Download PDF | Georgios Theotokis - The Battle of Manzikert (1071)_ A Turning Point in Byzantine and Turkish History-ARC Humanities Press (2023).
222 Pages
INTRODUCTION
It has been described as a dreadful day, a most shattering and shameful defeat, a debacle, an unmitigated catastrophe, the breaking of Byzantium, the beginning of the end of medieval Hellenism, and the day that opened the gates of Anatolia to the Turks, while being pondered over whether or not it was “un désastre militaire” for the Byzantine army of the late 1060s. Whatever the case, the battle that was fought on August 26, 1071, between the forces of the Byzantine emperor Romanos IV Diogenes and the Seljuk sultan Alp Arslan is—rightly so—regarded as one of the most significant turning points in medieval history.
In recent years, an increasing number of scholars specializing in the period have lent their voices in support of the view that the Battle of Manzikert was not the real military disaster as it was once portrayed, framing the upcoming collapse of the Byzantine rule in Anatolia that followed as the direct outcome of two factors: Byzantine aristocratic infighting and civil war, and the increased involvement of the Seljuks in these civil wars that “eased” their penetration into Anatolia. Indeed, it is also my firm conviction that Romanos Diogenes’s “Manzikert campaign” of 1071 may have been a strategic failure for the emperor, but it was not a tactical disaster. It should have only confirmed Turkish domination of the Armenian highlands in eastern Asia Minor, rather than almost all of Anatolia, which itself was overrun by the Turks within eight years.
Therefore, even though no great military figure is said to have died in the battle, and it seems clear that the actual losses incurred were limited to the emperor’s immediate retinue, the decisive outcome of the Battle of Manzikert ushered in an element of chaos in the geopolitical history of the Byzantine Empire in the 1070s: the civil wars of the early 1070s that followed the battle marked the political and military collapse of the empire in Anatolia, the Balkans, and Italy as well as central and eastern Asia Minor. In the introductory part of this book found in the first three chapters, I examine the Christian and Muslim narrative sources for the battle strictly from a military perspective, and I reach several conclusions regarding the value of these sources for the history of warfare in Anatolia and the Eastern Mediterranean in the eleventh century. In Chapter 1, I focus my analysis on the chroniclers’ social, religious, and educational backgrounds, the dates and places of the compilation of their works, their own sources and the information they from them, and their biases and sympathies, which all shed light on their level of impartiality as historians.
This chapter will be followed by a comparative analysis of the sources strictly from a military perspective, reaching significant conclusions regarding their value as “military historians.” The major questions raised in Chapter 2 are: how accurate and detailed are their descriptions of pitched battles and clashes between enemy units during the Byzantine campaigns of 1068 to 1071 in the East? How far do contemporary narratives permit an accurate reconstruction of the chain of events, especially regarding the battlefield manoeuvres of armies in action? The reader of this section will also find an adequate analysis of the “battle-piece,” along with the reasons and challenges involved in writing about warfare in ancient and medieval historiography, including a thorough examination of the “requirements” Byzantine classicizing historians had to meet for their works to be regarded as authoritative, and which ensured their survival.
Other questions asked in Chapter 3 are: to what extent are the figures our sources provide for army sizes reliable, both in absolute numbers and in the ratios given between cavalry and infantry? What is our chroniclers’ knowledge of the local geography where the military operations took place, and to what extent—if at all—were they familiar with the terrain of the battles or sieges, or the campaign routes of armies which they describe? How far do their narratives permit the accurate reconstruction of a chain of events, especially about the battlefield manoeuvres of the armies in action? Chapter 4 describes the geopolitical background of the Turkish infiltration of eastern Anatolia and Upper Mesopotamia, demonstrating that the Turkish campaigns that penetrated the region between the mid-1030s and the mid-1050s did not culminate in any major conquests for the Seljuks, nor did they undermine the imperial defences in Vaspourakan or any neighbouring areas. Rather, they undermined the Byzantine “buffer zone” of the Muslim vassal principalities in Upper Mesopotamia and northern Syria and, second, helped to propel the Seljuk state towards a supra-regional centralizing power and become a serious challenger to both Byzantium and the Fatimids of Egypt.
