joint force quarterly - autumn 2003

JFQ

. . . modern warfare can be effectively conductedonly by the close and effective integration of the three military arms, which make their primarycontribution to the military power of the Nation on the ground, at sea, and from the air.

— Fleet Admiral Ernest J. KingU.S. Navy at War, 1941–1945

J F Q F O R U M

37 Mission to Somalia

38 New Contingencies, Old Roles by Samuel P. Huntington

44 An Envoy’s Perspective by Robert B. Oakley

56 A CINC’s Perspective by Joseph P. Hoar

64 The Peace-Enforcement Dilemma by T. Frank Crigler

C O N T E N T S

4 A Word from the Chairmanby Colin L. Powell

6 In This Issueby the Editor-in-Chief

7 Where Are Special Operations Forces? by John M. Collins

17 The New Joint Warfareby Frederick R. Strain

25 Surveying Gulf War Airpowerby Thomas A. Keaney

71 Beyond Goldwater-Nicholsby Peter W. Chiarelli

82 Cooperative Engagementby Charles R. Larson

JFQJ O I N T F O R C E Q U A R T E R L Y

A P R O F E S S I O N A L M I L I T A R Y J O U R N A L

JFQ

93A u t u m n

Special Operations Forces

Gulf War Airpower

Mission to Somalia

The New Joint Warfare

Cooperative Engagement in the Pacific

Beyond Goldwater-Nichols

Guadalcanal

Do We Need An InformationCorps?

P H O T O C R E D I T SThe front cover shows a B–2 stealth bomber on atest flight over Edwards Air Force Base; the firstproduction model B–2 will enter operational ser-vice in December 1993 (U.S. Air Force photo byQuintin E. Wynn). The cover insets (from thetop) depict Special Operations Forces making anunannounced visit (DOD photo), soldiers of the10th Mountain Division in Somalia ( Joint Com-bat Camera photo by H.H. Duffner), the combatinformation center aboard USS Lake Cham-plain (U.S. Navy photo), and a GrummanAvenger being launched from USS Suwannee inthe South Pacific (photo by Charles Kerlee cour-tesy of the Naval Historical Center).

The front inside cover features ships of theU.S. Navy arriving in Sydney harbor to mark the50th anniversary of the Battle of the Coral Sea(U.S. Navy photo by Jeff Hilton).

The background illustration on these pagescaptures a takeoff from USS Independence(U.S. Navy photo by Mark Therien). The insetsshow Special Operations Forces (DOD photo),troops disembarking in Somalia ( Joint CombatCamera Center photo), an F–15 being readiedduring Exercise Tandem Thrust ’93 (2d CombatCamera Squadron photo by Val Gempis), aStewart tank being unloaded from USS Alchibaat Guadalcanal (photo courtesy of the NavalHistorical Center), and sailors on the bridgewhile underway (DOD photo).

88 Do We Need An Information Corps?by Martin C. Libicki and James A. Hazlett

98 Guadalcanal: The Naval Campaignby H.P. Willmott

107 In Memoriam: Matthew Bunker Ridgway

A U T U M N 1 9 9 3 / N U M B E R 2

O U T O F J O I N T

108 By Our Orthodoxies Shall Ye Know Usby Michael Vlahos

F R O M T H E F I E L D A N D F L E E T

111 Letters to the Editor

T H E J O I N T W O R L D

112 Doctrine, History, Education, and Documentation

118 A Quarterly Review of Joint Literature

O F F T H E S H E L F

119 Rethinking Asian Alliances: A Review Essayby Patrick M. Cronin

123 Chiefs from Across the Estuary: A Book Reviewby Walter R. Poole

125 Russia’s Military Past: A Book Reviewby Brian R. Sullivan

P O S T S C R I P T

128 A Note to Readers and Contributors

Joint Force QuarterlyA PROFESSIONAL MILITARY JOURNAL

Editor-in-Chief

Stuart E. Johnson

Executive Editor

Patrick M. Cronin

Managing Editor

Robert A. Silano

Associate Editors

Martin J. Peters, Jr.

Calvin B. Kelley

Editorial Assistant

Florence P. Williams

Art Direction

Typography and Design Division Government Printing Office

Joint Force Quarterly is published by theInstitute for National Strategic Studies,National Defense University, to promoteunderstanding of the integrated employ-ment of land, sea, air, space, and specialoperations forces. The journal focuses onjoint doctrine, coalition warfare, con-tingency planning, combat operationsconducted by the unified commands,and joint force development.

The editors invite articles and othercontributions on joint warfighting, inter-service issues that support jointness, andtopics of common interest to the ArmedForces. Please direct manuscripts, letters,and editorial communications to:

Managing EditorJoint Force QuarterlyNational Defense UniversityFort Lesley J. McNairWashington, D.C. 20319–6000

Commercial Telephone: (202) 475–1013Defense Switched Network

(DSN): 335–1013FAX: (202) 475–1012 / DSN 335–1012

The opinions, conclusions, and recom-mendations expressed or implied withinare those of the contributors and do notnecessarily reflect the views of the De-partment of Defense or any other agencyof the Federal Government. Portions ofthis journal are protected by copyrightand may not be reproduced or extractedwithout the permission of the copyrightproprietors. An acknowledgment to JointForce Quarterly should be made whenevermaterial is quoted from or based on itscontents.

This publication has been approved bythe Secretary of Defense.

September 1993

ISSN 1070–0692

4 JFQ / Autumn 1993

A Word from theChairman

The Chairman saluting the nationalcolors at the groundbreaking cere-mony for the Vietnam Women’sMemorial in Washington, D.C., onJuly 29, 1993.

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Joint Force QuarterlyA PROFESS IONAL MILITARY JOURNAL

PublisherGEN Colin L. Powell, USA

Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff

Chairman of the Advisory CommitteeLTG Paul G. Cerjan, USA

National Defense University

Members of the Advisory CommitteeBG David A. Armstrong, USA (Ret.)

Office of the ChairmanCol William R. Donnelly, USMC

Marine Corps War CollegeBrig Gen Marvin R. Esmond, USAF

Armed Forces Staff CollegeMaj Gen John C. Fryer, Jr., USAF

National War CollegeBrig Gen Hal M. Hornburg, USAF

The Joint StaffBG Randolph W. House, USA

U.S.Army Command and General Staff CollegeVADM R.C. Macke, USN

The Joint StaffCol Andrew Nichols Pratt, USMC

Marine Corps Command and Staff CollegeMaj Gen Peter D. Robinson, USAF

Air War CollegeRADM Jerome F. Smith, Jr., USN

Industrial College of the Armed ForcesMG William A. Stofft, USA

U.S. Army War CollegeRADM Joseph C. Strasser, USN

Naval War CollegeCol John A. Warden III, USAF

Air Command and Staff College

Chairman of the Editorial BoardStuart E. Johnson

Institute for National Strategic Studies

Members of the Editorial BoardRichard K. Betts

Columbia UniversityEliot A. Cohen

The Johns Hopkins UniversityCOL Robert A. Doughty, USA

U.S. Military AcademyCAPT George L. Drummond, USN

Armed Forces Staff CollegeLtCol Robert C. Figlock, USMC

Marine Corps War CollegeAaron L. Friedberg

Princeton UniversityCOL Robert A. Gimbert, USA

U.S.Army Command and General Staff CollegeAlan L. Gropman

Industrial College of the Armed ForcesCOL Peter F. Herrly, USA

National War CollegeCol Douglas N. Hime, USAF

Naval War CollegeWilliam T. Hodson

Information Resources Management CollegeCOL Richard L. Irby, Jr., USA

U.S. Army War CollegeMark H. Jacobsen

Marine Corps Command and Staff CollegeThomas L. McNaugher

Brookings InstitutionJohn J. Mearsheimer

University of ChicagoCol Philip S. Meilinger, USAF

Air Command and Staff CollegeLTG William E. Odom, USA (Ret.)

Hudson InstituteStephen Peter Rosen

Harvard UniversityJames H. Toner

Air War CollegeLtGen Bernard E. Trainor, USMC (Ret.)

Harvard UniversityLTG C.A.H. Waller, USA (Ret.)

RKK, Limited

Autumn 1993 / JFQ 5

Before I wish JFQ’s readers fair windsand following seas, dry foxholes,and clear air, let me offer a fewthoughts as a parting shot.

The past four years have been historicones. So many changes have occurred that itis hard to chronicle them without losing alistener’s attention. We have lived through a

time that historians willlabor over for decades tocome, trying to sort outthe heroes from the vil-lains, fact from fiction,and momentous fromtrivial or transient events.

One very real andvery relevant change tothose of us who serve inthe Armed Forces is that

we are getting smaller. For the foreseeable fu-ture, nothing is going to happen to reversethat trend.

What is important is that we have laidthe groundwork to get smaller without los-ing the high quality that has become thehallmark of America’s military. This shouldbe the continuing mission of all our menand women—officers, warrant officers,NCOs, and enlisted. No matter how smallwe get, we must keep our Armed Forces thebest in the world.

We must provide them with the bestleadership, equipment, support, and qualityof life. We must also guard against theirever having to answer the call of an uncer-tain trumpet.

Men and women do not go in harm’s wayas a businessman pursues a contract, a lawyera case, or a professor a research project. The GIgoes with his or her life on the line, everytime. From that fundamental distinctioncomes the all-powerful reason to exercise the

General Colin L. Powell, USA, is Chairman of the JointChiefs of Staff. He was previously Commander inChief, Forces Command, and also served as Assistantto the President for National Security Affairs.

utmost restraint and good judgment in send-ing America’s best and brightest into the caul-dron of combat.

We are fortunate to have national lead-ers who understand this basic fact of mili-tary power. We are also fortunate becauseour leaders understand that when they dohave to send our men and women in harm’sway they send them to achieve a decisivevictory. They should expect no less—and weshould give them no less.

Maximum effort to accomplish the mis-sion, to win decisively, demands joint actionon the battlefield. If there is a legacy ofwhich I am the proudest, it is that we havecome together as a joint team in an unprece-dented way over these last four years. I com-mend all of you for this remarkable achieve-ment—and I challenge you to stay true tothis magnificent military family we havebuilt together.

Your new Chairman, General John Sha-likashvili, is as dedicated to the team as anyman I know. The family will prosper underhis wise chairmanship. Give him your fullsupport.

As I depart now, I wish all of you greatsuccess in the future. I am proud of everysoldier, sailor, airman, marine, and coast-guardsman in the force. You’re the best andyou always will be.

COLIN L. POWELLChairman

of theJoint Chiefs of Staff

we have come to-gether as a joint teamin an unprecedentedway over these lastfour years

6 JFQ / Autumn 1993

Charles Dickens once quippedthat after writing Pickwick Pa-pers it took six months beforethe muse stirred him enough tobegin work on the next book,Oliver. Having received gener-

ous kudos for the first issue of JFQ, it was achallenge to muster the resources to publishanother issue of equal impact. Nonetheless, Ibelieve our editors have succeeded in assem-bling an issue with the scope, depth, and rel-evance that lives up to the standards set bythe inaugural number of the journal.

In this issue you will find contributionson subjects of some moment. There is an ar-ticle based on a recent congressional reporton special operations that both assessesprogress in that field and offers recommen-dations on enhancing its capabilities. Thenin an article calling for joint doctrine tomeet future challenges, the author contendsthat we must rethink the assumptions of tra-ditional approaches to warfare and rewritethe military lexicon to accommodate theideas that emerge. This is followed by a con-tribution drawn from the findings of anewly released survey of Gulf War air-power—commissioned by the Secretary ofthe Air Force—in which the effectiveness ofcoalition airpower is evaluated in bothquantitative and qualitative terms.

JFQ Forum examines the conduct of U.N.peace-enforcement in Somalia over the pastyear in a series of four articles. For those in-terested in the background of the ongoingmilitary activities in that country—or simplyin the implications of such operations onwhat some see as the dawning of a new eraof nontraditional roles for the ArmedForces—a group of distinguished practition-ers and specialists offer insightful analyseson the mission to Somalia.

We are also pleased to publish the co-winning entry from the 1993 Chairman ofthe Joint Chiefs of Staff Essay Competition

which makes a case for organizational re-form that goes beyond the Goldwater-Nichols Act by creating both a national mili-tary advisory council and a general staff.

In our first issue we featured an articleby the Commander in Chief, Atlantic Com-mand; in this issue we look to the Pacificand present a contribution by the CINC re-sponsible for tackling the realities of thepost-Cold War in that vast region of theworld. This is followed by a piece in whichtwo authors, a defense analyst and a navalofficer, argue that the military-technical rev-olution is so rife in its warfare applicationsthat an independent information corps peo-pled by high-tech specialists should beformed. A historian then examines the firstU.S. offensive of World War II at Guadal-canal through a case study that reveals thecampaign as a serendipitous joint operation.There is also a brief tribute in memory ofGeneral Matthew Ridgway who died thissummer. In Out of Joint, an essay designed toprovoke debate over the concepts underly-ing jointness, the commentator instructs usthat being joint may well have real benefitsin peacetime, but jointness alone will notprepare us for the next war.

We were pleased to receive the first ofwhat we trust will be a continual flow of let-ters to the editor, some of which appear inthis issue. In addition, you will find profes-sional notes on a range of areas (includingjoint doctrine, education, history, and docu-mentation), plus book reviews and a surveyof joint literature, all of which are regulardepartments of the journal.

As the Chairman indicated in the inau-gural issue, read JFQ for controversy, debate,new ideas, and fresh insights, and then con-tribute your own views. We look forward tohearing from you—through letters and con-tributions on subjects of importance to theArmed Forces that can add to our commonunderstanding of joint warfighting.

STUART E. JOHNSONEditor-in-Chief

In This Issue

Autumn 1993 / JFQ 7

T he capabilities of Special Opera-tions Forces (SOF) had declinedseverely for more than a decade be-fore 1986 when legislation created

both the position of Assistant Secretary ofDefense for Special Operations and Low-Intensity Conflict—the ASD (SO/LIC)—andthe U.S. Special Operations Command(SOCOM), and also directed the Secretaryof Defense to devise a major force program(namely, MFP–11), especially for SOF.Progress was slow at first but soon gainedmomentum.

Where AreSpecial OperationsForces?By J O H N M. C O L L I N S

Special Operations Forces (SOF) were fragmented and inadequately funded when Congress passed legislationin 1987 that put in place a senior-level Pentagon official, unified command, and defense program to bothconsolidate and advance the interests of the special operations community. While initial progress was slow,the pace soon quickened and recently SOF have scored a number of notable accomplishments. But there are shortcomings that hamper SOF from achieving their full potential. Command relationships, humani-tarian assistance, search and rescue missions, theater staffs, career incentives, Special Mission Unit priorities,and research, development, and acquisition are all areas that require further attention. While institutionalchanges are essentially complete, military culture is evolving gradually when it comes to accepting SOF.Overall, however, the prospects for special operations are brighter today than they have been for decades.

Summary

This article is extracted and adapted from a report by John M. Collins entitled Special Operations Forces: An Assessment, 1986–1993 issued by the CongressionalResearch Service on July 30, 1993 and is available from the U.S. Government Printing Office.

DOD

8 JFQ / Autumn 1993

Subsequent accomplish-ments have been impressive.Institutionally, the office ofthe ASD (SO/LIC) as well asSOCOM headquarters and itsArmy, Navy, and Air Forcecomponent commands, the-ater Special Operations Com-mands (SOCs), and ArmySpecial Operations SupportCommands have been acti-vated and staffed. SOCOMhas codified relationships

with regionally-oriented unified commandsand the services. It also has created a plan-ning, programming, and budgeting systemand a research, development, and acquisi-tion system as well as intelligence architec-tures for special operations. A new series ofdoctrinal publications guides their employ-ment in peacetime, crises, and war. Team-work between SOF and conventional forcesis much improved. Approximately 2,500 SOFpersonnel serve in roughly forty countrieson a constant basis (see chart on page 11),and they have played an important part inall major contingencies since OperationDesert Storm.

Some residual problems neverthelessprevent SOF from contributing effectively tooverall military capabilities. Statutory rela-tionships between the ASD (SO/LIC) andSOCOM headquarters and the former’s re-sponsibility for low-intensity conflict as wellas special operations seem to merit review.So do SOF obligations with regard to bothhumanitarian assistance and theater searchand rescue which tend to overload activeCivil Affairs units and SOF helicopter crews,respectively. The sparsely staffed SOCs relyheavily on Reserve component augmenta-tion which is not always sufficiently respon-sive or well qualified. Career progression bySOF officers is severely limited, because con-ventional officers occupy many SOF postsand promotion ladders within the specialoperations community stop at two stars, ex-cept for one Army billet. The high prioritiesassigned to Special Mission Units cause

morale problems among other SOF. Also, re-search, development, and acquisition cyclesfor SOF-peculiar items are sluggish.

On balance, however, all concernedreach one conclusion: SOF today are farstronger than in 1986. Institutional changesare essentially complete, and despite the factthat military culture is changing moreslowly with regard to special operations,most prognoses are optimistic.

The Essence of SOFCongress designated the following activ-

ities in the order listed as the focus of SOFinsofar as they relate to special operations: di-rect action, strategic reconnaissance, uncon-ventional warfare, foreign internal defense,Civil Affairs (CA), Psychological Operations(PSYOP), counterterrorism, humanitarian as-sistance, theater search and rescue (TSAR),and such other activities as specified by thePresident or the Secretary of Defense.

The Secretary of Defense and the Com-mander in Chief, U.S. Special OperationsCommand (CINCSOC), consider the first sixactivities listed above as primary responsibili-ties. Humanitarian assistance and TSAR oc-cupy a separate category known as collateralspecial operations activities, together with suchdisparate duties as antiterrorism (the defen-sive counterpart of counterterrorism), coun-terdrug operations, and security assistance.

Unconventional warfare and counterter-rorism are strictly special operations. SOFshare the other seven specific responsibilitieswith conventional forces, but low-visibility,low-cost special operations techniques aredistinctively different, and thereby expandthe range of options open to national secu-rity decisionmakers.

SOF often are employable where high-profile conventional forces are politically,militarily, and/or economically inappropri-ate. Small, self-reliant, readily deployableunits that capitalize on speed, surprise, au-dacity, and deception sometimes accomplishmissions in ways that minimize risks of esca-lation and concurrently maximize returnscompared with the orthodox applications ofmilitary power which normally emphasizemass. Aircraft, artillery, or combat engineersmight demolish a critical bridge at a particu-lar time, for example, but SOF could mag-nify the physical and psychological effectsconsiderably if they blew that bridge while a

S P E C I A L O P E R A T I O N S

John M. Collins is senior specialist in national defense at theCongressional Research Service, Library of Congress. His latest book is America’s Small Wars: Lessons for the Future.

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U.S. Army SpecialOperations Command (USASOC)—includes30,000 active and Reserve componentmembers of SpecialForces, Special Operations Aviation,Ranger, PsychologicalOperations, and CivilAffairs units.

Autumn 1993 / JFQ 9

trainload of enemy dignitaries or ammuni-tion was halfway across. Conventional land,sea, and air forces normally patrol specifiedsectors intermittently, whereas special recon-naissance troops may remain in hostile terri-tory for weeks or months at a time collectinginformation that otherwise would be unob-tainable. Severe misfortunes, however, mayaccompany failure. Large enemy conven-tional forces can easily overwhelm small SOF

units they manage to corner dur-ing clandestine operations, andmay be tempted to treat survivorsharshly. Adverse political repercus-sions can be far-reaching.

Nontraditional responsibili-ties, such as humanitarian assis-tance, are traditional roles forArmy Special Forces (SF) as well asPSYOP and CA units. Their readi-ness, in fact, improves while they

perform foreign internal defense missions,whereas that of conventional forces nor-mally declines, because such duties diverttime and attention away from primary re-sponsibilities. Area orientation and languageskills attune SF (and some members of Sea-Air-Land Teams or SEALs) to cultural nu-ances that usually temper humanitarian as-sistance techniques. Self-reliance allowsthem to function effectively under austereconditions without the infrastructure thatconventional forces often need.

ASD (SO/LIC) AccomplishmentsThe Assistant Secretary of Defense for

Special Operations and Low Intensity Con-flict has accomplished quite a lot with a rela-tively small staff since Congress confirmedthe first occupant of that office in August1988. A principal deputy is the second incharge, with a deputy assistant secretary forpolicy and missions and another for forcesand resources. The strength of the office iscurrently 42 military and 35 civilian person-nel including administrative support. Thecivilians are preponderant in supervisory po-sitions, but several have accrued twenty ormore years of experience in SOF while on ac-tive duty. The action officers with extensivemilitary service (not necessarily in SOF) out-number career civil servants by about five toone. Proven interdepartmental and intera-gency performers who know how to workwithin the system are among them.

Few ASD (SO/LIC) achievements havebeen publicized. Most occurred quietly andincrementally behind the scenes. Their cu-mulative influence on institutional relations,policies, and plans nevertheless is consider-able. A few illustrations include:

▼ Strengthened and clarified organizationalrelationships between ASD (SO/LIC) and SOCOMby developing ten mutually agreeable principlesto improve coordination and oversight and by re-solving legal disagreements over defining ele-ments of ASD (SO/LIC) oversight and supervisionof SOCOM activities.

▼ Successfully represented continuing needsfor the Sensitive Special Operations Program onmatters dealing with operational and policy deci-sions during the DOD intelligence reorganization.The ASD (SO/LIC) relationship with the intelli-gence community has proven to be a key ingredi-ent in negotiating sensitive intelligence supportfor the special operations community.

▼ Obtained the Secretary of Defense’s ap-proval in March 1993 to designate PSYOP and CAas SOF which helped eliminate fragmentation ofCA responsibilities among other OSD offices.

▼ Obtained Secretary of Defense approval in1988 to designate ASD (SO/LIC) as the singlepoint of contact for DOD antiterrorism matters,thereby linking efforts of the Joint Staff, unifiedand specified commands, defense agencies, andthe interagency antiterrorism community.

▼ Developed and promulgated policy direc-tives regarding the planning, programming, bud-geting, execution, and acquisition authoritygranted to SOCOM.

▼ Developed extensive input for the bottom-up review, a zero-based examination of roles forthe Armed Forces in the emerging security envi-ronment. The project, aimed at improving SOF ef-fectiveness in accomplishing traditional and newmissions, included policy proposals for strategicforward basing of SOF; afloat bases for SOF in re-gions where land-based presence is not feasible; re-search, development, and acquisition initiatives toimprove SOF contributions to counterprolifera-tion; a range of activities to improve national assis-tance capabilities; and recommendations concern-ing such missions as peacekeeping, peace-making,promoting democracy, and nonproliferation.

▼ Buttressed the national campaign tocounter the proliferation of weapons of mass de-struction by ensuring that current SOF capabili-ties are being integrated into key strategy docu-ments and policy decisions and by sponsoringmulti-year, multi-agency research studies that ex-plore emerging and potential counterprolifera-tion roles for SOF.

C o l l i n s

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SEALs exiting an underwater deliveryunit.

Naval Special Warfare Command(NAVSPECWARCOM)—comprised of 5,500 active and Reservecomponent operationaland support personnel,including Sea-Air-Land(SEAL) Teams, SEALDelivery Vehicle Teams,and Special BoatSquadrons and Units.

(continued on page 12)


10 JFQ / Autumn 1993

Theater-Level Special OperationsCommands

U.S. Special Operations Com-mand (SOCOM) organizes, equips,trains, and provides Special Opera-tions Forces (SOF) for commandersin chief (CINCs) of regionally-ori-ented unified commands (European,

Atlantic, Southern, Pacific,and Central)—in addition

to the Commander inChief, U.S. Forces,Korea—each of whom,in turn, delegates opera-tional control of the

forces to their theater-level Special Operations

Commands (SOCs). The six SOCs arethe focal point for in-theater SOF,form nuclei for Joint Special Opera-tions Task Forces, and furnish exper-tise needed to effectively employSOF independently or in concertwith conventional forces.

The regionally-oriented unifiedcommands and SOCs rely upon thesame basic sources of doctrine andpolicy for special operations. AnnexE to the Joint Strategic CapabilitiesPlan outlines missions, apportions

assets to theaterCINCs, and pro-vides basic pol-icy guidance.The 3–05 seriesof joint publica-tions is beingdeveloped todispense funda-mental doctrinefor special oper-ations. Docu-ments prepared

by SOCOM and its component com-mands elaborate upon other issueswhile CINCs promulgate policies fortheir areas of responsibility (AORs).Small special operations staff sectionshelp CINCs plan and supervise all in-theater SOF activities, serve as con-duits to and from SOCs, sometimesmanage sensitive compartmentedblack programs, and also assist as re-quired. The regionally-oriented SOCsexhibit unique characteristics such as

perceived threats, geographic circum-stances, types of contingencies, theintensity of crises, and other factors.

Special Operations Command,Atlantic (SOCLANT)

U.S. Atlantic Command (LANT-COM) has an immense AOR mainlycovered by water. Of the 39 islandsthat comprise the land in the area,Greenland is by far the largest with apopulation half the size of Peoria.The most densely settled islands arein the Caribbean and all—except forCuba, Hispaniola, Jamaica, andPuerto Rico—are small. Located inNorfolk, SOCLANT is the smallest ofthe SOCs designated as subordinateunified commands. No SOF units arepermanently assigned and none isforward based, save for one NavalSpecial Warfare Unit. The LANTCOMstaff has responsibility for counter-terrorism, counternarcotics, Psycho-logical Operations (PSYOP), Civil Affairs (CA), and black programs.

Special Operations Command,Central (SOCCENT)

U.S. Central Command (CENT-COM) is responsible for an areamade up of 18 countries in NortheastAfrica and Southwest Asia, plusAfghanistan and Pakistan. CENT-COM headquarters, collocated withSOCOM at MacDill Air Force Base, isremoved by no fewer than seventime zones from its AOR, and no SOFare permanently stationed in the re-gion. SOCOM and its componentcommands provide assets from apool containing Special Forces,Rangers, Naval Special Warfare Units,fixed- and rotary-wing aircraft, andPSYOP and CA units. An amphibiousReady Group that includes a MarineExpeditionary Unit (Special Opera-tions Capable), SEALs, and aviationassets is normally in the AOR. Thatmix is adequate according to SOC-CENT, though both PSYOP and CAsupport depends heavily on the se-lected call-up of Reservists.

Special Operations Command,Europe (SOCEUR)

U.S. European Command(EUCOM) is a well-developed theaterthat enjoyed a top priority duringthe Cold War. Its AOR, stretchingfrom Norway’s North Cape to the

Cape of Good Hope, contains severaltrouble spots and potential flashpoints of which Bosnia-Hercegovina,Libya, Liberia, Israel, and SouthAfrica are the most prominent.Refugees from the Balkans, right-wing nationalists in Germany, un-rest in Russia and neighboringstates, and transnational terrorismare among Europe’s security con-cerns. SOCEUR is located in Vaihin-gen, Germany. Forward-based SOFunits controlled by SOCEUR includea Special Forces battalion in Ger-many, a Naval Special Warfare Unitin Scotland, and an Air Force SpecialOperations Group in England thatconsists of three squadrons ofMC–130 Combat Talons, MH–53JPave Low helicopters, and HC–130Combat Shadows. Active and Re-serve PSYOP units also provide sup-port and a Reserve CA command pe-riodically augments the CINC’s staff.

Special Operations Command,South (SOCSOUTH)

U.S. Southern Command(SOUTHCOM) has an AOR which in-cludes 20 countries across Centraland South America, from the Mexi-can border with Guatemala and Be-lize to Cape Horn. Each nation ofthe region has distinctive character-istics, but the huge area is fairly ho-mogeneous despite great geographicdifferences (flatlands and mountainchains, jungles, swamps, and arableplains). SOCSOUTH, with headquar-ters at Albrook Air Force Station,Panama, controls a Special Forcescompany and an Army special oper-ations aviation detachmentequipped with MH–60 Black Hawksas well as a Special Operations Sup-port Command. U.S. Atlantic FleetDetachment South has both a NavalSpecial Warfare Unit and a SpecialBoat Unit at Rodman, Panama,which support SOCSOUTH as di-rected by CINCSOUTH.

