Before You Play: A Warning
In October 1962, by the best-known account, one officer on a Soviet submarine refused to approve firing a nuclear torpedo. This game can show you how that day might have gone the other way.
Why play a game about empires
Civilization hands you a people, a patch of land and one instruction: win. It never asks you to be good. Within a few evenings you will find yourself doing things you would condemn in a newspaper. You will settle land a neighbor wanted, break a promise when keeping it costs too much, and attack a friend who has grown weak. The game often rewards all of it, and it never shows you a single grieving family.
That is the reason to play. Many schoolbooks describe the world as it should work. Treaties hold, borders are respected, and the good side wins. Civ shows you the world from the chair of a ruler who wants to survive and grow. Rules exist in it, and they matter, but power decides whether they hold. In 416 BC Athenian envoys told the island of Melos, which asked to stay neutral, that "the strong do what they can and the weak suffer what they must" (Richard Crawley's translation of Thucydides). Athens then took the island. In Civ you will hear yourself making the same argument.
Niccolò Machiavelli, a Florentine diplomat sacked and tortured by the family he later advised, saw the gap in 1513. In chapter 15 of The Prince he wrote that "how one lives is so far distant from how one ought to live, that he who neglects what is done for what ought to be done, sooner effects his ruin than his preservation" (W. K. Marriott's translation). Civ is a machine for teaching what is done. This book adds what ought to be done, and shows you where the two split.
The warning
A game with one scoreboard teaches one goal. The Roman philosopher Cicero called the highest good a life should aim at the summum bonum. Civ has one too, and it is victory. Peace, justice and mercy count only when they help you win. When they get in the way, the game makes it easy to drop them.
Watch what this does to your judgment. In Civ VI a nuclear strike kills part of a city's Population and poisons the land around it for up to 20 turns. On screen, a city's number drops by a few points. After an hour of play, that number stops meaning people. The same habit, in a real leader, is how terrible choices start to feel like sensible ones. That habit forms in the player, and it can outlast the game. Notice the moment you start treating cities as counters.
Where the dark view goes too far
The cynic has a case. The strong, it says, write the rules and drop them when the stakes are high enough. Athens told Melos that right counts only between equals in power. Even in Civ VI, anger over a broken promise fades, and a superpower can shrug it off. So rules serve power, and the will to win beats everything.
Yet the game also pushes back. Break promises in Civ VI and other leaders hold Grievances (a running record of who wronged whom) against you and become harder to deal with. In a contest where you face the same rivals again and again, a reputation for keeping your word is worth more than one betrayal. Robert Axelrod's tournaments, in the Diplomacy lesson, show why.
The real world agrees. Strong countries write rules that suit them. Those rules then bind them too, and they often accept that, because rules are cheaper than force. Sometimes winning and doing right even point the same way, as they did with the Marshall Plan. The honest picture is darker than the schoolbook and brighter than the cynic.
The luck since 1945
Only two nuclear weapons have been used in war, at Hiroshima and Nagasaki in August 1945. That record has had close calls.
- 27 October 1962. US destroyers dropped signaling depth charges to make the Soviet submarine B-59 surface near Cuba. By the best-known account, its captain thought war might have begun and wanted to fire a nuclear torpedo. A launch needed all three senior officers to agree, and Vasily Arkhipov refused. He persuaded the captain to surface. Vadim Orlov, an officer aboard, later said the captain lost his temper but calmed down.
- 26 September 1983. A Soviet warning system reported one American missile launch, then four more. The duty officer, Stanislav Petrov, judged it a false alarm and waited for confirmation that never came. The satellites had malfunctioned.
- November 1983. A NATO exercise called Able Archer 83 rehearsed nuclear escalation. Its new realism, at a tense time, led some Soviet leaders to believe it was cover for a real first strike. Scholars disagree on how close it came.
- 25 January 1995. Russian radar mistook a Norwegian science rocket for a possible attack. The nuclear briefcase, used to authorize a launch, was switched on and brought to President Boris Yeltsin. It is the only known case. The rocket was heading out to sea, and no launch was ordered.
In the 2003 film The Fog of War, Robert McNamara, US defense secretary in 1962, said of the Cuban crisis: "at the end we lucked out. It was luck that prevented nuclear war." Luck was not the whole story. After Cuba the two powers set up a direct hotline in 1963, and in 1969 began talks to limit their nuclear arsenals. Some scholars, most prominently Nina Tannenwald, argue that a "nuclear taboo" grew up, though others doubt it. Still, about eighty years is a short run. At least twice, the record may have rested on one officer who would not take a frightening signal as proof of war. That is cause for gratitude, and for unease.
Should every leader play?
Armies have trained officers with games for two centuries. In 1824 a junior Prussian officer, Georg von Reisswitz, showed his war game, Kriegsspiel, to the king and his senior generals. The chief of the General Staff called it schooling for war. The king ordered a set for every regiment. So should every politician and official play Civ?
The case for. Civ lets you feel, in an evening, lessons that cost real states centuries. You learn how a sensible defensive move frightens a neighbor into arming, how a war you meant to keep short drags on, and how fast you can talk yourself into anything. A leader who has caught that habit in a game may spot it sooner in a crisis.
The case against. Civ also teaches some lessons that would be dangerous in a leader. Its citizens are numbers. Its ruler never faces an election, a free press or a funeral. It knows every rule exactly, lives for six thousand years, and is never jailed for a war. The Six Assumptions covers gaps like these. A leader who learned only from Civ would learn the worst of it.
This book's answer is to play it, and to keep asking what the game leaves out.
Two guardrails
First, a description of how the world is does not tell you what to do about it. The Scottish philosopher David Hume made that point in 1740, and a book of facts about power is no license to use it. Second, the book never hands you a verdict. Many lessons carry a box called The hard question: a real case where winning and doing right pulled apart, the strongest honest case on each side, and a question back to you. They lead to the capstone lesson, Winning and Doing Right.
Sources: Thucydides, History of the Peloponnesian War, trans. Richard Crawley, 5.89; Machiavelli, The Prince, trans. W. K. Marriott, chapter XV; Summum bonum; Nuclear weapons (Civ6); Grievances (Civ6); Vasily Arkhipov; Stanislav Petrov; Able Archer 83; Norwegian rocket incident; The Fog of War transcript (2003); Moscow–Washington hotline; SALT; Nuclear taboo; Kriegsspiel; "David Hume," Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy.