Top Tens – History (Rome): Top 10 Best & Worst Roman Emperors (9) Best: Valentinian

Dovahhatty – Unbiased History of Rome XXVII: Imperial Wrath

 

(9) BEST: VALENTINIAN –
VALENTINIAN DYNASTY: WESTERN EMPIRE
(364 – 375 AD: 11 YEARS 8 MONTHS 23 DAYS)

 

The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides – by barbarians. And he will strike down upon them with great vengeance and furious anger. And they will know his name is…Valentinian

Apologies to Tarantino, although I think Valentinian would have dug Tarantino’s vibe. Certainly I think if any characteristic described Valentinian, it was furious anger, albeit that of the righteous man.

I mean, he literally died of anger – from a stroke yelling at envoys from Germanic tribes for not sticking to peace treaties, although I prefer the Dovahhatty version where Valentinian had his stroke choking them out in pure rage.

It’s not a bad way to go – and who doesn’t secretly yearn for something similar, going out in a blaze of glory at work, yelling at someone who richly deserves it as I rage into, not against, the dying of the light. No? Just me, then?

Valentinian was the last great western emperor, “due to the successful nature of his reign and the rapid decline of the empire after his death” – certainly the last worthy of the title of the Great as he is also known as Valentinian the Great (although I understand that was by a convention that did not so much connote greatness as a term that also effectively translated as the first of his name).

Hell, I’ll say he was the last great emperor in either half of the empire until after 476 AD. Yes – I’m looking at you, Theodosius the so-called Great. I’ll deal with him later but I tend to agree with Dovahhatty who has Theodosius muse to himself “I’m busy thinking how to be horrible at everything and yet still be remembered as ‘great'”. Okay – I don’t quite go that far but you won’t be seeing him on the best or great side of the ledger. Just don’t confuse him with his father and Valentinian’s top general, Theodosius the Elder or ‘Count’ Theodosius (as his military title loosely translates).

And yes – I haven’t forgotten about Majorian. It’s just that Valentinian was the last emperor to campaign beyond the Rhine or indeed secure the borders of the empire against barbarians, as he skilfully and successfully defended against Germanic invasions – to keep the barbarians at the gates

After Valentinian’s death, the barbarians were inside the gates – “the calls are coming from inside the house!”. The Romans weren’t fighting them beyond the borders or even at the borders, but inside the borders, where they were to stay.

After Valentian, it’s depressing that the mark of a good emperor – such as Majorian – was one who fought and defeated the barbarians inside the empire. And that was depressingly rare, literally only a couple of emperors. Even emperors fighting at all were rare, as that was increasingly done by their military leaders – increasingly drawn from the barbarians themselves – who ruled the empire in all but name, although in fairness quite a few of them also fought and defeated barbarians inside the empire, including my favorites Stilicho and Aetius.

Back to Valentinian, it was like the fourth century trying to replay all the greatest hits of the crisis of the third century but Valentinian was having none of it and kicked it all back to the curb – Germanic tribes in Gaul and Germania, the ‘Great Conspiracy’ of rebellion and invaders in Britain, rebellion and usurpers in Africa, and Germanic tribes at the Danube.

You don’t rack up those victory names for nothing. Okay, occasionally emperors did, but not Valentinian – I’ve seen listed for him Germanicus Maximus, Alamanicus Maximus (with the Alamanni as perhaps his favorite punching bag), Francicus Maximus (for the Franks) and Gothicus Maximus.

Sadly, his brother Valens – whom Valentian made his eastern co-emperor – did not quite have the same mettle or military prowess, which is what led to those barbarians inside the gates after a little battle of which you might have heard, the Battle of Adrianople in 378 AD.

His sons had even less. So much for the so-called Valentinian dynasty, which saw the empire crumble, albeit not as much as the – shudder – Theodosian dynasty. The only Valentianian dynasty was Valentinian.

Valentinian occasionally has the reputation – among some modern historians as well as contemporaries – as a brute, but he founded schools, as well as providing state-funded orphanages, medical services in Rome’s poorest districts and penalties for infanticide. He was also capable in administration, particularly financial administration – he improved tax collection (including relief for the poor) and was frugal in spending. And unlike his brother Valens, he actually upheld religious tolerance (apart from slapping the odd pagan).

Okay, there’s the story about his two pet bears which he used to execute people, but I’m not sure I believe that. There’s also the story of Valentinian and his wife swinging with Justina, the hottest woman in the Roman Empire, such that he made a law to have Justina as his second wife (and mother of his son Valentinian II). That’s probably as much gossip as the story about the bears but it makes me respect him even more.

 

MAXIMUS:

 

As I noted before – Germanicus Maximus, Alamanicus Maximus, Francicus Maximus and Gothicus Maximus.

 

DEIFIED:

 

Despite being Christian, the empire still retained its classical paganism and its deification of emperors – so he was deified

 

EMPIRE SAVER:

 

One of the last, if not the last, in the classical Roman empire.

 

DID DOVAHHATTY DO RIGHT?

 

Dovahhatty of course has him as a chad – as depicted in my feature image, one of my favorite scenes from the Unbiased History of Rome series – and indeed hails him as the last great western emperor.

