an interim, measure while they decided whether to destroy defeated states completely. Both Napoleon and Hitler used the weapons and money seized from their defeated enemies in their continued drive for expansion. The effort involved in forcing their enemies to disarm was not great, and they may even have enjoyed the bitterness and humiliation felt by the defeated governments and peoples. However, such feelings increased the determination of the vanquished states to join in an attack on the dominant power when opportunity arose, and to impose the most vindictive terms after its defeat. Prussian and Austrian armies fought against Napoleon in 181.4 and 1815; French armies rejoined the allies towards the end of the Second World War. The Prussians in 1815 and the French in 1945 were among the least forgiving of the victors.

Victorious democracies have forced their enemies to disarm in order to justify the losses their own people have suffered and to try to preserve their security. But such efforts have usually increased the bitterness of the vanquished, and their anger and frustration have grown as the years have passed. Nor were these political disadvantages always offset by undeniable military gains; despite the effort put into disarming Germany in the 1920s, the French still had good reason to feel the latent menace represented by Germany’s industrial might and demographic strength.

Surrendering weapons is a symbol of defeat, an acknowledgement of submission and vulnerability. Defeat is usually followed by (p.221) acrimonious disputes within the vanquished states, among the military leaders or between soldiers, statesmen, and civilians about responsibility for their predicament, The bitterness of the defeated forces is dramatically increased if they have to submit to intrusive inspection of their arsenals and barracks. The more they resist, the more demanding the inspectors are likely to be. Unless the vanquished accept that their defeat was morally justified, as many Germans did after 1945, forced disarmament will always increase their resentment.

Alongside its political disadvantages, forced disarmament can damage the environment. The demilitarization of Dunkirk in the eighteenth century threatened the health of the inhabitants and the ecosystem, of the surrounding area. Dunkirk may have been exceptional for its period, but the problem became potentially more serious as weapons technology advanced. The allied policy of dropping thousands of tons of chemical weapons into the sea at the end of the Second World War continues to cause anxiety, fifty years later. The UN has taken far greater care of the environment during the disarmament of Iraq, but this increased the duration and cost of the operation. The easiest way to destroy high explosive is often to detonate or burn it. The cheapest way to demobilize tanks is to drive them into the sea, but the environmental consequences can be serious.

The Advantages

For those states defeated by aggressive dictators, it is better to be disarmed than to be absorbed entirely into their empires or destroyed by ethnic cleansing. Prussia was in a better position under Napoleon than Spain, the Netherlands, or Saxony. Vichy France was favoured compared with the Nazi repression of Poland, Serbia, or Bohemia. For the dictators it was sometimes beneficial to weaken but not to destroy an enemy completely. Until the last two years of his empire, Prussia gave Napoleon less trouble than Spain. Indeed, the Prussians actually fought on his side against Russia in 1812. Some Frenchmen volunteered to fight for the Nazis in the Second World War, while the Poles, Czechs, and Dutch remained sunk in bitter resentment against their conquerors.1

(p.222) As far as victorious democracies are concerned, after a limited war there is usually little or no animus among the victorious public against the vanquished peoples. In a total and prolonged war, public passions naturally become more inflamed as the destruction increases and the casualties mount. Stories of war crimes are often spread by the media, so that the struggle becomes one between peoples as well as governments. After a localized war, victors’ demands are usually designed to achieve restricted, tactical objectives, such as the demilitarization of the Black Sea in 1856. Support for such measures is normally confined to the educated elite. After a total war, the general public expects governments to press for more far-reaching measures of disarmament. Peace treaties have to be tailored to suit both strategic objectives and public demands.

Forced disarmament is a relatively harmless response to these public pressures. Victors are bound to try to make the most of their achievements. Even if democratic statesmen acknowledged privately that their country’s military success was ephemeral, they would have to meet public demands to compensate for the losses incurred. Relatives of those who have made the ultimate sacrifice will quite reasonably be infuriated by any suggestion that they achieved only a temporary gain. In victorious democracies forced disarmament can be seen as a channel for public feelings which might otherwise find outlets in demands for revenge—much more extensive war crime trials, purges of those who supported the enemy government, and massive reparations. If the public can be convinced that at least hostile armies have been rendered harmless for the foreseeable future, their anger and frustration may be assuaged. Otherwise their wrath may be turned on helpless enemy people or on their own leaders. Forced disarmament may embitter the vanquished, but some of the alternatives would give far more reason for their hatred and resentment.