Special Operations Command,Pacific (SOCPAC)

U.S. Pacific Command (PACOM)is a watery domain which is threetimes larger than that of LANTCOM.Its AOR embraces India and the In-

SEALs jumping froman Air Force AC–130.

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SOF Deployments: A Snapshot of a Typical Week

Period of 30 Jan–6 Feb 1993 Missions Personnel Countries States■ CONUS 36 844 1 20■ PACOM AOR 25 568 9 2■ EUCOM AOR 24 381 8■ CENTCOM AOR 9 423 5■ LANTCOM AOR 8 80 3■ SOUTHCOM AOR 49 221 14

TOTAL 151 2517 40 22

Autumn 1993 / JFQ 11

dian Ocean, northeast and southeastAsia, and the South Pacific andOceania. Strict priorities based onthe best possible requirement fore-casts are consequently essential, be-cause SOCOM cannot provideenough culturally-attuned, lan-guage-qualified SOF personnel forevery corner of this extensive region.Special Operations Command, Pa-cific (SOCPAC), at Camp H.M.Smith, Hawaii, is as distant fromSouth and Southeast Asia as SOC-CENT is from the Middle East. SOFassigned to this populous and com-plex area include a Special Forcesbattalion on Okinawa, a SEAL pla-toon collocated with a Naval SpecialWarfare Unit on Guam, and an AirForce Special Operations Group con-sisting of three squadrons ofMC–130 Combat Talons andHC–130 Combat Shadows at KadenaAir Base, Japan, and MH–53J Pave

Low helicopters at Osan, Korea. ASpecial Operations Support Com-mand completes the in-theater as-sets. In addition, a CA brigade fromthe Army Reserve is earmarked to as-sist if required.

Special Operations Command,Korea (SOC–K)

Korea is the only theater inwhich American and allied SOF areinstitutionally integrated. Located inSeoul, SOC–K is a standing joint taskforce controlled by the Commander,U.S. Forces Korea. It serves the Republic of Korea (ROK)/U.S. Com-bined Forces Command, is a compo-nent of the Combined Unconven-tional Warfare Task Force, and worksclosely with the Korean Army Spe-cial Warfare Command. Since the

Koreans furnish most in-theater SOF,the fact that SOC–K has control overonly one Special Forces detachmentis not significant. In the event ofhostilities SOC–K combines with theROK Special Warfare Command toform the Combined UnconventionalWarfare Task Force. JFQ

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AC–130 Spectre illuminating the night sky.


▼ Initiated and secured agreement from theNational Defense University (NDU) and SOCOMon creating, funding, and filling a SOF facultychair beginning in academic year 1993–94. Fol-low-on activities include establishing both a SOFarchive in the NDU Library and a post-senior ser-vice college fellowship within the Institute forNational Strategic Studies at NDU.

SOCOM has made great strides since1986. Procedures and force postures withinthat headquarters and all component com-mands are much improved.

SOCOM AccomplishmentsPlanning, Programming, and Budgeting

System (PPBS). SOCOM created a PPBS fromscratch which interlocks with the system inthe Pentagon, but SOCOM procedures, un-like those of the Army, Navy, Marine Corps,and Air Force, are joint in every respect.

Inadequate intelligence was an initialimpediment: input was quantitatively andqualitatively poor. Automated data process-ing and dedicated communications werenearly nonexistent and outmoded mapscontained large blank sections or depicted

conditions decades ago. Me-teorological and oceano-graphic intelligence were in-sufficiently specific fordetailed SOF planning.

Prognoses now seembright in most respects, ac-cording to the SOCOM J–2.Interagency cooperation con-

cerning human intelligence (HUMINT) ismuch better since Operation Just Cause(Panama 1989–90). SOCOM is collaboratingwith all the services in efforts to prototypeand test new, lighter, smaller, interoperableintelligence systems needed for the type con-flicts anticipated. The most important initia-tives may reach fruition because SOF intelli-gence programs for FY93 through FY99 arereportedly well supported in the Pentagonand on Capitol Hill.

SOCOM planners, using scenarios andcomputer models, seek to answer four fun-damental questions: how many SOF andsupporting airlift/sealift platforms of whatsort are needed to accomplish anticipatedmissions in specific theaters, subregions,countries, and other areas? What forces will

be available to satisfy in-ferred requirements atparticular times in the fu-ture? What risks result when projected SOFcapabilities appear insufficient? Whatcourses of action might reduce those risks,including actions to employ programmed as-sets more effectively?

The resultant objective force seems atfirst glance to be inconsistent with ongoingefforts to reduce force structures and the de-fense budget. Active SOF personnel strengthscontinue to climb. So do the inventories ofcostly weapon systems, most notably HC–130Combat Shadows, MC–130 Combat Talons,MH–53 Pave Low helicopters, and Cycloneclass coastal patrol ships. Conventional forcesconversely have been declining since the col-lapse of the Soviet Union. Two conditions ex-plain that anomaly, according to SOCOMspokesmen: first, most conventional forcesdeployed primarily to deal with Soviet threatsduring the Cold War while most multipur-pose SOF served diversified purposes and, sec-ond, SOF are still recovering from the periodof neglect that led to the enactment of reme-dial legislation. Programs and budget requestsreflect those realities.

Force Posture Improvements . Betterweapons, equipment, personnel, and inte-grating structures are evident in SOCOM andamong SOF in unified commands. Concen-trated education and training help comman-ders make the most of available assets. Revi-talization continues at modest costcompared with funding for conventionalforces. FY94 budget requests for procure-ment, personnel, operations, maintenance,research, development, test, evaluation, andmilitary construction comprise little morethan one penny out of every DOD dollar.


promotion and advance-ment vary for SOF frombetter than average topoor, depending on rank, service, and specialties

SEAL using a Mark 10ordnance locator tofind a submergedmine.

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All Army and Navy SOF are volunteers.Most demonstrate superior performance dur-ing tours with conventional forces before theyvolunteer. Recruiting practices vary with eachservice (Navy SEALS, for example, take somevolunteers straight from basic training, butArmy SF do not), although standards are uni-formly high. Strict professionalism thereafterprevails. CINCSOC and component comman-ders work hard to eradicate misperceptionsthat Rambo-style snake eaters and reckless,out-of-control individuals typify SOF person-nel because discipline and maturity help makeSOF unique.

Defense publications in the mid-1980sdeplored special operations hardware defi-ciencies. DOD and Congress validated needs,but few funds were forthcoming. “We’ve gotbands that are in a higher state of readinessthan some of our special operations assets,”is the way one Pentagon official put it. Suchdeficiencies have largely been corrected.

Combat readiness is the number onepriority. Highly-motivated professionals,well armed, equipped, and supplied, are es-sential, but proficient units are even moreimportant than skilled individuals. Superior

education and trainingat all levels are key re-quirements.

SOCOM operates itsown school system. TheJohn F. Kennedy SpecialWarfare Center andSchool at Fort Bragg de-velops doctrine and con-ducts courses for allArmy SOF and ForeignArea Officers (FAO). TheNaval Special WarfareCenter at the Amphibi-ous Base Coronado andthe Air Force Special Op-erations School at Hurl-burt Field do likewisewithin their respectivespheres. All instruct for-eign students as well aspersonnel from other de-partments and agencies.Intensive, extensive, anddiversified courses of in-struction cover a wide

range of subjects and scenarios. Members ofsmall, self-contained teams concentrate oncross-training (demolition experts may notbecome fully proficient as radio operators ormedics, but must be qualified to performsuch duties in an emergency). SOCOM alsocultivates linguistic and cross-cultural skills,which many SOF need to accomplish re-gional security missions in an ever morecomplex world. Conventional units do notmatch their competence.

The Army, Navy, and Air Force furnishedall logistic support for SOF before Congresscreated SOCOM. They still provide commonweapons, equipment, supplies, and services,while the Special Operations Forces SupportActivity (SOFSA) has handled low-density,SOF-peculiar needs for the Army since 1988.The Joint Operational Stocks (JOS) Programis a centrally managed repository of someSOF-specific hardware. Its inventory featurescivilian products that have military applica-tions and demand minimum familiarizationbefore use. Off-the-shelf purchases reduceneeds for research, development, test, orevaluation funds.

Residual ProblemsThe office of the ASD (SO/LIC) and

SOCOM still face problems including thefollowing:

SOCOM Battle Staffs. Each SOC currentlyrelies extensively on Reserve componentaugmentation packets for major exercisesand emergencies. All eagerly await the for-mation of SOCOM Battle Staffs.

Two battle rosters list primary and alter-nate active duty personnel who are assignedto SOCOM headquarters. Members of thefirst roster must be ready to deploy within24 hours after notification. They possess op-erations, intelligence, communications, lo-gistics, and other skills that theater SOCs areknown to need most. The maximum num-ber ready to surge is 29. Alternate and se-lected personnel from SOCOM’s componentcommands constitute the second roster,whose members could fill additional re-quests for not more than 29 commissionedand noncommissioned officers. They pre-pare to follow within one week. Anticipatedcapabilities, however, will not be availableuntil SOCOM acquires sufficient weaponsand makes them immediately available foruse by personnel on the two battle rosters.

C o l l i n s

ACRONYMS

AFSOC Air Force Special Operations Command

ASD (SO/LIC) Assistant Secretary of Defense forSpecial Operations and Low Intensity Conflict

CA Civil Affairs

CINCSOC Commander in Chief, U.S. SpecialOperations Command

JSOC Joint Special Operations Command

NAVSPECWARCOM Naval Special WarfareCommand

PSYOP Psychological Operations

SEAL Sea-Air-Land

SF Special Forces

SOC Special Operations Command

SOCCENT Special Operations Command, Central

SOCEUR Special Operations Command, Europe

SOC–K Special Operations Command, Korea

SOCLANT Special Operations Command, Atlantic

SOCOM [U.S.] Special Operations Command

SOCPAC Special Operations Command, Pacific

SOCSOUTH Special Operations Command, South

SOF Special Operations Forces

SOFSA Special Operations Forces Support Activity

SO/LIC Special Operations/Low Intensity Conflict

USASOC U.S. Army Special Operations Command


Career Opportunities. Promotion and ad-vancement vary for SOF personnel from bet-ter than average to poor, depending on pre-sent rank, service idiosyncrasies, andspecialties. Rear admirals, Air Force majorgenerals, Air Force helicopter pilots, andArmy SF officers encounter “glass promotionceilings.” SEALs and Reserve component CAand PSYOP officers, who are few in numberand in constant demand, find little time toattend military schools and colleges. SOF inseveral categories find assignment potentialquite limited. Title 10, U.S. Code, tells CINC-SOC to monitor such matters, which are par-ent service responsibilities, but he has littleability to reverse adverse trends.

SOF-qualified flag officers from a multi-service pool of candidates should ideallycompete for every senior command and staffposition within SOCOM headquarters, com-ponent commands, and theater SOCs. A rel-atively small reservoir now exists, however,partly because SOF generals and admiralsfind it difficult to progress within the special

operations community after they pin onthe first star, partly because non-SOF of-ficers fill many key slots.

Language Training. Many members ofthe Armed Forces are fluent in commonforeign languages such as French, Ger-man, and Spanish. Sufficient numbersare also well qualified SOF. Those whoare conversant in local dialects like Cre-ole, which is common in Haiti, rangefrom few to none. Such problems are

hard to correct. The relevance of programsconducted by the Defense Language Centerat Monterey and the Special Warfare Schoolat Fort Bragg, for example, depend heavilyon requirements that cannot always be pre-dicted by the intelligence community. Egyp-tian and Syrian emerged as the most impor-tant Arabic dialects after the Arab-Israeli Warof 1967. As a result only 16 of the Arabic lin-

guists on active duty (less than onepercent) had studied Iraqi beforeSaddam Hussein invaded Kuwait.No one predicted large-scale SOFemployment in Kurdistan or Soma-lia, where Operations Provide Com-fort and Restore Hope took place.Maintaining language skills is just

as essential as initial learning, but for mostlinguists peak proficiency occurs the daythey receive their diploma. Unrelated mili-tary duties thereafter inhibit furtherprogress.

Civil Affairs. CINCSOC, SOCOM compo-nent commanders, regionally-orientedCINCs, theater SOCs, and their respectivestaffs believe that an undesirable balance ex-ists between active and Reserve componentCA forces, which receive important missionsin almost every contingency plan and are indaily demand. Some 97 percent are Army Re-serve. The one active battalion is chronicallyunder its authorized personnel strength levelof 212 but bears most of the operational load.Theater CINCs repeatedly request Reserves be-cause the 96th CA Battalion cannot be every-where at once and the Reserve componentcontains many CA skills that it cannot repli-cate. It is impractical to call entire Reserveunits when requestors need only a fraction oftheir capabilities. Volunteers, who are notuniversally well qualified, consequently fillmost gaps. Recurrent active duty periods oflong duration, however, cause domestic diffi-culties and jeopardize civilian jobs.

Hardware. The Soviet Union and WarsawPact no longer threaten the United States orits allies, but the SOF community must con-tinually improve (in some cases replace) pre-sent hardware if it is to retain a sharp edgeagainst lesser, unpredictable opponents whoare increasingly able to wage high-tech wars.Critics, however, claim that SOCOM has em-braced research, development, and acquisi-tion (RDA) procedures much like the ser-vices. Guidelines specifically designed to fillsmall inventories expeditiously are insuffi-cient. Links between RDA specialists andSOF users in the field allegedly are loose. Fewprogram managers reportedly possess ade-quate RDA experience; the reverse seemsequally true. The relationships among thestaff elements of SOCOM responsible for re-quirements, resources, and program execu-tion may also need tightening. Programsoverlook some important requirements andprogram cycles are overly long (10–15 yearsfor some aircraft).

Peacetime and Wartime PerformanceSOF have performed admirably during re-

cent years, despite residual problems likethose just discussed. Peacetime engagement is


Air Force SpecialOperations Command(AFSOC)—includesone active SpecialOperations Wing and two Special Operations Groups,one Reserve Special Operations Wing, and one Air NationalGuard Special Operations Group.

SOF are still recover-ing from the neglectthat led to remediallegislation

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Liaising with coalitionforces during Opera-tion Desert Storm.


a prescription for applying po-litical, military, economic,and other instruments of na-tional power to promote re-gional stability, diminishthreats, facilitate combat oper-

ations if deterrence fails, foster post-crisis re-covery, and otherwise enhance U.S. security.Peacetime engagement concepts employ mili-tary forces, but not military force. SOF are es-

pecially well suited, be-cause they deteraggression primarilythrough good deeds,whereas conventionalforces promise militaryretaliation. Low-keySOF maximize U.S. in-

fluence in selected countries through mili-tary-to-military contacts, information pro-grams, and civic actions; minimize prospectsof unpleasant surprise by conducting specialreconnaissance missions; and garner goodwill in the aftermath of natural catastrophesand conflicts by taking care of afflicted peo-ples. The following are some recent employ-ments:

▼ a Special Mission Unit provided counter-terrorism training, equipment, and weapons tosecurity forces in the Republic of Georgia

▼ SOF succored thousands of Kurdish refu-gees along the Iraqi-Turkish border where all but

3 of 250 children declared hopeless by local doc-tors were saved by SOF medics

▼ CA specialists entered Kuwait City on lib-eration day with local counterparts and directeddeliveries of food, water, and medical supplies,then restored health and other public services

▼ SOF medical personnel inoculated 60,000people in Cameroon over a 10-day period duringa meningitis epidemic at a minuscule cost byusing donated American vaccines

▼ SOF in East Africa teach game wardenshow to stop poaching to enhance the political,economic, and social stability of local people whodepend upon tourism for hard currency

▼ Russian speaking SOF facilitated safe pas-sage for U.S. military cargo aircraft flying throughrestricted air corridors during Operation ProvideHope to deliver food and medicine within theCommonwealth of Independent States

▼ SOF assisted relief efforts in Bangladeshafter Cyclone Marian, and performed similar dutyin Dade County, Florida, following Hurricane An-drew.

SOF combat operations in Grenada(1983), Panama (1989–90), and Kuwait/Iraq(1990–91) displayed other capabilities; forcescommitted to Desert Storm performed allten statutory missions with positive results.

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Joint Special Operations Command (JSOC)—serves as astanding Joint SpecialOperations Task Force responsible forspecial missions planning, training, tactics, and equipmentdevelopment.

SOF deter aggression primarilythrough good deeds, whereas conventional forces promise military retaliation

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AC–130 Spectre crewloading a 40mm Bofors cannon.

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Air Force AC–130Spectre.

SOF often are employable wherehigh-profile conventional forcesare politically, militarily, and/oreconomically inappropriate


As a consequence SOF are in demand inpeace as well as war, and the potential forovercommitment is constant. Since the rootcause is too few forces for too many tasks, se-nior officials would be well advised to exer-cise restraint in employing SOF.

Future EffectivenessSOF could contribute even more effec-

tively to U.S. military capabilities if decision-makers along the chain of command cor-rected shortcomings within their respectivespheres of influence. The suggested actionslisted below address serious deficiencies.

The President might:▼ establish a board on the National Security

Council to guide, integrate, and otherwise focusall SO/LIC efforts within the U.S. Government.

Congress might:▼ establish special operations panels or sub-

committees on the Senate and the House ArmedServices Committees to facilitate oversight

▼ authorize a three-star deputy CINCSOCand also allocate one star to each theater SOC; alarger pool of well qualified candidates thereaftercould compete for senior command and staff as-signments within SOCOM

▼ authorize additional active duty CA units▼ relax some existing research, develop-

ment, and acquisition regulations to make SOF-peculiar systems more responsive.

The Secretary of Defense might:▼ nominate a special operations practi-

tioner as the ASD (SO/LIC) and a SOF-qualifiedindividual as principal deputy

▼ direct the Secretary of the Air Force andthe Chief of Staff, U.S. Air Force, to furnishSOCOM with seasoned SOF.

The Chairman, Joint Chiefs of Staff, might:▼ act as a proponent for SOF▼ direct service schools and colleges to

strengthen curricula so that future commandersand their staffs more accurately appreciate the ca-pabilities and limitations of SOF.

Theater commanders in chief, who employ mostSOF that SOCOM organizes, equips, trains,and provides, might:

▼ use shorthanded SOF less liberally if theyinterpreted requirements as Title 10 intended; hu-manitarian and search and rescue missions thenwould call for SOF only insofar as they relate to spe-cial operations.

PrognosisThe Honorable John O. Marsh, Jr., when

he was Secretary of the Army and soon toserve simultaneously as acting ASD (SO/LIC),opined that “failure in the past to link spe-cial operations with national strategythrough the Defense Guidance—and therebyto develop doctrine—has prevented specialoperations . . . from gaining permanence andacceptability within the ranks of the mili-tary.” That deficiency has been corrected. In-stitutional changes are essentially complete,but military culture is changing more slowly.Mutual distrust and misunderstandings stillseparate conventional forces from SOF. Notmany of the former fully understand SOF ca-pabilities and limitations. Too few specialoperations specialists have enough Pentagonexperience to make the system work forthem instead of against them. SOF con-stituencies on Capitol Hill, in the services,and across the industrial sector remain scantand tenuous. Appropriate acceptance of SOFconsequently will come only after all partiesconcerned complete a learning process andput doctrine into practice. JFQ


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Door gunner keepingwatch from a MH–60Lhelicopter.


Successfully developing effective mili-tary capabilities is not unlike solvingRubik’s Cube. If individual service as-sets and strengths are represented by

the squares of a cube, then solving the puzzleinvolves long periods of adjusting military ca-pabilities to reach the optimum configura-tion. In the wake of the Gulf War many be-lieve that the Armed Forces resemble a

completed puzzle, one that took decades tosolve but that now fits together as tightly asthe classic paradigm of a cube. What actuallyoccurred was that the puzzle was overtakenby technological breakthroughs and the rushof world events. The result is the advent ofthe kind of turmoil that disrupts the estab-lished order and presents the military profes-sional with yet another puzzle to solve.

The Gulf War not only marked a watershed in modern joint and combined operations, but also ushered in another, new type of warfare that is influenced by the course of emerging technology and the pace of worldevents. Like changes that have followed the development of new weapons throughout military history, doctrine and strategy are undergoing a revolution in the wake of the greatly enhanced stealth, precision, andlethality of fielded systems. As a result, commanders can anticipate that operations will almost always be joint,that distinctions between the strategic and tactical levels will blur, that new centers of gravity will emerge, andthat the combat area will be more complex and difficult to delineate. These changes require redefining campaigns and campaign phasing, interdiction, maneuver, close air support, and other time-honored terms.

Summary

Joint Warfare

By F R E D E R I C K R. S T R A I N

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F–117A stealth aircrafton the flight line atLangley Air ForceBase, Virginia.U.S. Air Force

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A 25-mile radius radarused to alert surface-to-air missiles and anti-aircraft guns.


There have been other occasions in mili-tary history when one puzzle was sup-planted by another, particularly as the resultof technological developments.1 The intro-duction of the machine gun, tank, airplane,submarine, atomic bomb, and ICBM allcaused the Armed Forces to readjust theirdoctrine to meet fresh challenges. More re-cent innovations brought about stealth, pre-cision, lethality, and surveillance systemsthat portend other revolutionary changes inmilitary capabilities.

The United States decided to activelypursue particular technologies over the lasttwenty-five years to provide the ArmedForces with distinct military advantages.Even though the services worked to bringabout this dramatic shift in the puzzle,many appear surprised by the outcome. Thissituation highlights the need to develop newdoctrines and strategies that fully recognizeand support the spectacular changes thathave occurred. The services must dedicatethemselves to solving the puzzle. We mustalso determine if the puzzle is still a cube orwhether it has taken on another form bettersuited to the new environment. What arethe changes in the paradigm?

Future Operations Will Be JointMilitary history is replete with accounts

of campaigns and battles involving partici-pation by only one service. In the newparadigm it is difficult to envision any pointon the conflict spectrum where a single ser-vice would be committed alone. In the newjoint warfare it is very likely that

▼ naval armadas will do battle on the highseas together with long-range bombers armedwith Harpoon missiles

▼ operations against enemy land forces willinvolve sea-launched or air-launched, stand-offspecialized anti-armor munitions as well as moreconventional artillery

▼ air battles will involve theater ballisticmissile defense systems launched by land forcesor from off the decks of specialized naval vesselsas well as the commitment of aircraft

▼ even relatively small, covert special opera-tions will involve space-based communications

and be supported by sea or air insertion and re-covery of mission personnel.

The first postulate of the new warfare isthat the services fight and operate jointly.Even lesser contingencies in the future willalmost always involve materiel, C4I, or trans-port from more than one service. Militaryprofessionals must learn to appreciateemerging service capabilities and organize,train, and equip to optimize the employ-ment of decisive joint force.

Strategy and TacticsDistinctions between the strategic and

the tactical levels of war are no longer clear.Nowhere is this lack of clarity more pro-nounced than in designating weapon sys-tems. Long-range bombers destroy groundforces along the forward line of troops asshort-range fighters attack and destroy oil re-fineries. Army helicopters hit strategic air de-fense control centers as Navy cruise missilesdesigned for fighting nuclear wars disableelectrical grids with specialized payloads.Those who remain prone to “old think” failto recognize how technology now enablesall combat systems and elements to becomestrategic or tactical depending on their in-tended objective.

The distinction between strategic andtactical targets is also undergoing change.Influenced by waning doctrine associatedwith the Single Integrated Operational Plan(SIOP) and Cold War, military planners havelost track of the fact that the distinction re-lates to a target’s impact on the CINC’s ob-jective rather than to the nature of the targetitself. Thus communication nets, fieldedforces, oil refineries, and vehicles have astrategic or tactical implication dependingon the desired outcome.

New Centers of GravityThe principle of attacking key centers of

gravity (COGs) to quickly achieve an objec-tive is as old as war itself and is taught ateach level of Professional Military Education.Unfortunately, traditional COGs may havelittle impact on the outcome of future con-flicts. Global economic and informationalinterdependencies, for example, suggest newcenters of gravity that strategists must con-sider. These COGs require the military to de-velop and exploit new ways to attack keypoints. Destroying or interdicting an en-

Lieutenant Colonel Frederick R. Strain, USAF, serves in theStrategic Planning Division, Office of the Deputy Chief ofStaff for Plans and Operations, Headquarters, Department ofthe Air Force. A master navigator, his operational assign-ments have been in B–52 and B–1 bombers.

J O I N T W A R F A R E


emy’s economic infrastructure by computerintrusion may be just as valid as an ap-proach to warfare by the year 2000 as strate-gic bombing is today.

Redefining the Combat EdgeTechnology remains the major driving

force behind the changing limits of the com-bat area. When soldiers lined up abreast andmaneuvered with spears and shields insweeping formations to flank an opponent,commanders needed only to primarily con-sider the breadth of battle. With the adventof artillery, the depth of the battle area (evenon the seas) became an important considera-tion in the development of doctrine, strat-egy, and tactics. Fewer than twenty yearsafter the first flight of the Wright brothers,the battle area had a significant, expandedvertical dimension. Most professionals rec-ognize current technology is once again dra-matically expanding the range of theseboundaries. The breadth, depth, and heightof the battle area now encompasses the en-tire globe and extends well into space. Therequirement for global situational awarenessis more critical than ever before.

The new paradigm points to revolution-ary change in the way we think about thebattle area. Time—the fourth dimension—may become the paramount factor in mod-ern combat. Prior to the new warfare mili-tary leaders measured time (in combatterms) by weeks, months, or even years of

operations. The luxury ofhaving the time to think,plan, and react stemmedfrom the limitations onphysical movement ofcombat forces. It took

time for soldiers to march, vessels to transit,and aircraft to deploy, as well as for com-manders to gather and assess intelligence.

Ballistic missiles, jet aircraft, hovercraft,and turbocharged light vehicles are charac-teristic of the new environment. As empha-sized in Joint Warfare of the U.S. Armed Forces(Joint Pub 1), “Crises may unfold rapidly,and critical engagements may occur with lit-tle time to prepare.” The commander can nolonger afford the luxury of thinking in termsof days, weeks, or months to phase cam-paigns or move forces. The need to identify,target, and attack in near real-time is now a

fact of life. Modern war-fare demands graspingmassive theater-scale op-erations on a minute-by-minute basis. The possi-bility of a potentialadversary launching bal-listic missiles compressesthe decision cycle evenfurther and dramaticallyemphasizes the point.

Aside from the characteristics of newweapon systems, two additional factors influ-ence the criticality of time in the newparadigm. The growing sensitivity of theAmerican public to combat losses suggeststhat civilian leaders will tend to measure fu-ture acceptable levels of U.S. casualties indozens rather than thousands of lives. The GulfWar set a standard in this regard that could bedifficult to meet in future conflicts unless cer-tain technological advantages are pursued. Inorder to minimize casualties, the ArmedForces must deliver the full range of combatpower quickly and decisively. Moreover, pro-longed conflicts make it far more difficult tomaintain political-military coalitions whichare becoming increasingly important andcomplex in the new environment.

The New Battle AreaThe ability to conduct simultaneous op-

erations across the depth, breadth, andheight of the combat area compels militaryprofessionals to change their perspective.The traditional reliance on finely drawnlines on charts must be challenged in orderto fully realize the potential of emergingcombat systems. Among the questions thatmust be asked are:

▼ Will future naval commanders responsi-ble for destroyers with cruise missiles capable ofstriking ground targets a thousand miles awayunderstand the new battle area? Will the missilesrecognize Forward Support Control Lines (FSCLs)drawn on a chart or the significant maneuver byfriendly forces that has occurred since launch? Ifnot, how can combat power at the disposal ofcommanders be effectively advocated and inte-grated into useful operations?

▼ Will Army company commanders incharge of new fire systems with ranges of 200 kmfully understand the integration of weapon sys-tems into strategic targeting plans? If not, howcan commanders begin to think about improvingdoctrine, strategy, and tactics?

S t r a i n

the need to identify, target,and attack in near real-timeis now a fact of life

A Marine Corps F–18fighter firing aSidewinder missile.