I explain the strategic importance of the fortress-cities along the northern shore of Lake Van, and how the defensive system of the region of Vaspourakan that was based on the strategic assumption of a threat “from the south” was compromised by Turkish penetrations “from the east.” Finally, I outline the many reasons that have been adduced for the Byzantine failure to stem the tide of invasions in different operational theatres after the death of Emperor Basil II in 1025, putting particular emphasis on the constant civil wars between emperors and pretenders concerning the imperial throne that led to critical recalls of eastern forces to suppress seditious movements. Such circumstances greatly weakened imperial defences in the eastern operational theatre, especially Vaspourakan, which eventually became the epicentre of the Seljuk invasion into central Anatolia.
In Chapter 5, I show how the emperor failed in both his campaigns in 1068 and in 1069 to inflict a decisive defeat on a Seljuk army, while the “central” border region between Theodosiopolis and Melitene remained wide open to Turkish raiding parties. Romanos fell short of winning control over the strategic invasion routes of the Arsanias River valley and the Upper Euphrates region around Melitene, thus allowing for an increased number of enemies to roam free between Vaasparakania, Taron, and the Diyar Bakr province. Furthermore, I connect what was happening in Vaasparakania and Upper Mesopotamia with Alp Arslan’s focus in Syria because it was apparent to the Byzantine side by the summer of 1069 that the entire region of the emirate of Aleppo faced various threats from the Seljuk armies. I highlight that Alp Arslan’s campaign in Syria in the winter of 1070/71 should be considered a strategic success because it significantly boosted his influence over the regions of northern Syria and the Upper Euphrates while putting further pressure on the remaining imperial outposts of Edessa and Antioch.
The final section of this chapter deals with the strategic target for Diogenes’s 1071 campaign, an estimate of the numbers and composition of his armies, the course of his army from Constantinople to Theodosiopolis and Manzikert, and the critical aspect of strategic intelligence that eventually failed him. The sixth chapter of this book deals explicitly with the tactical aspects of the Battle of Manzikert. I explain Diogenes’s strategic miscalculations that are attributed to the strategic intelligence failure I explain in Chapter 5. These miscalculations resulted in the division of his army and the dispatch of a large section to Khliat while the emperor was under the impression that Alp Arslan had adopted a defensive strategy and, thus, would not march against him in Vaspourakan.
From here, I disentangle the confusing events of first contact between the two armies, from the siege of Khliat by Trachaneiotes’s detachments to Bryennios’s and Basilakes’s melees with well-disciplined and battle-hardened Seljuk mounted troops. The following sections deal with the events of Wednesday (August 24) and Thursday (August 25) before the main battle— the terrifying night spent in the imperial camp while under a blockade by the Seljuk army, followed by failed negotiations for a truce, and the emperor’s desperate attempt to recall his troops from Khliat that never reached them or went unheeded (we will never know!). The final part of chapter 6 is a stage-by-stage analysis of the Battle of Manzikert that includes a presentation of the potential locations for the battlefield, the advantages and disadvantages of these locations depending on whether an army was attacking or on the defensive, and—critically—the challenges that would have posed for heavily armed units struggling to keep their discipline and maintain an unbroken line through their advance against an elusive enemy.
Chapter 7 introduces the aftermath of the Battle of Manzikert, with a description of the chaos that ensued in the imperial camp following the breaking of the lines of the imperial army and the pell-mell retreat of the units back to the camp, as described by our most important eye-witness, Michael Attaleiates. Then, I describe the reception of the story of the captivity of Emperor Diogenes by Alp Arslan in Muslim historiography of the following centuries, emphasizing specific episodes in their encounters with each other and the ideological significance for Byzantine–Turkish relations of the period. Finally, I look at the political challenges for the imperial government after the Battle of Manzikert, particularly the civil war of 1071–1072, the three-year war with Roussel of Bailleuil (1073–1076), and the multiple civil wars of 1077–1081.