In this respect, forced disarmament fulfils the same role as the ritual signs of defeat performed by animals of the same species once one has overcome another. Such rituals were described by Konrad Lorenz in his study of aggression. The defeated wolf turns his head away from the victor, exposing the unprotected side of his neck; the stag bares his flank and the jackdaw the vulnerable base of the skull.2 Among humans, forced disarmament ‘buys time’ (p.223) while the victors’ aggressive instincts subside and while they begin to sympathize with the state to which defeat has reduced the enemy peoples.

Despite the bitterness it produces in the defeated army, many would accept the arguments in favour of the destruction of enemy weapons in the moment of victory. This is much less destabilizing than allowing them to be sold and spread broadcast across the world. For a time after a war, forced disarmament may even be accepted by some of the vanquished, particularly in an age of total warfare. Most people will be relieved that the fighting has stopped, that incessant demands for money and recruits have ended, that their lives have been spared, and that normal everyday ways of life can gradually be restored. The Athenians may have wept to see their fleets burnt and their walls demolished, but they rejoiced that their city and their lives had been spared. The Carthaginians were prepared to accept demilitarization; it was the threatened destruction of their city which drove them to a last desperate effort to resist Roman demands. Some Germans actually co-operated in destroying their own weapons in 1919, as indeed they and the Japanese did in 1946. While the period of contrition, relief, and exhaustion lasts, forced disarmament has fewer disadvantages than advantages.

The Ramifications of Forced Disarmament

The physical destruction of enemy weapons will give the victors some breathing-space, even if no attempt is made to prevent the enemy rearming at a later date. How much time will be gained depends largely upon the nature of the weapons. The walls of ancient cities and the ships of traditional fleets were good targets for immediate measures of forced disarmament because they took time and effort to rebuild—although not as much time as the victors hoped. Hand-held weapons, armour, and catapults could be more quickly replicated. Today ships, aircraft, tanks, and nuclear weapons take at least a decade to develop and produce. This period can be reduced if machine tools and drawings of weapons have survived the defeat. The survival of the scientists and workforce involved is even more important in the long run. They can be temporarily dispersed by the victors but, protected by humanitarian law and sentiment, they can reconvene as soon as the victorious armies have withdrawn.

(p.224) Some commentators have suggested that defeated states can actually benefit because the victors prohibit existing and thus obsolete weapons, leaving the vanquished free to experiment with new equipment.3 Some also say that such measures force the defeated army to improve their tactics and training to compensate for the limitations imposed on them, but it is difficult to find examples which support this general line of argument. The military reformers had already begun trying to modernize the Prussian army after its defeat by Napoleon and before the French Emperor imposed legal limits on its size. Napoleon’s edicts made the reformers’ task much harder rather than easier. Some have suggested that allied limitations on the German armed forces after the First World War encouraged them to experiment with tanks, missiles, and aircraft, and thus were indirectly responsible for the success of German Blitzkrieg tactics against France and the smaller European powers in 1940. But the Treaty of Versailles banned the Germans from having military aircraft and tanks. It thus made it much more difficult for the Germans to experiment with such weapons in the 1920s. It was the determination to learn from and undo the defeat, combined with the efficiency of the German staff and Hitler’s determination to overturn the whole Versailles system, which was at the root of German military success at the start of the Second World War, not the disarmament measures imposed at Versailles.