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New capabilities may not be able to op-erate within the confines of old doctrinalpatterns if there is a true desire to optimizeutility and exploit synergy. Joint Force Com-manders (JFCs) will need new ways in the fu-ture to undelineate the battlefield and moreeffectively integrate and control service ca-pabilities. Creative doctrines and strategiesmust emerge, and the vision of commandersmust begin to be expanded at all levels.

Old Definitions/New ParadigmPart of the inability of the services to

fully participate in creative discussions aboutthe new joint warfare is the inability tobreak with definitions belonging to the oldmodel. Hidebound ideas that link certainterminology, weaponry, and/or services in-hibit desperately needed innovation.

Campaigns and campaign phasing. Histor-ically the term campaign meant a series ofmilitary operations directed by a comman-der in chief to achieve specific objectives.The campaign is composed of phases thatmatch particular elements of combat poweragainst sub-objectives. Each phase estab-lishes the requisite environment or condi-tions for the next operation. Developingcampaign plans designed to “peel theonion” layer by layer to get to the center ofgravity is old thinking. That syndrome oftencrops up in doctrinal debates and is rootedin the mistaken notion that war continuesto resemble giant Napoleonic battles of yore.It envisions masses of Americans fighting

masses of enemy troops in bloody combat,battling their way to the enemy’s capital inorder to eventually convince their leadersthat further resistance is futile.

The new paradigm suggests that simul-taneity or what some theorists call simulta-neous or parallel warfare (as opposed to se-rial warfare) is key to future operations. Old-style serial warfare is illustrated by the wayair forces struck targets during World War IIwhen commanders massed hundreds ofbombers and dropped thousands of bombsagainst a single important target. The nextday they did the same thing against a sec-ond target; and on the third day yet anothertarget was hit. It did not take long before theenemy realized that on the following day afourth target would be struck. By the tenthday the first target was repaired and opera-tional again. Serial warfare on land, at sea,and in the air was necessary to achieve themass needed to destroy a particular target.

The Gulf War demonstrated it is nowpossible to simultaneously strike hundredsof key targets through the careful integrationof land, sea, and air capabilities. The result isthe strategic, operational, and tactical paral-ysis of an enemy in a brief period of time:that ability to bring down the hammer inone gigantic crushing blow is the new jointwarfare. In this respect using the term cam-paign to denote carefully sequenced activities

Refueling M–1 Abramstank during OperationDesert Shield.

Marines unloading aLanding Craft AirCushion (LCAC–22) in Somalia.

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over a prolonged period of time may nolonger be valid. The advent of parallel war-fare dramatically reduces the time requiredto achieve objectives. The net result is thatfuture JFCs can pursue multiple objectives si-multaneously. For all practical purposes tran-sitions between campaign phases may occurso quickly that one might consider eachcampaign as consisting of only a singlephase. If so, are there still traditional cam-paigns or should a new term be coined andadded to the military lexicon?

Interdiction. Impeding, hindering, or iso-lating by firepower (typically using short-range aviation or submarines) is the tradi-tional form of interdiction. This olddefinition, however, is no longer sufficientfor the new joint warfare and changing bat-tle environment. Service capabilities nowprovide for interdiction by computer, elec-tronic warfare, electromagnetic pulse, psy-chological operations, and a host of otheremerging means of denial.

Furthermore, planners have historicallyviewed interdiction as a function that sup-ports the CINC. But consider the emergingparadigm: could not technology provide in-terdiction capabilities so complete and ef-fective (read operationally paralyzing) that anopponent recognizes the futility of continu-ing? That was hardly the case in World WarII, Korea, or even Vietnam. The high vol-ume of munitions required to strike individ-ual targets—due to weapon inaccuracy—could not support effective, wide-scale

interdiction.2 If it is now becoming possibleto achieve operational paralysis quickly,then interdiction could conceivably becomethe JFC’s primary strategy.

There is also a danger in believing thatinterdiction is more effective if segmented ordivided into geographic regions or areas ofresponsibility.3 Interdiction must occurquickly and decisively across the depth,breadth, and heightof the modern battlearea to fully exploitits synergistic effect.This means control-ling interdiction atcommand levels re-sponsible for theater-wide activities. Allowing control of interdic-tion activities to reside at a lower echelon ofcommand—or excluding certain capabilitiesbecause of service-unique positions—willlikely result in missed opportunities and themisuse of integrated land, sea, air, space, andspecial operations forces.

Maneuver. A principle of war generallyassociated with mass movement, maneuvermay become less important in the new bat-tle area. First, being able to see the entirebattle area (using JSTARS, AWACS, andemerging space systems) provides JFCs withopportunities to optimize movement. Com-manders will move smaller and smaller ele-ments of very lethal systems to counter

Combat informationcenter aboard the aircraft carrier USSConstellation.

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interdiction mustoccur quickly anddecisively acrossthe battle area


larger, less capable enemy forces. This willavoid wasted movement of excess force andthereby negate the need for increasinglycomplex logistical support. The intricatechallenge of keeping fuel flowing to speed-ing heavy vehicles for the ground assaultduring Operation Desert Storm, for example,portends the problems traditional weaponsystems have in the new battle area.

Second, events in the modern battle areacould happen so quickly there will be scanttime to react, let alone to plan and executemass maneuver. The battle area of the future

will be the domain oflighter, faster, more lethalland, sea, and air vehicles.The expanded nature ofthe combat area almostprecludes moving tradi-tional systems far enoughand quickly enough to

keep pace with the tempo of widely-dis-persed geographic operations. A major chal-lenge to future JFCs is the ability to providereal-time command and control for small,combined elements of extremely lethal forcesmoving throughout the battle area at break-neck speed. The famous left hook duringDesert Storm (involving almost 50,000 vehi-cles) may have been the last major large-scalemaneuver of its kind.

Finally, developing long-range groundand naval fires and exploiting air-launchedstand-off weapons could diminish the needto maneuver for close-in engagements asenemy ground, naval, and air forces are de-stroyed at greater and greater distances. As-suming strong defensive positions—as moreadvanced semi-autonomous weapons sys-tems begin to dot the battle area—could bethe most advantageous tactic of the future.

Maneuver in the new joint warfare fo-cuses on maneuvering technologicalstrengths against an adversary’s weaknessesto minimize casualties and shorten the con-flict. The speed, precision, and increasedlethality of emerging weapons will allowcommanders the opportunity to concentrateon maneuvering smaller and smaller forces:single ships instead of armadas, companiesin place of battalions, and one stealth air ve-hicle instead of dozens of traditional aircraft.

Fire Support Control Lines (FSCLs). Asmentioned previously, the notion of two di-mensional lines on charts as absolute delin-eators of responsibility has to be revised. Tra-ditional means of command and controlcannot keep abreast with the rapid pace ofoperations in the new joint warfare. As at-tention focuses on the development and em-ployment of smaller, lighter, faster, but morelethal weapon systems, JFCs must conceivenew methods of deconflicting ground,naval, and air forces. Since the only com-mon point of reference available to all typesof forces is time (provided by synchronizedspace satellites), the new boundaries, per-haps drawn in time, will serve as the divid-ing lines of the future. Centralized com-mand and control of targeting under theJoint Force Air Component Commander(JFACC) is only the first step in a processthat must exploit new technologies. Eventu-ally communication and computer systemsshould automatically deconflict combinedfires and optimize target-attack sequences bysending signals across the battle area that in-hibit or enable weapon systems based uponreal-time feedback.

Close Air Support. Another term of artthat requires revision as technology changesthe battle area is Close Air Support (CAS)which traditionally meant aircraft attackingenemy ground forces in close proximity tofriendly troops. The support involved bothpreplanned and immediate requirements,yet recently the focus tends to be almost ex-clusively on the immediate. An aircraft haseven been designed exclusively to performthis mission. With the development of im-proved guidance and fire control systems,support to forces engaged close-in can be ac-complished just as easily with new forms ofartillery, both air- and surface-launchedstand-off weapons that disperse cluster andanti-armor munitions, and emerging non-lethal technologies.

Once again each of the services can con-tribute to these requirements in the new bat-tle area. The true key to success in futurejoint warfare is to provide forces with suffi-cient indigenous lethality so that immediateCAS is rarely needed. The generic term usedfor such support should be simply close sup-port which more accurately reflects thechanging nature of weapon systems that


no single weapon or forcereaches its full potential unless employed with com-plementary capabilities


conceivably could deliver munitions orother payloads from land, sea, or air.

These are just a few of the terms anddefinitions that must be recast in light of thenew joint warfare. They also reveal some ofthe basic elements of this warfare.

Fundamentals of the New WarfareThe first basic element of the new war-

fare is the axiom that the whole is greaterthan the sum of its parts. While technologycan provide unprecedented military capabili-ties, no single weapon or force reaches itsfull potential unless employed with comple-mentary capabilities. The military profes-sional should recognize the increasing syner-gism of modern forces. In particular, JointForce Commanders (JFCs) must be cognizantof individual service capabilities and en-abling characteristics needed to carefully or-chestrate quick, decisive actions. The abilityto orchestrate force capabilities to achieve de-sired results is the key to success. It does notmatter if a symphony conductor onceplayed the flute; the only allegiance is to thestrength and power of the synergism.

Complementary operations are necessaryfor any future success. JFCs must form theteam so that the appropriate players are inthe line-up and ensure the game plan suitsthe operation. In the new paradigm, it is im-portant that JFCs select the key force requiredto spearhead efforts. That force is the mili-tary capability with the greatest potential

impact on events. This con-cept goes well beyond desig-nating a particular service asthe key force. In the newwarfare special forces or psy-chological operations mayhave as much impact on the

outcome as traditional combat elements.The key force requires full and unequivocalsupport from all force elements. The forcedesignated by JFCs may vary in each newscenario.

Another element of new doctrinal devel-opment is organizing to win. Relationshipsthat exist only in crises have proven to beless and less effective over time. Commandrelationships of the past cannot be relied onto continue to work in the future. It is neces-sary to pioneer new command structures forpeacetime as well as periods of crisis.

Conflict has achieved truly global propor-tions. It is difficult to envision any scenarioaffecting only the United States. Because ofAmerican troop withdrawals from aroundthe world, conflicts will be fought at greaterdistances than in the past. This fact requiresclose cooperation with allied and friendly na-tions for the use of sovereign airspace, transitof waterways, and benefit of temporary bas-ing facilities. Practically all military scenariosenvision political support of allies and otherinternational partners. Greater participationby coalitions in conflicts and operations canbe expected. This puts greater emphasis onthe expanding role of combined training andexercises. Not only must joint doctrine be ca-pable of accommodating new technologyand exploiting service capabilities, but itmust be intelligible to both allies and coali-tion partners. Absent from the current debateare serious questions about improving com-bined operations. How would Thai forces useU.S. space assets during coalition action?How would U.S. forces exploit future Japa-nese assets? These are important issues forthe new joint warfare.

Post-conflict operations in the new jointwarfare environment are almost as impor-tant as combat itself. Protecting refugees,fostering fledgling regimes, providing hu-manitarian assistance, and enforcing peaceaccords are all necessary to ensure stabilityin today’s world.

The Challenge for CommandersEffective command and control of the

most capable military force in history is adaunting task. Not only must JFCs com-pletely understand the synergetic effect ofan increasing range of service capabilities,but designated commanders must be en-abling forces themselves. JFCs must have au-thority to direct all available assets at theirdisposal and the ability to create cohesiveteams. Any attempt to undermine or dilutethe principle of unity of command by claim-ing service-unique doctrinal exemptions iscounterproductive to the new joint warfare.

Future battle within the new paradigmis more than a team effort. Most team mem-bers tend to come together and put asidetheir individual differences only for the biggame, then they part company and revivepersonal animosities. Resulting friction onthe sidelines eventually manifests itself on

S t r a i n

claiming service-uniquedoctrinal exemptions iscounterproductive to thenew joint warfare


the field, thereby denigrating the entireteam’s effectiveness. The challenge is to de-velop a force that respects the strengths ofall its components and appreciates the judg-ment of its JFC.

The delegation of authority is one of thecornerstones of modern warfare. While itmay seem at odds with the principle of unityof command, it really is an indication of thelevel of trust and confidence that JFCs placein the ability of their subordinate comman-ders to accomplish objectives.

The selection of the key force for a partic-ular operation gets increasingly difficult, butit is nonetheless important. Decisions regard-ing the key force will affect many factors in

the new environment. Itdetermines reaction time,how much and what typeof force to unleash, thedegree of lethality toapply, how fast an adver-sary can be defeated, thekind of targets to attack,and the level of casualtiesthat can be sustained.More importantly, whenJFCs select the principalcombat capability they

determine which force will receive the prior-ity allocation of resources.

The command relationships evolvingfrom designation of the key force have cometo be known as the supported and the support-ing forces. The new joint warfare recognizesthat these designations are not indicators ofpopularity. No negative connotations attachto being designated a supporting force ingiven operations. The supported commandermust be generally able to direct the key forceenabled by the complementary capabilitiesof other components. Such command rela-tionships vary from one scenario to another,and even within particular operations.

Targeting in the new paradigm also de-serves a fresh look. Traditional methods ofselecting and attacking targets may not beeffective in the emerging technological envi-ronment. The requirement to identify, tar-get, and destroy mobile missile launchers inOperation Desert Storm suggests the kind ofchallenge that JFCs will face in the future.Moreover, the significance of a given targetvis-á-vis the objective must be better under-stood. For example, destroying an industrial

target as part of an effort to achieve strategicparalysis may severely affect the ability of anenemy to recover economically in the post-war period (which could have significant po-litical implications).

Expanded intelligence gathering andanalysis are critical to an economy of effort.Disabling attacks on targets, identifiedthrough careful nodal analysis, can enhanceoperations by strategically and operationallyparalyzing an enemy. With fewer resourcesJFCs must be able to strike hard and fast atthe correct targets, with little waste of effort.Advance analyses of key political, economic,military, and infrastructure targets are criti-cal to reacting quickly and decisively. Fur-thermore, the rapid pace of modern jointoperations requires the targeting cycle tohave near real-time capability, with theadded requirement that target data be dis-seminated in a form common to all forces.

Success in the new joint warfare requireseach team member to recognize significantshifts in technology, appreciate the syner-gism of capabilities, and develop innovativedoctrine and strategy to take advantage ofthese conditions. Undoubtedly there will bechallenges that confront JFCs in the newjoint warfare. But force integration is not anissue to take up on the eve of battle. It mustbe realized prior to a crisis by developing andadopting common joint doctrine, and alsoby appreciating the effort involved in onceagain solving the puzzle of Rubick’s Cube. JFQ

N O T E S

1 See Anthony H. Cordesman, Compensating forSmaller Forces: Adjusting Ways and Means Through Tech-nology (Carlisle Barracks, Pennsylvania: U.S. Army WarCollege, 1992).

2 In World War II it took 9,070 bombs dropped by anarmada of B–17s to ensure a 90 percent probability ofkill (PK) against a single 60-foot by 100-foot building.By the time of the Vietnam conflict, 176 bombs were re-quired. Today it takes only one precision guided bombto achieve the same PK. (Data courtesy of the StrategicPlanning Division, Headquarters, U.S. Air Force.)

3 For a discussion of the historical lessons learned,see Wesley Frank Craven and James Lee Cate, editors,The Army Air Forces in World War II, Volume 2, Europe:Torch to Pointblank, August 1942 to December 1943(Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1949), p. 28 ff.


Hawk missile systemon an XM501 E–3loader transporter.

U.S

. A

rmy

(Sam

uel D

. H

enry

)


Despite the profound impact of air-power on the course and outcomeof the Gulf War, its employmenthas not escaped controversy. The

coalition quickly cleared the skies of Iraqi air-craft, neutralized Iraqi medium and high alti-tude air defenses, brought Iraq’s entire com-mand structure and military under attack,and systematically struck at the Iraqi fieldarmy in the Kuwait theater of operations. As aresult, the campaign culminated in a brief,overwhelming ground offensive over a de-moralized and shattered Iraqi army. Still,there were doubts concerning airpower’s con-tributions and effectiveness. Controversy

arose during the war over the accuracy of offi-cial claims regarding the numbers of Iraqitanks and mobile Scuds destroyed by air at-tack. After the war there were attempts by air-power enthusiasts to view the bombing as theharbinger of a new era of precision attacksfrom the air while skeptics argued that bomb-ing had been far less accurate than claimed,overzealous in its pursuit of fleeing Iraqitroops, or wanton in its unnecessary destruc-tion of Iraq’s civil infrastructure. These vari-ous claims drew on evidence that came inmany forms: the accounts by participants (in-cluding pilot reports) and by visitors to Iraqboth during and after the war, prisoner of war

SURVEYING

GULF WARAIRPOWERBy T H O M A S A. K E A N E Y

Airpower dominated the Gulf War, but what did it accomplish? How successful were coalition air attacksagainst specific target sets—from Iraq’s nuclear weapons facilities and mobile Scuds to its tanks in the Kuwaittheater? The information gathered during the course of a survey commissioned by the Secretary of the AirForce confirms the dominant role of airpower while illustrating that the indirect rather than the direct effectsof bombing were perhaps of more importance. Moreover, it is apparent from the results of this survey that inaccuracies are inherent in wartime assessments and that one must contend with incomplete knowledge of the target base and enemy countermeasures. Even in a conflict of short duration when many collection measures are employed, the problems of assessing (not measuring) operational and strategic effectiveness remain as difficult, controversial, and afflicted by subjectivity as they have in wars of the past.

Summary

F–14A Tomcat fromUSS John F. Kennedyrefueling from KC–10AExtender.

U.S

. N

avy

(Dav

e P

arso

ns)

Hardened shelter at Al Jaber Air Base,Kuwait, hit by laser-guided bombs.

DOD

0602 Keaney 3/3/04 8:35 AM Page 25


interrogations, and still photography andvideotape of targets either destroyed or underattack. Discounting claims by those who sim-ply marshalled evidence in support of theirown agendas, there still appeared to be credi-ble evidence that documented diverse inter-pretations of what bombing had or had notaccomplished. What appeared to be a short,clear-cut victory with airpower playing a lead-ing if not dominant role became another bat-tleground for competing sets of data and con-trasting interpretations of events. This laterbattleground centered on the difficult prob-lem of damage assessment, particularly theproper measures of the damage.

Shortly after the conflict in the Gulf,then Secretary of the Air Force Donald Riceinitiated a comprehensive survey of air-power employment in an attempt to sortout varying interpretations of its role andeffectiveness during the war. Part of this sur-vey—in which the author participated—ad-dressed the effectiveness of coalition bomb-ing.1 Judgments made in the course of thatsurvey and experience gained in analyzing

divergent data and differing interpretationsof the air campaign form the basis of this ar-ticle. In brief, research for the survey in-volved three steps: understanding whathappened as the result of bomb or missileattacks, determining the proper measure-ment of the result, and then relating causeand effect—how actions or results achievedobjectives of air attacks. It may be useful tobegin with some concrete examples of thecomplexity of such assessments.

First, consider the evidence available in aphotograph of a destroyed tank or aircraft. Ifthe tank’s turret has been blown off the hullor the aircraft reduced to rubble, then the as-sessment of results is easy: the equipment isunusable. Next, consider the evidence of aphoto of a command bunker or aircraft shel-ter with a hole in the roof of the kind com-monly made by a precision-guided bombwith a hard-target-penetrating warhead. Al-though the bomb obviously hit the target,did it penetrate into and detonate in the in-terior? And if so, was the structure occupiedat the time? The problematic answers tothese questions make assessing what hap-pened far more difficult than in the initialcase. Finally, consider a situation where thereis no photo, only a pilot report claiming thatan Iraqi tank or hardened aircraft shelter washit with a precision-guided bomb. Uncer-tainty surrounding such results is evengreater than in the second case. While some-what idealized all these cases suggest experi-ences during and after the Gulf War that con-fronted analysts attempting to answer themost basic of questions: what happened? Inmany instances more authoritative datawhich corrected earlier impressions becameavailable only after the war.

Taking the next step, determining what tomeasure, requires a knowledge of the objec-tives sought by the attacks. Not only do num-bers or pictures fail to speak for themselves,they might not be the correct numbers or pic-tures. Consider, for example, a comparison ofIraqi and coalition aircraft shot down as ameasure of the effectiveness of the air forcesinvolved, a common indicator used in pastwars to determine the performance of oppos-ing air forces. The scorecard would read 33Iraqi aircraft to 38 coalition, which in isola-tion suggests a slight advantage in Iraq’s favor.On the other hand the coalition scored 33-to-1 in air-to-air combat, and fixed-wing aircraft

Thomas A. Keaney teaches in the Department of MilitaryStrategy and Operations at the National War College. Aformer B–52 squadron commander, he is the co-author of tworeports published as part of the Gulf War Air Power Survey.

Map courtesy of the Central Intelligence Agency.

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flew some 69,000 shooter sorties to an estimateof fewer than 500 for Iraq. Notwithstanding acoalition/Iraqi combat-loss ratio of 33-to-38,the figures indicate that coalition air forceshad overwhelming ratios in air-to-air combatand shooter sorties. This illustrates an extremecase, but it also demonstrates the importanceof selecting proper measures as well as the easewith which legitimate evidence can be used tosupport widely differing interpretations ofwhat happened. In the end, measurementmeans little until a sensible and reasonablybroad set of measures has been selected.

The third step, determining what thedata means, is related closely to the secondin that the requirement is to show how re-sults relate to attaining objectives. In thisstep one must deal with a hierarchy of objec-tives: from the tactical (destroying tanks) tohigher levels (preventing an armored attackor degrading the combat capability of a divi-sion or corps). Also note that tactical mea-sures of effects are usually more easily tabu-lated and understood than operational-levelmeasures—one can count tanks but how isdivisional degradation quantified? As a re-sult, quite often operational-level objectivesare presumed to be a direct function of tacti-cal damage assessments. That match is notalways improper but, as illustrated by thecase of aggregate combat losses due to en-emy air defenses as a measure of air suprem-acy, it can be extremely misleading.

Before discussing the assessments, itseems appropriate to provide a brief summaryof the operational objectives for the air cam-paign found in the Operation Desert Stormplan: (1) isolate and incapacitate the Iraqiregime by attacks on leadership facilities, elec-tric power production, and telecommunica-tions; (2) gain and maintain air supremacy byattacks on the air defense system and the airforce; (3) destroy nuclear, biological, andchemical warfare (NBC) capabilities; (4) elimi-nate offensive military capabilities by attackson logistical sites, Scud missiles and launch-ers, oil refining and distribution facilities, andnaval forces and bases; and (5) render theIraqi army ineffective and isolate it in theKuwait theater by attacks on railroads andbridges and on the units themselves, particu-larly the Republican Guard. To attain theseobjectives planners identified twelve targetsets, all of which are listed above in the con-text of the objectives sought.2

Command of the AirThe contest for command of the air over

Iraq and the Kuwait theater revealed the dif-ficulty of measuring effectiveness. In themost complex operations of the war thecoalition initiated the air offensive by takingdown the command and control of the Iraqiair defense network, bottling up Iraqi aircrafton their bases, and suppressing radar-guidedsurface-to-air missiles (SAMs) through a com-bination of drone decoys and anti-radiationmissiles employed against SAM radar sites.The results were spectacular in terms of whatcoalition aircraft were subsequently able toaccomplish offensively and with slight losses:except for low-altitude antiaircraft artilleryand infrared SAMs in a few highly defendedareas too numerous to destroy wholesale,coalition aircraft gained relatively unim-peded freedom of action throughout the the-ater. Since the Iraqis probably never intendedto contest air superiority even over Iraq itselfat the risk of losing their modern fixed-wingaircraft, bottling them up in supposedlybomb-proof shelters was relatively easy. Thecrux of the coalition air-control problem laythen in taking radar-guided SA–2s, SA–3s,SA–6/8s, and Rolands out of the fight early inthe campaign, a goal achieved as much byintimidation as by destruction. A pivotalmeasure in this regard was the lack of successrecorded by Iraqi radar-guided SAMs in dam-aging or downing coalition aircraft despitethe large number of coalition fixed-wing sor-ties flown daily. Iraqi radar SAMs damaged ordestroyed eight coalition fighters in the firstsix days of Operation Desert Storm and, forthe remaining five weeks of the war, theywere only able to hit another five coalitionaircraft.

With ground-based defenses suppressed,attention shifted to Iraqi aircraft and an in-teresting complication that had developed:Iraq decided to fly few sorties, sensing theodds and apparently planning to have its air-craft ride out the war in hardened shelters.More traditional measures of attacking anenemy air force, and of estimating success,had to be rethought. Airfield attacks hadbegun by targeting runway surfaces in orderto limit takeoffs to numbers that coalitionfighters could handle, but moved to hard-ened aircraft shelters when it was decided toeliminate the Iraqi air force’s residual capabil-ity. At this point, further attacks on runways

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ceased to be necessary; in fact the plan be-came one of attempting to lure Iraqi aircraftinto the air. The measurable tactical effectswere as follows: of the nearly 600 hardenedshelters, some 375 were destroyed by coali-tion aircraft during the war. While some air-craft were without doubt destroyed in shel-ters, many more either attempted to flee toIran or were dispersed in the open in Iraq,both on and off airfields. In either place theybecame of little use as a fighting force. As aresult, by war’s end Iraq was able to retainnearly half of its aircraft—an estimated 300to 375 combat aircraft—but at the expense offorfeiting the use of the air force’s entirecombat capability during the conflict.

How do you measure the success? Notby the number of Iraqi aircraft shot down—the Iraqis put very few at risk in the air. Overhalf of the coalition shoot downs of fixed-wing Iraqi aircraft, in fact, occurred asenemy aircraft attempted to flee to Iran after

the shelters came under attack.Success was also not measuredby the number of SAM sites de-stroyed—this number, too, canonly be guessed at. It was notpossible to prove whether a sitewas destroyed or just silent (orabandoned) because of fear ofattack if radars were employed.Destroyed or not, the radar

SAMs were not used effectively which wasthe effect sought. By the number of sheltersdestroyed? Only indirectly. Attacks on shel-ters had forced a reaction by the Iraqis, onethat caused the loss of their air arm as aforce in being, at least in this war. In the endthe most telling measures were those thingsthat did not happen: the number of coalitionaircraft not shot down or damaged while fly-ing over 118,000 combat and combat-sup-port missions; the role not played by low al-titude antiaircraft and SAMs becausecoalition aircraft could safely fly at higher al-titudes; and reconnaissance and strike mis-sions not flown by Iraqi aircraft, preservingthe surprise of the shift west by coalitionground forces with little fear of attack. Thefreedom from air attack must be a qualifiedone because of the threat posed by Scud mis-siles, a subject addressed later.

Strategic Target SystemsAttacks on what can be termed core

strategic target sets in Iraq offer some of thegreatest difficulties in measuring and inter-preting effectiveness. The physical damageto some of the target sets often could not beobserved, while in the case of others only ac-cess to Iraqi decisionmaking processes (or tothe thoughts of the decisionmakers) wouldprovide a complete answer. Analyzing effec-tiveness against these target sets also wouldinvolve a discussion of the rather controver-sial subject of strategic bombing theory, asubject too broad in scope to be dealt withhere. Suffice it to say that the stated objec-tives of strategic bombing in this war were toisolate and disrupt Iraq’s political-militaryleadership and command and control, elimi-nate offensive capabilities, and destroy NBCcapabilities. Targets included national lead-ership facilities, telecommunications, oil,electric power, NBC facilities, Scuds, andmilitary infrastructure. As a point of refer-ence, the air strikes on all these strategic tar-get sets combined accounted for roughly 15percent of all air strikes (and 30 percent ofthe laser-guided bombs) during the war. At-tacking a target set, of course, seldom had asingle, discrete objective, something thatwas particularly true for strategic air attackswhere combinations of targets attacked si-multaneously were important to bringingabout the desired effects.