 

RATING: 4 STARS****
A-TIER (TOP TIER)

Top Tens – History (Rome): Top 10 Best & Worst Roman Emperors (10) Worst: Petronius Maximus

Dovahhatty – Unbiased History of Rome XXIX: Fall of Rome

 

 

(10) WORST: PETRONIUS MAXIMUS –

NON-DYNASTIC / LAST WESTERN ROMAN EMPERORS

(455 AD: 2 MONTHS 14 DAYS)

 

If Majorian was the zenith of the non-dynastic last western Roman emperors after the end of the Theodosian dynasty in 455 AD, Petronius Maximus was the absolute nadir – and hence matching wildcard tenth place entry in my top ten worst Roman emperors.

I mean, while the other non-dynastic last western Roman emperors apart from Majorian were generally useless or puppets, Petronius Maximus was actively destructive, with a cowardly low rat cunning quality to boot.

Admittedly, his most destructive acts were prior to becoming emperor – because they were how he ascended to the imperial throne in the first place. They were two-fold – firstly duping his predecessor Valentinian III into assassinating the man who was effectively the one holding the empire together, Flavius Aetius, and secondly then orchestrating the assassination of Valentinian III, adding treacherous insult to injury by enlisting two loyal followers of Aetius among his predecessor’s bodyguard to do it.

All that evil wasn’t enough for him to ascend the throne – there were other contenders to the throne, including Marjorian (and one anticipates history would have turned out better with Majorian becoming emperor then instead). So Petronius Maximus, a wealthy Senator and aristocrat, bribed his way through the Senate and imperial officials to the throne.

He then sought to consolidate his position as emperor by marrying Licinia, the widow of his imperial predecessor – the fiend! – but then effectively sowed the seeds of his downfall by also marrying her daughter Eudocia to his son. That involved cancelling her betrothal to the son of the Vandal king Gaeseric in north Africa – who promptly set about preparations for their infamous sack of Rome.

However, Petronius Maximus wasn’t done with being a rat. With the Vandals sailing for Italy and the citizens of Rome in panic or flight, he abandoned any defence of the city and sought to organise his escape instead.

Fortunately, karma kicked in and he was abandoned by his bodyguard and entourage to fend for himself, when he was set upon by an angry mob (or soldier – accounts vary) and killed, with his mutilated corpse thrown into the Tiber.

Good riddance but sadly his downfall was also that of Rome in its second sack, as the Vandals of course still sacked the city – and still got the girl, as Gaeseric took Eudocia back to Africa with him (along with her mother and sister as well as many other citizens as slaves). Well at least someone got a happy ending, compared to being married to Petronius or his son.

 

RATING: 1 STAR*

F-TIER (FAIL TIER)

 

MAXIMUS:

 

Well except for his ill-deserved name, although I suppose you could say Petronius Maximus did defeat Petronius Maximus.

 

DAMNED:

 

No formal damnatio memoriae – probably because the Senate and Romans were too busy with Rome being sacked – but someone should have damned him. I’ll take him being killed by the mob and tossed in the Tiber as an informal damnatio memoriae.

 

EMPIRE BREAKER

 

O yes – but sadly not the biggest empire breaker in this top ten.

 

DID DOVAHHATTY DO RIGHT?

 

Frankly, Dovahhatty ranks him too high as a wojak.

Top Tens – History (Rome): Top 10 Best & Worst Roman Emperors (10) Best: Majorian

Dovahhatty – Unbiased History of Rome XIX: Fall of Rome

 

(10) BEST: MAJORIAN –

NON-DYNASTIC / LAST WESTERN ROMAN EMPERORS

(457 – 461 AD: 4 YEARS 11 MONTHS 1 DAY)

 

The last, best hope for the western Roman Empire, but alas it was not to be – although it was enough for him to be one of the historical figures labeled as the “Last of the Romans”.

There were probably emperors who might well have outranked Majorian for a place in my top ten but I just couldn’t resist Majorian for my usual wildcard entry in tenth place. What can I say? I’m a romantic for people fighting against the odds.

I also have a soft spot for stories of so-called lost legions, those left still standing or holding the line beyond the high tide mark of the empire – and Majorian was virtually a lost legion all to himself.

When I first found out about Majorian, it was a revelation. I had assumed that by the time of his reign, the western Roman empire was essentially dead on its feet, still standing only as it was propped up by the German barbarian tribes that had all but conquered it. After all, by 457 AD, Rome had been sacked twice by Visigoths and Vandals respectively, narrowly avoiding a third sack by Attila the Hun. Its emperors had all seemed to be one feeble emperor after another, useless or puppets (or both), as well as less than two decades away from the last such emperor being deposed altogether.

Majorian was having none of that. Seemingly cut from the same cloth as Aurelian two centuries earlier, he strove to pull the empire out of its spiral of doom, defeating all of Rome’s enemies he fought even in that twilight of the western empire.

He had of course come from a distinguished military career, starting and serving under none other than that other legendary last of the Romans, Flavius Aetius, particularly distinguishing himself fighting against the Franks. That saw him rise to the position of magister militum in the western empire, along with Ricimer, a Romanised German general who was increasingly the maker and breaker of emperors in the western empire.

Upon rising to the imperial throne, he defeated another attack by the Vandals on Italy, before setting upon the reconquest of former imperial territory in Gaul and Hispania, defeating the unruly barbarian allies or ‘foederati’ who had overrun that territory and confining them to their areas of settlement – the Visigoths, the Burgundians and the Suebi.

