My understanding of the sacrificial meaning of warfare began in 1984 at the Japan Society (way over on the East Side of Manhattan) when I saw an astonishing movie about the Battle of Port Arthur depicting events that took place during the Russo-Japanese war in 1905 (see also a documentary about the war here).
The film depicts endless carnage: Japanese soldiers getting out of trenches in battle after battle, running toward Russian trenches—and being mowed down by machine gun fire. Tens–of thousands of Japanese soldiers were slaughtered in this war.
I was horrified and aghast as I watched the film. What was going on? Why did Japanese leaders so readily send their soldiers to be massacred in battle?
Five years later, I learned that an identical battle strategy had been used by the French, British, Germans and Russians in the First World War—resulting in far greater carnage.
For four years, 1914-1918, most of the nations of the world were embroiled in this futile struggle. On every front, the military strategy of the “offensive at all costs” was employed. Young men were required to get out of trenches en masse and move toward enemy trenches—where they were cut down by machine gun fire and artillery shells.
Having not yet become fully familiar with historical accounts of the First World War, my reaction was that of a normal human being. I began using words like “strange” and “weird” to characterize the battle strategies of the First World War and their persistence in spite of the failure of the battles, and the carnage.
As I immersed myself in the literature of the war, I was further surprised by how casually events were written about. What happened during the First World War seemed to extraordinary, yet historians wrote as if nothing extraordinary had occurred.
Gradually, I realized that historians were unable to explain what had happened. They could not account for the slaughter, nor could they tell us why nations and their leaders persisted in employing a battle-strategy that was futile and self-destructive. After four years of fighting, little had changed from a political or military point of view.
In the film about the Russo-Japanese war, The Battle of Port Arthur, a Japanese General is having a conversation with the Emperor, discussing the course of the war. In the midst of the conversation, the General receives a note from a courier. The General begins bowing to the Emperor and weeping profusely.
The Emperor puts his hands on the General’s head to console him and asks, “What is it? What has happened?” Continuing to bow and weep, the General says, “My first son has been killed. Very gratifying! It’s an honor for a soldier to die in battle. Very gratifying!”
Later in the movie, the Japanese General tries to motivate his troops to get out of their trenches and to face Russian machine guns. They are trembling—knowing that their charge will be unsuccessful and that most of the men will be blown to bits. The General comforts them, explaining, ”Success is not the purpose. The purpose is to risk your life for your country.
A line from an Ode by the Roman poet Horace--"It is sweet and fitting to die for one's country" (Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori)--recurs endlessly throughout Western history. However, rarely does anyone say that the purpose of warfare is to die for one's country.
But what if it is?
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