Electric power and oil refining and pro-duction facilities are two target sets that his-torically rank high in strategic bombingcampaigns, and the Persian Gulf War was noexception. Coalition plans called for hittingparticular aim points in an attempt to limitlong-term damage to the facilities (trans-former and switching yards rather than gen-erator halls), but the war’s objectives weresimilar to those of past conflicts: interruptthe enemy’s industrial and military strength,bring the war home to the country at large,and disrupt civil and military communica-tions. In both electric power and oil produc-tion Iraq had nearly twice the capacityneeded for all of its domestic and militaryneeds, so extensive damage had to take placeto affect Iraq’s wartime needs.

Compared with the other strategic tar-gets, collection of information on the tacti-cal damage done to electric and oil facilitieswas a relatively easy matter. These facilities

the Iraqis decided tofly few sorties, appar-ently planning to havetheir aircraft ride outthe war in hardenedshelters

G U L F W A R A I R P O W E R

0602 Keaney 3/3/04 8:35 AM Page 28


were not mobile, able to be hidden, or par-ticularly difficult to target or damage. Alsodiscernable were the indicators of when ei-ther electricity or petroleum were in shortsupply. As a result, fairly complete informa-tion is available on the measures and degreeof success of attacks in attaining tactical-level or immediate results. For electricalpower there was a rapid shut down of com-mercially generated power across the coun-try, the major loss occurring in the initialdays of the air campaign. This took placeeven faster than anticipated, in part becauseIraqi engineers at times shut down plants inorder to avoid a system overload. Someresidual power, perhaps 12 percent of capac-ity, remained available from a number ofsmaller power plants in isolated regions thatwere not attacked. Therefore the immediateobjective of shutting down the nationalpower grid was quickly attained. The degreeto which this measurable result led to thedesired operational-strategic effects is, how-ever, far from clear. Some friction was un-doubtedly imposed on the Iraqis by forcingthe national leadership and military systemscountrywide to switch to back-up power.Quantitatively it remains difficult to ascer-tain how much friction was induced fromthe available evidence; but the national gridremained out of action.

Coalition air strikes rendered 90 percentof Iraqi petroleum refining capability inoper-ative, based mainly on the employment of arelatively few precision strikes against distil-lation towers. Air strikes destroyed a farlesser percentage of oil storage capacity be-cause of the nature of those targets, spreadover extensive areas and less vulnerable torapid destruction. The lack of distilledpetroleum caused few problems for the Iraqimilitary, however, through no fault of theattack plan. A fuel shortage may have af-fected the Iraqi air force if it had not chosento remain on the ground. Similarly, enemy

ground forces in the Kuwait theater had ac-cess to local fuel and in any case used onlyminimal petroleum while dug into static po-sitions. They had more than enough dieselfuel for a 100-hour ground war, but wouldhave soon run into difficulty finding trans-portation to supply fuel within the theater.Attacks on Iraqi oil supplies were effectivenot because of their impact on the actualcombat, but in limiting Iraq’s ability to con-duct a protracted ground campaign.

The air attacks on the Iraqi nuclearweapons research program seemed during thewar to be as straightforward as those on elec-tricity and oil. The attacks instead providedan illustration of a seemingly good scorecardin terms of aim points hit but poor ultimateresults. Reports during and immediately afterthe war indicated a high level of destructionagainst the entire nuclear program, based onanalysis of damage to known facilities. In fact,later information showed that there was onlypartial destruction of known facilities, andmore importantly, those facilities were only asmall portion of the entire Iraqi nuclear pro-gram. Coalition intelligence information hadunderestimated both the size of the programand the Iraqi determination to protect it.Whereas coalition planners began the warcertain of only two sites, post-war analysis byUnited Nations inspectors revealed sixteenmain nuclear facilities and another five nu-clear-related sites. Furthermore, the Iraqiswent so far as to remove both nuclear fueland machinery from buildings engaged innuclear research from under coalition bomb-ing and bury the items in fields, making themrelatively invulnerable to precision air attacks.Even attacks on known facilities, in otherwords, were hitting almost empty structuresat times. One could look on these poor resultssimply as an intelligence failure, but the moreexplicit lesson is the extensive intelligencedata needed to successfully target capabilitieslike Iraq’s nuclear program as a system.

The targeting and damage assessmentsof Scud launchers and support facilities hadmuch in common with the experienceagainst the nuclear program. One differencewas that the Scud target set provided an ad-ditional measure of success—launch rates ofthe missiles. As in the case of the nuclear

K e a n e y

Lock

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ulzi

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F–117s comprised only 2 percent of allcoalition combat aircraft but carried out approximately 40 percent of the strategictarget attacks usinglaser-guided bombs.

0602 Keaney 3/3/04 8:35 AM Page 29

Iraqi Troop Dispositions

Iraqi units deployed in the Kuwait theater during January andFebruary 1991. Note the position of the Republican Guard and

the armored and mechanized divisions to the rear of infantry divisions (all positions approximate).

Source. Barry D. Watts and Thomas A. Keaney, Gulf War Air Power Survey: Effects and Effectiveness (Washington: Government Printing Office, 1993).


program, however, coalition intelligence es-timates did not have a full understanding ofthe target base and, during the war, misin-terpreted the actual damage being inflicted.Iraq was known to have fixed-launch sitesand a mobile launch capability for Scuds.Coalition planners thought the Iraqis would

use fixed sites initially,and that the mobilelaunchers, though muchmore difficult to target,could be handled basedon presumed set-up times

prior to launch and other assumptions. Itwas not anticipated that the mobile Scudforce would be dispersed to unknown loca-tions before the start of the air campaign.Additionally, the presence of decoy mobilelaunchers that could not be distinguishedfrom the real thing even at a distance of 25yards. Moreover, in the early days of the aircampaign, pilot reports and pictures of whatwere described to be destroyed mobile Scudlaunchers tended to mask the actual lack ofsuccess in destroying them. Although theIraqi mobile Scud force was no doubt dis-

rupted, harassed, and to a degree suppressed,coalition aircraft succeeded in destroyingfew, if any, mobile Scud launchers duringthe war.

What, then, are the best measurementsof the anti-Scud attacks, and what do the re-sults show? The number of fixed sites de-stroyed appears to have little relevance inthis case, and if only the number of mobileScud launchers is considered, the attackswere a failure. The objectives point to otherindicators, however, that suggest partial suc-cess, or that at least make the operations ap-pear to have been worthwhile. One indicatoris the launch rate for Scud missiles duringthe war, and a second is the degradation ofIraq’s longer-term offensive capabilitiesbased on the extensive attacks on produc-tion and storage facilities. As the figure onthe opposite page indicates, the mobile Scudlaunchers if not destroyed were at least sup-pressed after the first ten days; the recoverytowards the end of the war also indicatesthat the threat had not been completelydealt with. In addition, the suppressionwould have both cut down the number ofmissiles launched and diminished the accu-racy of those actually launched because of ashortened set-up time and rushed proce-dures. In other words, one can make astrong circumstantial case for the attackssuppressing the launches and, in conjunc-tion with the perceived effectiveness of Pa-triot, plausibly infer some success both inconvincing Israel not to enter the war and inlimiting damage caused by Scud attacks.

Attacks against Iraq’s Scud missiles andits nuclear program call for subjective judg-ments about cause and effect in determiningthe success of the attacks, especially at theoperational level and above. At least in thesetwo cases, there were post-war U.N. inspec-tions that threw further light on the levels ofactual damage. In examining the evidence ofattacks on the Iraqi leadership and commu-nications, there is far less post-war informa-tion, and the available measures are just asindistinct. Complete success would have en-tailed removal of the leadership, particularlySaddam Hussein, in the one case, and the in-ability of Iraq to control its forces in theKuwait theater from Baghdad, communicate


coalition aircraft succeededin destroying few, if any,mobile Scud launchers

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with the outside world, and maintain inter-nal control of the population, in the other.While complete success would have been ap-parent, there are few objective measures fordetermining how far short of, or close to,that goal the coalition air campaign mayhave been on February 28, 1991. Measuringprogress requires extensive intelligence infor-mation on both the systems and communi-cation procedures (how the country works)and an understanding of system limits, and acapability to monitor electronic emissions.

The measures for attacks on leadershipand command and communications net-works begin with tactical indicators: theamount of destruction to government build-ings, command bunkers, and communicationsites as well as the level of monitored elec-tronic communications and information de-rived from intercepts. There were also opera-

tional-level indicators, lessobjective but distinctive enoughto show a strong correlation to theeffects of attacks on these targetsets. On the one hand, SaddamHussein and his Ba’athist regimeremained in power, able to com-municate with the field comman-ders in the Kuwait theater and tocontinue to launch Scuds until thefinal days of the war. On the otherhand, the Iraqi leadership wasforced to relocate many times, hadits communications severely dis-rupted, and had its control of theIraqi people severely shaken.There were rebellions by the Kurdsin the north and by ShiiteMoslems in the south, and Sad-dam Hussein was criticized openlyin Baghdad. Little more can besaid. Precisely estimating the de-gree of dislocation that occurredwould require access to Iraqi offi-cials or records. Estimating theseeffects during the war itself wasand probably will remain moredifficult for these target sets thanfor any others.

Attacks on Surface ForcesThe surface portion of the air

war consisted of the attrition ofenemy forces in the theater andthe routes leading to it rather

than the more discrete attacks in Iraq properthat had characterized the air operationsagainst the Iraqi air force, air defense system,or the electric power grid. Bomb damage as-sessment focused more on measuring the cu-mulative effort of many sorties than scoringindividual sorties. Attacks on surface forceshad several components: air interdiction ofsupplies and transportation to and withinthe Kuwait theater; attacks on the Iraqinavy; and the main feature, attacks on theIraqi army while it remained in place duringthe air war and in engagements during theground phase. General Norman Schwarz-kopf, USA, the Commander in Chief of U.S.Central Command, furthermore, had singledout units of the Republican Guard (named astrategic center of gravity) for special atten-tion. That force’s importance derived fromits role as the strategic reserve of the Iraqidefensive strategy and from its political roleas defender of Saddam Hussein’s regime.

The Armed Forces gained experienceprosecuting air interdiction operations inWorld War II, Korea, and Vietnam, but thiswar provided few new twists. The objectiveswere to cut the flow of supplies to the the-ater, to stop the movement of forces withinthe theater, and especially to stop the Iraqiforces from leaving the theater intact. Sincemost Iraqi ground forces were already inplace when the air war began, the need toblock reinforcements was limited. Geographyprovided the attackers some advantages: ter-

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Iraqi Scuds launched between January 17, 1991and February 25, 1991 (Zulu time).

Source. Barry D. Watts andThomas A. Keaney, Gulf War AirPower Survey: Effects and Effective-ness (Washington: GovernmentPrinting Office, 1993).

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Destroyed Iraqi Frog–7missile along a road inthe Euphrates Valley.

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rain consisted of broad plains and farmland,providing little cover for vehicle traffic; theprincipal lines of communications betweenBaghdad and the theater generally followedand frequently crossed rivers; and the systemof roads narrowed as it approached Basra.Bridges, therefore, became the key targets.

The destruction of bridges began inearnest at the start of February 1991 and pro-ceeded quickly thereafter. Overall 75 percentof the bridges along the route to and fromthe Kuwait theater were damaged or de-stroyed. Despite the prominent role ofbridges in the transportation system, how-ever, their destruction alone was not enough.The Iraqis did not attempt to repair perma-nent bridges but mounted a massive effort tobuild earthen causeways, use ferries, and em-ploy pontoon bridges to bypass downedbridges. Iraqi skill in coping with the loss ofbridges led Lieutenant General CharlesHorner, USAF, after the war to caution:

Anybody that does a campaign against trans-portation systems [had] better beware. It looks deceiv-ingly easy. It is a tough nut to crack. [The Iraqis]were very ingenious and industrious in repairing themor bypassing them . . . I have never seen so many pon-toon bridges. [When] the canals near Basra [werebombed], they just filled them in with dirt and droveacross. . . .3

Attacks on bridges were abetted by at-tack aircraft flying armed reconnaissancemissions along sections of the main high-ways leading to and from the Kuwait the-ater, destroying trucks and cargo. Iraqi coun-termeasures included restricting travel tonight and shifting from multivehicle con-voys to single vehicles. Although this actionsaved some trucks, it slowed supplies to atrickle. The same tactics succeeded withinthe theater. With few bridges or chokepoints to target, attacks on Iraqi army trucksand others making supply runs had a devas-tating effect on the transportation system.Enemy prisoners of war indicated that overhalf of the trucks were destroyed or out ofservice for lack of parts, and that the driverswere no longer willing to travel the roads.

With all evidence on the success of airoperations against the bridges, trucks, andentire route system, what conclusions can bedrawn on the operational effectiveness of airinterdiction? Coalition aircraft attacks servedto greatly reduce the flow of supplies, if notsever the supply lines. In terms of the effect

on Iraqi ground forces in the theater, the re-sults were not decisive on their own becauseof Iraqi army inaction. As air interdiction ef-forts in past wars prove, operations workbest when the enemy is engaged in hightempo ground operations and thus consum-ing supplies at a high rate. The Iraqi armywas essentially inert during the air cam-paign, so that the limited supplies that gotthrough, combined with large stocks posi-tioned in the theater from August 1990 toJanuary 1991, allowed the enemy to remainin place. Whether several more days orweeks of air interdiction operations alonewould have eliminated all resupply andshattered what was left of the distributionsystem is a matter of speculation. What iscertain is that the outbreak of large-scaleground combat increased demands for sup-plies (especially ammunition and petroleum)to a point where the residual flow of sup-plies was insufficient for prolonged conflict.

While not central to the war, air opera-tions against the Iraqi navy consumed a sig-nificant amount of the effort, particularlyfor carrier-based aircraft in the Persian Gulf,and demonstrated the difficulty of operatingin confined waters in the presence of evensmall enemy forces. Coalition aircraft at-tacked Iraqi naval targets to secure freedomof action in the northern Gulf, both to makethe carrier and battleship firepower availableand to allow the amphibious force to be inposition for the deception plan and land-ings, if necessary. Just as in the case of tar-gets on land, a lack of bomb damage assess-ment information made the threat unclear.The Navy antisurface warfare commandercould not declare the threat defeated untilFebruary 17, two weeks after later analysiswould show the last Iraqi missile boat wasdestroyed. Even with the Iraqi surface navyall but entirely sunk, however, a seriousthreat remained for coalition naval forces:mines and Silkworm antiship missiles. Anunknown number of mines remained andmissile boat destruction removed only onelaunch method for missiles; the threat of air-or ground-launched Silkworms continued toaffect coalition navy operations until thewar’s end. Repeated strikes against seven sus-pected Silkworm sites did not remove this


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threat. Only two Silkworm launches tookplace during the war, both from a site southof Kuwait City on February 25, fired obvi-ously just prior to the site being overrun.Just as with the anti-Scud operations, it isdifficult to determine if further launcheswere in fact suppressed or if the Iraqis sim-ply chose to retain the missiles until an am-phibious attack occurred.

Air attacks against the Iraqi army inKuwait comprised well over half of the coali-tion effort. The objective set for the air at-tacks was reduction of combat capability ofthat army by 50 percent. The measurementof attrition was destruction of Iraqi armorand artillery to that level throughout thetheater. Air strikes began targeting groundforces on the first day of the war, then pro-ceeded with increasing intensity through-out. All forty-three Iraqi divisions in the the-ater received some attention, but threeRepublican Guard armored or mechanized(heavy) divisions received the most, fol-lowed by the other eight heavy Iraqi divi-sions that made up the tactical and opera-tional reserves. Attacks against Iraqi frontline divisions (all infantry) peaked just priorto the ground offensive.

In the opening two weeks of the war re-sults of the air attacks fell far behind the pro-jected attrition rate, in part because of a com-bination of poor weather and lower thanplanned sortie rates, but principally because

of poorer bombing accuracy and weapon per-formance from the high release altitudes em-ployed. Some adjustments to tactics tookplace to increase attrition rates, the main onebeing the employment of laser-guided bombsto target Iraqi armor. Not anticipated beforethe war, this innovation took advantage ofdifferences in the cooling rates of surround-ing sand compared with vehicle metal, mak-ing Iraqi vehicles, particularly tanks and ar-mored personnel carriers, stand out as hotspots on aircraft infrared sensors. Nightbombing with laser designators on thesespots became an extremely effective methodof despatching Iraqi armor. Beginning onFebruary 6, the bulk of the F–111Fs wereshifted from strategic targets in central Iraqto nightly attacks on Iraqi armor in theKuwait theater with 500-pound laser-guidedbombs. As time went on other aircraft withinfrared sensors and laser targeting podsjoined in the effort. This increased the rate ofIraqi armor and artillery attrition, but the 50percent goal for the theater was not attainedby the start of the ground offensive. At thattime, Central Command (CENTCOM) esti-mated equipment attrition rates at 39 per-cent for tanks, 32 for armored personnel car-riers, and 47 for artillery.

The amount of equipment attrition suf-fered by the Iraqi army became a contentiousissue at the time, and any post-war recon-struction of the facts can only partially rec-oncile earlier estimates. Understanding thebasis of the dispute requires a review of the

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original size of the target base,the counting rules, and the usemade of the estimates. The esti-mates of Iraqi tanks destroyed,the most often cited case at thetime of the war, provides thebest illustration of the problem.

By January 1991 intelli-gence estimates credited Iraqwith 4,280 tanks in the Kuwaittheater—a number derived fromestimating the standard forequipping 43 Iraqi army divi-sions. The 4,280 figure had alsobeen validated by spot-checksof some Iraqi units using photoimagery. This tank count re-mained the baseline for estimat-ing the percentage of tank attri-tion throughout the war. Inother words, when 2,140 tankswere counted as destroyed, the50 percent attrition would beachieved. Using pilot reportsand imagery, CENTCOM com-piled daily updates of attritionfor briefings in the theater andpassed this information on tothe Joint Staff. Using satelliteimagery as a primary source,the Central Intelligence Agency(CIA) and Defense IntelligenceAgency (DIA) independently,and in collaboration with oneanother, prepared their esti-

mates of tanks, armored personnel carriers,and artillery pieces destroyed, figures thatsoon diverged from the CENTCOM tankcount, with the Washington numbers indi-cating far fewer tanks destroyed. By February12, for instance, CENTCOM reported 25 per-cent of the tanks destroyed, while DIA andCIA reported less than half that number. Bythe eve of the ground offensive, CENTCOMreported 1,688 tanks already destroyed, whileintelligence analysts in Washington countedfewer than 700.

The counting rules and different esti-mates developed were important because thepercentage of degradation of the Iraqi armywas key to determining when the ground of-fensive would begin. The CIA caused someconsternation within government circleswhen that agency’s figures became publicizedin February 1991, and fears were voiced that,

as in past wars, inflated damage claims wereleading to miscalculation of enemy strength.Partly as a response, CENTCOM attempted todeflate the counting controversy in mid-February through a combat effectivenessmodel (developed by the Army element ofCENTCOM) of enemy divisions that in-cluded equipment losses, but also factored inleadership, discipline, health, and so forth. Inaddition, rules stated that losses claimed bypilots were creditable only when imageryverified the loss. Furthermore, videos fromaircraft like F–111Fs showing tank destruc-tion by laser-guided bombs were discountedby one-half, and claims by A–10s discountedby two-thirds, to offset uncertainties. Thischange perhaps occurred because GeneralSchwarzkopf was so disenchanted with spe-cific estimates of percentages of equipmentattrition that he refused to allow such data tobe presented at his briefings.

Following the war and further analysis ofavailable imagery and prisoner of war reports,some updates of the estimates were possible.First, a count of Iraqi tanks in the theater justprior to the war revealed that there were 800fewer than earlier estimated. This error, how-ever, was soon offset by subsequent over-counting of tank attrition, making the CENT-COM wartime estimates of attritionpercentages on the eve of the ground war(February 23) approximately correct, al-though only due to offsetting errors. Second,imagery showed that more than 800 Iraqitanks escaped from the theater at the war’send, making the number of tanks destroyed—since few, if any, additional Iraqi tanks en-tered the theater in that period—throughboth air and ground action approximately1,000 less than CENTCOM claimed at the endof the war. Finally, tank attrition on the eve ofthe ground offensive was about 40 percent forthe Iraqi army overall and just over 20 per-cent for Republican Guard units; and thetotal wartime Iraqi tank attrition was approxi-mately 75 percent and 50 percent, respec-tively. In other words, the most importantIraqi units got off with the least damage. Al-though far from the least attacked, Republi-can Guard tanks were better dug in and de-fended. Another contributing factor was thatthese tanks were far enough to the rear to es-cape the theater; tanks farther forward, evenif functioning, had to be abandoned.


THE GULF WAR AIR POWER SURVEY

In August 1991 the Secretary of the AirForce commissioned an independentstudy to “collect, integrate, and evalu-

ate all observations, after action reports,and other data from Operations DesertShield and Desert Storm.” It was in-tended to “examine not only the planningand consequences of the air campaign inDesert Storm, but its implications for airwarfare and doctrine.” The effort washeaded by Professor Eliot A. Cohen fromthe School of Advanced InternationalStudies at the Johns Hopkins Universityand a group of analysts including retiredofficers of the Army, Navy, Marine Corps,and Air Force. The basic research cov-ered not only Air Force records, but alsodata collected from the other servicesand from Gulf War coalition partners.

The study yielded a series ofeleven reports to be published in five vol-umes—each consisting of two parts—plus a summary report. The reports coverplanning; command, control, and com-munications; operations; effects and ef-fectiveness; logistics; support; weapons,tactics, and training; space operations; astatistical compendium; and chronology.Each title is being printed in both classi-fied and unclassified versions except forthe space operations report (classifiedonly) and the summary report (unclassi-fied). The anticipated publication date forthe series is October 1993; unclassifiedreports will be offered for sale to thepublic by the U.S. Government PrintingOffice.

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Measures and the use made of them hada number of flaws. The most obvious problemis with the size of the target base. While thenumber of tanks in the theater continued tobe reported as 4,280, there were widespreadreports during the war that the numbers werewrong. Intelligence reports from autumn1990 and prisoner of war debriefings duringthe war indicated that many units had de-ployed with far less than a full complementof men or equipment (intelligence reports ina similar way had also overestimated thenumber of Iraqi soldiers in the theater, but ac-counts of Iraqi personnel attrition, bodycounts, were scrupulously avoided).

Even if the number of tanks was correct,too much attention attached to it as a mea-sure. When the attrition goals were set inSeptember 1990, the tanks represented whatwould have been the vanguard of an Iraqi at-tack into Saudi Arabia. By January 1991, noground commander set a particular premiumon destroying tanks from the air. By then, itwas artillery since Iraqi artillery represented

the chief danger for bluntingthe ground attack through useof chemical weapon shells dur-ing the breaching effort. TheArmy corps commanders, Lieu-tenant Generals Gary Luck and

Frederick Franks, and Lieutenant GeneralWalter Boomer, USMC, commander of Ma-rine forces, pointed to artillery as the chiefobstacle. Boomer even went to the extremeof talking with his airborne Marine pilots todirect their energies toward attacking ar-tillery instead of armor. Iraqi tanks were notin the front lines in any numbers, and thecorps commanders were confident in beingable to handle them in a war of movement,both by air—since tanks on the move weremore vulnerable—and by using the superiorrange of the M–1A1 tank.

Ironically, the loss of equipment, thekey index of damage assessment during thewar, was not decisive in any direct way. Thekey to the defeat of the Iraqi army was notthe specific targets destroyed, but the combi-nation of targets attacked and the intensitywith which attacks took place. Enemy sol-diers were affected by the bombs that hittheir targets as well as by those that missed.The air interdiction effort, damage to com-munications and supply systems, along withequipment attrition during the air war, af-fected the Iraqi soldiers beyond the direct in-flicting of casualties. The Iraqis did not de-fect or surrender in droves during the air andground war because their armor and artillerywere being destroyed—in fact, statements byprisoners of war indicated they appreciatedthe discrimination of coalition air forces inaiming at equipment instead of at them—but because of shortages of food, water, andconfidence that their equipment was goingto do them any good. The Iraqi army did notrun out of tanks, armored personnel carriers,or artillery; in fact, much of the equipmentintact at the start of the ground offensivewas abandoned, or at least unoccupied,when coalition ground forces arrived. Thetotal number and operability of tanks hadless meaning under these conditions.

Reviewing the disintegration and rout ofthe Iraqi army during Operation DesertStorm, one becomes suspicious of the valueof relying on discrete indicators to measureresults. Even in such a brief, recent, and mil-itarily lopsided campaign, broader problemsof assessing (not measuring) operational andstrategic—as opposed to tactical—effective-ness remain difficult, controversial, andplagued by subjectivity. While tactical effectsand effectiveness are seemingly moreamenable to quantitative measures, the needto take into account the actual, real-worldobjectives of operational commanders andplanners suggest that operational-strategiceffectiveness is, in the end, essentially aqualitative issue. The fact that coalition airforces did not destroy the promised 50 per-cent of Iraqi armor and artillery in theKuwait theater prior to the beginning of theground offensive does not lead to a conclu-sion that coalition airpower failed to createthe circumstances under which the 100-hourblow-out on the ground was possible.

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B–52s made up only 3percent of all coalitioncombat aircraft butdelivered approxi-mately 30 percent oftotal bomb tonnage,mostly non-precisionmunitions.

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The lessons derived from assessingbomb damage in the Gulf War involve bothimproving methods and facing the inherentmessiness and uncertainty of real war. Meth-ods for determining the tactical effects ofbomb damage can be improved. This will re-quire both better skills on the part of inter-preters of bomb damage and better equip-ment. In the age of dumb bombs pilotreports of estimated damage were often onlyone small piece of a picture of how attackswere progressing that built up over weeks or

longer. In our age of hun-dred-thousand, even mil-lion-dollar munitions inwhich numerous revisits tothe target are no longer de-sirable or affordable, thereis no alternative to a high-quality damage assessmentcapability on the attacking

aircraft or the weapon itself. The F–16 andF/A–18 aircraft, among others used in theGulf, had no such capability.

Improved capabilities to hit within 8-12feet of aim points with precision-guidedweapons represented unprecedented ad-vances in theater-level bombing accuracy.The problems of grasping the vulnerabilityand functioning of entire target systems vis-à-vis operational-strategic objectives, how-ever, may well have been as riddled with un-certainty in the cases of the Iraqi nuclearprogram and mobile Scud missile capabilityas were target systems like ball-bearings dur-ing World War II. Hitting aim points is get-ting easier, but knowing what aim points togo after across an entire target set remains,in general, open to uncertainty when facinga dedicated, reactive adversary.

Finally, there are the difficulties of as-sessing effectiveness across diverse but inter-related target systems as well as the impossi-bility of finding measures that can bereadily applied across all target sets. Therewas nothing in the Gulf War data that sup-ported the existence of universal or quan-tifiable measures of operational, much lessstrategic, effectiveness. In other words, youcan never have information available dur-ing the war to know exactly how you aredoing. In this sense Clausewitz had it rightwhen he observed:

Many intelligence reports in war are contradic-tory; even more are false, and most are uncertain.What one can reasonably ask of an officer is that heshould possess a standard of judgment. . . . He shouldbe guided by the laws of probability. These are diffi-cult enough to apply when plans are drafted in an of-fice, far from the sphere of action; the task becomesinfinitely harder in the thick of fighting itself, with re-ports streaming in. At such times one is lucky if theircontradictions cancel each other out. . . .4

The principal audiences for these lessonsare not analysts and historians of past cam-paigns, but planners and commanders whomust assess the effects of air bombardment,make adjustments, and draw conclusionslong before complete information becomesavailable. For them the lessons of this surveymay seem particularly bleak, but there is acertain cold comfort in truly understandingthe nature of the task at hand rather than try-ing to find certainties where none exist. JFQ

N O T E S

1 See two forthcoming reports, Barry D. Watts andThomas A. Keaney, Gulf War Air Power Survey: Effects andEffectiveness (Washington: Government Printing Office,1993); and Thomas A. Keaney and Eliot A. Cohen, GulfWar Air Power Survey: Summary Report (Washington:Government Printing Office, 1993).