The jewel in the crown of his reconquest was to be the Vandal kingdom, which had conquered the Roman province of Africa – province of Rome’s old enemy Carthage and whose wealth and grain had formerly been the lifeblood of the western Roman empire – for its own, definitely not as subordinate foederati like other barbarian tribes in the empire.

Had he engaged them on the battlefield, one might anticipate that he would have defeated them as he had consistently defeated all his other adversaries (including the Vandals themselves in Italy) – but alas it was not to be. He did not get to engage them in the battlefield at all, as the fleet he had painstakingly built was scattered or destroyed, usually attributed to treachery paid by the Vandals.

Defeat as they say is an orphan – and Majorian soon found himself orphaned by history, betrayed and assassinated by his former colleague Ricimer.

In fairness, it is not clear whether Majorian could have decisively reversed or stalled the fall of the western empire, although surely his position would have been much improved by the reconquest of Africa.

It is tempting to imagine counterfactuals as to what he could have achieved if he had been able reconquer Africa. Or if the Leonid dynasty in the eastern empire, which pretty much sat around being useless until after 476 AD when emperors such as Zeno and Anastasius ascended the throne, had decided to lend its fleet to the campaign by Majorian rather doing so on its own a few years later for its chosen emperor Anthemius, resulting in disastrous defeat and near bankruptcy for itself. One can imagine that in those circumstances the western Roman empire may well have endured, perhaps long enough to when the eastern empire under Justinian lent itself in earnest to reclaiming or restoring its western half.

However, the precariousness of Majorian’s position and achievements are perhaps demonstrated by the extent to which his fleet could be exposed to treachery paid by the Vandals, or he himself could be deposed and assassinated by Ricimer – not to mention how quickly his reconquests unravelled afterwards.

Still, I tend to share the opinion of Edward Gibbon, who wrote that Majorian “presents the welcome discovery of a great and heroic character, such as sometimes arise, in a degenerate age, to vindicate the honour of the human species”.

 

MAXIMUS

 

I’m not sure the western Roman empire had victory titles or triumphs at that late stage, but he damn well deserved them for his victories over the Franks and Alamanni prior to his accession to the throne, and over the Vandals (in Italy), Visigoths, Burgundians and Suebi as emperor.

 

DEIFIED

 

With Christianity as the official religion of the empire, the Romans had ceased deifying emperors, but perhaps literary deification as the Last of the Romans

 

EMPIRE SAVER

 

Sadly, almost but not quite. At least saved it for a few more years.

 

DID DOVAHATTY DO RIGHT?

 

Dovahhatty rightly ranks him as a chad, even including that Gibbon quote.

Top Tens – History (Rome): Top 10 Best & Worst Roman Emperors

A collage of Youtuber Dovahhatty’s “title cards” for the two classifications of the Roman imperial government – the Principate (from Unbiased History of Rome: Augustus) and the Dominate (from Unbiased History of Rome: The Tetrarchy)

 

 

Dilettantes think about the Roman Empire. True Roman connoisseurs rank the Roman emperors.

Of course, any such ranking is subjective opinion, although there does appear to be some broad consensus (or consensuses?) about the good or better Roman emperors. You don’t get such common labels as “the five good emperors” – which I understand to have originated with Machiavelli and been advanced by Gibbon – without some consensus.

Or the phrase used by the Roman Senate itself in the inauguration of later Roman emperors, invoking two emperors as the paragons of Roman emperors. Don’t be surprised if the emperors from either the five good emperors or the Senate’s inauguration phrase feature prominently in my top ten.

And of course, by definition I am only ranking my top ten Roman emperors in my top ten, but I rank the balance of Roman emperors in my special mentions. And because you can’t rank the best Roman emperors without also ranking the worst Roman emperors as well – primarily because the worst Roman emperors are legendary in their cruelty and depravity – I also rank my ten worst Roman emperors with the balance similarly in special mentions.

As for any matter of subjective opinion, my criteria for ranking my top emperors are somewhat loose, but primarily might be stated to be their effectiveness in managing or maintaining the empire, which may give rise to some moral dissonance as to what we might look for in leaders of modern democratic states today, given that the lifeblood of empire was conquest or war – “they make a desert and call it peace”.

Indeed, one gets the impression that the Romans themselves measured greatness in their emperors by two criteria – construction (of monuments or civic improvements) and expansion, with the latter changing to the defense of the empire once it had expanded to its peak,

Conversely, my criteria for the ranking of the worst emperors might be stated to be their ineffectiveness, often characterized by imperial defeats, and usually combined with that aforementioned legendary cruelty and depravity.

As for the ground rules for whom I rank as emperors, my primary rule is that I am only ranking Roman emperors until 476 AD, when the last western Roman emperor Romulus Augustulus was deposed – with the exception I do not include eastern emperor Zeno, who reigned briefly in 474-475 AD before returning for a longer second reign from 476 onwards (commencing just before Romulus Augustulus was deposed).

That’s really just a matter of brevity and also that I am more familiar with the ‘classical’ Roman emperors. I know that is short-changing the eastern Roman emperors, particularly as they had a millennium of imperial history after that and probably had more basic competence or effectiveness on average, or at least not the same depths of legendary cruelty and depravity as their worst counterparts in the classical empire.

