December 2002 Newsletter

[Wayne S. Knight (J. Sargeant Reynolds Community College, Richmond, Virginia) was trained as a diplomatic historian. He reports that for the past twenty-eight years he has often (!!!) taught survey courses in American History and Western Civilization. He suspects there may be other SHAFR members in the same or similar boat and that they might have a passing interest in how one cc. professor handles (or mishandles) these two 50-minute freshman level classes. Perhaps some dialogue will be generated. - editor]

LECTURE #13 OF 42

I say "Good Morning," and write on the board my hook from our last class: "Why did the American rebels 'win' their independence from Great Britain?"

Heads down they copy my words. Then I ask: "Okay, one last time, why did I underline 'rebels'?" I explain again that many colonists were not rebels. "Back in my college days, my history professor said one-third were rebels, one-third were loyalists, and one-third were apathetic. Nowadays, however, most historians argue that 40 to 45 percent were rebels."

"So whichever percentage you choose it's clear that the rebels were a minority. Therefore you should never say 'the colonists' revolted against Britain instead you should say 'some colonists' or the 'American rebels' revolted against Britain."

I move to the broader question: "Why did the rebels 'win'? What I want is historical analysis, not Fourth of July rhetoric." After my warning I write on the board:

CLAUSEWITZ and WASHINGTON'S UNIQUE GENERALSHIP

"Let's use these two topics to try to fashion part of an answer to the question at hand: 'Why did the rebels win'?"

To push them toward thinking in Clausewitzian terms I try this tactic: "Look at our question. Notice my quotation marks around 'win.' Why did I do that?...The word 'win,' when applied to war and politics, has a more subtle meaning than when applied to sports. In most sports, if my team scores more points than your team, I win, you lose. But it's not that straightforward in war and politics."

I step to the board and print in capital letters, WAR IS POLITICS BY VIOLENT MEANS. As I write I tell them that "the axiom comes from the writings of Karl von Clausewitz, an early 19th century German military strategist. He taught that politics never stops. He taught that war is a violent way to achieve a political goal that could not be achieved in a non-violent way."

(I've found Clausewitz difficult to teach. He goes against conventional wisdom. I suspect most people, consider war a discontinuation rather than a continuation of politics.)

Bringing things back to the American Revolution I ask pointedly: "What was the political goal of the British government? What was the political goal of the American rebels? Which political goal was more difficult to achieve?"

Simplifying, I say: "Britain had the more difficult task. The political goal of the British government was to regain control of its thirteen former colonies. However, for the British to achieve their political goal, that is, for the British to 'win,' they had to CRUSH George Washington's army and reestablish loyal colonial governments. That would have been damned difficult," I exclaim, "even for the mighty British Empire."

"On the other hand, the political goal of the American rebels was to maintain their independence. To achieve that goal, they simply had to HOLD OUT." I repeat: "All they had to do was HOLD OUT. They already had what they wanted. They had made the long journey from loyalty to the British Empire, to autonomy within Empire, to independence from the Empire."

Then I explain: "As long as the British couldn't crush Washington's army, and as long as the British couldn't prevent the Second Continental Congress from functioning as a National Government, the American rebels were independent. They had achieved their political goal. They had won. Therefore," I conclude, "because their political goals were obviously so different, what constituted 'winning' for the American rebels was a far cry from what constituted 'winning' for the British government."

Introducing my second topic, I say: "I've long thought that George Washington's generalship during the War for Independence was indeed a Unique Generalship. Why? Mainly because he lost every major battle but his American rebels won the war. Let me explain that more fully. In the first place, Washington lived a generation before Clausewitz. Moreover, Washington was first and foremost a civilian (a farmer, land speculator, and Virginia politician) and secondly a military man. So I think Washington's generalship was unique because, notwithstanding his predominantly civilian background, he intuitively understood certain concepts later advocated by Clausewitz. Washington understood the different political goals of the British and American rebels. Consequently, he knew that military stalemate equaled American victory and realized that his primary objective was to prevent the British from crushing his Continental Army."