The Secondary Bibliography
One of the most useful studies for this historical period that encompasses the Battle of Manzikert is a recent book by one of the most well-known scholars in the field. Alexander Daniel Beihammer’s Byzantium and the Emergence of Muslim-Turkish Anatolia, ca. 1040–1130 (London: Routledge, 2017) is a meticulous, lucid, and wellstructured book that tackles one of the most complicated topics in the political history of the medieval Near East: the political evolution of Anatolia and Northern Syria during the time of the Turkish conquests. Beihammer’s study is of particular importance for the period leading up to the Battle of Manzikert, as he scrupulously untangles the complex politics of this era—a challenge in its own right—and seeks to recreate the political development of the Anatolian/Northern Syrian world during the years 1040–1130.1
Critically, Beihammer adds to the current consensus that Manzikert was not a military disaster but a catalyst that exposed the moral failure and weakness of the Byzantine ruling class to defend the empire, leading to the Seljuk Sultanate’s deeper involvement in Byzantine imperial affairs, thus preparing the ground for more powerful interventions in the interior of Asia Minor. A valuable analysis of the Battle of Manzikert and its background, which is suitable both for the general audience and for readers who are already well-versed in the period in question, is Manzikert 1071: The Breaking of Byzantium (Oxford: Osprey, 2013). Written by David Nicolle, a highly-respected scholar in the field of military archaeology of the eastern Mediterranean who has produced many ground-breaking books and articles on medieval and Islamic warfare, Manzikert 1071 offers a competent examination of the historical background of the battle, the opposing commanders and their plans, and a skilful stage-by-stage analysis of the prelude and the events on the day of the battle.2
Nicolle’s section about the battle is the most detailed one (in English) after the publication of The Dreadful Day: The Battle of Manzikert 1071 by Alfred Friendly (London: Hutchinson, 1981). Nonetheless, Friendly is not successful in his effort to present a compact survey of the internal and external Byzantine, Islamic, and more especially Turkic history. Furthermore, specialists will object to oversimplifications and tenuous generalizations, while also spotting glaring factual, geographic, and bibliographic errors.3 Another book that deals with the military history of the period between Justinian and Diogenes is The Road to Manzikert: Byzantine and Islamic Warfare, 527–1071 by Joshua B. Allfree, John Cairns, and Brian Todd Carey (Barnsley: Pen & Sword, 2012).
The lack of variety and haphazard use of primary and secondary sources, the superficial reading of the authors about the period in question, and the subsequent shallow analysis of the battle and its aftermath make this monograph another lost opportunity for a comprehensive military history of the period leading to the Battle of Manzikert.4 Of direct interest to the topic of this book are two new publications that were apparently influenced by the approaching commemorations for the 950th anniversary of Alp Arslan’s victory. Muharrem Kesik’s new study on the Battle of Manzikert and its aftermath, titled 1071 Malazgirt Zafere Giden Yol (Timaş Yayinlari: Istanbul, 2014), acknowledges and maintains the well-established views for this battle in both Turkish and European scientific discourse as a decisive event in the history of Anatolia and a landmark in the transition from Byzantine to Seljuk rule. Unfortunately, I was unable to consult a collective edition for both the wider and specialized audiences that came out on time for the commemoration of the Battle of Manzikert in 2021. Titled 950: Yilinda Malazgirt Zaferi ve Sultan Alp Arslan [950 Years: Manzikert Victory and Sultan Alp Arslan] and edited by Hakan Sari and Yusuf Koşar (Istanbul: Ihlamur Kitap, 2021), this book analyzes the Battle of Manzikert and its aftermath, and includeds a discussion of topics such as the different states that warred to dominate