On that note, I acknowledge my hubris from my armchair of hindsight in judging people, the least of which has ruled far more than anything I ever have (as in anything at all) – although I’d like to think that I’d have done a better job than the worst of them. Oh, who am I kidding? I’d be partying it up to legendary depravity as well.

My ground rule still leaves the issue of which emperors to rank prior to 476, given the list of claimants to that title – a list that as historian Adrian Goldsworthy points out is likely never to be complete or exhaustive, given the paucity of the contemporary historical record and that we are still finding ‘imperial’ coins minted in the name of claimants, previously unknown or ‘new’ to us.

So I’ve gone by Wikipedia’s list of Roman emperors, although I reserved their entries noted to be of more dubious legitimacy for my honorable (or dishonorable) mentions. I have not noted when emperors ruled the whole empire – as the majority of them did – but have noted when emperors ruled either the eastern or western empire after its division (prior to 476).

 

EMPIRE MAKER / SAVIOR / BASER OR EMPIRE BREAKER / DEBASER / DEBAUCHER

 

In addition to my usual star and tier-rankings (which, given that I’m also ranking the worst emperors, go all the way down to 1 star and F-tier rankings), I also have my own particular (and hence subjective) rankings for those (good) emperors that made or saved the empire (or strengthened its base) – or the (bad) emperors that broke, debased or debauched it. Debased the empire that is, not the currency – all emperors did the latter, with a few exceptions or perhaps even just the one exception.

 

MAXIMUS

 

I’ll also note victory titles awarded to or claimed by Roman emperors (setting aside of course the title of emperor or imperator itself) for victories in battle against adversaries or opponents, which I’ll extend to include literal triumphs (for their triumphal processions in Rome).

 

DEIFIED OR DAMNED

 

I’ll note those emperors who were deified after their deaths (I’ll allow this to include sainted) or damned – that is the subject of a damnatio memoriae or cancelled posthumously to use the modern term. Of course, deification became a little like the Roman currency in the later empire (until Christianity effectively abolished the practice) – so routine that it became debased.

 

DID DOVAHHATTY DO RIGHT?

 

Finally, because I have used Youtuber Dovahhatty’s Unbiased History of Rome animated video series as the source of images to depict each emperor, I’ll rank how well Dovahhatty did in his depiction of them.  His Unbiased History of Rome videos are probably my single biggest influence for Roman history – and certainly on Youtube.

While he does not actually rank the emperors as a whole, he does rank them individually by meme cartoon figures as being (good) chads or (bad) virgins, with the occasional (good or bad) wojaks. Of course, his tongue is firmly in his parody cheek, such as when he depicts some of the worst Roman emperors as the chads they proclaimed themselves to be.

Top Tens – History: Top 10 Wars (Special Mention) (20) Opium Wars

The East India Company iron steam ship Nemesis, commanded by Lieutenant W. H. Hall, with boats from the Sulphur, Calliope, Larne and Starling, destroying the Chinese war junks in Anson’s Bay, on 7 January 1841 – painted by Edward Duncan on 30 May 1843

 

 

(20) OPIUM WARS

 

Two wars in which China got pawned by European powers – the first Opium War in 1839-1842 saw China defeated by Britain (resulting in Hong Kong being ceded to Britain among other things) and the second Opium War in 1859-1860 was slightly less humiliating for China as at least it got defeated by Britain and France rather than a solo British effort.

The nineteenth century was…not a good century for China, as the commencement of what later became known as the Century of Humiliation by foreign powers. The Qing dynasty, formerly one of the most powerful states in the world and used to styling itself as the Middle Kingdom of the world, now became the punching bag of the new European world powers. Qing China was humbled and humiliated as it was easily defeated by European modern military technology and techniques. Ultimately that dealt the death knell to the Qing dynasty, which crumbled amidst a revolution and civil war that spanned decades.

And it was all pretty sordid by the European powers as well, with the Opium Wars being fought by Britain for free trade – its free trade of opium to China, that is. The Opium Wars saw the first of the so-called Unequal Treaties between China and Western powers – as an impotent China was forced to concede territory, privileges, concessions and reparations to one European power after another in a form of de facto colonization.

De facto colonization, that is, because China was too big for actual colonization by any one European power, particularly as rival European powers were concerned with maintaining a balance between themselves in China. Indeed, the European powers were remarkably cooperative between themselves when it came to their common purpose of pawning China.

Ironically, it was a newly admitted Asian power to the European circle of world power that upset this balance and came closest to colonizing China in the twentieth century – Japan. Although of course this was the final straw of humiliation for China. It was one thing to be humbled by European powers with their new industrial and military technology. It was quite another to be humbled by an upstart smaller Asian neighbor, particularly a former tributary state.

The Opium Wars earn their special mention particularly for my fascination with the interconnection between drugs and war. It is the closest thing to a war fought over drugs like the modern stereotype of wars fought for oil – in this case, a war fought over Britain smuggling opium into China. Beyond that, it is fascinating to think how much of European colonialism (and slavery) was born from the plantation production of drugs – tobacco, coffee and tea. Even more so if you count sugar as a drug.

Of course, modern drug smugglers or cartels tend not to have the force of the world’s largest maritime empire behind them, but often play a role in more low-level war or insurgency as in Colombia. And notoriously, drug smuggling – particularly in cocaine and opium – has often laid beneath the surface of larger modern conflicts.