2 U.S. Department of Defense, Conduct of the Persian Gulf Conflict: Final Report to the Congress (Wash-ington: Government Printing Office, April 1992), pp.95–98.

3 Interview with Lieutenant General Charles A. Horner,USAF, conducted at Shaw Air Force Base, South Carolina(March 4, 1992), by Perry Jamison, Richard Davis, andBarry Barlow of the Center for Air Force History.

4 Carl Von Clausewitz, On War, edited and translatedby Michael Howard and Peter Paret (Princeton: Prince-ton University Press, 1976), p. 117.


ironically, the loss ofequipment, the key indexof damage assessmentduring the war, was notdecisive in any direct way

Iraqi MIG–25 afterbeing destroyed during OperationDesert Storm.

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▼J F Q F O R U M

Mission to SomaliaJoint Combat Camera Center

T he deployment of U.S. Armed Forces to Somalia is a typical post-ColdWar mission and a radical approach to peace-enforcement by the in-ternational community. The military undertook Operation ProvideRelief to halt mass starvation in an anarchic state. Soon afterward in-

ternational forces joined Americans in the United Nations Operation in So-malia or UNOSOM. By year’s end, as the magnitude of the task became clear,the United Nations enlisted international support under U.S. leadership tomount Operation Restore Hope. Successful completion of that effort markedthe beginning of the present phase of activity. To assess the overall situationin Somalia JFQ has sought contributions from four Americans with uniquequalifications. In the first article a leading academic specialist on military af-fairs observes that Somalia may be a new contingency, but it is a well-wornrole for our forces. He warns against using largely noncombat operations todetermine military requirements. In the second article, a former Presidentialenvoy to Somalia reviews U.S. and U.N. decisionmaking, and assesses the mis-sion thus far. Next, the CINC with responsibility for operations in Somaliaprovides a detailed survey of what U.S. forces have done in the past year andoffers some thoughts on future humanitarian missions. And as a conclusion,the last American ambassador to Somalia praises Operations Provide Reliefand Restore Hope while cautioning that assertive peace-enforcement may seta dangerous precedent.

———These contributions were completed in September 1993 as events in

Somalia grew more violent and doubts were raised in many quarters over the mission.


F ew issues are more important than theroles and missions of the ArmedForces in the post-Cold War era. Weare in the midst of major changes in

the structure of the international system andof serious challenges to national security.This is not, however, the first time the Na-tion has faced such challenges. At the birthof the Republic we had to establish the mili-tary and naval forces to deal with threatsfrom Europe. With the end of the Napole-onic era our national defense changed dra-matically as did the Armed Forces. This situa-tion remained fixed in its essentials until theclose of the 19th century when Americaemerged as a world power. At that time theNation consigned the Indian-fighting Army

and the commerce-protecting Navy to his-tory and in their stead created an Army de-signed for big wars and a Navy for big battles.That system served us well throughout twoworld wars. But by the late 1940s with theadvent of the Cold War we needed a new De-fense Establishment. Now that conflict isover, and once again the Nation must debatethe nature of our national interests and theroles of the Armed Forces, just as earlier gen-erations did in 1784, 1815, 1898, and 1946.In effect, we have to move on to a fifth phaseof American defense policy.

Nontraditional and NonmilitaryThe term nontraditional roles obviously

implies a distinction between traditional andnontraditional military roles. The traditionalroles of the Armed Forces will presumablycontinue, but in this fifth phase of Americanmilitary history the services will performnew nontraditional roles. Some new roles

New Contingencies,OLD ROLESBy S A M U E L P. H U N T I N G T O N

Lowering food supplies near Maleel, Somalia.

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This article is based on an address delivered on December 1, 1992 to a symposiumon “Non-Traditional Roles for the U.S. Military in the Post-Cold War Era” whichwas sponsored by the National Defense University in Washington, D.C.


have evolved, others have been promoted bythe Congress, in particular by Senator SamNunn, the Chairman of the Senate Armed

Services Committee. It is largelydue to his leadership that theDefense Authorization Act of1993 encouraged the ArmedForces to conduct an anti-drugcampaign targeted at inner-cityyouths, to provide role modelsfor youth and health care to un-derserved communities, and toaddress domestic ills by improv-ing the environment and eco-

nomic and social conditions. In a speech inthe Senate, Senator Nunn stated:

While the Soviet threat is gone, at home we arestill battling drugs, poverty, urban decay, lack of self-esteem, unemployment, and racism. The military cer-tainly cannot solve these problems. . . . But I am con-vinced that there is a proper and important role theArmed Forces can play in addressing these pressingissues. I believe we can reinvigorate the military’sspectrum of capabilities to address such needs as de-teriorating infrastructure, the lack of role models fortens of thousands if not millions of young people,limited training and education opportunities for thedisadvantaged, and serious health and nutritionproblems facing many of our citizens, particularlyour children. 1

These clearly seem to be nontraditionalroles. But are they really? The fact is thatthere are almost no conceivable roles in thisnew phase of our history that the ArmedForces have not performed in the past. Thedistinction to be made is not between tradi-tional and nontraditional roles but betweenmilitary and nonmilitary roles or, more pre-cisely, between combat missions and non-combat missions. The purpose of the ArmedForces is combat: to deter and defeat ene-mies of the United States. That is their prin-cipal role or raison d’être, the justification forexpending the resources needed to establishand maintain them. Forces created to per-form that role, however, can be—and havebeen throughout our history—employed innoncombat, nonmilitary uses.

For over three decades the United StatesMilitary Academy at West Point trained allof the Nation’s engineers, civilian as well asmilitary. Throughout the 19th century theArmy engaged in the economic and politicaldevelopment of the country. It explored andsurveyed the West, chose sites for forts andplanned settlements, built roadways, and de-veloped waterways. And for years the Armyperformed roles that now are performed byagencies like the National Weather Serviceand the Geological Survey. In the latter partof the last century, the Army Signal Corpspioneered the development of the telegraphand telephone. The Navy was equally activein exploration and scientific research. Navalships explored the Amazon, surveyed thecoastlines of North and South America, laidcables on the ocean floor, and gathered sci-entific data from around the world. Theyalso policed the slave trade. Naval officersnegotiated dozens of treaties and oversawlighthouses, life-saving services, coastal sur-veys, and steamboat inspection. The Armyran civil governments in the South duringReconstruction and at the same time gov-erned Alaska for ten years. It was, of course,frequently called upon to intervene in laborstrikes and domestic unrest. The Army Corpsof Engineers constructed public buildingsand canals and other civil works includingthe Panama Canal. Soldiers helped to com-bat malaria in Panama and cholera, hunger,and illiteracy in Cuba, Haiti, and Nicaragua.They also established schools, built worksprojects, promoted public health, organizedelections, and encouraged democracy inthose countries. In the 1930s the Army tookon the immense task of recruiting, organiz-ing, and administering the Civilian Conser-vation Corps.

After recent hurricanes in Florida andHawaii many people hailed the superb con-tributions of the Armed Forces to disaster re-lief as evidence of a new role. Nothing couldhave been more incorrect. The services haveregularly provided such relief in the past. Asan official Army history puts it, in thedecades of the 1920s and 1930s, “The mostconspicuous employment of the Armywithin the United States . . . was in a varietyof tasks that only the Army had the resourcesand organization to tackle quickly. In floodsand blizzards and hurricanes it was the Armythat was first on the spot with cots, blankets,

H u n t i n g t o n

Samuel P. Huntington is the Eaton Professor of the Science of Government and Director of the John M. Olin Institute forStrategic Studies at Harvard University. Among his many acclaimed publications is The Soldier and the State: The Theory and Politics of Civil-Military Relations.

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Unloading flour atWajir, Kenya, duringOperation Provide Relief.


and food.” 2 This has been truethroughout our history. It is hardto think of a nonmilitary role

without precedent for such roles are as Amer-ican as apple pie.

Future Roles and Missions Throughout our history, however, non-

military roles have never been used to jus-tify maintaining the Armed Forces. Theoverall size, composition, and organizationas well as recruitment, equipping, and train-ing of the services have been based on ournational interests and the missions—thecombat missions—to be performed. In thisfifth phase of American defense policy theroles of the Armed Forces remain as impor-tant as ever. There are three roles that pre-sent themselves today.

Maintaining Superiority. For the first timein sixty years, no major power, no rival, posesa national security challenge to the UnitedStates. We need defense policy and the capa-bility not to contain or deter an existingthreat as was the case during the Cold War,but rather to prevent the emergence of a newthreat. To accomplish this goal, we mustmaintain a substantial, invulnerable nuclearretaliatory capability and deploy forces inboth Europe and Asia to reassure allies and topreclude German or Japanese rearmament.We must also maintain both technologicaland maritime superiority, and provide a basefor the rapid and effective development of anew enhanced defense capability if a majorthreat should begin to emerge.

Regional Security. Significant threats existto our national interests in Southwest andEast Asia, and we must have the capability todeal with them as we did in the Gulf War. Todeter or defeat regional aggression theUnited States needs light and heavy landforces, tactical aviation, naval and Marineforces designed to fight from the sea againstenemies on land, and the sealift and airliftto deploy forces rapidly to the scene of com-bat. Ideally the United States should be ableto fight the equivalent of the Gulf War. Sec-retary of Defense Les Aspin’s “Option C”purportedly would provide this capability.Whether in five years the Armed Forces willbe able to mount an operation like DesertStorm against an enemy similar to Iraq re-mains to be seen.

Our decisive victory in the Persian Gulf,however, makes it unlikely that we will beable to repeat that victory. Major regionalaggressors in the future are likely to possessand use nuclear weapons. This reality was re-flected in the reply of the Indian defenceminister who, when asked what lesson hedrew from the Gulf War, said: “Don’t fightthe United States unless you have nuclearweapons.” 3 Likely aggressors—North Korea,Iran, Iraq, et al.—are intent on acquiring nu-clear weapons. But until they get them theprobability of stability in their respective re-gions is reasonably high. Once they do ac-quire these weapons, however, the likeli-hood they will use them is high. In allprobability the first sure knowledge theworld will have that such powers possess ausable nuclear weapon will be the explosion

Guardsman securinga food distributioncenter in the wake ofHurricane Andrew.

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Destruction caused byHurricane Iniki onKauai, Hawaii.

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of a weapon on the territory of one of theirneighbors. Such an act is likely to be accom-panied by a massive conventional offensiveto quickly occupy Seoul, Saudi oil fields, orwhatever other target the aggressorhas in mind. That is the most seri-ous type of regional threat that wemay confront, and perhaps themost probable.

Coping with that kind of ag-gression will place new demands—nontraditional demands—on theArmed Forces. They will have tofight an enemy who has a small number ofnuclear weapons and little or no inhibitionto use them. To deter this first use by a roguestate, the United States will have to threatenmassive retaliation, possibly nuclear. Theprincipal role of Strategic Command in thecoming years will be to maintain nuclearpeace in the Third World.

Foreign Internal Defense. The ArmedForces may have to intervene quickly and ef-fectively in countries important to our na-tional security interests in order to restore agovernment to power that has been over-thrown, remove a hostile regime, protectAmerican lives and property abroad, rescue

hostages, eliminate terrorists,destroy drug traffickers, or en-gage in other actions whichnormally fall under the rubricof low intensity conflict.Whether or not a state is ag-gressive or pacific, reasonablydecent or totally threatening,depends overwhelmingly onthe nature of its government.President Clinton has appro-priately said that the promo-tion of democracy should bea central, perhaps even thecentral, theme of U.S. foreignpolicy. In those areas criticalto our national security, theUnited States has to be pre-pared to defend governmentsthat are friendly and demo-cratic and to overthrow thosethat are unfriendly and un-democratic.

This requirement alsoemphasizes a new role for theArmed Forces: targeting dic-tatorships and their leaders.

In the Gulf War, the U.S.-led coalition de-graded by more than 50 percent the capabil-ity of the Iraqi military, and also broughtIraqi society to a virtual standstill. But that

tremendous use offorce failed to eliminatethe true villains ofpeace, Iraq’s govern-ment. The eliminationof Saddam Hussein wasan established U.S. ob-jective, although notone endorsed by the

United Nations, and it was not achieved. In-deed, during the last decade, we have at-tempted to eliminate three hostile dictators:Khadaffi, Noriega, and Saddam Hussein. Weonly succeeded in the case of Noriega, andthat took time and caused us some embar-rassment because it involved a tiny countryabout which American intelligence musthave been the best in the world. Targetingand incapacitating dictatorial governmentswill be an important role for the ArmedForces in the coming years, and it is onewith respect to which our capabilities arenow sadly deficient.

Future ChallengesBesides the military roles which the

Armed Forces can expect to perform in thepost-Cold War world, what are the appropri-ate nonmilitary—or civilian—roles thatloom on the horizon? As indicated previ-ously, these roles have been historically nu-merous and diverse, and no reason exists tosuggest that they will not be continued. Fu-ture missions could involve the following:

▼ domestic activities as highlighted by Sen-ator Nunn and in the Defense Authorization Act

▼ humanitarian assistance at home andabroad when welcomed by local governments

▼ peacekeeping at the invitation of the par-ties involved in the conflicts.

There is another type of mission—oneabout which questions have arisen—illus-trated by the crisis in Somalia. Should theArmed Forces provide humanitarian assis-tance in those situations where such effortsare likely to be opposed by one or more of theconflicting parties? Clearly some form of in-ternational authorization, presumably ap-proval by the United Nations, is a prerequisite

H u n t i n g t o n

it is hard to think of anonmilitary role with-out precedent for suchroles are as Americanas apple pie

Nontraditional Roles

What do the Armed Forces need inorder to carry out nontraditional roles?More training, equipment? New doc-trine? Different organization? Nontradi-tional roles are really crisis responseroles. It is fine to call a role nontradi-tional, but one also ought to talk aboutcrisis response.

The military is taught to respond tocrises, to make decisions when all thefacts are not in. This is what serviceschools teach: to take action underpressure, work as a team, and trou-bleshoot; to organize, reorganize, es-tablish task forces, and do task reorga-nization and tailoring. So in manyrespects the military is already pre-pared, no matter what the service:Army, Navy, Marine Corps, Air Force, orCoast Guard. Some additional trainingmay be needed, but one should not gethung up on the idea that somehow awhole new force is needed.

—General John R. Galvin, USA (Ret.)


for action by the UnitedStates. This occurred withthe precedent-breakingU.N. Security CouncilResolution 688 that au-thorized intervention byU.S., British, and Frenchforces in order to protectthe Kurds in northern

Iraq. The United Nations has also given ap-proval to deploy outside military forces inBosnia as well as in Somalia to assist with theprovision of humanitarian assistance to theinnocent victims of civil war and anarchy.

Defining the LimitsThe goal of our involvement in such sit-

uations is presumably to ensure that reliefsupplies reach the intended beneficiaries.This means that the Armed Forces should beable to act militarily to prevent or eliminatehostile action against efforts to deliver reliefsupplies. While that is certainly an appropri-ate response, there is a need to define thelimits of U.S. involvement in such missions,and this gives rise to two problems.

First, so long as the conditions in thecountry concerned remain violent, externalmilitary force will be required to ensure that

food and medical suppliesreach their intended recipi-ents. If the United Nations isunable to provide thoseforces, this could mean anextended if not indefiniteAmerican commitment. Thisis not a Gulf War-type situa-tion where it was possible todrive the invading Iraqiforces out of Kuwait andthen pack up and go home.In the case of Bosnia it couldmean waiting for the SouthSlavs or other conflictingparties to resolve their differ-ences by political or militarymeans before extricating our-selves. And that could take avery, very long time.

Second, there is theproblem of becoming an ac-tive participant in the con-flict in the country con-cerned. One or more partiesin that conflict may perceive

any outside involvementas a hostile act. Thus bydeploying Americantroops, from the view-point of the local com-batants, we become theenemy. Inevitably whilewe are there for humani-tarian purposes our pres-ence has political andmilitary consequences.The United States has aclear humanitarian inter-est in preventing geno-cide and starvation, andAmericans will supportintervention to deal withsuch tragedies within lim-its. When Somali clans orSlavic factions fight eachother, we may attempt tomitigate the horrendousconsequences that flowfrom the violence. Undersuch circumstances theNation may even accept some American ca-sualties. But the United States has no interestin which clan dominates Somalia, or whereboundary lines are drawn in the Balkans.Americans will not support interventionwhich appears to be directed towards politi-cal goals. It is morally unjustifiable and polit-ically indefensible that members of theArmed Forces should be killed to prevent So-malis from killing one another.

The Armed Forces can and should, if it isappropriate, be put to a variety of civilianuses, including domestic social and eco-nomic renewal, humanitarian and disasterrelief both at home and abroad, and peace-keeping operations. The military shouldonly be given military missions which in-volve possible combat, however, when theyadvance national security interests and aredirected against a foreign enemy of theUnited States.

The possible nonmilitary roles of theArmed Forces have recently received a goodamount of attention. Arguments have beenmade that the military should be organizedand trained in order to perform such roles. Aproposal has been made, for instance, that a

▼J F Q F O R U M

it is morally unjustifiableand politically indefensiblethat members of the ArmedForces should be killed toprevent Somalis from killingone another

Relief mission arriving in supportof Operation ProvideRelief.

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Roles, Missions, andFunctions

The terms roles, missions, and func-tions are often used interchangeably,but the distinctions among them areimportant. Roles are the broad and en-during purposes for which the serviceswere established by Congress in law.Missions are the tasks assigned by thePresident or the Secretary of Defense tothe combatant commanders in chief(CINCs). Functions are specific respon-sibilities assigned by the President andthe Secretary of Defense to enable theservices to fulfill their legally estab-lished roles. Simply stated, the primaryfunction of the services is to provideforces that are organized, trained, andequipped to perform a role—to be em-ployed by a CINC in the accomplishmentof a mission.

—From the Chairman’s “Report onthe Roles, Missions, and Func-tions of the Armed Forces of theUnited States”.


unified command should be established forhumanitarian assistance operations. In asomewhat similar fashion, a commission offormer government officials has proposed cre-ating a military command headed by a three-or four-star officer to provide support for U.N.peacekeeping operations and to develop doc-trine, carry out planning, and train U.S. forcesfor such operations. The United States, an-other group argued, “should retain and pro-mote officers whose expertise includes peace-keeping, humanitarian administration, andcivilian support operations. . . . ”4

Such proposals are basically miscon-ceived. The mission of the Armed Forces iscombat, to deter and defeat enemies of theUnited States. The military must be re-cruited, organized, trained, and equipped forthat purpose alone. Its capabilities can, andshould, be used for humanitarian and othercivilian activities, but the military shouldnot be organized or prepared or trained toperform such roles. A military force is funda-mentally antihumanitarian: its purpose is tokill people in the most efficient way possi-ble. That is why nations have traditionallymaintained armies and navies. Should the

military perform other roles? Absolutely, andas previously stated they have done sothroughout our history. Should these rolesdefine the Armed Forces? Absolutely not. Allsuch roles should be spillover uses of theArmed Forces which can be performed be-cause the services possess the organization,training, and equipment that are only main-tained to defend the Nation. JFQ

N O T E S

1 Public Law 102–484, October 28, 1992, sections.376, 1045, and 1081; Sam Nunn, Congressional Record,vol. 138, no. 91 (June 23, 1992), p. S 8602.

2 Maurice Matloff, editor, American Military History(Washington: Government Printing Office, 1969), p. 413.

3 Quoted in Les Aspin, “From Deterrence to Denuk-ing: Dealing with Proliferation in the 1990s,” Memoran-dum, February 18, 1992, p. 6.

4 Carnegie Endowment for International Peace andInstitute for International Economics, Memorandum tothe President-Elect, Subject: “Harnessing Process to Pur-pose” (Washington: Carnegie Endowment for Interna-tional Peace, 1992), p. 17; Thomas G. Weiss and Kurt M.Campbell, “Military Humanitarianism,” Survival, vol. 33(September–October 1991), p. 457.

Joint Combat Camera Center (Daniel R. Hart )

Marine aiming at aweapons cantonmentof Somali warlordGeneral Aideed.

▼J F Q F O R U M

AN ENVOY’S PERSPECTIVEBy R O B E R T B. O A K L E Y

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CARE volunteer at arefugee camp inBaidoa.


This article is adapted from a forthcoming book by Robert B. Oakley and John Hirsch entitled Restore Hope.


By the fall of 1992, the combina-tion of civil war, total govern-mental collapse, famine, anddisease in Somalia had taken thelives of between 300,000 and500,000 people, and more than

twice that number were in urgent need offood and medicine to avoid additionaldeaths; and there were some 800,000 Somalirefugees in Kenya and Ethiopia. In someplaces, more than 70 percent of children haddied, despite heroic efforts by the Interna-tional Committee of the Red Cross andother relief agencies, as well as a large-scaleairlift of food spearheaded by the Air Force.Attempts by the United Nations at politicalreconciliation, delivering aid, and traditionalpeacekeeping failed. Public opinion and con-viction led President George Bush to call fora more active U.S. role.

The deputies committee of the NationalSecurity Council, a group of senior officialswho rank just below Cabinet level, con-vened four times during the week of Novem-ber 20, 1992. The atmosphere at committeemeetings changed dramatically. The human-itarian crisis in Somalia had come to be seenas a challenge in which the United States

could rapidly make a sig-nificant and tangible dif-ference. The previous op-position by the Pentagonto use the Armed Forceshad been replaced byquiet internal contin-gency planning to deter-mine what realisticallyand effectively could be

done. A definable, doable mission hademerged and no other country either couldor would undertake it. The inability to doanything meaningful for Muslims in Bosnia,together with a perception that we could ac-tually help in Muslim Somalia, added to themedia-driven desire for a fresh look at theoptions. Thus the deputies committee devel-oped three options: increase support of U.N.peacekeeping efforts; create a U.S.-organized

coalition without participation by Americanground troops; or assemble a multinationalmilitary coalition in which U.S. troopswould take the leading role, as in OperationDesert Storm.

At the start of the week, U.N. SecretaryGeneral Boutros Boutros-Ghali had appealedto Under Secretary of State Frank Wisner forhelp, but had not raised the issue of groundforces. The Pentagon had for months ex-pressed strong reservations about usingground forces, resisting such proposals fromthe Department of State and the NSC staff.Therefore most participants at the meetingon November 20 did not consider use of theArmed Forces to be a likely option. But thefollowing day the Vice Chairman of theJoint Chiefs of Staff, Admiral David Jere-miah, startled the group by saying, “If youthink U.S. forces are needed, we can do thejob.” His plan called for deploying two divi-sions. At the end of the deliberations an in-teragency options paper was sent to the Pres-ident without a recommendation. It wouldbe up to him to make the decision.

The President met with his senior advi-sors on the day before Thanksgiving,November 25. General Colin Powell, Chair-man of the Joint Chiefs of Staff—who wascertain in his own mind that the dispatch ofa sizable ground force was necessary butwanted to be sure that the pitfalls wereclearly identified—questioned whether con-ditions in Somalia would permit a smoothhandoff to a U.N. peacekeeping force after arelatively brief deployment of U.S. troops.(His question was prescient: it became a keyissue that later faced the United Nations andthe Bush administration.) After a far-reach-ing discussion, the President decided that ifthe Security Council concurred and othernations agreed to join in the effort, theUnited States would lead an internationalforce to stop death and famine in Somalia.He chose the strongest option and theUnited States embarked upon a major hu-manitarian intervention.

Consultations on InterventionThe President sent Secretary of State

Lawrence Eagleburger to New York that af-ternoon to inform the Secretary General.During the next week the U.S. Ambassadorto the United Nations, Edward Perkins, and

O a k l e y

Robert B. Oakley was the President’s Special Envoy for Somalia from December 1992 to March 1993. A retired career diplomat, he served as U.S. ambassador to Somalia, Zaire, and Pakistan, and also headed theDepartment of State’s Office of Combatting Terrorism.

if the Security Council concurred and other nationsagreed to join, the UnitedStates would lead an inter-national force to stop deathand famine in Somalia

▼J F Q F O R U M


his staff consulted intensely with the Secre-tary General, permanent members of the Se-curity Council, and other parties, includingdelegates from African and NATO countries.They confirmed strong support for the U.S.proposal. President Bush made personal tele-phone calls to 13 heads of state asking forparticipation in or support for the UnitedTask Force. All except the British Prime Min-ister, John Major, pledged to send troops orprovide assistance.

On December 3 the Secu-rity Council unanimouslyadopted Resolution 794, en-dorsing the offer by a memberstate to constitute and lead aninternational force for the pur-pose of protecting humanitar-ian relief operations in Soma-lia. It would not be a U.N. forcebut rather one endorsed by theSecurity Council, much likethe U.S.-led force for Korea in1950 and the U.S.-led force forKuwait in 1991. Neither

Boutros-Ghali nor the Security Council wasready for an unprecedented humanitarianpeace-enforcement mission.

U.S. forces were to be deployed on a fi-nite mission: to end clan fighting and pro-tect humanitarian operations in the faminebelt of southern Somalia where the deathtoll and numbers of endangered people werethe highest. There would be overwhelmingforce available at the outset. As Secretary of

Defense Richard Cheney said at an impor-tant press conference with General Powellon December 4, “There will be no questionin the mind of any of the faction leaders inSomalia that we would have the ability toimpose a stable situation if it came to that,without their cooperation.” Cheney went onto say that the U.S.-led operation would belimited in duration as well as mission: “Webelieve it necessary to send in U.S. forces toprovide U.S. leadership to get the situationstabilized and return it to a state where thenormal U.N. peacekeeping forces can dealwith the circumstances.”

American and allied forces were desig-nated as United Task Force (UNITAF) andplaced under Lieutenant General RobertJohnston, USMC, Commander of the FirstMarine Expeditionary Force, who in turn re-ported to General Joseph Hoar, USMC, Com-mander in Chief, U.S. Central Command(CENTCOM). Johnston had served with dis-tinction in Vietnam, Lebanon, and SaudiArabia, and been chief of staff to GeneralNorman Schwarzkopf during OperationDesert Storm. The President was also urgedto name a senior political representativewho would complement the military com-mander. That job fell to me.

Consultations in MogadishuOn December 7 and 8, I met separately

in Mogadishu with the two most powerfulSomali faction leaders, Mohammed FarahAideed and Ali Mahdi, to enlist their cooper-ation in assuring the arrival of U.S. forceswent unchallenged. Both promised to useradio stations and political-clan organiza-tions to urge people to stay away from theport and airport. Aideed also intervened withthe Murasade, an allied Hawiye subclan, tomove several hundred armed fighters awayfrom the barracks adjacent to the airport.

I asked both leaders to meet with Gen-eral Johnston, Ambassador Ismat Kittani(the Special Representative of the SecretaryGeneral), and me on December 11 at theU.S. Liaison Office to discuss the potentiallydisastrous results if their followers uninten-tionally clashed with U.S. forces. I remindedthem of the massive firepower that hadbeen used so effectively during DesertStorm. I remarked that it would be better if

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Marine distributing information leaflets tocivilians.

Operation Provide Relief

August 16, 1992–February 28, 1993

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they discussed security problems with Gen-eral Johnston—since separate meetingswould not do. The American flag would flyover what had once been the CONOCOcompound to ensure neutrality and security.

Although Aideed initially objected tothe presence of Ambassador Kittani, and AliMahdi claimed the venue was too dangerousbecause of its proximity to Aideed’s head-quarters, agreement was reached and themeeting took place as proposed. They lis-tened to Johnston, Kittani, and me overlunch and then surprised us by having theirdelegations join them for a two-hour discus-sion with no foreigners present. Followingthat session they proudly called for the U.S.and U.N. representatives to witness the sign-ing of an agreement (including a cease-fire)after which they held a joint press confer-ence to announce it before the internationaland domestic Somali press corps.

This was the starting point for develop-ing a strategy which General Johnston and Icould use to create a benign security envi-ronment. As far as possible, our purposewould be achieved by dialogue and co-op-tion, using implicit threats of coercion tobuttress requests for cooperation among thefactions and with UNITAF. They could dothis by taking specific steps: first, stop fight-ing and allow for humanitarian activitiesand, second, try and solidify an end to thecivil war and begin the process of nationalreconciliation. This was explained as the

best means of obtaining much-needed inter-national support for relief, rehabilitation,and reconstruction.

