When it comes to the point, will matters more than anything else
PAUL JOHNSON
Late this year, or early in the next, we are going to witness a battle of wills, as well as armies, in the Middle East, on a scale that will go down in history as the War of the Will, an illustration to Schopenhauer's The World as Will and Idea. Now I don't intend to lose myself in the trackless wilderness of philosophical definition, which sprouts exotically when the word 'will' comes up. But it is necessary to distinguish between the power of will and the restraints of continence or akrasia, which Aristotle emphasised was the opposite to what he would call weak will (for the Greeks did not have the concept of will). Will and continence are two distinct concepts both in theory and reality, and there is no sphere in which the difference is more important than in geopolitics.
From studying history and observing current affairs over the past half-century, I have come to the sombre but emphatic conclusion that, at an individual level, will is by far the most important factor in politics, more effective than intelligence, knowledge, ability or ideology. Without will, a leader is bound to fail, sooner rather than later. With will, it is astonishing how far he or she will get when most other objective forces are opposed. Consider, for instance, the career of Hitler, rising by sheer will from a penniless corporal, halfeducated, with no initial backing of any kind, to the elected leader of the best-educated nation in the world. Or take the case of Saddam Hussein, a man with, to be sure, the support of a clan but who had first to make himself the head of it. He has survived the hostility of the entire civilised world — and overwhelming defeat in battle — by a will of such concentrated power that he remains the prime global nuisance of the early 21st century. I could quote many other examples, living and dead, but these two will do, because they illustrate perfectly the distinction I have made.
Hitler and Saddam possessed will in superabundant qualities. But both lacked or lack continence. Their will, based on belief or self-belief, was matched by weakness in resisting a whole range of temptations: inflated ambition, over-confidence and belief in destiny, greed — which took grotesque forms in both cases — irrational prejudices and uncontrolled hatreds, lack of self-restraint leading to the senseless murder of close colleagues or inferiors, inability to take advice from professional experts or to win friends and allies by moderation. At the beginning of 1939, Hitler was probably the most successful leader in German history, who had ended unemployment, reversed the losses of Versailles and restored Germany's self-respect without firing a shot — a triumph of will. The descent thereafter to suicide in the bunker was an object lesson in incontinence. A similar pattern of incontinence undermining the victories secured by will can be traced in the parabola of Bonaparte. In Saddam's case, the original act of incontinence was the seizure of Kuwait, and he owes it to the weak will of President Bush Sr that he survived. But continued incontinence in surrendering to primitive passions, such as the drive to secure weapons of mass destruction and the support of international terrorism, will ensure his ultimate destruction.
This is likely to come about at the end of this year, or early in the next. The Americans are being cagey about their timetable and are doubtless putting out rumours designed to confuse and mislead Saddam. But it is plain that they now regard a preventive war against the Iraqi regime, before it attacks the West with the horrible weapons it is making, as inevitable. It is assembling the means to do it without relying on Saudi Arabia or other 'friendly' Arab states to provide bases. It can do this thanks to its vastly improved maritime strength, the support of Turkey and, above all, its de facto military alliance with Russia, which has made it possible to establish a series of enormous bases in west-central Asia, as well as Afghanistan.
Here again, the problem is not means but will. Will is required not merely to launch adventurous strategies but also to sustain them in the face of opposition, from friends as well as enemies. The 1980s was a decade of triumph for the West because President Reagan and Margaret Thatcher were both possessed of iron wills (and common objects). Opposition merely confirmed their will to continue along paths that they were sure led in the right direction. Moreover, neither suffered from incontinence. Their judgments were rational, their aims limited, their prejudices kept well under control. They listened to advice and were, on occasion, prepared to back down in the face of convincing arguments. This balance between will and continence made both into highly successful achievers in democratic systems that need will but place a premium on continent behaviour. Had both been in power at the time Kuwait was recovered, there is no doubt that they would have changed the Iraqi regime and thus made the coming war unnec essary. As it was, two weak-willed men — Bush Sr and John Major — allowed Saddam to slip through their fingers.
The decisions now rest in the hands of Bush Jr and Tony Blair. I have no doubt that both are determined to use force against a recalcitrant Iraq, and will use it when the time comes. The question is: have they the will to continue to use force in such quantity and duration as to achieve their object, in the face of unforeseen difficulties or setbacks and the domestic and international opposition they will bring?
Bush is a man cast in his father's mould but with a difference. At the age of 40, he fought and won a battle against alcoholism, displaying continence of a high order. Such will as he possessed was undirected beyond the ambition of becoming president. But the events of 11 September gave him an object, gave his presidency a theme, and gave his will exactly the kind of rational stimulus that can transform an uncertain leader into a formidable one. He has surrounded himself with strong and able cabinet colleagues, and made a good friend in Tony Blair, to the point where each strengthens the other's will to do what is necessary.
But what of Tony Blair in this battle of wills? He is happy in Washington, where he finds a congenial geopolitical and ideological climate, but not so sure of himself when he returns to London. He has always been stronger willed on foreign affairs than on domestic issues, where his record in pushing through the needful reforms is poor to lamentable. We were once discussing weaknesses, and I said that my worst one was impatience; a more serious fault than might be thought at first glance, since it leads to a wide variety of blunders. I asked him about his cardinal fault. He thought for a long time, then said, 'Not doing what I know to be right for fear of unpopularity.' A serious fault indeed, and no doubt he spoke truly. But the fact that he recognised it in himself and was prepared to admit it to me was encouraging. A man who perceives the limitations to his will is on the road to strengthening it. Indeed, recognition of weakness is a sign of continence. I suspect the war against Saddam Hussein may prove the climax of Blair's political career and that if he participates to the full in carrying this brave, just and indispensable campaign to a successful conclusion, he will go down in history as a remarkable figure. If he blinks, and gives way to the powerful clamour of the appeasers, he will end a failure — and provide yet another proof that, in politics, will is everything.
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