There is also the use of drugs in war. I’ve read that narcotics have been as much a part of war as bullets and bombs. While that appears to be an overstatement, historically drug use was often sanctioned and encouraged by militaries including alcohol and tobacco in troop rations. Of course, alcohol is something of a law of diminishing returns – what it adds in ‘Dutch courage’, it can often take away in effectiveness, famously as in the Russo-Japanese War on the Russian side.

Nazi Germany was also notorious for drug use in the Second World War, notably for amphetamine use by its armed forces, but also drug use by its leadership. However, stimulants such as cocaine and amphetamine were widely used by belligerents in both World Wars to increase alertness and suppress appetite. Drug use was also notorious in American forces in Vietnam – and has been a feature of other conflicts

And then you have the more trippy use of drugs – the Viking berserkers possibly as a result of agaric “magic” mushrooms, the Assassins named for hashish, even MK-Ultra by the CIA in the Cold War.

RATING: 4 STARS****
X-TIER (WILD TIER)

Top Tens – History: Top 10 Wars (Special Mention): (19) Emu War

Sadly not an Australian choking an emu with his bare hands – but instead holding an emu killed by Australian solders published by the Land Newspaper on 25 November 1932

 

(19) EMU WAR

 

The “war” the Australian army lost to flocks of flightless birds, since immortalised in meme. Although groups of emus are more commonly known as herds – or mobs.

The Australian army was the best in the world, man for man, as it had demonstrated in the First World War, and would demonstrate by stopping the German army at Tobruk and the Japanese army at Kokoda in the Second World War, but it lost to emus in 1932.

Of course, it wasn’t an actual war – the Emu War or Great Emu War was just the humorous tag given to it by the media – but a nuisance wildlife management military operation to curb the population of emus, apparently as many as 20,000, damaging farmland in Western Australia.

And there’s the rub, as the Australian army undertook a task it was not designed for, despite taking to it with machine guns – having seen their effectiveness in the First World War. Unfortunately, the emus didn’t charge at guns like the human soldiers of that war, but evaded or fled from fire.

Calling it a defeat, however, is unfair – the army did kill and wound a substantial number of emus, particularly as their skill at hunting them improved, such that by the end they were killing approximately 100 emus a week, ultimately killing almost 1,000 emus at the rate of ten rounds per confirmed kill, while also claiming 2,500 emus as wounded.

It just wasn’t economic – the emus were difficult to locate in substantial numbers and keep within range as well as scattering and evading pursuit. Even mounting a gun on a truck wasn’t effective – it wasn’t able to gain on fleeing emus and the roughness of ground prevented the gunner from firing.

And so the state and federal governments resisted further calls for military culls (in 1934, 1943 and 1948), resorting instead to the far more effective means of bounties to professional hunters.

So why the special mention amidst actual wars in history?

Well, because it does illustrate a number of themes, some of which are of note or interest for historical wars.

One is humanity’s hubris in waging war on nature, albeit more metaphorically rather than literally, not least in pest or nuisance wildlife management. Interestingly, Australia wasn’t the only nation to be “defeated” waging war against birds. Famously, China waged war against sparrows as part of its Four Pests Campaign to much more disastrous results – as the loss of crops to insects spared from sparrow predation was a contributing factor to the catastrophic famine of the Great Leap Forward.

Another is the military forces of humanity being humbled by the forces of nature in historical wars – most of all weather, which has swept away what have otherwise seemed overwhelming military forces, particularly in war at sea. It also applies to terrain – John Keegan in A History of Warfare notes how terrain (and climate) has been a limiting factor in wars throughout history, such that the majority of battles occur in surprisingly small or narrow territories on a global scale.

Occasionally, those forces of nature have included animals – with two of the most famous occurring in the Second World War, although unfortunately both are somewhat inflated and one almost so apocryphal as to be urban legend. The first involved sharks preying on the sailors from the cruiser Indianapolis when it was sunk by Japanese submarine in July 1945, made famous by iconic narration of it in the film Jaws.

The other involved crocodiles preying on Japanese soldiers trapped in mangroves by the British in the Battle of Ramree Island in Burma from January 1945 to February 1945. At one stage, they were reported to have killed all but twenty of a thousand Japanese soldiers, but sadly for fans of crocodile horror such as myself, this has been discounted to almost the reverse – at most they killed up to twenty soldiers, although they may also have scavenged on the bodies of Japanese soldiers killed by other causes.

Of course, the true unsung champions of animal destruction of human forces at war are insect vectors and the diseases they carry, which have been as effective as hostile weather in wiping out whole armies.

And then you have the theme of humanity’s use of animals in or for war or military operations. Of course, the horse is standout here, but war has seen a whole range of animals used in it – from more commonplace ones such as elephants, camels, donkeys or mules, oxen or cattle, dogs and pigeons, to more exotic animals such as pigs, moose, rats, dolphins, sea lions and others. And then you get to the truly bizarre, such as entomological warfare or animal-borne bombs – with my personal favorite as the American bat bomb project against the Japanese, taking my quip that the Americans fight wars like Batman to a literal extreme

To that you can add wars named for animals, of which there are a surprising number, albeit including similarly non-military conflicts such as the Cod Wars over fishing between the United Kingdom and Iceland, or border conflicts or near-war situations such as the Crab Wars or Pig War – with perhaps the Beaver Wars being the most intense actual wars named for animals.