Once the Somali leaders concluded anagreement on specific steps, our approachwas to insist on implementation—if no ac-tion was taken after a decent interval.Should the leaders not act on their own,they should be ready to have UNITAF im-pose it on them, by force if necessary.Aideed and Ali Mahdi soon became rivals inprojecting themselves as responsible leadersworthy of U.S. support (and therefore suitedfor national leadership). They wanted toavoid conflict with UNITAF and also saveface at home. Therefore they could usuallybe persuaded, pressured, or cajoled intoreaching agreements and cooperating for atleast partial implementation, even if theydid not meet their expectations.

In the case of the December 11 agree-ment, it was critical for UNITAF to obtainand hold the leaders and their militias to thecease-fire and to an explicit undertaking tomove heavy weapons from the streets ofMogadishu into designated compounds.Other aspects of the agreement such as re-moving the green line could be imple-mented later when conditions were right.While the cease-fire in Mogadishu, whichwas already tentatively in effect, took firmhold, it was only on December 26 that bothsides began putting their heavy weaponsunder control. They had finally accepted ourproposal on this deadline for each side mov-ing 30 technicals (vehicles armed with heavyweapons) out of Mogadishu to their respec-tive designated cantonments as a first step.

In mid-February 1993 Ali Mahdi turnedover all his technicals to UNITAF. This sig-nalled his intent to play an essentially politi-cal game. But by this time technicals haddisappeared from Aideed’s designated com-pound: a warning, in retrospect, of the con-frontation with the follow-on U.N. peace-keeping force (UNOSOM II) which eruptedafter Aideed moved his weapons back intothe city. He moved them from Mogadishutoward Galacio for fear of confiscation. Thekey operative point for UNITAF, however,was not this violation of the December 11agreement. Rather it was that the technicalswere peacefully removed from Mogadishu

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Kenyan workers shifting donated food.


and the main supply routes, and that anytechnicals spotted after December 26 werevulnerable to immediate capture or destruc-tion. The same principle was then appliedup-country, and a number of technicals werecaptured or destroyed. Given the limitedUNITAF mandate, which deliberately ex-cluded general disarmament, there was noperceived need to confront Aideed over thedisappearance of weapons as long as theyposed no threat to UNITAF forces or human-itarian operations.

My staff and General Johnston’s quicklyestablished a pattern that became routineover the next three months, meeting regu-larly several times each week to coordinateplanning and activities. I also convened ameeting each evening of my staff and keyUNITAF representatives to review activitiesand generate suggestions for future military,political, and humanitarian activity. Similarcombined but unstructured discussions tookplace over breakfast before 0800 daily. Ideaswere then developed for use in dealing withUNITAF, the United Nations, and non-governmental organizations (NGOs) as wellas the Somalis. Such meetings—includingthose my deputy and I had with GeneralJohnston, the UNITAF senior staff, and com-manders of non-U.S. forces—were the basisfor informal but remarkably close and cre-ative collaboration among the military, po-litical, and humanitarian components ofOperation Restore Hope.

Humanitarian-Military CoordinationIn order to develop relations of mutual

confidence and understanding between themilitary and humanitarian relief communityin a systematic way, and to maximize opera-tional coordination, Johnston and I helpedthe Department of State’s Office of ForeignDisaster Assistance establish a Civilian-Mili-tary Operations Center at UNOSOM head-quarters. The leadership of the center wasentrusted to two Marine combat veteranswith experience in relief activities and repre-sentatives of civilian agencies from Opera-tion Provide Relief (the airlift to Somaliawhich preceded UNITAF) who were joinedby members of the Office of Foreign DisasterRelief. The third player in this humanitarianleadership troika was the UNOSOM coordi-nator of humanitarian operations who wason loan from CARE where he served as presi-dent of that relief organization.

From December onwards the center helda daily morning briefing attended by closeto 100 participants from the United Nationsand relief agencies, as well as UNITAF head-quarters and its major military compo-nents—that is, those who commanded theHumanitarian Relief Sectors (HRS)—intowhich the UNITAF area was divided. Thethreefold objective was to share informationon security, explain UNITAF ground rulesand plans, and coordinate protection and es-corts for food convoys within Mogadishu,and subsequently for those moving into theinterior. Together with my staff I gave peri-odic briefings on political developments.The center was an effective, innovativemechanism not only for operational coordi-nation but to bridge the inevitable gaps be-tween military and civilian perceptions. Bydeveloping good personal relationships thestaffs were able to alleviate the concerns andanxieties of the relief community.

The only serious unresolved problemwas the extremely complicated and danger-ous one of protecting relief personnel andfacilities, including the disposition of heav-ily-armed private guards hired at high pricesby most relief organizations prior to the ar-rival of UNITAF. On the one hand, UNITAFbelieved it could not allow guards to bran-dish their weaponry—including “technicals”or heavily armed vehicles—in public, espe-cially since most of them were actuallymembers of one militia faction or another,and some also moonlighted as bandits. Onthe other hand, relief workers felt the guardsprovided extra protection, or were afraid tofire them because of reprisals, which was acommon fear. Despite a lot of dialogue andmuch study, UNITAF and the relief agen-cies—and later UNOSOM II—were unable tocome to terms with this problem.

Extending UNITAF’s ReachOn December 15, I flew to Baidoa, the

center of the famine belt, to meet with com-munity leaders—including clan elders, reli-gious figures, women, and local politicalleaders. The purpose of the meeting wastwofold: to defuse potential resistance to theMarine helicopter landing the next day andto lay the groundwork for the revival of localpolitical institutions. The people of Baidoawere assured that the Marines were coming

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in peace and as friends to helpSomalia save itself, and not toimpose any particular form ofsettlement. The United Statesrespected Islam and wouldseek to honor local values andtraditions. (In response to thefears of the senior Sheikh, I ar-ranged for a marine of the

Muslim faith to meet with him the next dayas U.S. forces arrived; a few days later, theCatholic Relief Service was helping theSheikh repair damaged mosques.) UNITAF in-tended to restore normalcy by banning tech-nicals and confiscating arms belonging tolocal troublemakers. It was time for Baidoa’straditional community leaders, long sup-pressed, to take charge again.

Looking hard at the putative local au-thorities—representatives of Aideed’s Somali

National Alliance (SNA)—who had been in-stalled as governor, deputy governor, andpolice chief at gun point, I told everyonethat leadership would no longer be imposedfrom outside but selected by the peoplethemselves by local tradition. They were re-minded that Siad Barre had imposed his willby force, which had caused people to rise upand organizations like the SNA to fight hardto oust him. Now that peace had been re-stored thanks to UNITAF, I said, surely Soma-lis would not like to see a return to imposedrule instead of making their own decisionsand choosing their own leaders. The SNArepresentatives sheepishly said nothingwhile all the others enthusiastically agreed.

The Baidoa landing at dawn on Decem-ber 16 went off without resistance, twoweeks ahead of schedule in response to ap-peals from relief organizations which feltunder increased threat once UNITAF arrivedin Mogadishu. One of my political officersand a relief official worked with the militaryto involve local Somali leaders in security aswell as other activities. Their efforts were co-ordinated by a combined civil-military Hu-manitarian Operations Center (HOC), andthe people of Baidoa created a regionalcouncil with security and humanitariancommittees as a counterpart to the center.

Within several weeks the situation inBaidoa turned around. Local hospitals weredealing with a few gunshot wounds fromisolated incidents rather than large numbersof victims of civil war, mass starvation, andunchecked disease. Markets and streets,once deserted, again bustled with activity.The military as well as NGOs, U.N. agencies,and the Red Cross provided food, medicine,and health care, repaired clinics andschools, and built roads and dug wells. Plan-ning began to provide farmers with seedand agricultural equipment and herders re-turned to their flocks.

Baidoa became a model for UNITAF de-ployments in the other humanitarian reliefsectors: Kismayo, Bardera, Oddur, Jalalaqsi,Baledogle, Belet Uen, and Merka. In eachcase my advance team met a broad cross-sec-tion of the local population in advance to ex-plain UNITAF objectives. The UNITAF com-manders and our political officersencouraged local leadership to come forward.HOCs were established and local and re-gional councils sprang up. The vast majority

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of local residents welcomedthe coalition forces, the foodsituation improved, and childmortality rates dropped rapidlyin all sectors. Relief workerswelcomed the enhanced secu-rity, humanitarian help, andlogistics support provided byUNITAF forces. Local coopera-tion was mixed; it was betterin Baidoa and Merka than inBardera and Kismayo wherethe residents feared retaliationfrom the still potent factionleaders. A common thread ofconcern by relief workers andSomalis alike, however, wasthat improvements wouldonly be temporary; the depar-ture of foreign forces would befollowed by the return of in-timidation and violence fromthe factions and militias.

An International ForceEssential to UNITAF’s ef-

fectiveness were the non-U.S.forces in the four critical sec-tors. In Kismayo, the 10th

Mountain Division workedclosely with the 850-memberBelgian paratroop battalion.The 2,000 French troops didan outstanding job in Oddur,as did 2,500 Italians based firstat Jalalaqsi and later at Jowharand parts of north Mogadishu.(Initial differences over the lo-cation and role of Italianforces were quietly and

quickly resolved by military-to-military talksin Mogadishu and among senior officers inRome and Washington and at CENTCOMheadquarters.) The 850-man Canadian unitoperating from Belet Uen, and the 650-manAustralian unit, which took over from Amer-ican forces in Baidoa in mid-January, per-formed admirably. The Canadians, French,and Australians conducted extensive patrolsin their respective sectors to control techni-cals and arms caches in remote locations aswell as to protect relief activities. The Italianforces worked closely with the Marines in

Mogadishu and also in protecting relief con-voys along supply routes to the interior. Bel-gian forces and the U.S. Army coordinatedeffectively in Kismayo but encountered on-going problems with periodic violence be-tween two Somali factions.

Non-U.S. forces were notably active, en-gaging in community development projects(such as building schools and roads and re-pairing irrigation canals and tube wells)which went beyond their official responsibili-ties to escort the food convoys. The Canadi-ans, French, and Australians worked hard torevive broad community leadership, encour-aging creation of, and then cooperating with,local councils on security and humanitarianmatters and forming local Somali policeunits. Taking the lead from the Baidoa model,they called frequently upon our political offi-cers and relief representatives for help. TheItalians worked closely with Americans in en-couraging the former Somali police to recre-ate an interim force for Mogadishu of some3,500 men and 60 women. The Moroccanbattalion was given responsibility for Bale-dogle, taking over from the U.S. Army, andfor guarding installations in Mogadishu. TheMoroccan hospital became a major asset, asdid the Swedish. A new Pakistani battaliontook over part of Mogadishu from theMarines and did very well. General Johnstonalso utilized smaller contingents in Mo-gadishu: forces from Botswana, Zimbabwe,United Arab Emirates, Tunisia, Nigeria, Egypt,and other nations which contributed troopsprovided security at selected locations or forspecific operations such as feeding programs.

Overall, U.S. and foreign forces in Mo-gadishu and the interior conducted them-selves with a high degree of discipline anddedication, exercising considerable restraintunder arduous conditions. Johnston skill-fully managed disparate national contin-gents that had joined UNITAF in responseto President Bush’s appeal, despite the factthat there had been no advance planningregarding the particular capabilities needed.There were added complications affectingseveral units which lacked a common lan-guage or training, or which were woefullyunder-equipped. Despite these obstacles,Johnston and his staff were able to developa surprising degree of cohesion and com-mon purpose, assigning permanent liaisonofficers to the various units who kept in

MISSION TO SOMALIA

. . . President Clinton has directedthat U.S. forces remain long enough tocomplete their mission and no longer.The completion of the mission chieflyconcerns security in Somalia.

For U.S. combat troops, I thinkthere are three items on the checklist.First, the security issue in south Mo-gadishu must be settled. Second wemust make real progress toward takingthe heavy weapons out of the hands ofthe warlords. Third, there must becredible police forces in major popula-tion centers. When these three condi-tions are met, I believe we can removethe U.S. Quick Reaction Force from Mo-gadishu.

We can reduce U.S. logisticstroops support other UNISOM II forceswhen the security situation in Mo-gadishu permits larger scale hiring ofcivilian contract employees to providethe support functions. . . .

In the meantime, President Clin-ton has given us clear direction to staythe course with other nations to helpSomalia once again provide for its peo-ple. This is what the new world asks ofAmerican leadership and Americanpartnership.

—Secretary of Defense Les AspinAugust 27, 1993


constant communication with his head-quarters. He also had weekly meetings withthe commanders of all national units atwhich strategy, plans, tactics, and problemswere discussed. Johnston allowed the com-manders of national units considerable dis-cretion in how they carried out commonmission objectives, taking into considera-tion differences in doctrine, training, andequipment, as well as the extent of territoryin the humanitarian relief sectors and thedegree of the threat.

UNITAF’s AccomplishmentsBy late January there were almost no

light weapons visible on the streets of Mo-gadishu, night helicopter patrols hadstopped, and little shooting was heard in thenight. Searches for arms caches in the citywere gradually increased with Botswananand Pakistani forces, who impressed U.S. of-ficers with their proficiency and discipline,participating with Americans and Italianforces. A great deal of commercial activityhad resumed; streets outside the green-zoneno-man’s land were crowded and schoolsbegan to re-open. By late February 35 dryfeeding stations were providing two-kilo-gram rations to one million people a week,and neither starvation nor food theft wereany longer problems. A UNITAF-Somali soc-cer championship attracted a crowd of morethan 30,000 who ignored scores of gravesoutside the stadium. By April a uniformedSomali police force of more than 3,000 wason the streets with UNITAF liaison officers.

Except for a minor uprising by Aideed’ssupporters in late February the Oakley/John-ston strategy of seeking cooperation, avoid-ing direct confrontation if possible, andgradually increasing pressure on all factionswas working. UNITAF suffered very few casu-alties in Mogadishu during its five-monthdeployment. Somali casualties caused byUNITAF cannot be accurately determineddue to the customary practice of carryingaway the dead, but they were probably fewerthan fifty. Compared with the numerous in-cidents in which UNITAF forces encounteredsporadic shooting or mass stone-throwing,the low casualty rate among Somalis showshow hard and how successfully UNITAFcommanders worked to instill restraint anddiscipline into the behavior of troops fromall nationalities and at all levels. Similar

progress took place in the countryside withthe exception of Kismayo where an ongoingfeud between the faction of Colonel OmarJess (Aideed’s ally) and the forces belongingto Colonel Hersi Morgan (Siad Barre’s son-in-law) resulted in periodic, low-level skir-mishes despite UNITAF’s best efforts. Buteven here there was no return to major con-flict, since most Somalis were eager for peaceand the local leaders were struggling to as-sert themselves.

UNITAF focused on putting weaponsout of circulation primarily to facilitate themovement of the relief convoys and to grad-ually weaken the power of the faction lead-ers by immobilizing their militias and pre-cluding the use of force for politicalpurposes. This approach to disarmament orarms control was deliberately planned tohave a positive impact on the embryonicprocess of building governmental structuresfrom the ground up, centered on the localand regional councils. Baidoa representedthe most successful example of resurrectinga municipal council not under the thumb ofa faction leader, but progress in this direc-tion was also achieved in Merka, Belet Uen,Oddur, and to a lesser degree in Bardera.

By the time UNOSOM II assumed con-trol and UNITAF was disbanded, large-scalefamine and disease had been overcome insouthern Somalia, there was virtually noclan warfare, and relief agencies were cuttingback on feeding programs as local harvestsreturned to near-normalcy. This happenedonly because of international help withtools, seed, and irrigation—as well as protec-tion so that farmers could go back to theirfields. In several regions, councils with civil-ian leaders, including women and tribal el-ders and religious leaders, were operating.Some schools and clinics had reopened ashad some businesses. Problems of banditrypersisted, however, directed mainly againstforeigners and those few Somalis with mate-rial wealth (such as cars, radios, watches,and cameras). Several major militias had notbeen demobilized, and hidden weaponswere abundant. Personal and clan tensionsremained high, but peace was only threat-ened in Kismayo.

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Lessons of the PastAmerican military and civilian leaders

in Somalia benefitted from the experience inVietnam and Lebanon. Having been in-volved in both, General Johnston and I weredetermined to avoid the mistakes of theseearlier conflicts. A better political-militaryunderstanding of the local situation and U.S.objectives—including how best to combinepolitical, military, and humanitarian ac-tions—was needed.

In Vietnam the United States had triedto run everything and had progressivelysidelined the Vietnamese, turning them es-sentially into passive onlookers in their owncountry. Washington had actively pressed anew form of government, elections, and aconstitution on Saigon, very closely mod-eled on the American system. Institution-building had civilian and military advisorstaking the lead in both planning and carry-ing out social and economic and develop-ment programs, creating local militia andpolice forces, and assuming responsibility forpolitical reconstruction from village levelup. U.S. military forces took over most com-

bat operations, relegating theSouth Vietnamese military topacification, thus killing the in-centive of the best officers tofight for their own country. Al-though well-intentioned, theintrusive approach failed, leav-ing the South Vietnamese evermore demoralized and ineffec-tual. When the United Statesdeparted these programs col-

lapsed overnight.This general approach would not be re-

peated in Somalia. Even though the situa-tions were not comparable, America wouldnot take responsibility, unilaterally orthrough the United Nations, for running So-malia or imposing specific solutions on itsprofound social, political, and economicproblems. To say that Somalia had to save it-self could not be just a slogan. Our insistencethat interim Somali police forces be estab-lished as soon as possible was derived directlyfrom the basic approach to helping the Soma-lis and minimizing the U.S. and UNITAF roleswhenever possible. It also had a very desirablesecondary result of minimizing contact withthe Somali population in situations that were

apt to create friction, thereby reducing bothSomali political opposition and the risk ofUNITAF casualties. Ultimately it would be upto Somalis at all levels to develop viable polit-ical and administrative institutions. UNITAFcould help get this process off to a good startand provide long-term help.

In Lebanon during the early 1980s,American intervention was intended to act asa neutral agent to end fighting betweenChristians and Muslims in Beirut as part of alarger effort to broker an Arab-Israeli settle-ment. When Navy ships offshore were or-dered to shell Syria and Lebanese Moslemtargets in East Beirut, however, marines onshore suddenly became the target them-selves. Flawed understanding and manage-ment of underlying political conditions hadinadvertently turned U.S. intervention—inthe eyes of Syria, Iran, most Palestinians,most Lebanese, and virtually the entire Arabworld—from neutrality to partisanship in theIsraeli occupation. Retribution was not longin coming and a suicide mission took thelives of 241 marines in barracks near Beirutairport. The United States then pulled out.

For the U.S. political and military lead-ership in Somalia, the lesson of Lebanon wasloud and clear: don’t take sides, and proceedcarefully. If anything, the message was morepertinent in Somalia because of complexclan rivalries, struggles among a gaggle offaction leaders, and the great sense of prideand independence of the Somali people. Fac-tion leaders at first vied with each other forU.S. support even though later the mood ofthe Aideed faction soured. Americans wouldnot pick a winner or designate a favorite, butrather would turn all factions away fromusing force and intimidation and towardjoining together in the civil society to pur-sue a political remedy.

UNITAF decided to avoid direct con-frontation in favor of the gradual disarma-ment of all the faction leaders, workingwhenever possible to implement agreementswhich the leaders had reached and holdingout the promise of rehabilitation aid as wellas relief. This, as well as a demonstrated readi-ness to respond with overwhelming forceagainst those who broke the cease-fire or at-tempted to use force for political purposes,caused the faction leaders to avoid con-fronting UNITAF. It also put an end to clanconflict except for sporadic problems between

the United States hadprogressively sidelinedthe Vietnamese, turn-ing them essentiallyinto passive onlookersin their own country


Colonels Jess and Morgan centered onKismayo. Combined with the rapid arrival ofhumanitarian assistance, this generated over-whelming popular support for UNITAF (ex-cept for Aideed’s Habr Gedir subclan). The po-litical-military-humanitarian strategy enabledus to achieve the objectives of facilitating hu-manitarian operations, stopping death anddestruction, and not becoming the target ofguerrilla warfare and terrorism.

Aideed’s ChallengeIt was probably inevitable that Aideed

would confront and challenge UNOSOM II.By late February he had already recognizedthat international peacekeeping—whetherU.S.- or U.N.-led—would not dovetail withhis interests. Aideed was obsessed with whathe fully believed to be his destiny to becomeSomalia’s leader, a belief acquired by successin driving Siad Barre out of the country andenhanced by ruthlessness, cleverness, andleadership traits. His protestations about ad-hering to a political process were coupledwith repeated attempts to subvert it when-ever his SNA faction seemed to be losingout. However, UNITAF’s close surveillance,firm hand, and reputation for decisive ac-tion kept him in check, except for a briefprotest in late February. Following thatshort-lived action, we had a very private,very pointed talk with Aideed about whatwould happen to him if there were to be arepeat. Although seething, Aideed took nofurther anti-U.S. action at that time.

After May 4 and the departure of Ameri-can combat forces (except for a 1,200-manquick reaction force), UNOSOM apparentlyconcluded that its depleted strength and ex-panded missions—inter alia covering all So-malia—did not permit frequent patrols andtight control of Mogadishu. High-level dia-logue with Aideed and his faction ceased.Aideed began to move men and weaponsback into the city, and stepped up anti-U.N.vitriol over his radio. The challenge to U.N.authority exploded following the ambush ofPakistani troops on June 5 by Aideed sup-porters, the Security Council call for punish-ment of those responsible, and the UNO-SOM decision to seek Aideed’s arrest anddestroy his command center.

A cycle of violence has ensued in whichscores of Somalis, U.N. troops, journalists,and others have been killed or severely in-jured. U.N. relief agencies and NGOs movedtheir top staff out of south Mogadishu to

Nairobi and UNOSOM II seems bogged downin south Mogadishu by fruitless attempts tocapture Aideed and vicious urban warfare, in-cluding the deliberate use by the Aideed fac-tion of women and children against UNO-SOM forces. As the Department of State hasacknowledged, Aideed was clearly winningthe public relations battle abroad and castingdoubt on UNOSOM among Somalis who inno way supported him. He began to deliber-ately target U.S. troops, thinking that he canenergize public opinion in the United Statesagainst keeping Americans in Somalia as hap-pened in both Vietnam and Lebanon. Thischallenges the UNOSOM mission—humani-tarian relief or peace-enforcement—and alsothe competence of its command and control.It created new dilemmas for humanitarian re-lief, and raised the larger issue of how peace-keepers with a mandate to use force shouldfunction where there is a strong local chal-lenge to their mission, and where casualties

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are inevitable among the uninvolved indige-nous population, opposing forces, and U.N.personnel.

Focusing on Aideed seems to havecaused a temporary memory loss about whatUNITAF, the United Nations, and interna-tional relief agencies accomplished in Soma-lia since last December. Death and destruc-tion outside of south Mogadishu havevirtually ended; there has been continuedevolution toward peaceful resolution of dis-putes and a more normal agricultural andpastoral life. Even in Kismayo, traditionalleaders have come to the fore and concludeda peace agreement after four weeks of talksand despite the opposition of Colonels Jessand Morgan.

It is clear that Somalia absent a nationalgovernment remains split along clan andsubclan lines and that there is a pressingneed to move ahead with a political and eco-nomic agenda which addresses national rec-onciliation and reconstruction. Aideed hasreceived no support from the other factionleaders except for his SNA ally, Omar Jess.Moreover, apart from confrontation in southMogadishu, there is real interest and someprogress elsewhere in advancing the frame-work for reconciliation laid down in theAddis Ababa accords.

ReflectionsSome contend that the Aideed problem

was caused by a refusal on the part of UnitedStates and UNITAF to carry out a compre-hensive disarmament program and/or thepremature withdrawal of U.S. forces beforeadequate replacements arrived to bring UN-OSOM II up to its goal of 28,000 personnel.However, President Bush had taken an abso-lutely categoric position in early Decemberagainst taking on this or any other long-term nation building responsibilities, andmade it clear that U.S. forces and UNITAFshould be replaced by a U.N. peacekeepingforce in early 1993.

President Clinton endorsed this positionwith equal firmness and communicated itclearly to the United Nations. U.S. forceswith UNITAF were prepared to help with ad-ditional disarmament during the transition,had the U.N. commanders and staff arrivedas expected in April. However, the U.N. Sec-retariat and Security Council were not work-ing from the same timetable.

While no one can confidently claimthat another approach by UNITAF or UNO-SOM II could have prevented a confronta-tion with Aideed, several observations canbe made. First, the importance of UNOSOMII applying sustained pressure on other fac-tion leaders, and maintaining momentumgenerated for concerted political-military-humanitarian action, cannot be overempha-sized. This principle will also apply in otherpeacekeeping operations. Second, it was crit-ical to have adequate forces, equipment, andcommand and control procedures agreed onby both the political and military authoritiesof troop contributors. The latter needs to beassured not only at the outset but also in theevent of changing circumstances on theground by a suitable consultative mecha-nism. And third, one must recognize thesoundness of the traditional U.N. peacekeep-ing stance against taking sides or makingpermanent enemies, in contrast to an imme-diate response to attacks on U.N. forces oremploying force when necessary to achievethe mission. Obviously individuals directlyinvolved in armed, unprovoked attacks onU.N. forces are beyond the limits of dia-logue. The most effective approach wouldseem to be that under consideration by theUnited Nations and explicitly called for bySecretary of Defense Les Aspin in late Au-gust: a renewed, broad-based approach to allclans and subclans, including Aideed’s HabrGedir, and to traditional as well as factionleaders; an effort to revitalize the process ofreconciliation and rehabilitation agreed toby Somalis at the Addis Ababa conference;and the continued improvement of the secu-rity situation, including disarmament ofheavy weapons and strengthening thefledgling, interim Somali police force.

Lessons for PeacekeepingThe traditional distinction between

peacekeeping and peace-enforcement inlargely internal conflicts (humanitarian peace-keeping) is being eroded. The concept ofpeacekeeping operations as minimal interms of personnel and armament—request-ing permission from local authorities beforetaking action pursuant to the mission, andusing force only in response to direct threat


or attack—is coming to be recognized asoften inviting failure, rather than alwaysdemonstrating peaceful intent. There is agrowing recognition that in many situa-tions, the United Nations must be perceivedas having the military capability, the will touse it, and the decisiveness to win armedconfrontations. There is also recognitionthat peacekeeping, theoretically conductedunder chapter VI of the U.N. Charter, canquickly become peace-enforcement underchapter VII as events on the ground evolve.

The U.S. doctrine of overwhelming forcefrom the outset is increasingly understood asthe best means in certain situations ofachieving a peacekeeping mission and mini-mizing confrontation and casualties on allsides. Comparing the results of the U.N. Pak-istani peacekeeping contingent deployed toSomalia under UNOSOM I with the resultsof the U.S.-led coalition force deployed toSomalia as UNITAF, the Security Council de-cided to empower UNOSOM II with essen-

tially the same military powers,rules of engagement, and com-mand and control.

However, the experiences ofUNOSOM II and other recentpeacekeeping operations showthe need for better, more detailedagreement by troop contributingnations on command and controlprocedures, advance planning,and ensuring adequate forces and

material are on the ground when operationsbegin. They also indicate the need for ongo-ing high-level consultation and flexibility—present for operations in Cambodia (UN-TAC) but absent from UNOSOM II. Andthere is need to provide for ending U.N. in-volvement and shifting responsibility tolocal leaders and the people.

Peacekeeping operations often involvemore than simply keeping the peace or pro-moting political settlements; they also in-volve extensive humanitarian relief and re-habilitation; repatriating refugees anddisplaced persons; developing infrastructure;building institutions (such as elections andpolitical structures); demobilizing, disarm-ing, and reintegrating local armed forces andmilitias; and creating effective, impartial po-lice and indigenous security forces. Each ofthese elements is vitally important for thesuccess or failure of the overall mission.