Anatolia, the commanders for both sides, the development of the war itself and its impact on the crusades, the economy and logistics of the war, and what my Turkish colleagues call “the Turkification process of Anatolia.” Less detailed about the prelude and the Battle of Manzikert, but a still useful source for the Seljuk invasions and settlement in Anatolia, are two older monographs, th first by Osman Turan (1914–1978), titled Selçuklular Tarihi ve Türk-İslâm Medeniyeti [History of Seljuks and Turkish-Islamic Civilization] (Istanbul: Ötüken Neşriyat, 1965/2008), and the second by Ali Sevim (1928–2013), titled Anadolu’nun Fethi Selçuklular Dönemi [Conquest of Anatolia: The Seljukid Period] (Ankara: Türk Tarih Kurumu Basimevi, 1988). Both authors place Alp Arslan’s victory and the Seljuk penetration of Anatolia within the traditional twentieth-century Turkish school of historical thought that is deeply influenced by a key concept of Turkish nationalism, presenting Anatolia as the Turks’ natural homeland (yurdu) and final destination after a centuries-long process of migration.5 Of invaluable use for the historians and archaeologists of the period is a recent edition of the Turkish Magazine Aktüel Arkeoloji Dergisi [Actual Archaeology Magazine] published in 2021.6 Through the online source, the reader can access Turkish-language articles by respected Turkish academics concerning recent research and findings as to the strategy and tactics of the battle (Adnan Çevik, “Türklere Anadolu’nun Kapilarini Açan Savaş; Malazgirt” [The War that Opened the Gates of Anatolia to the Turks: Manzikert]), recent excavations in the region of Manzikert (A. Oğuzhan Karaçetin, “Malazgirt’te Savaş Alani Arkeolojisi” [Battlefield Archaeology at Malazgirt]; İlayda Ürün, Muhammed Dolmuşand Ali Metin Büyükkarakaya, “Malazgirt Ziyaret Tepe Kazilari” [Manzikert Ziyaret Tepe Excavations]), a re-evaluation of the medieval fortifications of Manzikert (Kemalettin Köroğluand Mehmet Sait Sütcü, “Malazgirt: Bir Ortaçağ Garnizonu ve Surlari” [Malazgirt: A Medieval Garrison and Walls]), and a comparison of the two rulers, Diogenes and Alp Arslan (Mustafa Alican, “Bir Savaş İki Hükümdar” [One War, Two Monarchs]). The output in Greek about the Battle of Manzikert is far less notable both in terms of quality and quantity. The voluminous Μάντζικερτ, Η αρχή του τέλους του μεσαιωνικού ελληνισμού [Mantzikert: The Beginning of the End of Medieval Hellenism] (Athens: Govostis, 1996) was not penned by a historian but a judge in Greece’s highest constitutional court, Nikos Tsaggas, and is a popularizing monograph with a lively narrative, but the research is based on older studies while ignoring most existing primary and secondary sources. The shorter and more academically minded Η μάχη του Μαντζικέρτ και οι συνέπειές της στη βυζαντινή αυτοκρατορία [The Battle of Manzikert and its Consequences for the Byzantine Empire] by Sotirios P. Lekkas (Athens: Kaktos, 2018) offers nothing new to the discussion about the battle, nor does the special issue of the popularizing magazine Στρατιωτική Ιστορία [Military History] on Μάντζικερτ 1071: Η αρχή του τέλους της βυζαντινής αυτοκρατορία [Manzikert 1071: The Beginning of the End of the Byzantine Empire] (Athens, 2009), penned by Effie Ragia. Highly valuable for the study of the period under discussion is the voluminous doctoral thesis (in Greek) of Georgios A. Leveniotes, submitted under the title Η πολιτική κατάρρευση του Βυζαντίου στην Ανατολή: το ανατολικό σύνορο και η κεντρική Μικρά Ασία κατά το β’ ήμισυ του 11ου αι [The Political Collapse of Byzantium in the East: The Eastern Frontier and Central Asia Minor in the Second Half of the Eleventh Century] (Aristotle University of Thessalonike, 2007). Focusing largely on the administrative and military organization and the collapse of the easternmost regions of the Byzantine Empire during the second half of the eleventh century, Leveniotes’s study examines the Byzantine expansion in the Armenian and Syriac regions, the organization of these regions, the settlement of compact Armenian populations in central Asia Minor, and its consequences.