And finally you have the military approximations from the Emu War itself, particularly for guerrilla war.

As one ornithologist observed, “The machine-gunners’ dreams of point blank fire into serried masses of Emus were soon dissipated. The Emu command had evidently ordered guerrilla tactics, and its unwieldy army soon split up into innumerable small units that made use of the military equipment uneconomic. A crestfallen field force therefore withdrew from the combat area after about a month”

And the commander of the operation, Major Meredith, observed after their withdrawal – ” If we had a military division with the bullet-carrying capacity of these birds it would face any army in the world … They can face machine guns with the invulnerability of tanks. They are like Zulus whom even dum-dum bullets could not stop”.

RATING: 4 STARS****
X-TIER (WILD TIER)

Top Tens – History: Top 10 Wars (Special Mention) (18) World War

Map of participants in World War II for Wikipedia “World War” under licence https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en

 

(18) WORLD WAR

 

World wars are a recurring theme in history beyond the wars designated as such, the First and Second World Wars – which might also be considered as a continuation of the same world war with Germany. To the extent that I like to quip about world wars from World War Zero to World War X, while ranking my top 10 entries on the scale of world war.

On the World War X-side of the equation, the Third World War loomed – and still looms – large in popular imagination, indeed larger than it did in history. Of course, in popular imagination, the Third World War evokes or is synonymous with the omnipresent (and omnicidal) threat of worldwide nuclear destruction that underlay the Cold War (and beyond). Although some argue that the Cold War WAS the Third World War, aptly enough as its actual fighting was in the Third World, with the War on Terror as the Fourth World War.

Other wars with the world war label have included the First and Second Congo Wars, particularly the latter, which has been described as Africa’s world war – for the scale of casualties and number of African nations drawn into it.

The World War Zero side of the equation – involving at least proto-world wars – is even more persuasive. I’ve read one historian argue persuasively that the Napoleonic Wars were more global than WW1, while no less than Winston Churchill claimed the Seven Years War as the first world war. I like to observe that the American Revolutionary War was in effect a world war against Britain.

Really, any war involving one or more European states from the Spanish Conquest of the Americas onwards might be labelled a world war, once those European states acquired substantial maritime empire and power in continents beyond Europe.

However, it becomes a little trickier prior to the emergence of European maritime power or empires beyond Europe. An archaeologist has controversially dubbed the Late Bronze Age Collapse as World War Zero, but this seems a little bombastic – the Muslim or Mongol conquests seem better claimants.

Indeed, the casualties of the Mongol conquests exceed those of the First World War and come close to the Second in absolute terms, while substantially exceeding even the latter in relative terms of percentage of world population.

But yes – there are no world wars to rival the wars that are officially known as such, particularly the Second, which was more destructive, extensive and pervasive than the First, despite largely being a continuation of it.

 

RATING: 4 STARS****

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Top Tens – History: Top 10 Wars (Special Mention) (17) Wars of Independence & Succession

The Battle of Bunker’s Hill, June 17, 1775 by John Trumball in 1786

 

(17) WARS OF INDEPENDENCE & SUCCESSION

 

The archetypal wars of political states.

Admittedly wars of independence require a state to actually survive after it is subjugated by or subject to another state. Or rather, the concept of a people or nation to at least survive or remain intact – let alone emerge or aspire to its own state – when subjugated by or subject to another state. In modern parlance, the concept of national self-determination.

So you don’t see too many of them in pre-modern history, when states or peoples fought more for stakes of survival from being absorbed – or dismembered or destroyed altogether.

On occasion, there were peoples or nations approximating the modern concepts of national self-determination that rose up against the states that ruled them – although such pre-modern conflicts tend to be styled as rebellions or revolts rather than the more modern style of revolutions or wars of independence, not least because they tended to lose.

The Roman Empire offers the example par excellence – the various Jewish revolts, among the best known of their type because of their religious significance, particularly for Christianity as hints of it seeped into the New Testament. Also notable is the Iceni revolt led by Boudicea in Britain.

However, for your definitive war of independence – the one that both defined and started the wave of modern wars of independence – you have to go to none other than the American War of Independence. There were wars of independence before it, but without the same profile, influence or effect – although the Eighty Years War is an arguable close contender. It’s odd to think that before the Dutch war for independence, it was the Spanish Netherlands.

But as I said, the American War of Independence ushered in the various waves of modern wars of independence styled as such in name and effect. The first wave was in the same hemisphere, with the Haitian War of Independence following close behind it, and the various larger Latin American wars of independence in the early nineteenth century. But the other hemisphere soon followed, particularly with the various European wars of independence against the Ottoman Empire.

Of course, the high tide of wars of independence came with the wave of decolonisation in the European empires from the Second World War onwards.

On the other hand, wars of succession may well predate sophisticated political states or concepts of nationhood, perhaps back to rivals contending for prehistoric tribal chiefdoms, although the wars themselves may well lack the same depth or sophistication. More like palace coups – or duels.

But wars of succession certainly are a recurring feature upon the emergence of political states – namely political states of absolute monarchy, as a “war of succession is a war prompted by a succession crisis in which two or more individuals claim the right of successor to a deceased or deposed monarch”.

The insanely convoluted Wars of the Diadochi – or Wars of Alexander’s Successors – are some of the most famous wars of succession, and most of the endless Roman or Byzantine civil wars were essentially wars of succession.