Other commentators have argued that forced disarmament may benefit the economy of a defeated state by preventing it from ‘wasting’ money on defence and armaments. This argument was particularly fashionable when the German and Japanese economies were growing very rapidly in the 1960s and 1970s. However, it seems much less persuasive in the 1990s, when Taiwan, South Korea, and China have far more dynamic economies than Germany and Japan and yet spend highly on defence. Taiwan and China each spent 5 per cent of their GNP on defence in 1994, while South Korea spent 3.6 per cent, yet the Taiwanese economy grew by 6.1 per cent, the Chinese by 11.8, and the South Korean by 8.6. Japan, which spent 1 per cent on defence, grew by 0.6 per cent. Deep-rooted factors were responsible for the economic success of Germany (p.225) many and Japan in the 1960s, rather than the level of their defence spending.4

If the vanquished gain no obvious military and economic advantages from enforced disarmament, victors may hope that limited forced disarmament measures will be easier for the vanquished to accept than more far-reaching measures. This seems logical but it is difficult to prove. All forced disarmament measures are regarded as humiliating and an infringement of sovereignty. Peoples only accept them, as many Germans did in 1945, when they see no alternative, or on the very rare occasions when they are actually disgusted with their past and see their own disarmament as justified. In other circumstances a limited measure may cause equal resentment but be more difficult to enforce, because it does not reduce the totality of the defeated state’s power. On the other hand, limited measures emerge from limited victories, and a state achieving a partial victory may well decide that it is still worth trying to enforce some measure of disarmament, even if it angers the defeated nation and will prove only temporary.

At the other extreme, unconditional surrender followed by complete demilitarization—as envisaged for Germany and Japan after 1945—obviously makes it impossible for a beaten enemy to rearm in secret to the extent necessary to threaten the victors. But such demilitarization will gradually break down without permanent, far-reaching, and intrusive inspection. If they insist that the vanquished should honour the letter of the agreement, the inspectors will be accused of worrying about trivia and bringing the whole process into disrepute. Allied inspectors in Germany in the 1920s were concerned about the production of replica weapons and sporting rifles. It is also notable how the German police in the 1920s and the Japanese in the early 1950s came to resemble armies. To avoid a multitude of such problems, the optimum solution—as in Iraq today—may be to prohibit only the most menacing of the enemy’s weapons.

Nuclear, chemical, and biological weapons occupy a category of their own, because the general inhibitions and treaties against using and even possessing them have gradually increased. Iraq, like the vast majority of states, had already agreed before the Gulf War not to acquire nuclear weapons and not to use or to threaten to use (p.226) chemical weapons. Postwar enforcement has largely been concerned with making the Iraqis abide by their promises. This separates the issue from other post-bellum enforcement actions, where disarmament has from the beginning been imposed rather than voluntary. Any eighteenth-century French government was going to be hostile to the demilitarization of Dunkirk, any nineteenth-century Russian government was going to try to end the neutralization of the Black Sea, any German government in the 1920s was likely to press for the revision of many aspects of the Versailles Treaty. But, unless the NPT system breaks down completely, an Iraqi government might one day agree to uphold the treaty without external pressure to do so. Forced disarmament may thus be replaced by voluntary moves and have more lasting results than in the other cases studied.

A thorough attempt to destroy a state’s military potential, rather than just to compel it to abandon specific weapons, would involve the destruction of the enemy economy and profoundly damage its people. This is reflected in Roman plans for Carthage before the Third Punic War, in the fate of Dunkirk in the eighteenth century, and in the debate over the Morgenthau plan in the Second World War. The port of Dunkirk was an ideal haven both for an invasion force and for merchant and fishing vessels. The one could not be destroyed without devastating the other. Virtually any modern industry can be converted to supply military equipment. In a national emergency, the speed of such a transformation often surprises those responsible for implementing it. Glass-manufacturing companies can make gun sights, chemical industries could produce explosives or poisonous gases, shoe factories may turn out army boots. Only frequent and intrusive inspection can warn that this is taking place; only force or the threat of force can prevent it.

Given enemy determination to rearm, prolonged forced disarmament depends upon the struggle between the will-power of the victors and the vanquished. In the 1920s and 1930s the German determination to rearm was ultimately stronger than the French determination to resist this process. The French government had to consider the conflicting views of its own people, its armed forces, and its allies. In the end the French would have to fight in order to preserve the Versailles system; their willingness to do so was sapped by the losses in the First World War, by the difficulties encountered in the occupation of the Ruhr, and by the failure of the British and (p.227) Americans to give them support. The German government and people were united by their determination to reconstitute their strength and to undo the Treaty of Versailles. Gustav Stresemann and Adolf Hitler employed very different methods, but they both wanted to overthrow the Treaty of Versailles and restore German strength.