It also analyzes in detail the Turkish attacks on the border regions, the subsequent Turkish incursions into the interior of Asia Minor, the Battle of Manzikert and the chaotic period that followed, the strengthening of the Armenian factor, and the progressive disintegration of the administrative structures of the empire in its eastern regions. What makes Leveniotes’s study so invaluable for researchers like myself who do not have specialized knowledge of sigillography or seals is his extensive use of existing sigillography material and other epigraphic evidence and archaeological findings that paint a comprehensive picture of all the imperial officials who served in the eastern regions of the empire in the eleventh century. Indeed, even though it was submitted in 2007, the only disadvantage I could find is that it has never been s translated into English, thus denying access to a wealth of research from scholars who do not have a working knowledge of Greek. Modern historians are fortunate to have Carole Hillenbrand’s excellent discussion on the Battle of Manzikert from the perspective of Arabic and Persian historiography. In her Turkish Myth and Muslim Symbol: The Battle of Manzikert (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2007), the author includes a discussion concerning twelfthcentury sources and continues to examine the battle through the lens of the passing centuries by including an analysis of thirteenth-, fourteenth-, and fifteenth-century material. Hillenbrand’s main purpose is to demonstrate how Muslim writers “gradually came to use Manzikert as a vehicle for portraying spiritual truths and for demonstrating the inherent superiority of Islam over Christianity.”7 In addition, the translation of the sources and the commentary that supports it in the first part of the book highlights numerous “trends” in Muslim historiography dealing with the Battle of Manzikert and the legends that surrounded it. In particular, the author wants us to focus our attention on the postponement of combat until a Friday; Alp Arslan’s prayer ful posture before the battle; the humiliation of the emperor when he is captured by a mere slave; and the merciful treatment of the captive emperor by Alp Arslan, whose humility and simplicity is contrasted to Romanos’s pride and pomp. These trends will be highlighted in the coming chapters.
Manzikert and the Concept of Decisive Battle
In this section of the introduction, I will not attempt to provide an answer to the question of whether Manzikert was a decisive battle. Rather, I will set out my understanding of the concept of decisive battles in world history that, in a sense, will form the backdrop for consideration throughout the following chapters of this study as whether or not Manzikert was indeed one of them. However, let this introduction serve as a fair warning that this study does not go into detail concerning the institutional framework of the armies in the region of the eastern Mediterranean, nor does it break new ground in the logistics of the wars of the period. Furthermore, it does not talk about the experience of the common soldier in battle, although there is a detailed discussion on what historians call “the battle-piece”; nor does it delve into the impact of war on the (border) societies of central or eastern Anatolia, Syria, or Upper Mesopotamia.
There I do not focus on a detailed analysis of the organization of the war by the different “military cultures,” will be frequent and detailed enough sections to provide the necessary theoretical background to the reader. Some may raise an eyebrow as to why I have deviated from the “fashionable” narratives of the so-called “new military history”8 school that has had a dominant influence over historical output since the 1980s. This is a school that aspires to bring the field of military history and the socio-economic analyses of Karl Marx closer together, focusing on three main contexts: (1) the political-institutional context that covers the relationship between the political and the military institutions within a state and the degree to which an army could be used as an instrument of politics; (2) the socio-economic context, an area that includes the impact of war on societies (economic productivity, logistics, recruitment, technology, and so on) and that of societies on war; and (3) the cultural context that encompasses the interaction of warrior values with the cultural values of societies in general (glorification or condemnation of warrior values through epic poems, folk songs and tales, and so forth).
To make things clear, I am not disputing the significance of matters such as administration, the institutional framework for warfare, supply systems and logistics, and societies during the war; after all, there will be detailed sections for several of the aforementioned matters in key parts of this monograph to serve as the backdrop for the better understanding of the geopolitical and military events of the period under consideration. Likewise, I do not attempt to reshape the contemporary view that requires sieges, raids, skirmishes, and ambushes to dominate medieval warfare, but, as I will show later, it is the rarity of pitched battles that makes them invaluable historical events to study. Therefore, it is my intention to reintegrate the operational, tactical, technical, and equipment aspects of the conduct of warfare, and to give the reader a broader understanding of how significant and decisive pitched battles could be on a macro-historical analysis, which seeks out large, long-term trends in world history.