Where wars of succession become more complicated is when foreign powers intervene, allying themselves with a faction. Such was the case in the heyday of wars of succession, the wars titled as such but that were effectively global conflicts between rival European powers, in early modern history – wars such as the War of the Spanish Succession or the War of the Austrian Succession.

My personal favorite, however, is the more metaphorical uses of the term, not for nations vying against each other for the successor to the throne of a nation, but as claimants in the vacuum or void left by the collapse or decline of a great power or multinational empire.

Herman Wouk’s duology of The Winds of War, and War and Remembrance, featured excerpts from the memoirs of fictional German general von Roon – who styled the Second World War as the War of British Succession, with Germany vying for world power from the decline of the British Empire, only of course to lose to the United States (and with the Soviet Union to expend so much blood only to transfer world power from one Anglo-Saxon power to another).

In a less fictional and more historical sense, historian J.M Roberts styled most Middle East wars as wars of Ottoman Succession, over national boundaries in the wake of the collapse of the Ottoman Empire – including the Arab-Israeli wars and the Gulf War prompted by Iraq’s invasion of Kuwait.

Most recently, I’ve seen reference to a quite a few wars between and within the post-Soviet republics styled as wars of Soviet Succession.

 

RATING: 4 STARS****
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Top Tens – History: Top 10 Wars (Special Mention) (16) Wars of Years & Days

Collage of paintings representing battles of the Hundred Years’ War by Blaue Max for Wikipedia “Hundred Years War” under licence https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/

 

(16) WARS OF YEARS & DAYS

 

Yes – all wars are literally wars of years or days (well, except for the Anglo-Zanzibar War of forty minutes or so) but this special mention is for the wars named by historians as such for their duration.

Of course, those titles may not be exact – the Hundred Years War lasted 116 years (intermittently).

Speaking of which, the Hundred Years War between England and France from 1337 to 1453 is one of the most prominent wars named for their duration, at least by years, famed for such things as Joan of Arc and the Battle of Agincourt.

Another would be the Thirty Years War, a war I have to concede that I know less well than I should, given that it is the definitive war of early modern history, largely ending wars of religion in Europe while also the origins of modern international law between states with the Peace of Westphalia.

There’s also the Seven Years War, which I similarly have to concede I know less well than I should, as no less than Winston Churchill claimed it as the first world war.

However, the Hundred Years War and Thiry Years have particular resonance as some historians have argued for a second Anglo-French Hundred Years War from 1689 to 1815, for no less prize than global predominance, while others have argued for the two world wars as the Second Thirty Years War from 1914 to 1945.

As for the most prominent war of days (or is that day war), the prize would have to go to the Six Day War, the third Arab-Israeli War in 1967 – in which Israel won a crushing victory and one which still shapes the Middle East today, among other things through the territory obtained by Israel from it.

 

RATING: 4 STARS****

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Top Tens – History: Top 10 Wars (Special Mention) (15) British Colonial Wars – Anglo-Zulu & Anglo-Zanzibar Wars

The defense of Rorke’s Drift 1879 – painting by Alphonse de Neuville 1880

 

(15) BRITISH COLONIAL WARS –
ANGLO-ZULU & ANGLO-ZANZIBAR WARS (1879 & 1896)

 

The Battle of Rorke’s Drift.

That’s it – that’s the entry. Well that and the 1964 film Zulu which depicted it.

Also not quite, as British colonial wars are the archetypal wars fought by European maritime empires as they carved up the world, with the British Empire coming out in the top spot. Don’t worry – we’ll get back to Rorke’s Drift, but Britain fought numerous colonial wars.

Arguably, the most decisive colonial war or wars fought by Britain were the Napoleonic Wars. For one thing, with all the focus on their European theaters, we forget how much of the Napoleonic Wars were fought beyond Europe – and just how much of those were in essence colonial wars, with Britain coming out on top. For another, Britain’s victory in the Napoleonic Wars laid the foundations for its naval supremacy, Pax Britannica and what is sometimes called the second British Empire (to distinguish it from the first British empire until American independence).

Although its naval supremacy was the primary instrument of its empire, Britain was surprisingly versatile with a colonial army that tended to punch above its weight in numbers, which were surprisingly small, in part of course due to superior firepower (and plain old firing drill) over its colonial adversaries.

In the words of Hillaire Belloc –
“Whatever happens, we have got
The Maxim gun, and they have not”

So which of Britain’s prolific colonial wars to pick for this entry? As you can see, I’ve gone with the Anglo-Zulu and Anglo-Zanzibar Wars, firstly because I like the alliterative effect, but also because they are aptly representative of Britain’s colonial wars.

The Anglo-Zanzibar War is, however, the archetypal British colonial victory through superior firepower. Not coincidentally, it also holds the title of the shortest war in history – 38 minutes to 45 minutes, depending on which record you go by.

It was proverbial gunboat diplomacy – bonus points for involving actual gunboats, two craft with that designation, among the five British ships. Essentially, the wrong sultan succeeded to the Zanzibar Sultanate. Wrong, that is, from the perspective of the British, who preferred another one – so they simply rolled up in their ships and shelled the palace until they got the right one. Yes – they also stormed the palace with a contingent of marines or sailors and pro-British Zanzibaris. The British suffered one casualty – a wounded sailor – to about 500 Zanzibari casualties.

