Here we lay the ground and define the parameters of this project. Definitions of strategy are discussed, giving the rationale for the one chosen to guide our work: Kimberly Kagan’s definition that sees evidence of strategy where prioritisation and choices about means of pursuing political aims at the level of the state (or higher social entity) have been made. This allows us to identify strategic decision making even when no documents have survived that contain explicit articulations of such reasoning.

One can divide sources regarding Byzantine strategy into three main categories: sources dedicated to the exposition of strategy, tactics and logistics, i.e. military manuals and administrative documents;' Byzantine historical narratives; and non-Byzantine historical accounts written in various dialects such as Slavic, Arabic and Armenian. Still, there is an ongoing debate whether military manuals reflected current tactical and strategic practise. Equally uncertain is the extent to which Byzantine historians employed military manuals or idealised biographies as models in order to present favoured figures in an ideal light. The emperor was usually the one who set priorities and objectives, assisted by advisers as well as by treatises on strategy and logistics. Sometimes, however, high-ranking military officers, the strategoi, local commanders who executed military and political authority over their districts, also took the initiative to undertake operations. The Byzantines faced various peoples: Slavic and Turkish peoples and polities threatened and occupied its Balkan frontier; Arabs, Turks and Armenians dominated the eastern frontier (Asia Minor, Syria, Mesopotamia and Armenia), and the Normans, Crusaders and various pirates threatened Greece, Thrace and the islands of the Aegean and the Ionian Gulf. The objectives of the Byzantines varied according to the period. Defence and survival were among the dominant ones; others included retaliation, devastation of the enemy’s potential through raiding and acquisition of booty, marching deep and showing the flag in order to achieve more favourable treaties, the reconquest of lost key cities and fortresses, and, rarely, the total elimination of enemy polities. The Byzantines relied greatly on money and diplomacy to achieve their goals. When these were not enough, they would mobilise their army and navy comprising indigenous professional and semi-professional troops, as well as foreign and allied troops. The main priority in terms of strategy was to conduct military operations, as far as possible, on only one front at a time. The latter was chosen with various goals in mind: the control of major cities, fortresses, routes and mountain passes; the establishment of a client ruler; acquiring of a quick victory in order to enhance the emperor’s image; and acquiring an acknowledgement of the emperor’s overlordship in order to adhere to Byzantine political ideology which saw the emperor as the supreme ruler of the world and the legitimate claimant to the Roman Empire. It is interesting to note that religion seems to have played a lesser role than realpolitik and political ideology. When fighting their wars, the Byzantines mostly adhered to the advice found in military treatises, but there were also occasions when the neglect of such matters brought devastating defeats.

Warfare did not evolve in a linear fashion. This is most obvious on the physical level: the weapons and armies of polities across time and space have fluctuated in sophistication, so that early European medieval armies had more in common with ancient Israelite or Greek contingents than with the Roman war machinery, and, up to the nineteenth century or even the twentieth, raiding warfare in some parts of Africa or the islands of south-east Asia was akin to patterns of pre-Columbian warfare in the Americas, prehistoric warfare in Europe and ghazis and booty expeditions in Europe and around the Mediterranean. Where warfare’s aims went beyond mere raiding, for much of world history, the paucity or even absence of relevant sources has made it difficult to reconstruct political–strategic aims. We also encounter vast varieties conditioned in part by hard factors such as climate, geography and resources. We have encountered and possibly not always avoided the danger of squeezing cultural differences into a Procrustean bed of Western concepts and languages. Yet some striking patterns have emerged. Not only Indo-European cultures, but also Mongols and Chinese, came up with a strategic aim of establishing a universal monarchy, or defending against the imposition of such an overlordship. The forming of alliances for common strategic purposes and the defence of allies or clients is another widespread pattern, strategic co-operation counterbalancing long-term hostilities. The distinction between client states and allies was often blurred. Non-kinetic tools of strategy were also employed widely, from giving gifts, to tribute payments (again a distinction often difficult to make), to marriages to confirm peace treaties or cement alliances. And most cultures seem to have had some rules or code of honour with regard to the conduct of war which in many contexts imposed limits on the pursuit of strategic aims.