It is sometimes better for the victorious statesmen to recognize that their achievements cannot be prolonged indefinitely. They may then force the defeated nation to disarm for a specific and relatively limited period. This avoided the humiliation faced by British governments in 1870 and 1935, when they had to admit that peace treaties were being breached by former enemies, that they were unwilling to go to war to enforce them and that the achievements of the previous war were being undone. Of course, in the moment of victory governments would be criticized for having asked their people to sacrifice their lives when the fruits of victory were admitted to be so temporary. At such moments, when the enemy has been vilified and its war crimes emphasized, it is hard for governments to tell their people, or even to imagine themselves, that the present lull is temporary and that they may even need the assistance of former enemies in struggles against their current allies. Yet this was the case within a few years of even the bitterest of wars, as both the Soviet and Western peoples were reminded after 1945.

Usually it was civilian statesmen rather than their military commanders who were responsible for introducing disarmament measures into peace treaties. It was Alexander and Metternich who espoused them in 1815 and Wellington who moderated their demands; it was Lloyd George, Wilson, and Clemenceau who insisted on the forced disarmament of Germany in 1919, and Foch, Robertson, and other soldiers who voiced their doubts; it was the same statesmen who wanted to limit Hungary, Bulgaria, and Austria to tiny forces and General Bliss who pointed out the disadvantages of such severe measures; it was Churchill, Roosevelt, and Stalin who backed forced disarmament in 1945, and sometimes individual allied officers like General Willoughby who opposed it. Military commanders have been more aware than their civilian counterparts of the inherent difficulties of finding hidden weapons, of altering the balance of power by what are often limited measures, and of enforcing disarmament over a long period. In some cases they have (p.228) foreseen the need to use the defeated forces for their own purposes and sympathized with the defeated army, which has expended so much blood and demonstrated so much skill and courage to no avail. Scipio and Hannibal found much to talk about when they went over the Second Punic War together in their retirement; Roddie and Bingham liked their German counterparts in the 1920s, while Morgan, the civilian lawyer in uniform, took a much more vengeful stance.

To democratic politicians, the political problems involved in peace-making are only too obvious; the military problems involved in forced disarmament appear more easily surmountable because weapons and troops are tangible, can be counted, and thus apparently controlled. To civilians in general it often seems both natural and necessary to force defeated enemies to give up their arms. Enemy states cannot be trusted and yet, in modern times, victory for democratic Western states fortunately cannot be made permanent by killing or enslaving enemy peoples. Thus forced disarmament is a via media between the unthinkable means of genocide or ethnic cleansing and the goal of perfect security. It causes little controversy between civilian leaders, even when allies can agree on few other war aims—as in the Second World War.

Resistance and Co-Operation

Disarmament has been imposed both upon declining and rising powers. France in 1713, Russia in 1739, Germany in 1919, Germany and Japan in 1945 were all rising powers. Poland in the eighteenth century, France in 1815 and 1940, Russia in 1917, Austria and Hungary in 1919 were all declining powers. Growth or decline in a state’s power is the result of deep economic, demographic, political, and geographical problems which forced disarmament cannot control. Common sense would suggest that forced disarmament is less likely to be successful when imposed on rising rather than on declining powers. But this is difficult to prove, and the decline may be more obvious to historians than to the leaders of defeated powers who resisted disarmament measures or to the victors who imposed them. Weak powers may resist out of ignorance of the odds against them, out of desperation, as Poland did in the eighteenth century, or out of pride. Whatever the weakness of modern Iraq to Western eyes, this has not stopped (p.229) Saddam Hussein vigorously contesting UN efforts to disarm his country.

