The pundits and TV talking heads have recently bandied about a relatively new term, “asymmetrical war.”
As it suggests, this refers to a conflict in which one of the combatants is militarily far stronger than the other.
The term was created in 1975 by the late political scientist Andrew J. R. Mack, whose seminal essay on the subject he entitled, “Why Big Nations Lose Small Wars.”
Near the end of the Vietnam era, Mack wrote that when a small country tangles with a big one and manages to hang on long enough, the superpower will suffer exhaustion and growing discontent at home.
Mack asserted, “A war with no visible payoff against an opponent who poses no direct threat will come under increasing criticism as battle casualties rise and economic costs escalate.”
Does this remind you of something?
Oh, I’m not talking about Donald Trump’s bogged-down war of choice against Iran. Too bad, though, that our bellicose president couldn’t have taken a lesson from a different asymmetrical war – the American Revolution.
With the approach of the nation’s 250th birthday, it’s appropriate to remember what most of us learned in grade school but seems lost on Trump: how a ragtag assembly of farmers and local militiamen wore down one of the greatest powers on Earth and won us American democracy.
The British were mighty, capable of occupying Newport from 1776-79 with such tenacity that half the population fled, and burning some 500 buildings around the colony as they foraged for food and firewood.
When the war began in 1775, our “nation” had no army or navy, no way to make weapons, and little in the way of financial resources.
What it did have was a clear-cut goal, reinforced in 1776 when Rhode Island became the first colony to eliminate a British-required oath of allegiance to the Crown.
There was strength in that motivation. And the 13 colonies had Gen. George Washington, savvy enough to understand that his army could never defeat the British in standard European warfare. Instead, he chose a strategy of wearing them down, in unfamiliar territory far from England.
As it turned out, the British thought more of their military than it could deliver, and underestimated General Washington’s ability to endure.
Our current president might also ponder how important in our struggle for independence were our allies, whom today he takes pains to alienate.
France provided thousands of soldiers, naval support, and other aid that was crucial in securing the British surrender at Yorktown in 1781.
Aid and support also came from Spain and the Dutch Republic.
As in most asymmetrical wars, though, it was belief in the cause, strongly embodied by General Washington, that provided the will to vanquish a much superior force.
Washington inspired in many ways, among them standing with his troops (he had no bone spurs) through several brutal winter encampments, including the one at Valley Forge.
How ironic, as we anticipate celebrating the miracle of our nation’s birth, that we can recall Trump bragging last year that an economist allegedly called him “the greatest president of all time, bar none.”
Maybe that encourages Trump’s narcissistic pomposity, but let’s put something on the record loud and clear:
Mr. Trump, you are no George Washington.
Gerry Goldstein (gerryg76@verizon.net), a frequent contributor, is a retired Providence Journal editor and columnist.