And with remarkably wry humor, the British billed Zanzibar for the shells the British used, among the other terms of surrender, because the British built their empire on a budget. With its puppet sultan, Zanzibar continued to be absorbed into the British Empire, and was subsequently merged with the former German colony of Tanganyika to become British Tanzania.

Now back to Rorke’s Drift, if you’re a fan of the Battle of Helm’s Deep in The Lord of The Rings film (The Two Towers), then you’re a fan of the Battle of Rorke’s Drift, as the former was filmed in a manner deliberately reminiscent of the film Zulu according to Jackson.

Indeed, Rorke’s Drift was seen at the time as the Helm’s Deep of the British Empire, a victory snatched from the jaws of the crushing defeat by the Zulus at the Battle of Isandlwana (as well as the seedy origins of the Anglo-Zulu War).

Even if contemporary observers might see Britain and its empire more as Mordor (or Isengard to America’s Mordor) rather than the Shire as Tolkien did.

If anything, Rorke’s Drift was even more epic than Helm’s Deep – as a small company of less than 150 soldiers attached to the Royal Engineers (including a substantial number of sick and wounded) fought off a force of about 3-4,000 Zulus.

Taking a step back, Rorke’s Drift was a small albeit highly celebrated part of the Anglo-Zulu War, with the British soldiers finding themselves in the path of a Zulu force in the aftermath of the opening Zulu victory at Isandlwana.

The Anglo-Zulu War itself might be seen as the last of a series of Zulu wars, from the foundation of the Zulu Kingdom as a formidable military power under Shaka. Unfortunately for his successors, the Zulu Kingdom found itself against a bigger and even more aggressive tribe – the Anglo tribe of the British Empire – and Isandlwana proved itself to be the Zulu high point of the war.

Back to Rorke’s Drift, I tend to default to its depiction in the film Zulu, which while generally accurate to the historical battle, does of course have inaccuracies (with perhaps the most egregious involving the depiction of Private Hook, a model soldier, as a rogue redeemed in the battle). The film may also be seen as somewhat problematic in these times given its celebration of British imperial victory – I don’t care.

Indeed the film tends to glamorize both sides in the battle – with the Zulus depicted as a brave, intelligent, capable, resourceful and ultimately honorable adversary. And if anyone can resist the stirring orchestral theme by John Barry, I don’t know what to say.

The British soldiers were led by Lieutenant Chard, portrayed by Stanley Baker, and his second in command Lieutenant Bromhead, portrayed by a young Michael Caine in his breakthrough film role. Deciding that retreat isn’t an option as they will move too slowly with their sick or wounded and the Zulus will catch them out in the open, they have no option but to stand and fight behind improvised barricade defenses.

Throughout the day and night (into the following day) after the Zulu force surrounds them, wave after wave of Zulu attackers are desperately and narrowly repelled by the British defenders. At one point, the Zulus succeed in setting fire to the field hospital, leading to tense scenes of the evacuation of patients under fierce attack by Zulu warriors – and British Surgeon-Major James Henry Reynolds calmly continues his surgery on a wounded soldier with fighting all around him. And yes – he got a Victoria Cross.

The British defenders retreat to the shortened lines of their inner barricades. One tactic you see through the film is the use of multiple ranks of soldiers to maintain a nearly continuous volley of fire with their bolt-action rifles. None more so than the climactic scene with three such ranks used (after falling back from desperate hand-to-hand combat at an outer barricade) to defend a massive assault by Zulu warriors. And as the camera pans back, you see the fallen Zulu warriors mere inches away from the front rank of breathless British soldiers – an impressive feat of holding the line.

That’s when you start to think from the preceding sense of overwhelming doom that hangs over the British soldiers – holy crap, they’re actually going to make it! And then – no, holy crap, they’re not…as the Zulu force masses on the hill overlooking Rorke’s Drift, seemingly barely diminished, while the British are exhausted and running low on ammunition. Lieutenant van den Burgh, their Afrikaaner advisor serving with the Natal Native Contingent, sinks to his knees and rebukes the British officers (and arguably their imperialism as well) – “Haven’t you had enough? We’re all dead!”

And then, holy crap again – as the Zulus chant, raising their spears. “They’re taunting us!” Michael Caine’s character exclaims. Van den Burgh laughs – “You couldn’t be more wrong – they’re saluting us as fellow braves!”. And then the Zulus slowly turn and walk away, still chanting, until a lone warrior is left, before he too turns and leaves.

Sadly, the historical battle ended in a more prosaic way, without the Zulus saluting the British (but more withdrawing from strategic sense and an advancing British relief column). I prefer to think it ended the way it did in the film.

11 Victoria Crosses were awarded to the defenders of Rorke’s Drift, with 17 killed and 11 wounded from their number in the battle – having inflicted 20 casualties for every one of theirs, with 351 confirmed killed from the Zulu forces (and about 500 wounded).

Britain’s colonial wars – and European colonial wars in general – exemplified the less gallant but undeniably effective side of the art of war, picking curb stomp battles, albeit usually through superior firepower rather than superior numbers. All nations would like wars like the Anglo side of the Anglo-Zanzibar War, whether or not they like to admit it – they just usually lack the means. And even if the British occasionally got stomped rather than doing the stomping, as in the Anglo-Zulu War (although they ultimately won that too).

 

RATING: 4 STARS****
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