Thus neither the ‘common-sense’ notion that limited measures of disarmament will be resisted less strongly than more far-reaching ones, nor that weak or declining powers will oppose forced disarmament less vigorously than rising ones is fully confirmed by the evidence. Nor is this as surprising as it appears at first sight. As a contemporary strategist has pointed out, strategy is the realm of paradox rather than of logic or common sense.5 The quickest way of ending a campaign may not be a direct attack on an enemy but a circuitous and unexpected one. So again the quickest way for a vanquished nation to rearm may be for it to accept its disarmament willingly and openly.

Defeated nations have three basic options when ordered to disarm; to resist, to wait upon events, or to co-operate. Which they choose depends partly upon the depth of anger against the treaties and the fear among the defeated people of the measures the victors might take if thwarted. Germany in the 1920s and Iraq in the 1990s chose the first option and waged a form of guerrilla warfare against the inspectors, including evasion, threats, mob attacks, and propaganda. In these two cases public bitterness against the treaties was high, while fear of the allies was limited. Such instances have been rare; in Dunkirk in the eighteenth century, in the Black Sea ports after the Crimean War, in Austria and Bulgaria between the two World Wars, and in Japan and Germany after 1945, the inspectors were apparently left to carry out their duties unmolested.

Where it has occurred, resistance has been ineffective, as it is doubtful whether the inspectors were withdrawn from Germany more quickly because of these tactics and, at the time of writing, the UNSCOM inspectors show no signs of leaving Iraq. Harassment prolongs the war psychology and the victors’ inclination to see the vanquished as their enemies. However, it may be necessary for the restoration of the pride of the defeated nation, even if it actually postpones the moment when it will be allowed to re-enter international society and disarmament will cease to be imposed. A second option for the defeated is to wait, in the way Russia bided its time after 1856, until the victorious coalition is weakened or (p.230) divided, as eventually it must be, and then to denounce the treaties. This will produce a crisis, but the erstwhile victors may be in no position to resist. This strategy is more likely to be successful than harassment, but it will be less satisfying to the defeated peoples.

Finally the vanquished may opt to co-operate with the victors and recognize the international ‘pecking order’ established, if only temporarily, by the war. This is what Austria did in 1809 and Germany and Japan decided to do after 1945. Very often this is the quickest way to be readmitted to the international system, as it encourages the victors to co-opt their former enemies into their alliances. But it means that the defeated may have to fight alongside their conquerors against their former allies, something which embittered Prussian patriots in the Napoleonic period, and which even the Vichy government refused to Hitler’s Nazi regime.6

The defeated nations which were co-opted into alliances were quickly rearmed after the Second World War: Hungary, the German Democratic Republic, and Bulgaria by the Warsaw Pact; Italy, the Federal Republic of Germany, and Japan by the Western allies. Those nations which remained neutral endured more far-reaching measures of forced disarmament for a longer period. By the postwar treaties, Finland was prevented from having missiles. The negotiators no doubt had strategic missiles of the V-2 type in mind, but the treaties still inhibited the Finns for many years from buying anti-tank and anti-aircraft missiles. The British had wanted Finnish armaments limited in 1946 because they expected Finland to be absorbed into the Soviet alliance system. Later they were more accommodating towards the Finns when they bought British equipment, but London’s attitudes still restricted Helsinki’s freedom of choice. Austrian defence forces were also hampered by international agreement. Vienna’s requests for treaty amendments so that it could buy battlefield missiles were bitterly denounced in the Soviet press during the 1960s and 1970s.7

The Literature of Peace-Making

There would be a greater chance of deciding what can reasonably be expected of forced disarmament if, after the immediate postwar (p.231) passions had faded, there had been more extensive discussion of the whole process of peace-making. Unfortunately, far more attention has been devoted by soldiers over the centuries to fighting wars and by diplomats and statesmen to preventing wars through conflict resolution than to postwar peace conferences. Statesmen actually involved in peace conferences have been primarily concerned in their memoirs with defending their decisions rather than formulating strategic advice. Relatively few statesmen and diplomats have examined the general handicaps faced after great wars; the popular expectations which cannot be satisfied, the hostilities which cannot be assuaged, the losses and damage which can never be made good, the brutal choices between weakening the enemies or trusting to their good intentions, knowing that in most cases they will never forgive or forget the humiliation of defeat.