The political, military, and humanitar-ian elements of many peacekeeping opera-tions cannot be logically disjoined. Peace-keeping operations are essentially politicaloperations carried out by military means.Political preparation and continuing dia-logue can reduce casualties and increase thechances of military success. The converse isalso true. The leverage of political efforts tobroker peace agreement is bolstered by suffi-cient military strength. (In Somalia, UNITAFhad adequate strength; in Angola, the U.N.force—UNAVEM II—did not.) Humanitarianand economic thrusts complement and rein-force political-military thrusts if used in con-cert, or they can complicate them if not usedproperly. The United Nations, its memberstates, and NGOs should take the needs forthis sort of coordination explicitly into ac-count in their initial planning.

The U.N. Secretariat must be substan-tially strengthened to organize, manage, andsupport peacekeeping and humanitarian op-erations. Organization in the field must beable to coordinate and lead multifaceted,civil-military operations, not merely exhort.The right combination of command struc-ture, personnel, and logistical support areneeded for U.N. headquarters and the field.This means that member states must con-tribute more funds, people, and equipmentas well as cooperate more closely with U.N.and non-governmental agencies. JFQ

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the United Nationsmust be perceived ashaving the militarycapability, the will touse it, and the deci-siveness to win


U.N. organizational deficiencies and alack of security within Somalia, pre-cluded delivery of sufficient supplies.Hence the United States offered to lead aU.N.-sponsored operation, Restore Hope,which ultimately involved contributionsby more than thirty nations. The finalobjective of that effort, to transition to aU.N.-led operation, was subsequently re-alized in May 1993, when the UnitedNations Operation in Somalia (UNOSOMII), commanded by a Turk, LieutenantGeneral Bir, assumed control of militaryactivity in central and southern Somalia.Each phase has required innovative solu-tions by commanders and their staffs,both in CONUS and deployed. This ac-count offers some insights into both Op-eration Provide Relief and UNOSOM II,but primarily focuses on Operation Re-store Hope which had the most exten-sive U.S. involvement.

U.S. Central Command (CENTCOM)began preparations for nontraditionaloperations in earnest four years ago inthe aftermath of a lengthy search to lo-cate Congressman Mickey Leland and hisparty who were lost when their aircraftcrashed en route to visit a refugee campin Ethiopia. The effort underscored theneed to get a commander on the scenewith the requisite equipment and staff toassess the situation quickly and initiateaction. Toward that end the CENTCOMstanding plan for conducting humanitar-ian assistance in an austere environmentwas revised to include a Humanitarian

Assistance Survey Team (HAST). CATEX 92–3,an exercise designed to evaluate the conceptin 1992, was developed with the Agency forInternational Development (AID) and the Of-fice for Foreign Disaster Assistance of the De-partment of State. The First Marine Expedi-tionary Force (I MEF), the CENTCOM Marinecomponent, was designated a Humanitar-ian/Peacekeeping Joint Task Force (JTF) forfuture operations and was tasked to conductan exercise in California simulating bare-baseconditions in a nonpermissive environment.Just as Internal Look 90 helped prepare forOperation Desert Shield, CATEX 92–3 endedshortly before the deteriorating situation inSomalia required U.S. action. The lessonslearned and the validated HAST concept al-lowed us to rapidly react to President Bush’s

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T he humanitarian assistance opera-tions undertaken in Somalia by theArmed Forces during the last yearhave brought relief to millions of

people who faced famine or even starvation.They have also presented a number of chal-lenges that are likely to confront the com-manders of similar nontraditional militaryoperations in the future.

U.S. activities in Somalia fall into threephases. Operation Provide Relief began inAugust 1992 as an emergency airlift of foodand other urgently needed materialsthrough Kenya to supply starving Somalis.By November, it had become apparent thatthe magnitude of the task, coupled with

A CINC’sPERSPECTIVEBy J O S E P H P . H O A R

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Transporting wheatfor the World FoodProgram aboardC–130s.


order to commence Operation Provide Reliefin August 1992.

Operation Provide ReliefNumerous private international relief or-

ganizations had attempted to provide aid toSomalia in the wake of the 1991 fall of theSiad Barre regime despite a tenuous securitysituation in which bands of armed gunmenpreyed on each other and innocent civiliansin a struggle for dominance. Recognizing theneed to stabilize a country where anarchyand starvation were rampant, the United Na-tions passed Resolution 751 in April 1992

which provided for thepresence of fifty ob-servers in Mogadishuto be followed by addi-tional peacekeepers tomaintain order. In aneffort in September1992 apart from Pro-vide Relief, the UnitedStates supported thisnew UNOSOM bytransporting a security

force of 500 Pakistanis and their equipmentto Mogadishu. The Pakistani battalion wasthe first increment of what was to be a largerforce, but it was soon clear that peacekeepingforces were not the answer.

Provide Relief was set in motion on Au-gust 16, 1992 with the dispatch by CENT-COM of a HAST which became the nucleusfor a JTF which was established within daysto both organize and operate the airlift ofhumanitarian relief supplies. The operationset an important precedent for U.S. militaryinvolvement in relief operations in a semi-permissive environment and not pursuant toa natural disaster. It also surfaced problemsin several important areas. The need for ahost-nation agreement to provide bases forthe airlift immediately became apparent. Ini-tial reluctance by Kenya to support the stag-ing of the operation from Mombasa wasovercome by assurances that the effortswould be limited in scope, that the JTFwould withdraw on completion, that relief

efforts would start with flights to refugeecamps at Wajir in Kenya, and that therewould be appropriate reimbursement for useof or damage to facilities.

Early efforts on the part of governmentalagencies and the country team were key tomaking our intentions clear to the host gov-ernment to allay misunderstandings. Addi-tionally, working in concert with AID andother agencies was essential to success. Forfuture operations the integration of the fullrange of political, humanitarian, and securityefforts needs to be planned and exercised.Even today, after more than a year in Soma-lia, full integration has not been achieved.

Dealing with nongovernmental organi-zations (NGOs), the principal donors of re-lief aide, proved challenging. NGOs arestaffed by spirited frontline relief workers,many of whom are true heroes of humani-tarian assistance. To minimize fear expressedby NGOs over the involvement of theArmed Forces in humanitarian operations,JTF leadership must ensure that NGOs un-derstand the military mission. It was alsocrucial that the military appreciated the cul-ture and central role of NGOs and establisha team effort built around a Relief Coordina-tion Committee and a Centralized Airlift Co-ordination Committee. Once operationalboth committees soon demonstrated theadded value of the JTF in organization andefficiency, plus much improved throughputoffered by 14 C–130 aircraft.

Security was also a complex problem, re-quiring both arrangements for U.S. forcesand the added dimension of security for re-lief supplies—the most valuable commodityin Somalia and the target of bandit gangs.Providing adequate security for C–130 deliv-ery missions was complicated by a firm pol-icy of the International Committee of theRed Cross prohibiting weapons on aircrafttransporting relief cargo. The solution was anairborne reaction force to accompany eachflight and be available in extremis if condi-tions on the ground deteriorated. In additionto providing security in Somalia, a threat as-sessment was made and appropriate precau-tions were taken at both airfields and JTFheadquarters in Kenya. Future operations willlikely face similar security conditions, andforce protection must remain among thecommander’s top priorities.

H o a r

General Joseph P. Hoar, USMC, is Commander in Chief, U.S.Central Command. He served as Deputy Chief of Staff forPlans, Policies and Operations at Headquarters, MarineCorps, immediately prior to assuming his present position.

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USS Tripoli.


Finally, media coverage ofthe spreading famine in Somaliahad an impact on the operation,though not as great as reportsmay lead one to believe. Thenews media influenced publicopinion which resulted in alargely favorable response to theairlift. An open media policy en-couraged the full participation

of journalists by providing logistic supportper DOD guidelines.

Operation Restore HopeAlthough shipments of food vastly in-

creased—Provide Relief ultimately delivered28,000 metric tons of supplies or 112 mil-lion meals—the magnitude of the famineand breakdown in order meant that the air-lift alone could not ameliorate thewidespread starvation in Somalia. The prob-lem was addressed by the United Nations inDecember 1992 with the passage of Resolu-tion 794 which authorized U.N. military ac-tion in response to the President’s offer toassume leadership of a U.N. coalition to es-tablish a secure environment for the deliveryof humanitarian assistance.

The First Marine Expeditionary Forcewas the choice to establish Joint Task ForceSomalia with Lieutenant General RobertJohnston as its commander. This was a logi-cal step since this unit had exercised for thistype of operation. Organizationally, the planwas for the Marines to fill most of the taskforce slots, with the other services providingaugmentation to be sure that all joint andcombined requirements were addressed. This

was the same approach used in standing upJTF Southwest Asia (SWA) some months ear-lier. In both cases designating a componentor element headquarters as the foundationof the mission—in JTF SWA it wasCENTAF/9th Air Force—allowed an estab-lished service staff to transition quickly to aJTF with little need for start-up time.

With Restore Hope additional chal-lenges arose. CENTCOM and the UnifiedTask Force (UNITAF), as it was later known,had to face three basic types of issues: opera-tional, logistic, and coalition. The initial op-erational requirement was for a clear mis-sion statement. Great care was taken todevelop an approved, well-defined missionwith attainable, measurable objectives priorto the operation commencing. Disarmamentwas excluded from the mission because itwas neither realistically achievable nor a pre-requisite for the core mission of providing asecure environment for relief operations. Se-lective “disarming as necessary” became animplied task which led to the cantonment ofheavy weapons and gave UNITAF the abilityto conduct weapons sweeps.

Restore Hope was conducted in that twi-light area between peace and war—an envi-ronment of political anarchy, with no Somaligovernment or normal state institutions, andan unprecedented U.N. chapter VII mandateauthorizing peace-enforcement by all meansnecessary. This required rules of engagementtailored to allow the on-scene commandermaximum flexibility to determine what con-stituted a threat and what response was ap-propriate, including first use of deadly force.Near-universal acceptance by coalition part-ners of the U.S.-crafted rules of engagementhelped to minimize casualties on all sides byclearly demonstrating U.S. and U.N. will torestore order.

Another operational issue was the devel-opment of an appropriate force structure forthe mission. Naval forces already in-theaterwere first on the scene. An AmphibiousReady Group with its embarked Marine Ex-peditionary Unit provided the initial build-ing block for constructing the JTF, which re-quired a sufficient U.S. capability to go italone and the flexibility to accommodatecoalition contributions as they materialized.Elements of both deliberate and crisis action

disarmament wasneither realisticallyachievable nor aprerequisite toproviding a secureenvironment for reliefoperations

Operation Restore Hope

December 9, 1992–May 4, 1993

▼J F Q F O R U M


planning were incorporated into an iterativeprocess to produce the operations order.Face-to-face contact at both the commanderand the staff level was useful in arriving at abalanced, joint force structure matched tothe operational requirements. It included el-ements from the First Marine ExpeditionaryForce, 10th Mountain Division, Air Force andNavy units (such as critical support from re-

connaissance-capable, carrier-borne F–14 aircraft), a teamfrom the Joint Communica-tions Support Element, andSpecial Operations Forces(SOF) including both Psycho-logical Operations (PSYOP)and Civil Affairs (CA) units.Detailed discussions wereheld with the commandersbeing committed, compo-nent commanders, chiefs, theChairman, and NationalCommand Authorities, plussenior representatives fromthe Department of State andother governmental agenciesas well as the President’s Spe-cial Envoy for Somalia, Am-bassador Robert Oakley.

With an approved mission, rules of en-gagement, and force structure, the focusshifted to the execution of Restore Hope.The concept of operations designated Mo-gadishu as the center of gravity; the city hadto be relatively secure prior to expanding tothe interior where the humanitarian needwas most acute. In view of difficulties experi-enced by the outnumbered Pakistani battal-ion at the Mogadishu airport, the applica-tion of overwhelming force was prescribedto intimidate lawless gangs and rival clans,force their cooperation, and ensure the rapidseizure of all key terrain.

Another element critical to overall suc-cess was the integral role of Ambassador Oak-ley in the political preparation of the human-itarian battlefield. He preceded the militaryinto each planned relief sector to confer withthe elders and reassure them of the neutralityand strictly humanitarian intentions of theU.S./U.N. forces about to arrive, but left nodoubts about the consequences of failing to

cooperate. This courageous personal politicalcampaign was key to turning the tide in thepsychological contest for the respect and con-fidence of the Somalis, and it began the proc-ess of breaking the strangle hold of the war-lords and bandits.

Also crucial was the effective applicationof other information-related resources, in-cluding intelligence, PSYOP and CA exper-tise, and the public affairs effort. Embarkingon an operation in a locale which had previ-ously been a low priority intelligence targetrequired an all hands effort by the intelli-gence community. A shift in resources tofocus rapidly on Somalia was required toboth create new architecture and build a de-tailed database. Initially, a lack of human in-telligence forced reliance on technology-based systems; the speed with which theintelligence apparatus was formed reflectedlessons learned from the Gulf War.

CA personnel established links withlocal leaders and gained information on theneeds of the Somalis. This was useful in ad-dressing those needs and tailoring PSYOPcampaigns, efforts that combined leafletsand radio broadcasts to spread the messagethat UNITAF was there to help. The publicaffairs effort was also essential to success.Working closely with the media in Somaliathe military publicized the good work beingdone by UNITAF forces. Media coverage isvirtually real-time, driving public opinionon the critical issues of the day. Thus the at-tention to the media was crucial not only forsuccess on the ground in Somalia, but to sus-tain public support for the operation in theUnited States and internationally. The com-bined information effort contributed signifi-cantly to the virtually unopposed UNITAFoccupation of all sectors, and helped tomaintain firm control in southern Somalia.

The final operational concern was theneed for close coordination with relief agen-cies for which we were tasked to provide secu-rity. Necessary coordination with the agencieswas achieved by the Civil-Military OperationsCenter which was manned by UNITAF per-sonnel from both U.S. and coalition forces. Asimilar organization, the Humanitarian Assis-tance Coordination Center in the CentralCommand Plans and Policy Directorate, wascomprised of a representative from the Officeof Foreign Disaster Assistance and Reserveaugmentees. Both centers paid big dividends

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Refugee worker inBaidoa mixing mazimeal.

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in facilitating the information flow and keep-ing operations in tune with the needs of thehumanitarian relief community.

Deploying 28,000 people 8,000 miles toan austere environment was as formidable asthe operational challenge. Somalia had

primitive airfields, barely usable sea-ports, disintegrating road networksthat did not link population centers,and roadways rendered impassable byfallen bridges and washouts. There wasno electricity, no water, no food, nogovernment, and no economy. Addi-tionally, our forces had to provide se-curity for NGOs which were attempt-

ing to save millions of Somalis fromstarving. Deploying to Somalia was likegoing to the moon: everything needed had tobe brought in or built there. Every scrap oflumber, drop of fuel, drink of water, andslice of bread had to be brought in from out-side. From a logistics perspective, Somaliawas a nightmare. The ultimate bare-base en-

vironment createdfour primary logisticschallenges: project-ing major force, es-tablishing the air-bridge, building anexpeditionary infras-tructure, and manag-ing coalition logisticssupport.

Somalia was thefirst major force pro-jection in an opera-

tion other than war. To meet this logisticalchallenge, we had to rely on a variety of re-sources. In selected cases, critical life supportequipment and materiel handling equip-ment prepositioned in the CENTCOM areaof responsibility was drawn on to reducetime and cost of deployment. Air Forceprepositioned materiel was used at en routebasing sites and in Somalia. The MarineCorps Maritime Prepositioning Force pro-vided initial unit equipment and sustain-ment for forces ashore. Army materiel prepo-sitioned afloat also contributed althoughpierside offloading was prohibited by shipsize and draft. Another challenge was thehigh sea state which precluded in-stream off-load. The Offshore Petroleum DistributionSystem provided immediate and continuing

fuel storage and distribution capability oth-erwise not found in Central Somalia.

Establishing the airbridge to Somaliaalso presented some unique problems.Strategic air flow was slowed by an extended8,000-mile transit, limited availability andcapability of en route basing sites, and poorin-country airfields. All this was com-pounded by maintenance difficulties andweight restrictions that plagued our agingstrategic airlift fleet. The shortage of rampspace at Mogadishu, the deterioration of therunway at Baledogle, and lack of lightingand navigational aids (with the need for FAAairfield certification), exacerbated the prob-lem in the initial phases.

Sealift was similarly hampered by prob-lems such as a harbor that had not beendredged for more than two years, limitedberthing space, sunken vessels in and nearthe port, a near absence of port services (op-erational cranes, lighting, electricity, etc.)and high sea states. A lack of proper han-dling equipment restricted cargo flows to 20-foot containers and only permitted self-sus-taining vessels to make port calls.Nevertheless the expert management of theport of Mogadishu by the commander of theMaritime Prepositioning Force and the 7th

Transportation Group from the Armyavoided the disastrous bottlenecks some hadpredicted and maximized cargo throughput.

Austere conditions required the deploy-ment of nearly four thousand engineer per-sonnel to provide expeditionary infrastruc-ture to support the operation. They openedmain supply routes and airfields as well asconstructing such facilities as fixed tents,heads, showers, kitchens, and wells. Mission-related necessities were given priority overnation building. Nevertheless much of theconstruction served both purposes. Manyother needs were satisfied early in the de-ployment when other sources were not yetavailable through the extensive use of theLogistics Contract Augmentation Program,an Army-managed program that centralizescontracting with single sources to streamlinethe process and reduce response time.

Some logistic issues were endemic to thenature of coalition operations. Legal restric-tions prohibit giving away DOD suppliesand services, even to coalition members. Yet

there was noelectricity, nowater, no food,no government,and no economy

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Doctor examining aSomali child.


many coalition members required logisticalsupport. To meet this need we pieced to-gether a system that relied on a variety oftechniques, including foreign military salescases, cross-servicing agreements, and specialagreements under the Foreign AssistanceAct. Although this system ultimatelyworked, the streamlined system embodied inthe draft legislation submitted by CENT-COM, supported by DOD, and now workingits way through Congress would be invalu-able in future coalition operations.

The success of coalition logistics reliedheavily on the roles of defense attachés andliaison officers from contributing nations in

relating specifics on ca-pabilities and support re-quirements that deploy-ing forces would bring tothe effort. They coordi-nated operational prefer-ences through CENT-COM, relieving the JTFcommander of some ad-

ministrative burdens. Coalition attachés andliaison officers played other important rolesas well. Attachés assigned to coalition em-bassies in Washington were invited to CENT-COM headquarters for orientation briefings

and liaison officers were able to remain withthe headquarters and operational staffs inSomalia. Also, SOF Coalition Support Teamswere initially fielded to help participatingforces facilitate liaison with UNITAF. Thesemeasures maintained coalition involvementand provided a smooth flow of information.

Coalition operations raised other con-cerns. Although willing to take the lead andprovide the bulk of forces and logistical sup-port, the United States recognized that theoperation would be conducted under U.N.auspices and that only with the involvementof the international community would itseem legitimate and successful. Accordingly,the participation by Somalia’s African neigh-bors with similar regional interests as well asby both Middle East and Southwest Asiancountries with cultural and religious affini-ties was a necessary ingredient. This mixtureof forces was further strengthened by severalof our Western allies with advanced equip-ment and valuable experience in both NATOand U.N. operations.

The large number of countries offeringimmediate deployment of military forces pre-sented further challenges such as how best toemploy varied resources, organize such aforce and maintain unity of command, anddeal with logistic support requirements andvarying levels of interoperability. To handlean almost overwhelming number of poten-tial coalition offers, CENTCOM headquartersretained approval authority and screenedeach offer in order to lift some of the admin-istrative and coordination burden fromUNITAF. The capabilities of contributors—in-cluding self-sufficiency, mobility, and will-ingness to adhere to American operationalcontrol and rules of engagement—wereweighed against the operational require-ments of the mission. Political considerationswere also taken into account. In order toscreen international offerings CENTCOM de-veloped a questionnaire which was dissemi-nated by the Department of State via defenseattachés. Nations wishing to participate re-turned the completed questionnairesthrough diplomatic channels. After deploy-ment approval, requirements for strategic lift,support, and funding were completed.

The unique problems of Restore Hopedemanded an effective command structure.Unlike the coalition during the Gulf War, po-tential contributors were asked to place their

H o a r

participation by Somalia’sAfrican neighbors as well asby both Middle East andSouthwest Asian countrieswas a necessary ingredient

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Marines escorting relief workers.


forces under the operational control of theU.S. commander. National representationwas done through contingent commandersto UNITAF and a full-time liaison sectionwhich was part of a larger collective cell.Consequently, throughout Restore Hope,unity of command and unity of effort wereretained. In addition, an effective and reli-able communications network at all echelonsof command greatly enhanced commandand control of deployed forces.

From the outset the mission remained toprovide a secure environment in which todeliver relief supplies to break the famine

and to establish condi-tions for a rapid transi-tion to U.N. control. ByMarch 1993 UNITAFforces had succeeded inthe assigned mission.Starvation was no longeran overriding problemand security was suffi-cient to allow transitionto the U.N.-led UNOSOMII phase of the operation.

In planning for that transition, the UnitedNations accepted Turkey’s offer to provide acommander, and American and Canadian of-fers to provide the deputy commander andchief of staff, respectively. The United Na-tions secured commitments for an interna-tional staff to replace the U.S. UNITAF staffand for longer-term troop contributionswhich eventually totalled 28,000. The UnitedStates agreed to commit a logistics supportcommand for the general support of U.N.forces. In addition, for added stability duringthe transition from UNITAF to UNOSOM, theUnited States would provide a quick-reactionforce and information support to the UNO-SOM staff. These forces would support theUnited Nations but remain under CINC-CENT operational control, with tactical con-trol delegated to Commander, U.S. Forces So-malia (COMUSFORSOM), who is also thedeputy commander, UNOSOM II.

Terms of reference between CINCCENTand the UNOSOM II commander were devel-oped for participation of the quick reactionforce and information cell. Specific guidancefor the use of these U.S. forces was spelledout to preclude confusion.

Efforts to effect an expeditious andseamless turnover were delayed by differingviews that arose in part over the UNITAFsuccess. Fortunately the unambiguousUNITAF mission statement precluded “mis-sion creep” and clearly demarcated the dif-ference between UNITAF and UNOSOM IIroles. Longer-term U.N. efforts to promotenational reconciliation and the desire to es-tablish a presence in northern Somalia wereappropriately left to UNOSOM II with itsbroader political and economic rehabilita-tion mandate. CENTCOM, however, raisedconcerns from the beginning with regard tothe U.N. ability to logistically support a So-malia-wide operation, since the U.S. logisticsupport package was designed only for forcesin southern Somalia and could not expandits role to other parts of the country withoutsubstantial augmentation.

UNOSOM IIThe long-term solution for Somalia re-

quires a fully developed humanitarian, eco-nomic, and political effort in addition to themilitary requirement. The seeds for thesewere sown in UNITAF, but their success de-pends on the necessary vision, commitment,coherent planning, and resources to followthrough under UNOSOM II. CENTCOM fa-cilitated the transition from UNITAF to UN-OSOM II in several ways. Operational andlogistics planners were at work in New Yorkas early as January 1993 to assist the under-manned U.N. Military Staff Committee indeveloping its concept of operations and listof logistics requirements. These planners re-mained available to the United Nationswhile it stood up a functional staff in Mo-gadishu in April.

Within CENTCOM headquarters, the So-malia working group shifted its focus to sup-port interagency efforts, including working toresolve issues related to the transition anddrawdown of U.S. forces. At the same timethe Central Command Personnel Directorateassisted in assembling and rapidly deployingthe U.S. contingent to UNOSOM II where the47 Americans provided critical skills in theearly days when the fledgling staff was oper-ating at 30 percent strength—which empha-sizes the need for new procedures to peopleU.N. military staffs in contingency situations.

Since the official turnover to UNOSOMII on May 4, 1993, CENTCOM has continued

▼J F Q F O R U M

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10th Mountain Divisionadvancing into Baledoggle, Somali.


to play a pivotal role in the ongoing opera-tion. The maintenance of security and con-tinuation of relief operations within Human-

itarian Relief Sectors createdunder Restore Hope requiredself-sufficient brigade size unitsor equivalent combinations.Thus a seamless transition tothe U.N. operation dependedon the active recruitment of in-ternational support to provideforces which would operate

under UNOSOM II in accordance with achapter VII mandate. Most nations withforces committed agreed to remain throughthe transition, and several new contributorswere identified. Retaining a U.S. combatforce presence was critical to keeping severalcontributors in the coalition. To some, onlyU.S. combat troops symbolize American re-solve. The presence of the quick-reactionforce, along with U.S. leadership in some keyUNOSOM II positions, has not only donethat but also encouraged other countries tofollow through on their pledges of support.Efforts by CENTCOM, as executive agent forUNOSOM logistics support, to facilitatestrategic lift and to outfit potential contribu-tors have also helped to hold the coalitiontogether. Another vital role for CENTCOM inthe UNOSOM II operation has been to main-tain close communications with COMUS-FORSOM to ensure that the support needs ofU.S. forces are being met.

A U.S. force of approximately 4,000 wastailored to stay in Somalia to support pro-jected UNOSOM II needs. However, unantic-ipated shortfalls caused by the changed secu-rity situation, coupled with the slower thananticipated arrival of coalition forces andcontributor support, have required adjust-ments. The challenge has been to modifythe composition of our force to meet thesenew needs without significantly increasingits total size. Raising the profile of theArmed Forces in Somalia would underminethe perception of U.N. military forces astruly international and capable of meetingthe task at hand. A highly visible Americanpresence is not in the best interests of theUnited States or the United Nations.

Several important lessons have been val-idated through our experiences in Somaliaover the past year that are key to success inhumanitarian assistance operations. Their

application is far-reaching in today’s volatileworld. In the operational area there are threekey lessons. First, the formulation of a clearand precise mission statement which definesmeasurable and attainable objectives isparamount. Second, the application of deci-sive, rather than just sufficient, force canminimize resistance, saving casualties on allsides. Finally, developing a comprehensivestrategy that coordinates all instruments ofnational power—not just the military—greatly enhances the probability of achiev-ing the stated objectives.

Equally important to humanitarian as-sistance is the logistical capability of theArmed Forces—a capability unmatched byany other military in the world. Preposi-tioned stocks and equipment afloat andashore, along with strategic lift, constitute aunique capacity to support the massive forceprojection that future international actionsmay require. As fiscal realities result in asmaller force, we will need to exercise andrefine our logistics capability to be sure thatit does not atrophy. At the same time theUnited Nations must be encouraged to de-velop its own ability to rapidly contract lo-gistics support for U.N. operations.

As seen in the central region over thelast few years, we are unlikely to have the op-tion of going it alone. A significant militaryaction in support of humanitarian assistancewill require an international coalition witheach country contributing within its means.Then there will be a need to organize andmaintain that coalition during operations.

Finally, the mission to Somalia has reaf-firmed the unparalleled professionalism,dedication, resiliency, and valor of men andwomen from many nations who once againrose to a challenge and performed magnifi-cently under trying conditions. Theseheroes, serving in or out of uniform, Ameri-cans as well as their coalition partners, arethe reason that hundreds of thousands ofSomalis were saved from starvation andthat the foundation has been laid to restoretheir country. JFQ

H o a r

retaining a U.S. combatforce presence wascritical to keepingseveral contributors inthe coalition


The United Nations is conducting amajor experiment in Somalia, onewhose implications reach far be-yond the Horn of Africa. Its aim is

to determine whether collective militarymeans can be successfully applied to haltfighting and restore order in countries tornby ethnic conflict, political chaos, or civil

war. If it works, the world community willhave a new tool among its multilateralpeacekeeping instruments, an approach nowbeing termed peace-enforcement.

Unfortunately, the results of the experi-ment so far are not encouraging and suggesta need to examine the lessons of Somaliacarefully before peace-enforcement is at-tempted elsewhere.