The strategies devised throughout the interwar years and applied in Europe at the beginning of the Second World War were related to the consequences of the Great War. Due to the Third Reich’s aggressive foreign policy, war broke out in September 1939. Germany’s grand strategy consisted in proceeding one front at a time and launching bold onslaughts destined to lead the enemy to the negotiation table. By signing the agreement of August 1939 with the Reich, the USSR expanded its territory and bought time. Italy tried to wage a ‘parallel war’ but failed and had to resort to German help. Britain and France stuck to a defensive strategy of checking the enemies’ offensives on the European continent, building up their forces with US support and finally counterattacking. Britain held on until the US went to war in December 1941, while the USSR narrowly managed to face the first German onslaught. From 1942, the Allies steadily implemented a broad strategy of pushing back the enemy forces on land, at sea and in the air, imposing unconditional surrender on the Axis powers. The latter’s total defeat and the emergence of new superpowers and weaponry paved the way for new strategic perspectives.

The imperial Guptas became the dominant power in India during the fourth and fifth centuries. Though the focus of this chapter will be on Gupta military strategy, I will occasionally peep into grand strategy and tactics. This is because superior tactical elements (horse archery and armoured lancers) allowed the Gupta emperor Chandragupta II to follow an aggressive military strategy. Also, non-military issues which are part of grand strategy (like the fiscal crisis in the mid-fifth century) forced the Gupta emperor Kumaragupta to adopt a passive defensive policy. First, we lay out the scope and objectives of the chapter and analyse the sources available to us for chalking out Gupta strategy. Second, we explore the offensive military strategy which enabled the Guptas to rise from a petty regional polity to the most formidable power in the subcontinent by AD 415. Third, the spotlight is shone on the failure of Gupta defensive strategic policies against the Huns after AD 467. The fourth section discusses the shortcomings of military and non-military strategies followed by the Gupta emperors in maintaining coherence within their domain. The empire was dependent on the co-operation of the samantas (feudatories) and landlords. Further, continuous success against external enemies was essential for maintaining royal supremacy. When the emperors failed against external invaders, then the internal props of royal power started disintegrating. The last section discusses strategic failures against both external and internal enemies which resulted in the collapse of the empire in the last decade of the fifth century.

Writing about the policy goals and strategies of one war is difficult enough; writing about three wars, the generically named Gulf Wars, compounds the problem. This chapter will explore the goals and higher strategies of the belligerents in the three wars. The Iran–Iraq War (1980–1988) was launched by Iraq in order to throttle the revolutionary regime in the new Islamic Republic of Iran and take advantage of a balance of power that had changed drastically in its favour after 1979. Operation Desert Storm (1991) was the outcome of Iraq’s deteriorating socio-economic conditions and Saddam Hussein’s insatiable ambitions. It pitted Iraq against an international coalition led by the United States, in the latter’s effort to reverse Iraq’s occupation of its tiny but rich neighbour, Kuwait. Finally, Operation Iraqi Freedom (2003) was an outgrowth of US determination to overthrow Saddam Hussein, once again involving Iraq fighting the US and a much smaller coalition of partners. The chapter explores the background to each war, addresses the goals and strategies of the belligerent sides, and concludes with a discussion of the outcome of each war. It does not delve in detail into operational or tactical matters but focuses on the grand strategies, goals, decision making and, to some extent, the military strategies.

Rome transitioned from being a central Italian city state with predominantly local concerns of peer-polity competition and survival to the conquest of Italy and then to pre-eminence in the Mediterranean and beyond. The context in which strategic decisions were made varied considerably as Rome’s capacity for military and diplomatic action developed, the nature of the threats that it faced changed and its international horizons and opportunities expanded. Equally, the development and formulation of strategic priorities rested on a complex interplay between the state’s political and religious institutions and authorities and individuals and interest groups, making consistent and coherent long-term strategic policy almost impossible. For the most part, the Roman state proved adept at acting opportunistically to enhance its power, in response to external events and internal impulses. Its objectives therefore were not static but arose in a complex competitive inter-state environment of dangerous rivals to Roman power. A fundamental element in their success lay in the evolution of the structural capacity of the Roman state for military mobilisation, of both its own population and that of allies. Despite a predominantly militia army of annually raised legions and annual magistrates, Rome displayed a formidable ability to prosecute warfare within diverse theatres of operation, by land and sea, and to employ an effective mix of coercion and generosity to obtain support, co-operation, and collusion from allies and to undermine the resolve of enemies.

Most discussions of Chinese military history and Chinese strategy rely heavily, sometimes exclusively, on Sunzi’s Art of War, with the occasional inclusion of a few other works of strategy. There is, however, no evidence that Sunzi or any other abstract strategist, mythical or real, influenced the actual course of campaigns or battles. The Warring States Period (475–221 BC) was brought to a close by the success of the Qin state’s relentless campaigns to create a unified empire. This not only required a new strategic goal – the complete destruction of any subsidiary political authority – but also created a new strategic reality in the form of an empire. Neither Sunzi nor any of the other Warring States strategist had anything to say about these problems. In fact, events like the Qin massacre of a reported 450,000 men after the Battle of Changping in 260 BC, which followed a prolonged siege, seems to have run counter to strategic writing, but was tremendously effective.