I then offer another reason for Washington's Unique Generalship: "George Washington, in his heart of hearts, wanted to be a European-style general. He wanted to create a European-style American army and defeat the British in a conventional European-style battle. But he never accomplished that, suffering defeat time after time. Nor was Yorktown an exception. Yorktown wasn't a battle. It was a siege operation. Besides that, nearly half the troops were French and the French commander, General Rochambeau, who unlike Washington had conducted many sieges, provided the military expertise."

Now my main point: "Nevertheless, the French-American victory at Yorktown meant Washington had achieved his political goal. He was the Commanding Officer at Yorktown. His Continental Army had not been crushed. And soon thereafter the British government, calculating that its political goal was too costly to achieve, decided to grant the American rebels their Independence."

I continue: "And here's a third reason for Washington's Unique Generalship" saying something purposely provocative, something I'd wager my people hadn't heard about the Father of their Country. "As the War for Independence dragged on, some members of the Second Continental Congress worried that General Washington, who was held in high esteem by most of his officers and men, might become an l8th century Julius Caesar and use the Continental Army to overthrow the American experiment in republican government."

That's an overload. So I stop. I then take special pains to emphasize that Washington's basic orders came from the Second Continental Congress, which was, during most of the War for Independence, the Government of the United States. I say bluntly: "The Second Continental Congress outranked Washington. The Congress appointed Washington as Commanding General and could dismiss him.... Many members of the Second Continental Congress knew enough ancient Roman history to know that, some 1800 years before their own times, Julius Caesar, backed by Roman legions loyal to him, destroyed the Roman Republic and established a military dictatorship. In fact Julius Caesar is ancient history's most famous example of 'The Man on Horseback' -- a term that historians, political scientists, and journalists often use. It refers to a charismatic military man, with a loyal army behind him, who, like Julius Caesar, or in the early 19th century Napoleon Bonaparte, overthrows a legitimate government and becomes a military dictator."

Returning to Washington: "When called to testify before the Second Continental Congress, Washington scoffed at fears he might become a 'Man on Horseback.' He defended his leadership of the Army, lobbied for more troops, guns, food, and better pay, and said emulating Julius Caesar never crossed his mind. In fact, to make his case, Washington also turned to ancient Roman history and compared himself to the mythical Cincinnatus."

I print CINCINNATUS on the board and say: "This misty legend comes from the earliest days of the Roman Republic, some 500 years before Christ, and depicts Cincinnatus as the exemplary citizen-farmer-soldier, a popular military leader, unquestionably devoted to the Republic. According to the legend, when the ancient Romans faced a military threat, they'd turn to their mighty warrior, Cincinnatus, who'd drop his plow, take up the sword, leave his beloved farm, and lead the Republic to victory. But, after defeating the enemy and saving the Republic, Cincinnatus would put away his sword, return to his humble farm, and take up the plow again. And that's what Washington successfully persuaded Congress he was going to do. He was, he argued, an 18th century Cincinnatus, who, after Independence had been won, would lay down the sword, ride back to his beloved Mount Vernon, and happily take up farming again. And, as we'll soon see, that's what Washington did do -- that is, until another crisis arose that threatened the survival of American republicanism."

Then I sum up.

"Thus I call Washington's generalship unique. He was a civilian, a wealthy farmer, land speculator, and Virginia politician, who temporarily became the Commanding General of the Continental Army of the new American Republic. He was, I would argue, fairly close to what he said he was: a Cincinnatus-like citizen soldier who persuaded the Second Continental Congress to trust him, who intuitively understood that wars are fought for political goals, and who, consequently, understood that to 'win' he had to hold out and not allow his Continental Army to be crushed."

Next time we'll discuss American Diplomacy in the War for Independence and finish our answer to the question: "Why did the American rebels 'win,' meanwhile read about the Battle of Saratoga. Come to class prepared to explain why some historians argue that Saratoga is the most important battle in American history."

