Learning From History: Seek Patterns, Not Exceptions
On March 15, 2025 Small Wars Journal published an open letter by Yurij Holowinsky and Keith D. Dickson to Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy. In this letter, they used the example of Finland’s experience since 1940 as the inspiration for advice about how to bring the Russo-Ukrainian War to an end in a way that best safeguards Ukraine’s current and future interests. There is, however, a fundamental issue with their open letter that requires highlighting.
The issue in question is how they use history to support their advice. To champion a particular policy by drawing strong comparisons with a single historical event – with the underlying assumption that its outcomes could be replicated in the modern day – is an improper and irresponsible use of history as an advisory tool. The real source of good historical learning for advisory purposes is in observable patterns – not one-offs.
Seek Patterns, Not Exceptions
Just because something happened before doesn’t necessarily mean that it will happen again. Every situation is driven by unique individuals, ideas, and conditions as well as shaped by each new event in often unpredictable ways. Even the most likely outcomes can turn out very differently than might be imagined. As such, using a timeline which stretches across eighty years (as Holowinsky and Dickson do) to advocate for a decision in the here-and-now is overly ambitious to the point of unwise.
None of this is to say that history can never be used to potentially inform future events – it can and should be – but there is a specific way in which it should be done: namely, finding patterns which suggest types of outcomes that may be more probable in similar situations, both now and in future.
To champion a particular policy by drawing strong comparisons with a single historical event – with the underlying assumption that its outcomes could be replicated in the modern day – is an improper and irresponsible use of history as an advisory tool. The real source of good historical learning for advisory purposes is in observable patterns – not one-offs.
Finding such patterns requires drawing upon large numbers of examples to find common themes among situations that, in their details, are often very different. Exceptions should also be highlighted, and both the patterns and the exceptions require good explanations as to why they occurred. These patterns can help to provide tentative suggestions for how events might play out in future – even decades ahead, potentially, but more often (and more likely) only for more short-term circumstances.
An added benefit of all this is that, while drawing from a single historical episode can be dripping in bias and preferred realities, potentially affecting any advice being given, drawing from lots of case studies can compensate for this.
One notable episode of the Russo-Ukrainian War that provides a good example of why failing to draw from the observable pattern can be problematic is Ukraine’s 2023 Summer Offensive. Despite the high hopes placed on it, it should not have been that surprising that it made little headway, considering the mountain of examples of similar attacks often stalling far short of their intended goals, or taking much longer to achieve success than expected. For instance, this was very common in the First World War and the Iran-Iraq War. There are, of course, notable exceptions: the Battle of Messines in 1917 went very well, as did Ukraine’s own offensive to liberate the Kharkiv region in 2022. However, proclamations that 2023’s offensive could have been as significant as the Battle of Normandy or may, more specifically, have shared similarities with Operation Cobra, were wrong and seemed to pick the notable exceptions rather than the observable pattern.
The Critical Importance of the Unforeseen
A healthy caution in applying observed patterns too confidently is always advisable – while an idea of probable types of outcomes can be derived from an assessment of patterns, these cannot be viewed as the wisdom of a modern Delphic Oracle. The people, political systems, cultures, economies, and more that exist in the modern world are different from those that came before and are different from those that will exist in the future. This will have an impact. Significantly, even over a very short period of time, societies can shift rapidly in their wants, motivations, and ideologies.
Drawing from a single event cannot illustrate the patterns, exceptions, and randomness that can then be used to more reliably inform one’s advice. It will instead hobble decision-making by forcing a very one-sided or shallow blinder on the decision-maker.
It’s equally important to keep in mind that, sometimes, something comes out of the blue to change things in totally unforeseeable ways. The souring tensions which sparked the First Peloponnesian War in the 5th century BC were made worse due to the political developments arising from the aftermath of an earthquake. It was the sudden proclamation that Prince Dmitrii had apparently survived his assassination and was returning to take the throne that thrust an already chaos-stricken Russia into a long and destructive civil war in the early 17th century. Furthermore, no one could have foreseen that Greece’s war effort against Turkey in 1920 would have been suddenly impacted in the way that it was by the elections and succession crisis that followed King Aléxandros dying of sepsis after being bitten by a domesticated monkey.