This chapter will turn to the actual campaigns of the Spring and Autumn period (771–476 BC), followed by those that created the first imperial state in China in 221 BC, and finally the campaigns that created, maintained, lost, restored and then permanently lost the Han dynasty (206 BC–AD 220). War required rulers, generals and statesmen to devise and execute strategies that were not ideal, often failed and seldom accommodated higher moral values. This reality was portrayed clearly in most of the histories, even in the stylised and moralised anecdotes that are often all that is left to us.

Independent India developed a three-tiered approach to its grand strategy: first, dealing with the challenges of national integration and threats on its immediate periphery from Pakistan and the People’s Republic of China (PRC); second, carving a role for itself as a significant actor in the emergence of a recently decolonised Asia; third, attempting to shape the post-war global order through ideational means. It was able, to a very considerable extent, to achieve its first goal although it failed to secure its Himalayan border with the PRC and suffered a disastrous military defeat in 1962. Its second objective ultimately failed to materialise, largely because of flawed strategies and domestic constraints. The final aim met with very partial success. It played an outsized role in promoting decolonisation, had a limited impact on global disarmament negotiations and made minor contributions to the peaceful resolution of international disputes. Until the end of the Cold War, while India’s stated strategic goals mostly remained the same, it lacked the material capabilities and requisite moral authority to influence key developments in global politics. Only with renewed economic growth, growing military clout and an expanded diplomatic presence has India now become a more influential actor in global politics. However, domestic political choices may undermine the realisation of all three goals.

The Civil War provides an example of a war between two democratic powers with similar constitutions, styles of government and military culture. This helps produce some similarities in strategy making (particularly the role of commanding generals) but also distinct differences, such as the control exercised by respective presidents. The differences in approach are apparent from the beginning of the war. The initial Confederate strategy of a cordon defense arose not from its president, Jefferson Davis, or his officials but from governors and commanders in the field. The Union’s initial strategy, the Anaconda Plan, came from the Union General in Chief, Winfield Scott. This position gave the Union’s creation of strategy a focus which the Confederates did not possess, leading to poor co-ordination of military forces across the Confederacy and weak political control of the South’s generals. This produced blunders such as the Confederate invasion of Kentucky – which had declared itself neutral – without Davis’s knowledge or consent. This was also an example of poor political military control in the South. By comparison, the leadership of Abraham Lincoln – after a weak start – provides an interesting case of the beneficial effects of strong political leadership in the creation and execution of strategy.

From the 16th century onwards, the Republic of the United Provinces, or the Dutch Republic, developed into a state with extensive maritime economic activities (fisheries, trade and whaling) with an extensive trade network in Asia, Africa, the Caribbean, the Mediterranean and North and South America. In the wake of these developments, the navy of the republic found itself involved in many conflicts throughout the early modern era. Sometimes this was for conquest, but most of the time these involvements were to defend. In other words, the maritime power of the republic was mostly used for defensive, rather than offensive, operations. In this chapter we will explore two cases where the republic used naval powers: the Eighty Years War (1568–1648), a struggle between a few rebellious states in the Netherlands and the Spanish Habsburg Empire, and three wars between England and the republic that happened in the second half of the seventeenth century. We will discuss the sources, the presence of a maritime revolution, and the question of who was in charge in deciding the objective for the creation of grand strategy, who were the opponents, what were the causes of the wars, what where the objectives, what means were at the disposal of the republic to achieve its objectives, how priorities were decided and to what degree did cultural and emotional factors play a role in prioritisation.

Philip of Macedon and his son Alexander the Great, despite coming to power in similar circumstances, approached their rule in very different ways. In particular, it suggests that along with a contrast of style, in Keegan’s terms Alexander being a ‘heroic’ leader, his father an ‘unheroic’, one their approach and, as a consequence, the aims and practice of their strategies were quite different. While it could be argued that Philip’s was simply one of survival exacerbated by ever more ‘mission creep’ towards the south of Greece, here it is suggested that instead Philip had from very early on a firm proactive vision of ruling all Greece and used an integrated strategy of diplomacy, financial subversion, and military force to achieve that end and on its success established a firm method of retaining his rule. In contrast, Alexander, while tactically brilliant, unlike his father was a reactive rather than a proactive strategist and his campaigns are best seen as a series of micro-strategies responding to specific circumstances as opposed to an overarching vision. This approach explains the lack of a firm political strand to his strategy and the subsequent collapse of his empire on his death.