After a long career teaching this is more or less how I've tried over the last few years to teach Washington's contributions to the War for Independence in the 50-minute class in the American History survey course.

LECTURE # 14 OF 42

I start class with a reminder. "Remember that the Big Question under discussion is: Why did the American rebels 'win' their independence from Great Britain?" Then I say: "Today we're going to discuss the third part of our answer to that question, American Diplomacy and French Aid."

I say: "You will recall that the American War for Independence, from 1775 to 1783, took place within the broader context of the 126 years of bitter rivalry between Britain and France for world supremacy -- the so-called Second Hundred Years War." I draw my 1775-1783 timeline, dividing it like this:

(1775)|____Covert Aid__________|(1778)____Overt Aid_____________|(1781)________Diplomatic Maneuvering________|(1783)

I ask: "What do covert and overt mean? Yes, covert means secret, or under the table. And overt means open, or above the table."

Therefore, "from 1775 to 1778, France secretly aided the American rebels. But, from 1778 to 1781, France openly aided them. That brings up two more questions: One, why did France aid the American rebels? Two, why did France change to overt aid in 1778?"

"Okay, let's flesh out that first question: Why did the French government, led by Louis XVI, an absolute monarch who despised republicans, send covert aid to the American rebels, many of whom, like Samuel Adams and Thomas Jefferson, were zealous republicans who despised monarchs? As we tackle that question keep in mind this trite but oftentimes helpful rule of thumb: Diplomacy, like politics, often makes for strange bedfellows.

This way of thinking can be used to explain why France helped the American rebels. The French desire for revenge against the British, who had humiliated them some 15 years beforehand in the French and Indian War, was stronger than their dislike of American republicanism. The French, therefore, supported the Americans rebels, hoping they'd win their independence and weaken the British Empire."

I tell my people: "Look at it this way. The only thing that matters in the lawless jungle-like world of international affairs is self-interest -- hard-nosed, unemotional, calculated, self-interest. Accordingly, the French, following their self-interest, helped the American rebels against the British."

I ask two more rhetorical questions. "Why did France start with covert aid? Why not give the Americans overt aid when they first rebelled?" To answer: "Overt aid was like a slap in the face. The British would have immediately declared war against France, a war France wasn't ready for. Covert aid, however, was like a verbal jab. Britain might snarl at France but not declare war."

Now a brief narrative. "So from 1775 to 1778, France played it safe. Covertly, under the table, she supplied the American rebels with clothing, guns, ammunition, and cannon. In fact, some of the cannon used by Washington's artillery men had Louis XVI's monogram etched on their barrels. But, for the first three years, no French armies, and no French fleets, helped the American rebels fight the British. And Britain did not declare war against France."

"In other words, covert aid was France's wait-and-see policy. Not wanting to risk being left alone fighting Britain, France was determined to avoid war until she had more evidence that the American rebels would stay the course. That's why the American victory at the Battle of Saratoga was a turning point. And that's why some historians consider Saratoga the most significant battle in U.S. history."

"After Saratoga, France shifted to overt aid, signed a Treaty of Commerce, and, more importantly, a Treaty of Alliance with the United States. That meant France would open its ports to American trade, would send Admiral DeGrasse and a French fleet to American waters, and would send General Rochambeau and 7,000 professional soldiers to fight alongside George Washington's Continental Army."

"Where's Saratoga?" I ask pointing to the map. I circle Saratoga and say: "It's here, in upstate New York. Make sure you concentrate on the 'ramifications' of the Battle of Saratoga far more than on the little tale I'm about to tell." Using the map to illustrate I say: "In late summer of 1777, the British general, John Burgoyne, often called 'Gentleman Johnny' because his mistress, and his fine chinaware as well, accompanied him on military campaigns, started out from Montreal with about 7,000 troops, heading south to Albany for a rendezvous with General William Howe, thought to be marching north from New York City."

