War: The Ultimate Failure

War is already a failure. It is the ultimate breakdown in human affairs. A testament to the profound futility of seeking gain through destruction, it commences long before the first shot’s fired, born from a fundamental collapse in human interaction. As Erich Maria Remarque starkly articulated in All Quiet on the Western Front, it vividly portrays how “a generation was destroyed by the war, even those who survived the shells.” This represents an immense waste of human life, extinguishing countless potentials, talents, and experiences.

Beyond the immediate casualties, war precipitates a profound waste of resources, diverting capital, labour, and innovation from progress to destruction, leaving societies poorer and less resilient. Most tragically, it results in the wholesale destruction of previous achievements, razing homes, infrastructure, cultural heritage, and decades, even centuries, of human development, setting nations back indefinitely.

Like theft, where a person steals due to a fundamental lack of faith in their ability to provide for themselves legitimately, war often reflects a nation’s internal failures – an inability or unwillingness to achieve its objectives through peaceful, constructive means. As Professor Sarah Payne sharply observes, the impulse to wage war can stem from a leader’s “incompetence at home,” seeking to externalise their failures and impose their dysfunctions on others. This inherent flaw – a retreat from problem-solving and a disregard for mutual benefit – lies at the heart of every conflict, ensuring that, in the long run, no one truly wins. The aggressor, caught in a cycle of isolation and unsustainable resource drain, finds their “victory” a hollow, self-defeating triumph, as even Steven Pinker, in The Better Angels of Our Nature, demonstrates that the immense human and societal costs of conflict consistently outweigh any short-term gains, favouring less violent paths in the long arc of history.

Avoiding war demands a profound understanding of human nature and geopolitical dynamics, often challenging our own assumptions. Professor Payne underscores a crucial lesson: we must never assume an adversary shares our definition of “rationality.” The historical errors of figures like Neville Chamberlain, who couldn’t conceive of a nation willingly plunging into another world war, or Angela Merkel, who believed economic interdependence through gas purchases would guarantee peace, demonstrate this dangerous oversight. Leaders might operate from fundamentally different values, prioritising perceived historical grievances, ideological purity, or even a deep-seated desire for “honour” or “restoration” over tangible economic benefit or societal well-being. Indeed, as Samuel P. Huntington contended in The Clash of Civilizations, fundamental civilisational differences can shape distinct worldviews, leading nations to operate from varying “understandings of world order, of the relation between God and man, the individual and the group, the citizen and the state, parents and children, husband and wife.” These divergences in core beliefs about security, governance, and justice make understanding an adversary’s true motives paramount, rather than projecting one’s own.

The primary bulwark against war, in Professor Payne’s view, is the international rules-based order. This isn’t a system imposed by any single power, but a framework of agreed-upon treaties, norms, and institutions that facilitate cooperation, manage disputes, and foster shared wealth. Prominent international relations scholars such as G. John Ikenberry, in After Victory, have extensively detailed how such liberal international orders, built upon institutions, strategic restraint, and collective security, have provided the most stable pathways to peace after major conflicts, arguing they offer “a potent recipe for stability and cooperation in an otherwise anarchic world.” This order offers mechanisms for peaceful dispute resolution, establishes norms against aggression, and provides collective security guarantees that make unilateral military action less attractive and more costly.

Economic integration, fostered by free trade and open markets within this order, creates deep interdependencies that raise the stakes of conflict, making war financially ruinous for all involved. This universalistic order, which Francis Fukuyama famously posited in The End of History and the Last Man as a potential “end-point of mankind’s ideological evolution,” champions seas that connect rather than divide, fostering global trade and cultural exchange. This stands in stark contrast to the “anathema world orders” described by Professor Payne, which, as realists like John Mearsheimer argue, often prioritise spheres of influence, territorial control, and hierarchy over equality, leading to “the tragedy of great power politics.” Fostering robust institution-building, akin to the slow but miraculous evolution of the European Union, creates mechanisms for sustained dialogue, shared decision-making, and collective action, demonstrating that nations can indeed “stop invading each other” and prosper. The EU’s journey, from a continent ravaged by centuries of conflict to one bound by shared laws and economic interests, exemplifies how persistent institutional effort can transform hostile neighbours into interdependent partners. Avoiding war, therefore, necessitates a continuous effort to strengthen these institutions, actively bridge gaps in understanding diverse rationalities, and resist the archaic impulse for territorial acquisition that fundamentally clashes with modern interconnectedness.

Despite all efforts at prevention, war can still erupt, often driven by the “less wise generations” who, having been spared the “searing experiences” of past conflicts, overestimate their capabilities and underestimate war’s true costs. When this ultimate failure occurs, the response must be resolute and strategic. Professor Payne maintains that while you “can’t make them decide one way or the other,” meaning external actors cannot fully control an aggressor’s initial decision, the focus must shift to maximising the costs for the aggressor.