Advice that seeks to successfully learn from history keeps in mind the multitudinous factors, unforeseen events, and unknowns that characterize it and which illustrate just how quickly states of affairs can change. Developments in our own day highlight this fact just as effectively as those in the distant past. After all, how many would have expected in 2022 with Russia on the retreat from Kyiv that, in 2025, they would watch Ukraine also have to fight North Korea and have the US demand preferential access to their natural resources, as well as bully their President on live TV? Could many have imagined in 2023 that it would have been Germany, who did not want to allow their tanks to be sent to support the Ukrainian Army unless the US also sent their own, which, just a little over two years later, would be calling for Europe to become more independent from the United States and pushing for a massive rearmament program?
Drawing from a single event cannot illustrate the patterns, exceptions, and randomness that can then be used to more reliably inform one’s advice. It will instead hobble decision-making by forcing a very one-sided or shallow blinder on the decision-maker. This is the central issue with Holowinsky and Dickson’s use of history in their open letter. Using Finland’s experience alone as the basis for advice on how to guide Ukrainian state policy, however desirable such an outcome might be, is both irresponsible and unhelpful. There is little, except hope, which suggests that Ukraine’s situation might turn out even remotely similar to Finland’s over an eight-decade period from making peace with Stalin to joining NATO, even if Ukraine wanted to copy it.
Innumerable Wars and Endless Possibilities
There are countless instances of states being invaded by larger neighbors and holding on tenaciously against the odds, with outcomes different to those experienced by Finland, that have relevance to Ukraine’s situation. The advisory hobbling caused by forming advice on the basis of a single case study, as mentioned at the end of the last section, can be illustrated well with one of these examples – namely, the Dutch in the “disaster year” of 1672.
During that year, the Dutch lost massive amounts of territory to the existential threat posed by the invading forces of France and Munster but managed to stabilize their defensive line and more than hold their own at sea against the combined might of England and France. By continuing to fight despite the odds stacked against them, they were able to drive the English from the war and, eventually, supported by the full intervention of an anti-French alliance, took back their territory. While the Finnish had joined the EU and NATO in the eighty years following the Winter War, the Dutch – over that same timeframe – fought in a series of global wars and suffered further invasions and economic decline while experiencing the passing of their “golden age” as a leading global player. Regardless, their territory was still in one piece, for which their determined resistance in 1672 and the widening of that war played a major role.
Advice to Zelenskyy could thus be formed on their example: that to ensure Ukrainian territorial integrity in the long-term, he should choose to fight on as the Dutch did and wait for the war to widen so that he can benefit from the resources and operations of his co-belligerents to be able to save his country from absorption (and to hope that he isn’t partially eaten by an angry lynch-mob along the way).
Advice that seeks to successfully learn from history keeps in mind the multitudinous factors, unforeseen events, and unknowns that characterize it and which illustrate just how quickly states of affairs can change.
However, this is not well-constructed, history-informed advice. Above all, it obfuscates the differences between the situations faced by decision-makers in 1672 and those in 2025: the international system and the values underpinning the conduct of foreign policy are very different; for one thing, Louis XIV’s France was not a nuclear-armed state as Russia is, which greatly alters the dynamics of modern decision-making when considering potentially escalatory actions. Some might argue that this difference, in fact, makes waiting for increased foreign assistance less of a realistic option for Ukraine – not least as foreign public opinion about its importance, or support for it, shifts.
Invasions are very complex, and their outcomes are shaped by equally complex and unique conditions. Finland survived the Soviet invasion of the 1940s and, one lifetime later, joined NATO as a prosperous member of the European Union; yet while Mexico survived the American onslaught of the 1840s, it was at the cost of defeat, thousands of lives, and 55% of their pre-war territory – their next few decades were marked by instability, civil war, and further foreign invasion. The Danes held off the combined might of the German states in the 1840s and ‘50s and were to be invaded again in the 1860s, effectively abandoned by their allies, and forced to sign away a massive chunk of their territory, with 40% of their people. In more recent times, Iraq swiftly collapsed in 2003 before being plunged into over a decade of civil conflict and insurgency, which paved the way for the rise of ISIS and their global terror campaign. Few (if any) of these outcomes were assured, but were rather the result of personal choices, cultures, political systems, unexpected events, and more that were all shaped in a myriad of ways by what came before.