"But everything got all screwed up. After trudging through the mountains of northern New York, Burgoyne's army arrived at Saratoga somewhat worse for wear. Meanwhile General Howe, who hadn't gotten the word, was marching south toward Philadelphia not north to Albany."

Pushing on, trying to be succinct: "At Saratoga, in October of 1777, a larger American force routed Burgoyne's bedraggled army, confiscated its guns, ammunition, and cannon, and allowed it to retreat after 'Gentleman Johnny' pledged never to fight against the Americans again."

Now, after Saratoga, I can teach American diplomacy. Today I start with the old-fashioned you're-in-his-shoes tactic. "You're Benjamin Franklin, the most distinguished American of the colonial era. You're in Paris as the American representative to the French government. And you've just received a dispatch describing the victory at Saratoga. What would you do? How would you try to exploit this turn of events?"

"Franklin went out to dinner with the British Ambassador to France -- out to dinner in full public view at a popular Paris restaurant. Why in the world did he do that? What was he up to?"

"By dining so openly with the British Ambassador, Franklin was saying in effect to the French: 'Let's be realistic. After our great American victory at Saratoga, the British might offer us full autonomy within the Empire. That's a pretty good deal. And we might take it unless, of course, France offer us a better deal, specifically overt aid, a Treaty of Alliance, and a pledge to fight until Britain grants us our independence'."

Rhetorically I ask: "Was it Franklin's ploy that persuaded France to shift to overt aid and sign a Treaty of Alliance?"

My answer: "I don't know. But I do know that Saratoga prompted a major debate in the highest reaches of the French government between Louis XVI's finance minister, Turgot, and his foreign minister, Vergennes." I write TURGOT and VERGENNES on the board and say: "Here's my rendition of the arguments they used to try to get Louis XVI to accept their respective policies."

"First, Vergennes: 'Sire! We must act now. Saratoga proved that the Americans will fight. We must ignore their despicable republicanism and give them full military support, so that fighting side by side we can humble the high and mighty British'."

Then I say: "Here's how Turgot might have responded. 'Sire! I too detest the wild-eyed Americans, and I too want to humble the haughty British. But, Sire, your Royal Treasury is nearly empty. Another war with Britain might mean financial bankruptcy for your government and social unrest as well'."

"In the long term," I explain, "Turgot was right. French aid to the Americans helped bankrupt Louis XVI's government, which, in turn, helped to trigger the French Revolution -- a watershed event that began in 1789 and brought on nearly twenty-five years of European wars. In the short term, however, Vergennes was right. French overt aid, General Rochambeau's soldiers and Admiral DeGrasse's ships, particularly at the Battle of Yorktown, helped the Americans rebels win their independence, which did, temporarily at least, tarnish the power and prestige of the British Empire."

Now I try to squeeze in one more diplomatic concept. Pointing to my map of the United States circa 1783, I say: "Look at this! The United States began its existence as one of the largest countries in the world." I trace out the boundaries: "From the Florida-Georgia border north to the Great Lakes, from the Mississippi River east to the Atlantic Ocean, the British gave this enormous territory to the Americans during the postwar negotiations in Paris, a two year period that you'll notice I've labeled Diplomatic Maneuvering on our timeline."

"Did the Americans conquer this territory? No, of course not. It was a coldly calculated deal, offered by British diplomats, and quickly accepted by their equally shrewd and knowledgeable American counterparts. Here's the essence of the deal. In return for Britain giving up that vast territory, the United States blatantly violated its alliance with France and signed a separate peace treaty with Britain. The American diplomats in Paris, Benjamin Franklin, John Jay, and John Adams, keenly aware of America's self-interest, ignored their obligations under the Treaty of Alliance with France, and stabbed the French square in the back."

"And that's American Diplomacy of the War for Independence" [in a 50-minute class in the American History survey course].