The best-known histories of previous peace conferences have been published just after the end of wars. The publication dates speak for themselves: Sir Charles Webster’s collection of documents on the Vienna Congress was published in 1921, Harold Nicolson’s study of the Congress of Vienna appeared in 1946, and William O. Shanahan’s assessment of the disarmament of the Prussian army came out the previous year. But by then it was too late for harried statesmen and diplomats to pay attention to their conclusions, Moreover, conclusions need to be reiterated in peacetime or they will be forgotten; Churchill and Roosevelt knew in 1945 that reparations could not easily be squeezed from vanquished nations but, by the 1990s, allied statesmen were again trying to compel the Iraqis to ‘pay for’ the damage they had caused.

Because of the relative paucity of the literature, the strategy of peace-making is still ill-formulated. National leaders often speak and behave at peace conferences as if the problems they encounter are unique rather than perennial ones for those in their position: Clemenceau, Wilson, and Lloyd George arguing in Paris over reparations, war guilt, and the fate of the German armed forces; Eden, Molotov, and Hull discussing in Moscow whether Germany should be partitioned; Churchill, Roosevelt, and Stalin arguing at Teheran over how many Germans should be put to the sword. The nature of the debates had changed since the eighteenth century because democratic statesmen were more restricted in their options, but these discussions still echoed peace-makers’ talk down the ages, from the time when the Thebans and Spartans disputed whether the city of Athens should be destroyed forever.

(p.232) Forced disarmament has suffered from analytical neglect alongside other aspects of peace-making. Statesmen resort to such measures partly to justify their support for the war and partly in a genuine attempt to prolong the imbalance of power created by their victory. They try to influence the future behaviour of a defeated state by both altering its constitution and diminishing its power. In 1815,1919, and 1945 the victorious powers insisted that new governments should be installed in the defeated nations. Napoleon, Kaiser Wilhelm, and Hitler were each to be driven from power or killed and replaced by more sympathetic leaders. But in none of these cases were the allies satisfied that this gave them enough security. The new governments might be forced from office by their discontented peoples or they might be tempted themselves to rebuild their country’s strength, hence they had to sign treaties accepting the reduction in their military power, even though this might reduce their credibility with their own people. Castlereagh, Wellington, and Alexander might say that the struggle had been against Napoleon and not against the French people as a whole, but they knew that this was a convenient myth to reduce the ferocity of the settlement. Thus forced disarmament and the installation of a friendly government were not as contradictory as they appeared to the defeated peoples.

Forced disarmament is clearly no panacea, but it is equally clearly a perennial aspect of peace-making. Its importance is increasing, not only because other measures for reducing the power of a defeated enemy have become unthinkable, but also because wars become ever more costly and destructive. Military leaders may be sceptical of its efficacy and advisability. Political analysts may not consider it worth examination, but it will recur after each great war in which one side is decisively defeated and democratic statesmen seek something more than the negative objective of defeating enemy forces and restoring the status quo. They and their people will wish, however ineffectively, to prolong the achievements of victory. Questioning the value of forced disarmament may come to be synonymous for liberal democracies with questioning the value of war itself.


(1) For an account by one French volunteer see G. Safer, The Forgotten Soldier (Sphere Books, London, 1977).

(2) K. Lorenz, On Agression {University Paperback, London, 1967), pp. 113 ff.

(3) See, for example, the obituary of Arthur Rudolph, the Nazi missile designer, in The Times,. 4 January 1996, The obituarist argued that Rudolph was able to work on missiles in Germany precisely because they were not limited by the Treaty of Versailles.

(4) IISS, Military Balance 1995–1996, pp. 264 ff.

(5) E. N. Luttwak, Strategy: The Logic of War and Peace (Belknap Press of Harvard University Cambridge, Mass., 1987), part 1.

(6) For Prussian reactions see P. Paret, Clausewitz and the State (Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1976), pp. 114 ff.

(7) F. Tanner (ed.), From Versailles to Baghdad: Post-War Armament Control of Defeated States (United Nations, New York, 1992), chs. 4 and 7.