None of these examples have been chosen to actually recommend alternative strategic paths for the Ukrainian government, nor in an attempt to show any particular observable historical pattern. On the contrary, they’ve been chosen to highlight the enormous diversity and unpredictability of historical outcomes and to hammer home the fact that just picking the outcome of one example runs the very real risk of oversimplifying what is, in reality, highly complex. Advice which seeks to responsibly learn from history must take this great level of complexity into account when advocating on behalf of particular pathways, or face creating too flat and one-sided a perspective. This is not at all to say that Holowinsky and Dickson have purposefully ignored other examples in order to paint a specific yet unrepresentative image of how the future may unfold, but the effect is the same, and it makes their advice irresponsible and unhelpful.
The (Cautious) Exception of Analogies
A distinction should be briefly drawn, however, between using single historical episodes as the basis for advice and using single historical episodes to draw analogies as a rhetorical device. While the former can be highly problematic, the latter can be an indispensably useful communicative tool.
Using a single historical example cannot give any solid indication as to how something as complex as a war and its aftermath might, or even should, unfold. Any advice irresponsibly derived from such a method will be of limited value.
The value of analogies is that they can quickly and effectively convey to a decision-maker a certain level of personal or cultural understanding without directing them towards any particular course of action. For instance, if a decision-maker in 2022 didn’t understand the significance and achievement of the Ukrainian success in withstanding Russia’s initial offensive due to a lack of familiarity with the military dynamics of the situation, but they were familiar with Ancient Greek history, then their comprehension might be greatly aided by drawing an analogy with the significance and achievement of the Greeks’ success in withstanding the Persian invasion of 480 BC. This is not the same as advising them to do anything on the basis of this single historical example, but simply helps them to better appreciate a complex situation in a well-tailored manner.
“Well-tailored” is an important qualifier. It always pays to be cautious when formulating analogies and to remember just how easily they can unintentionally or subconsciously advise a decision-maker when framed as anything other than simply illustrative. Caution is also very much called for when those analogies might touch upon events which are sufficiently emotionally or culturally weighty that they effectively force mental blinders upon the decision-maker’s understanding of the current event. Having to overcome any unintentionally evoked, well-entrenched perceptions in order to give the advice one actually intended will cause more hassle than the analogy is worth and make it effectively useless as a communicative tool. Knowing which historical events can’t act as useful analogies is just as important as knowing which can.
Conclusion
To reiterate, the central issue of Holowinsky and Dickson’s open letter is not their actual belief about what will offer the best outcome for the Ukrainian people; rather, it is their use of history as a source and legitimator of the strategic decisions they believe will bring that outcome to fruition. Using a single historical example cannot give any solid indication as to how something as complex as a war and its aftermath might, or even should, unfold. Any advice irresponsibly derived from such a method will be of limited value.
Taking lessons from history for informing foreign policy advice is vitally important, but only when those lessons are drawn from the insight of observed patterns, which suggest probable outcomes. Advisors should equally highlight notable exceptions and clearly elaborate on the conditions that led to both outcome types. Importantly, they should also caveat their findings with the observation that there is nothing to say that the current situation will turn out like any of the case studies. At the end of the day, any decision-maker has to, and can only, take decisions based on the conditions and objectives of the here-and-now. After all, it’s not 1940, and Ukraine isn’t Finland.
It might be concluded from all this that “learning from history” is maybe not all that useful a term when it comes to using the past to inform political decision-making in the current day. It might be better, rather, to say that “studying history allows for the observation of patterns which offer suggestions of probable types of outcomes which should be taken on board to inform decision-making. Any advisor and decision-maker should remain clear-sighted as to the limits to which these really can form the basis of solid prediction or sound advice.” It’s more cautious, certainly, and fails to roll off the tongue quite as well, but it is more responsible and will make for better advice.
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