As seen with Ukraine, which has done a “very good job at maximising costs on Russians,” this strategy aims to make the continuation of hostilities unsustainable and unattractive for the instigator. This involves a comprehensive approach including severe economic sanctions that cripple an aggressor’s financial system and trade, diplomatic isolation that strips away legitimacy and alliances, robust support for the victim’s defence that raises the aggressor’s military and human toll, and highlighting the “pariah status” that comes with violating international norms. Accounts of the Soviet Union’s collapse by historians like Vladislav Zubok or Serhii Plokhy further validate how internal vulnerabilities, when coupled with unsustainable foreign policy, lead to profound and lasting self-inflicted harm, proving that even a powerful state can unravel from within when pursuing misguided aggression. Graham Allison’s work on Destined for War likewise cautions that even when great powers are caught in “Thucydides’s Trap,” conflict isn’t inevitable, but its avoidance demands extraordinary strategic prudence and a clear understanding of the immense costs of miscalculation.

Crucially, however, the imposition of costs must be carefully calibrated so as not to be self-defeating in the long term. The aim is to enforce a rules-based order and deter future aggression, not to sow new seeds of profound and lasting resentment. The historical example of the Treaty of Trianon, which continues to fuel dissatisfaction in Hungary over a century later, serves as a powerful reminder: measures perceived as inherently unjust or overly punitive, rather than restorative or corrective, can create persistent grievances that undermine future stability and foster attitudes fundamentally at odds with a harmonious international system. This stands in stark contrast to the post-World War II approach to Germany, particularly West Germany, where initial punitive ideas like the Morgenthau Plan were largely superseded by comprehensive rebuilding efforts like the Marshall Plan. This shift from simply dismantling industry to actively fostering economic recovery and democratic institution-building aimed to integrate Germany into a new, stable European order, demonstrating that long-term cooperation was deemed more beneficial than perpetual subjugation. The goal is to enforce norms and achieve behavioural change, not to permanently alienate or create conditions for a cyclical resurgence of conflict. The focus must remain on ensuring that the aggressor finds their “victory” a hollow, self-defeating triumph, leading to long-term “depressed growth rates,” brain drain, technological isolation, and diminished global influence. As science fiction authors like Joe Haldeman have starkly depicted in The Forever War, the human and societal tolls of prolonged conflict often mean that even the ‘victors’ return to a world where “the reasons for fighting” have become obsolete, struggling with alienation and a loss of purpose amidst a transformed reality.

As a third party to a conflict, our response is intrinsically linked to upholding the international rules-based order and supporting its victims. This role extends beyond a single nation and emphasises collective action. Professor Payne stresses the crucial importance of a broad “West” – encompassing not just traditional Western nations but also key partners like South Korea, Japan, Taiwan, Australia, and New Zealand – to act in concert. This collective response involves unified diplomacy, engaging in ongoing dialogue with both adversaries and allies, and strengthening alliances, recognising that “the strength of the west” lies in its unified front, which serves as both a deterrent and a mechanism for coordinated response. It means reinforcing norms through consistent condemnation in international forums like the UN, implementing targeted sanctions on individuals and entities responsible for aggression, and leveraging international courts to hold perpetrators accountable. A collective commitment to upholding international law, freedom of navigation, and national sovereignty sends a clear signal that violations won’t be tolerated without severe consequences. And it entails providing sustained support, whether through economic aid for reconstruction, military assistance for defence, or humanitarian relief for affected populations. These actions, undertaken by third parties, play a critical role in bolstering the resilience of the victim, mitigating suffering, and contributing to the costs borne by the aggressor, making continued conflict unsustainable.

Rebuilding after war is a protracted process of creating sustainable peace, transcending mere cessation of hostilities. It’s about ensuring that the conditions for the “ultimate failure” don’t re-emerge. Professor Payne’s insights offer guidance on this path: true peace is cemented by robust institution-building, where strong, adaptable institutions can manage disputes, ensure justice, and provide governance. This includes establishing fair legal systems, independent judiciaries, transparent administrative bodies, and fostering vibrant civil society engagement. As G. John Ikenberry’s work on rebuilding international order demonstrates, the “miracle” of Europe’s post-war prosperity, built over generations, illustrates how sustained investment in institutions prevents regression into conflict, ensuring accountability and fostering trust.

Economic integration and shared prosperity are equally vital, as peace is more enduring when it’s economically advantageous. Rebuilding efforts should focus on integrating economies within the rules-based global system, promoting the “compounding wealth” that comes from cooperation rather than the isolation and impoverishment brought by aggression. This includes supporting free trade, encouraging foreign investment, and fostering economic interdependence that creates shared interests and reduces incentives for renewed conflict. While we can’t perfectly replicate past successes, the “searing experiences” of war offer painful but vital lessons. Peacebuilding must involve a commitment to actively learn from these past mistakes, such as pursuing outdated territorial ambitions or operating outside of established legal frameworks. Accounts of transformative leaders like Deng Xiaoping, detailed in biographies like Ezra F. Vogel’s Deng Xiaoping and the Transformation of China, affirm Professor Payne’s point about how leaders forged by dire experiences often possess the pragmatic wisdom to prioritise long-term stability and economic development over conflict. Henry Kissinger, in On China, further elaborates on China’s historical emphasis on avoiding chaos and maintaining internal harmony, shaping a unique strategic culture. Ultimately, a lasting peace requires a societal commitment to cultivating wisdom in leadership, one that values compromise, understands diverse perspectives, and prioritises long-term stability over short-term gains or ideological purity. War is indeed the ultimate failure. Yet, through collective wisdom, unwavering commitment to a rules-based order, and sustained efforts in institution-building and economic cooperation, humanity has the capacity to prevent its recurrence and to build a more just and prosperous peace.