In The Face of Battle, John Keegan argues emphatically that “Battle history, or campaign history, deserves a similar primacy over all other branches of military historiography…For it is not through what armies are but by what they do that the lives of nations and individuals are changed.”9 Not wishing to compare myself to one of the most brilliant military historians of the twentieth century, I also described the pitched battle as “the ultimate ‘Darwinian test’” in Twenty Battles that Shaped Medieval Europe, 10 wanting to emphasize its cardinal importance in the shaping of geopolitical events in different cultures and periods in human history. But what is it that makes a battle decisive? The answer is straightforward: impact! From Salamis to Lechfeld, and from Hastings to the second Battle of Kosovo, a decisive battle has long-term socio-political implications that fundamentally affect the balance of power on more than just the local level. We read in Maurice’s Strategikon that “mistakes made in ordinary affairs can generally be remedied in a short while, but errors made in war cause lasting harm,”11 and that is because a single frenzied and violent episode that barely lasted an entire day (as opposed to a lengthy siege operation), and provided history with a clear winner, also formed the catalyst that introduced an element of chaos in history, where ‘small inputs can create very large perturbations.”12 To better understand the last sentence, we need to consider three basic points about pitched battles: first, they were rare, a characteristic that makes them invaluable for historians interested in the operational and tactical changes of armies over time. A major trend in recent medieval military historiography has been to emphasize—and rightly so—the rarity of pitched battles and the caution and reluctance of military commanders to engage in full-scale battle unless the odds weighed heavily in their favour.13 The majority of this work has, for the most part, focused on the study of war and battles between the rulers of the different principalities of northwestern France, England, and the Latin East. In two very influential contributions, John Gillingham has argued that the Battle of Hastings was an unusual military event in an otherwise conventional “Norman Conquest” characterized by ravaging, war of attrition, and castle-building; strategies Duke William had learned well in Normandy in the previous decades. Gillingham has also highlighted the mistaken view of Richard I of England a century later as an impetuous military leader and a poor administrator, arguing, rather, that the king’s record in war proves his “Vegetian” credentials.14 Yet, the whole concept of the rarity of pitched battles in medieval military history and the tendency of medieval commanders to avoid them was first penned in 1956 by R. C. Smail, who demonstrated the reluctance of the crusader armies in Palestine to give battle. In his chapter on “The Latin Field Army in Action,” he categorized crusader military activities into three categories: (1) campaigns without battle, (2) fighting on the march, and (3) pitched battles.15 In 1992, Matthew Strickland stressed the same point for the operational theatre of war between the Anglo-Norman and Scottish armies on the twelfth-century AngloScottish border, where the permanent military imbalance that favoured the professional Anglo-Norman knightly elite over the native Scottish armies comprised of lightly armed infantry and small bands of elite cavalry, dictated the avoidance of battle by the latter and the aggressive pursue of a decisive clash by the former. In fact, the example of the AngloScottish wars of the twelfth century has added value for the study of the Byzantine–Turkish conflict leading up to Manzikert because of the key role that Anglo-Norman castles played. Though intended to protect the countryside from ravaging they eventually failed during the most immediate and fundamental expression of hostilities, and also failed to block the invasion of the English North by the mobile and elusive Scottish and Galwegian (from Galloway) tribesmen—a comparison between the Scottish and the Seljuk invasions could yield some fascinating insights into intercultural warfare in both regions.16
Yet, even though battle avoidance was neither new nor uncommon in the lands around the Eastern Mediterranean, it has been only recently that a detailed review of war in the Late Byzantine period has concluded that pitched battles were indeed much rarer than other types of conflict, like sieges and raids that were aimed at wearing down opponents rather than destroying armies.17 In an article published in 2006 on the different categories of wars the Byzantines fought in their long history, which is aptly titled “Byzantium, the Reluctant Warrior,” Warren Treadgold argues that: My point is not that the Byzantines defended themselves badly, because for the most part they defended themselves very well. After all, the empire lasted longer than all its enemies. It outlived the Persian Empire, two Muslim caliphates, two Bulgarian empires, and the Seljuk Turks; even the Ottoman Turks, who brought