The
Case for Pre-Emptive War, From Goliath to the Dardanelles
Some lessons for Israel as
it contemplates an attack on Iran's nuclear program.
By Andrew Roberts
When—and
it is most probably now a question of when, rather than if—Israel is forced to
bomb Iran's uranium enrichment facilities, the Israeli government will
immediately face a cacophony of denunciation from the press in America and
abroad; the international left; the United Nations General Assembly; 20
secretly delighted but fantastically hypocritical Arab states; some Democratic
legislators in Washington, D.C.; and a large assortment of European
politicians. Critics will doubtless harp on about international law and claim
that no right exists for pre-emptive military action. So it would be wise for
friends of Israel to mug up on their ancient and modern history to refute this
claim.
The right, indeed the duty,
of nations to proactively defend themselves from foes who seek their
destruction with new and terrifying weaponry far pre-dates President George W.
Bush and Iraq. It goes back earlier than Israel's successful pre-emptive
attacks on Iraq's Osirak nuclear reactor in 1981 (not to mention other
pre-emptive Israeli attacks like the one on the Syrian nuclear program in
2007). It even predates Israel's 1967 pre-emption of massed Arab armies, a move
that saved the Jewish state. History is replete with examples when pre-emption
was successful, as well as occasions when, because pre-emption wasn't employed,
catastrophe struck.
When
it became clear that the Emperor Napoleon was about to commandeer the large and
formidable Danish navy stationed at Copenhagen in 1807, the British Royal Navy
attacked without a declaration of war and either sank, disabled or captured
almost the entire fleet. No one screamed about "international law" in
those days, of course, any more than statesmen would have cared if they had.
Neither did Winston Churchill give any warning to the Ottoman Empire, a German
ally, when he ordered the bombardment of the Dardanelles Outer Forts in
November 1914, also without a war declaration.
Similarly—though
there were plenty of warnings given—Britain was formally at peace with her
former ally France in July 1940 when Churchill ordered the sinking of the
French fleet harbored near Oran in French Algeria, for which he was rightly
cheered to the echo in the House of Commons. The sheer danger of a large naval
force falling into Hitler's hands when Britain was fighting for its survival
during the Battle of Britain justified the action, and the exigencies of
international law could rightly go hang.
Looking
further back, and thinking counterfactually, as historians are occasionally
permitted to do, there have been several wars in which devastating new weaponry
spelled disaster for the victims of the power developing them, and the victims
would have been much better off using pre-emption.
In
the Middle Eastern context, Goliath ought to have charged down David long before
he was able to employ his slingshot and river pebbles to such devastating
effect. The Egyptians should have attacked the Hittites as soon as the
Egyptians suspected they were developing the chariot as a weapon of war. Had
the Mayans and Incas assaulted the conquistadores as soon as they stepped
ashore—and thus before the Spaniards could deploy their muskets, horses, metal
armor, hand-held firearms and smallpox to crush them—they might not have seen
their civilizations wiped out.
The Mamelukes and Janisseries
shouldn't have waited to be slaughtered by Napoleon's cannon at the battle of
the Pyramids; the Khalifa needed to hit Kitchener on his way to Omdurman in the
River War of the late 19th century, not once he'd set up his machine guns on
the banks of the Nile; and so on.
Often
in history, massive pre-emption has been the only sensible strategy when facing
a new weapon in the hands of one's sworn enemy, regardless of international
law—the sole effect of which has been to hamper the West, since those countries
that break it can only be indicted if they lose, whereas civilized powers
generally have to abide by its restrictions.
Consider
a counterfactual analogy that will weigh heavily on Israeli Prime Minister
Benjamin Netanyahu as he struggles with his historic decision. If the French
Defense Minister André Maginot, instead of investing so heavily in his
defensive line in the mid-1930s, had thought offensively about how to smash the
German army the moment it crossed the Versailles Treaty's "red lines"
in the Saar and the Rhineland, some six million Jews might have survived.
The
slingshot, chariot, musket, cannon, machine-guns: All were used to devastating
effect against opponents that seemed to be stronger with conventional weaponry
but were overcome by the weaker power with new weapons that weren't
pre-emptively destroyed. Since President Obama's second inaugural address has
made it painfully obvious that the U.S. will not act to prevent Iran from
enriching more than 250 kilos of 20% enriched uranium, enough for a nuclear
bomb, Israel will have to.
Mr.
Netanyahu might not have international bien pensant opinion on his side as he
makes his choice, but he has something far more powerful: the witness of
history.
Mr. Roberts, a historian, is the author, most
recently, of "The Storm of War: A New History of the Second World
War" (Harper, 2011).
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