Byzantium down, founded an empire that was to have a much shorter life. The Byzantines were probably wise to avoid major pitched battles, especially because they lost most of the few they did fight, like the battle of Adrianople against the Goths, the battle of the Yarmuk during the initial Muslim expansion, and the battles of Manzikert and Myriocephalum against the Seljuk Turks.18 Accordingly, we can understand why battles were rare and why the Byzantines were “probably wise to avoid them,” following recommendations in the military manuals of Antiquity and the Middle Ages: It is preferable to subdue an enemy by famine, raids and terror, than in battle where fortune [“fortuna”] tends to have more influence than bravery.19 To try simply to overpower the enemy in the open, hand to hand and face to face, even though you might appear to win, is an enterprise which is very risky [“της τυχού�σης”] and can result in serious harm. Apart from extreme emergency, it is ridiculous to try to gain victory which is too costly and brings only empty glory.20 It is good if your enemies are harmed either by deception or raids, or by famine; and continue to harass them more and more, but do not challenge them in open war, because luck plays as major a role as valour in battle.21
Therefore, the rarity of battles in the pre-industrial era comes as a direct result of a hugely influential factor: chance! Victory in a battle does not necessarily prove the social, economic, or technological superiority of a “military culture” over another. Victory may be due to other random factors that could, and have, upset the turn of events, such as an accidental arrow shot (Hastings, 1066), an unexpected rainstorm (Dorystolon, 971), a sandstorm (Mytilene, 1092), a royal horse running astray on the battlefield causing panic among the troops (Achelous, 917), or simply an underestimation of the enemy due to engrained stereotypes (Isandlwana, 1879). The element of chance and upturning of events is what Carl von Clausewitz has called friction: [T]he only concept that more or less corresponds to the factors that distinguish real war from war on paper…This tremendous friction, which cannot, as in mechanics, be reduced to a few points, is everywhere in contact with chance, and brings about effects that cannot be measured, just because they are largely due to chance.22 Twelve centuries before the publication of the On War, we also read in Maurice’s Strategikon about the uncertainties of war [τα τῶν πολέμων ἄδηλον], “[so that] the general ought to be ready, even after victory, to listen to proposals of the enemy for peace on advantageous terms.”23 A few lines later, the same author reiterates his view that “the best leader [ἅριστος ἡγεμών] is one who does not willingly engage in a hazardous and highly uncertain battle.” Finally, in a period of history when a king or a sultan was at the forefront of the fighting, the death of a leader or extensive losses on the battlefield could have a decisive impact in the course of history and dramatically upset the balance of power between two forces for many years or even decades—or even forever.24 To give a handful of examples to prove this point: every history student has been taught of the sudden death of the Anglo-Saxon King Harold at Hastings, who perished as a result of a “lucky” arrow shot through his eye (historically accurate or not, that is not the point I wish to make here).25
Harold’s untimely death proved to be the catalyst that tipped the scale in favour of William, Duke of Normandy, and the Normans, ultimately changing the face of English history forever. Some fifteen years later (1081) at Dyrrachium, another Norman invader— Robert “Guiscard” Hauteville—defeated the Byzantine emperor’s armies in modern Albania. But even though his Norman knights had the emperor Alexios Komnenos surrounded after he fled the battlefield, the emperor managed to escape and established a rallying point at Thessaloniki. His death would have brought the empire to the brink of a renewed civil war, just like the aftermath of the Battle of Manzikert had done ten years before (1071). And even though England was as heavily fortified as Illyria or Macedonia, the key point is that the decisive nature of the victory at Hastings in 1066 and the rapid capitulation of the Anglo-Saxons saved William from having to besiege several burghs in a war of attrition that could have crippled his forces. That was not the case for Robert Guiscard.26 Therefore, regardless of whether battles are trustworthy or untrustworthy assessments of historical entities and movements, they are high-profile, politically charged, and pivotal events that have every potential to change the face of entire regions in a single day. Battles are the ultimate test of any military organization’s effectiveness and arguably its primary function. To repeat a sentence I quoted earlier, they are the catalyst that introduces an element of chaos in history, where small inputs can create very large perturbations. And that is exactly what makes them captivating and so significant—at least in my eyes.
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