Growing FrustrationsInternal conflicts like Somalia have his-

torically been off-limits to U.N.-sponsoredmilitary forces, except when all the partiesto the conflict agree to their deployment. Insuch cases, neutral mediators (U.N. officials

▼J F Q F O R U M

T. Frank Crigler is James P. Warburg Professor of International Relations at Simmons College. He was U.S. Ambassador to Somalia from 1987 to 1990 and returned there last Decemberfor the ABC News program “Nightline.”

The Peace-EnforcementDilemma By T. F R A N K C R I G L E R

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Treating the injured ina make-shift hospital.

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troops even for their own security. The illwill between Pakistani soldiers and Aideed’ssupporters continues to poison U.N. effortsin Somalia to this day.

Similar frustrations encountered else-where—most notably in the former Yu-goslavia, but also in Cambodia, Angola,Lebanon, and on the fringes of the formerSoviet empire—had already led members ofthe U.N. Security Council to ask SecretaryGeneral Boutros Boutros-Ghali early last yearto suggest ways of strengthening the organi-zation’s ability to intervene in such conflicts,halt fighting, reduce innocent suffering, andpromote recovery. The Secretary General ac-curately gauged the mood of the member-ship and recommended a tougher, more in-terventionist approach to peacekeeping. Hisrecommendations were contained in a majorreport which called for deploying well-armed, combat-ready peace-enforcementunits under U.N. command, within theframework of the collective security provi-sions of chapter VII of the U.N. Charter, ifmore traditional means failed to preserve in-ternational peace and security.2 To a large ex-tent the operation in Somalia—in its mili-tary as well as civil aspects—embodies thesemeasures advanced by Boutros-Ghali.

Testing Peace-EnforcementCircumstances combined to make Soma-

lia the obvious test case for the SecretaryGeneral’s more assertive and muscular ap-proach to multinational peacekeeping for avariety of reasons:

▼ Its collapse into anarchy had been socomplete that the usually vexing issue of nationalsovereignty seemed irrelevant.

▼ Traditional peacekeeping had alreadyproven inadequate as a means of restoring orderand alleviating human suffering (the parallel cri-sis in Bosnia-Herzegovina had exacerbated thesense of urgency and frustration which the Secu-rity Council felt about the traditional approach).

▼ America had taken matters into its ownhands with Restore Hope which showed that amassive deployment of force could halt factionalfighting and safeguard relief operations, therebysaving thousands of innocent lives while suffer-ing almost no casualties.

▼ Some 19 other nations, recognizing thesuccess of the U.S.-led humanitarian operation,eventually offered to contribute contingents, andmost were prepared to leave them in place whenthe United Nations took charge.

or others) usually first persuade parties tostop fighting and agree to a truce. Once thesituation stabilizes, U.N. observers or peace-keeping forces are asked to monitor cease-fire arrangements to reassure all parties thattruce terms are being respected. Rarely haveU.N. peacekeepers been expected to preservethe peace or restore order by force.1

Over the years, lightly-armed U.N. forceshave intervened in at least two dozen con-flicts, always at the request of the partiesconcerned or with their tacit consent. Al-though peacekeeping tasks often placed thesetroops in the line of fire, force has largelybeen limited to self-protection. Despite thisdistinctly passive approach, traditionalpeacekeeping has for a generation con-tributed significantly to damping down con-flicts and securing peace. Recent successes in-clude deployments in Namibia, El Salvadorand Nicaragua, Iran and Iraq, and Mozam-bique. In 1988 U.N. peacekeepers were col-lectively awarded the Nobel Peace Prize.

But traditional-style U.N. peacekeepinghas by no means always succeeded in keep-ing the peace, much less in bringing an endto fighting when the parties themselves wereunwilling to lay down their arms. In an in-creasingly disorderly and chaotic world,scrupulous respect for national sovereigntyand the consent of parties in conflict hasgrown harder to rationalize. Neat distinc-tions between international and internalconflicts have become blurred, while the col-lapse of authoritarian control in many stateshas unleashed violent ethnic rivalries andpressures for self-determination. Increas-ingly, frustrated statesmen have called formore robust instruments for applying multi-lateral pressure on parties in conflict.

Among many frustrating cases, Somaliais a classic illustration of the weaknesses ofthe traditional approach: when the UnitedNations attempted in mid-1992 to introducea peacekeeping force to restore order andsafeguard humanitarian relief operationsthere, its efforts were thwarted largely by thestubborn refusal of one faction to cooperate,namely, the United Somali Congress headedby General Mohammed Farah Aideed. Alightly-armed battalion of Pakistani troopswho led the effort promptly became virtualprisoners in their own camp, unable to con-trol food warehouses and key transport facil-ities and dependent on General Aideed’s


▼ The Clinton ad-ministration came to of-fice determined not to bedistracted from domesticeconomic issues by foreigncrises where vital U.S. in-terests were not at stake,and it was anxious to findways of sharing responsi-bility with other nationsfor managing nuisanceslike Somalia.

This resulted in in-tense negotiations dur-

ing February and March 1993 between theClinton administration and the U.N. Secre-tariat over the terms and timing for handingover responsibilities in Somalia. Ultimately itwas agreed to seek a Security Council man-date for the successor U.N. operation (UNO-SOM II) in order to give it unprecedentedpeace-enforcing authority to intervene, haltfighting, and impose order that the U.S.-ledforces had enjoyed during Restore Hope.There was also insistence that the Security

Council provide UNOSOM IIwith the weapons, equipment,and personnel needed to exer-cise that authority.

In addition Washingtonand New York agreed that Amer-ica would remain directly en-gaged and fully committed to

the success of the operation, by providing se-nior officers for UNOSOM II, a logistic capa-bility with some 1,500 personnel to providevital support, and a quick-reaction force of1,200 troops to intervene in emergencies.

The Security Council unanimously ap-proved the plan (Resolution 814) on March26, 1993, and the new doctrine of peace-en-forcement was scheduled be put to the testbeginning on May 1.

UNOSOM II: Dramatically DifferentThe transition to U.N. authority repre-

sented not only a change in command andthe rules of engagement, but also a majortransformation in the world community’sstated purposes in Somalia. Fundamentally,it marked the successful end of RestoreHope, with its narrow focus on saving inno-cent lives, and the start of a much bolder

and broader operation intended to tackleunderlying social, political, and economicproblems and to put Somalia back on its feetas a nation.

With strong U.S. backing the SecurityCouncil had approved an ambitious, experi-mental, and virtually open-ended mandatefor UNOSOM II that would inevitablyplunge the international community farmore deeply into Somalia’s internal affairsthan any previous case since the Congo. Inaddition to humanitarian relief UNOSOM IIwas to assist in “rehabilitating political insti-tutions and the economy and promoting po-litical settlement and national reconcilia-tion. . . .” Its sweeping agenda for Somaliaencompassed:

▼ economic relief and rehabilitation▼ national and regional institutions▼ police and law and order▼ international humanitarian law▼ refugees and displaced persons▼ the clearing of land mines▼ public information programs to support

U.N. activities.3

To the point of recent incidents, the res-olution authorized, even expected, UNO-SOM II to accomplish its goals by force ifnecessary. By declaring the Somali crisis “athreat to international peace and security,” itexplicitly opened the way for applyingforcible collective security measures pro-vided for in chapter VII of the Charter. Ac-cordingly, the Security Council voted to in-crease troop levels, tighten the armsembargo, and strictly enforce cease-fire anddisarmament measures that Somali factionleaders had agreed on at the Addis Ababapeace conference earlier in the year.4

Restore Hope had indeed left much un-done that both Somalis and many othershoped it would do to correct the country’sills and repair the damage done by twoyears of fighting. But the key to the opera-tion’s obvious success may have been itsvery limits: it was explicitly not intended topacify the country, disarm the warlords, de-mobilize armies, restore civil government,or solve the country’s accumulated politicaland social problems.

Everyone understood, of course, thatfundamental problems—notably the rootproblem of guns in the hands of warlordsand their followers—would have to be facedat some point down the road. U.N. officials

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the transition to U.N. authority marked thestart of a much bolderand broader operation

Humanitarian Relief Sectors


in particular, embarrassed by the failure oftheir initial attempt at peacekeeping in So-malia (and increasingly disturbed by GeneralAideed’s hostile behavior and rhetoric),hoped that his and rival factions would bedisarmed and the country pacified beforeU.N. forces took over from the Americans. Agreat many Somalis echoed that hope andwarned that the country would fall back intochaos if root problems were not addressed.But in its waning days, the Bush administra-tion had been content to leave the longer-term problems to others.

UNOSOM II, on the other hand, wasmandated to go directly to the causes of con-flict and seek solutions that would optimizechances for real recovery. Not surprisingly, itwas immediately challenged by the very war-lord who had earlier adamantly opposed U.N.intervention. Predictably it has been plaguedby command and control problems, organiza-tional confusion, administrative weaknesses,

funding shortfalls, and national policy differ-ences that one might expect in such a novelmultinational operation. But it has proven tobe seriously weak just where Restore Hopewas strong: its objectives were vaguely de-fined, its reach is exceedingly ambitious, andits results are difficult to measure.

A Flawed Concept?Many of the difficulties that UNOSOM

II has encountered to date are workaday op-erational problems that the U.N. experimentcan help resolve. A much more serious weak-ness—perhaps a fatal flaw—lies in the veryconcept of peace-enforcement, the notionthat peace can be imposed on a reluctantand notoriously proud people at gunpointand that the social fabric of their nation canbe rewoven at the direction of outsiders.

Despite carefully laid transitional plans,UNOSOM as an experiment in peace-en-forcement got off to a rocky start. Well be-fore the transfer of responsibility in May,

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General Aideed’scompound afterMarines respondedto sniper fire.

a much more serious weakness lies in the very concept of peace-enforcement, the notion that peace can be imposed at gunpoint


teams of civilian experts began deploying toimplement a series of agreements that So-mali faction leaders had concluded at U.N.-sponsored conferences in Addis Ababa ear-lier in the year: committees were convenedto draft an interim governing charter, groupsassembled in towns and villages to organizelocal governing bodies, plans were drawn tocreate community-based police forces, andindividuals were identified to be judges in atemporary court system.

But discord quickly arose when U.N. of-ficials attempted to impose their views onhow the Addis agreements should be imple-mented, what form the new governing char-ter should take, and how best to disarm anddemobilize the factional militias. The rea-sons for the dispute are not entirely clear tooutside observers. U.N. officials charge thatGeneral Aideed, after signing the agreementsreluctantly, torpedoed them deliberately be-cause he correctly feared his political powerwould be eroded. Habr Gedir supporters ofAideed, on the other hand, claim that it wasU.N. officials who refused to honor theagreement terms or applied them unfairly,and who attempted to disarm Aideed’s mili-tiamen more quickly than others.

Disagreement also broke out overwhether the factions were compelled to con-form to the UNOSOM program of meetingsand negotiations or were free to deal amongthemselves. Early in June, in what now seemsto be a watershed event, Aideed and some200 representatives of rival clan factions met

in Mogadishu to sign a peace agreement end-ing months of skirmishing between HabrGedir and Majertain militias along territorialborders in central Somalia. At least on papertheir agreement appears to reflect a commit-ment to peace and national unity—but italso proclaimed the intent by allied factionsto work outside the UNOSOM framework,and it called for the speedy departure of theUnited Nations from Somalia. UNOSOM la-beled the conference unauthorized and stig-matized the peace agreement as illegitimate.

Almost immediately thereafter shootingerupted in Mogadishu when U.N. forcesacted to neutralize the radio station fromwhich Aideed followers had ballyhooed thepeace conference and previously had broad-cast vitriolic attacks against UNOSOM. Beforedawn on June 5 Pakistani troops togetherwith American peacekeepers were dispatchedto inspect depots where the forces of Aideedwere to have deposited weapons for eventualU.N. safekeeping. Shooting broke out—it isnot clear (or even material now) who firedthe first shots, or where—and in the courseof the day’s fighting 24 Pakistani soldierswere killed, along with an undeterminednumber of Somali fighters.

The Security Council response to the“premeditated armed attacks” on U.S. peace-keepers was swift and extraordinarily stern.Unanimously, its members embraced thepreliminary version of events as reported byBoutros-Ghali (although he was instructedto investigate the incident and the factionleaders’ role in it). In angry terms, the Secu-rity Council:

▼ condemned the attacks as “part of a cal-culated and premeditated series of cease-fire vio-lations to prevent by intimidation UNOSOM IIfrom carrying out its mandate”

▼ demanded that all parties “comply fullywith the . . . agreements they concluded” at AddisAbaba, in particular the cease-fire and disarma-ment agreements

▼ stressed the “crucial importance [of] neu-tralizing radio broadcasting systems that con-tribute to the violence and attacks against UNO-SOM II”

▼ authorized the Secretary General to arrestand detain “for prosecution, trial, and punish-ment” persons responsible for the attacks, and totake “all necessary measures . . . to establish theeffective authority of UNOSOM II throughoutSomalia.” 5

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Marine talking withSomali children.


Sobering Reports from SomaliaMedia reports have amply covered the

fighting and tension that have plagued Mo-gadishu since June. Aideed has not been ap-prehended, but scores of his Habr Gedir fol-lowers have been detained and dozens killed

or wounded in punitive UNOSOMattacks on his headquarters and inother confrontations. More thanfifty peacekeepers also have diedwith others wounded in what hasbecome daily urban warfare in thestreets and neighborhood aroundthe UNOSOM compound.

Whatever else is said aboutthe performance of UNOSOM, it isclear that its chief, AdmiralJonathan Howe, has done no moreor less than what the SecurityCouncil authorized and expectedhim to do by attempting to cap-ture Aideed and destroy his com-

mand structure. How UNOSOM would infact carry out its mandate to try and punishthe warlord if he were apprehended—and onwhat legal grounds—are unanswered ques-tions in the context of Somalia’s anarchy.

Unfortunately, the UNOSOM preoccupa-tion with neutralizing Aideed and his follow-ers has distracted attention and resources al-most completely from the rest of its vastagenda for Somalia. Despite UNOSOM claimsto the contrary, continued fighting in thestreets of Mogadishu between militiamenand peacekeepers has rendered them unsafefor normal civilian life, and there is ampleevidence that the feud is delaying recovery inmuch of the rest of the country as well.

Admittedly, it is difficult to judge fromafar the circumstances that led to the present

feud between UNOSOMand Aideed’s Habr Gedirsubclan. Media reportsare sketchy, and accountsby both U.N. officials andAideed supporters are in-fluenced by self-interest.Certainly Aideed, whomakes no secret of hispolitical ambition or con-

tempt for the United Nations, had long beena thorn in the side of U.N. commanders. Butreports of unprovoked attacks and terroristambushes by Aideed loyalists leave manyunanswered questions. Why, for instance,

did UNOSOM attempt to take over Aideed’sradio station and inspect arms depots onJune 5—the day after the controversial peaceconference concluded—with only a fewlightly-armed forces when it might have an-ticipated an angry reaction from Habr Gedir?

In the absence of independent clarifica-tion, one is forced to ask whether the heavy-handed response mandated by the SecurityCouncil and forcefully carried out by UNO-SOM has not been out of proportion to thethreat posed by Aideed. At a minimum, thecampaign to punish him has been counter-productive in at least some respects: it hasunquestionably made Aideed a hero amongfellow clan members, who had grown tiredof his antics and might have abandonedhim; and it has seriously undercut prospectsfor achieving political accommodation be-tween those factions allied with Aideed andtheir rivals.6

Worrisome ImplicationsThe UNOSOM attempt to impose peace

by force on recalcitrant Somalis has alsoshaken the coalition that provides U.N.manpower and resources. The Italians, whohave historic reasons to understand Somalisbetter than most, strongly differ with UNO-SOM over its predilection for using forceagainst a people notorious for their stubbornnational pride. The Germans, concernedabout being drawn into combat on what wasto have been a humanitarian mission, arealso having second thoughts. Governmentsof smaller nations that traditionally supplytroops for peacekeeping duties are mean-while questioning whether peace-enforce-ment could spell problems at home.

Events since June have also raised doubtabout the new, more activist role of the Se-curity Council itself—composed of less thanone-tenth of the U.N. member nations, withfive members permanently occupyingseats—in overseeing the test application ofpeace-enforcement in Somalia. By exactlywhat legal or moral authority, for example,is the United Nations entitled to exerciseforce in Somalia or anywhere else? 7 In addi-tion, are sufficient checks and balances op-erating to govern Security Council actionsand decisions?

Experience to date with peace-enforce-ment thus suggests the need to be skeptical

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peace-enforcement castsour Armed Forces in a farmore controversial role aslaw enforcement agents, inan environment where lawhas ceased to exist


about the approach and extremely cautiousabout applying it elsewhere. Most obviouslyfor Americans, who overwhelmingly sup-ported Restore Hope, it casts our ArmedForces in a far more controversial role as lawenforcement agents, in an environmentwhere law has ceased to exist, courts havecollapsed, police are powerless, and stan-dards of behavior are purely arbitrary. In theprocess, it has made them party to the un-derlying clan conflict while disrupting hu-manitarian relief efforts, short-circuiting at-tempts to rebuild Somali civil institutions,discouraging political dialogue among con-tending factions, and seriously delaying at-

tempts to rebuild theravaged economy.

These are not en-couraging signs for a newapproach to multilateralpeacekeeping. If theUnited States and UnitedNations are to avoid be-coming endlessly miredin the swamp that manypredicted Somalia repre-sented last year, thepeace-enforcement exper-iment must be reformu-lated to meet the realitiesof the country, its people,and their problems. Here,by way of conclusion, aresteps that UNOSOMcould take to redress thedilemma of peace-en-forcement in Somalia:

▼ Institute a unilateral cease-fire and appealby radio to all Somali faction leaders to do thesame; this could serve to make clear that theUnited Nations is not just another warring fac-tion but in fact opposes the use of force to solvethe country’s problems.

▼ Suspend efforts to arrest General Aideedand release the scores of Habr Gedir clan mem-bers detained as his followers pending restorationof an authentic Somali judiciary and penal sys-tem that might more credibly prosecute the case.

▼ Abandon, at least for now, unilateral at-tempts to enforce the Addis Ababa cease-fire anddisarmament agreement, and instead encouragethe faction leaders to meet and work out modali-ties and a timetable for disarmament to includean agreement on a verification role for UNOSOM.

▼ Call the attention of faction leaders to therenewed humanitarian problem that fighting in

Mogadishu is causing and appeal for cooperationto move relief supplies to those who need them;declare an intention to escort relief convoys andwarn that fire will be returned if the convoys areimpeded or come under attack (thereby applyingtraditional peacekeeping rules of engagement).

▼ Schedule a new round of political talksamong faction leaders, elders, politicians, and in-tellectuals at a neutral location, with a view toputting the political process securely back ontrack.

▼ Invite a neutral intermediary to visit So-malia immediately, investigate the circumstancessurrounding recent incidents involving hostili-ties, interview all parties concerned, and then re-port the findings to the General Assembly andthe Security Council. Such a mission would notonly help to clear the air but would provide acooling-off period to reopen a dialogue. JFQ

N O T E S

1 The most dramatic exception occurred in theCongo during the early 1960s, at the height of the ColdWar, when U.N. troops succeeded in preventing the se-cession of mineral-rich Katanga province. That contro-versial and costly experience nearly shattered the orga-nization, however, and set a more modest tone forpeacekeeping that prevailed until the collapse of the So-viet empire.

2 Boutros Boutros-Ghali, An Agenda for Peace, a reportto the United Nations Security Council (New York:United Nations, June 17, 1992).

3 U.N. Security Council Resolution 814, March 26,1993.

4 Ibid.5 U.N. Security Council Resolution 837, June 6, 1993.6 The UNOSOM attempt to corner and arrest Aideed

is reminiscent of the British frustration during the pe-riod 1898 to 1920 with the so-called “Mad Mullah,”Mohammed Abdulle Hassan, a charismatic renegadeand troublemaker (now a Somali folk hero) who repeat-edly eluded colonial pursuers for more than two dec-ades and finally died in bed of pneumonia.

7 See Resolution 837 which reaffirms the SecretaryGeneral’s authority under Resolution 814 to “take allnecessary measures . . . to establish the effective author-ity of UNOSOM II throughout Somalia,” although theearlier resolution asserts no such authority.

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Greeting the arrival ofrelef supplies.

FAutumn 1993 / JFQ 71

critical of JCS. Eisenhower named the Rocke-feller Committee to study defense organiza-tion. In 1957 the committee said there wasan “excessive workload . . . [and a] difficultmix of functions and loyalties” and blamed“the system and not the members” for the

poor quality of advice [the JCS]provided to the National Com-mand Authorities (NCA).1

Eisenhower could not initi-ate reform. It took two unsuc-cessful wars (Korea and Viet-nam), a failed hostage rescuemission (Desert 1), and criticismfrom a sitting Chairman of theJoint Chiefs of Staff (CJCS) tobring about major reorganiza-tion. When the House of Repre-sentatives began hearings on de-

fense reorganization in 1982, the UnitedStates was engaged in the largest and mostcostly peacetime military build-up in thehistory of the Nation.

Toward Goldwater-NicholsThree months before he retired as CJCS,

General David Jones, USAF, proposed re-forms in an article entitled “Why the JointChiefs of Staff Must Change.” At a mini-mum, he indicated, the United Statesneeded to strengthen the Chairman’s role,limit service staff involvement in the jointprocess, and broaden training, experience,and rewards for joint duty. 2 The Jones planwas moderate yet significant in that he wasstill serving as Chairman at the time.

One month later, General EdwardMeyer, the Army Chief of Staff, announcedhis support for the Jones reforms and wenteven farther. Meyer called for abolishing JCS

BEYONDGoldwater-NicholsBy P E T E R W. C H I A R E L L I

Service chiefs wear two hats: as advisors to the National Command Authorities and as advocates of parochialservice interests. As a result divided loyalties have traditionally barred the Joint Chiefs of Staff from providingtimely and effective advice to the President and the Secretary of Defense. After troubling operational experi-ences in Korea, Vietnam, and the Iranian hostage rescue mission, a hue and cry arose over reforming—or even replacing—JCS as an institution. Following years of congressional hearings the Goldwater-Nichols DODReorganization Act neither ended dual-hatting nor replaced JCS. It has, however, strengthened the role of theChairman and promoted jointness. Organizational realignment under Goldwater-Nichols has not offset resource allocation problems which are “what the services do 90 percent of the time.” Replacing JCS with aNational Military Advisory Council, and the Joint Staff with a general staff, are two long overdue reforms.

Summary

This article is an abridged version of the co-winning entry in the 1993 CJCS Essay Competition which was written by the author while attending theNational War College.

Faced with organizing for a war,President Franklin Rooseveltinformally established theJoint Chiefs of Staff (JCS) in1942 and five years later theNational Security Act institu-tionalized it—albeit in a di-

luted form—as an advisory committee to thePresident and the Secretary of Defense. Atthe time Congress insisted that the chiefs,though members of JCS, retain their respon-sibilities for organizing, equipping, andtraining the services. This dual-hatted rolealong with the modest size and power of theJoint Staff has been criticized by successivereforms ever since then.

Civil and military leaders includingPresident Dwight Eisenhower, General OmarBradley, and General Maxwell Taylor were

G O L D W A T E R - N I C H O L S

and replacing it witha National MilitaryAdvisory Council(NMAC) composedof senior flag officersfrom each service,one civilian, and theChairman. NMACmembers would bedistinguished retiredor active four-starflag or general offi-cers serving on termi-nal assignments.

Meyer thoughtit imperative to end dual-hatting and freethe chiefs to focus more clearly on serviceresponsibilities. The make-up of the NMACwould preserve the preeminent role of mili-tary leaders in advising the NCA. The mem-bers would not be dependent on, and neverreturn to, their respective services. Thisstipulation would ensure military participa-tion on the NMAC and largely eliminatethe perceived conflict of interest present indual-hatting.

Under the Meyer plan the Office of theSecretary of Defense would relinquish itsleading role in policy and program develop-ment, although it would assume a major im-plementation role in both peace and wartime.In addition, the three service secretaries


would lose some voice in policy matters butwould have a stronger position in developingcurrent and future force capabilities. Thecommanders in chief (CINCs) of the combat-ant commands would present their require-ments in a series of continuous exchangeswith the NMAC to initiate change. Meyerthought the arrangement would allow CINCsto exercise considerable influence on near-term programs.

The proposals by Jones and Meyerprompted hearings by the House Committeeon Armed Services which opened in 1982,and the Senate Armed Services Committeebegan parallel hearings in 1985. A review ofthe testimony shows that service affiliationwas the most reliable predictor of support forreform. The Army witnesses were more likelyto advocate reform than those from theNavy, as suggested by the testimony of oneformer CJCS, Admiral Thomas H. Moorer:

. . . just as surely as the swallows return toCapistrano, the studies and recommendations

Lieutenant Colonel Peter W. Chiarelli, USA, is assistant chief ofstaff (G3), 1st Cavalry Division. An armor officer, he has taughtat the U.S. Military Academy and is the coeditor of a book entitled The Defense Reform Debate: Issues and Analysis.

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concerning the Joint Chiefs of Staff crop up at peri-odic intervals. . . . This makes about as much senseas reorganizing Congress or the Supreme Court tostop disagreements. . . . Everyone fancies himself afield marshal.3

The Secretary of Defense, Caspar Wein-berger, also opposed reforms despite the factthat various independent reports were nearlyunanimous in calling for strengthening JCS.A report by the Center for Strategic and In-ternational Studies, for instance, mirroredthe Jones proposals. The reports and hear-ings increased reform momentum in theface of Reagan administration opposition.Congressman Ike Skelton introduced a reso-lution which paralleled Meyer’s plan, and aSenate staff study examined DOD organiza-tional structures and decisionmaking proce-dures. These initiatives clearly signaled thatsome type of JCS reform was in the offing asthe services mobilized witnesses and consid-erable political power in efforts to minimizechange. Among other things, the military

witnesses testified that strengthening theChairman’s role would somehow threatencivilian control of the military; but thisman-on-horseback ploy was generally dis-counted by the civilian witnesses who hadfar more to lose in a shift in power. The re-sult was the passage of the Goldwater-Nichols Department of Defense Reorganiza-tion Act of 1986 which among its manyprovisions:

▼ revised and clarified the DOD operationalchain of command and JCS functions and re-sponsibilities to provide for more efficient use ofdefense resources (Title I)

▼ assigned the CJCS the role of chief mili-tary advisor, including responsibilities currentlyassigned to JCS collectively, established the posi-tion of Vice Chairman, and revised Joint Staff du-ties and selection procedures (Title II)

▼ established a joint officer specialty occu-pational category and personnel policies to pro-vide incentives to attract officers to joint duty as-signments (Title IV).4

While not abolishing JCS, creating a Na-tional Military Advisory Council or a generalstaff, or ending dual-hatting, the Goldwater-Nichols Act made CJCS the principal militaryadvisor to the President and the Secretary ofDefense. Title I strengthened the CINCs’ roleas commander of all assigned forces, regard-less of service. Finally, Title IV attempted tostrengthen the Joint Staff and the staffs ofunified and specified commands by improv-ing the quality of joint duty officers.

Generating ReformSince World War II there have been sev-

eral attempts at defense reorganization, butonly two succeeded. In January 1947, theArmy-Navy Compromise (or Norstad-Sher-man) Plan fell short of the integration thatmany predicted would follow the war. TheArmed Forces mobilized from little morethan a cadre force in the interwar years tothe largest and most powerful military ma-chine in the history of the world. It experi-enced operational success in every theater.However, there were many who argued thatinter-theater, intra-theater, and intra-servicerifts both prolonged the war and cost lives(vis-à-vis Nimitz versus MacArthur, Navyversus Army, and Pacific versus European

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theaters). The most crucial lesson was theprominence of joint operations. Eisenhower

stated that “separate ground, sea,and air warfare is gone forever”and warned that the Army-NavyCompromise Plan was the embodi-ment of “service systems of an erathat is no more.” 5

America abandoned isolation-ism and emerged as a superpowerfollowing World War II. At thesame time the Armed Forces shrankfrom wartime strength levels and

industrial conversion preoccupied the defensebase. In addition, there was considerable pres-sure to cut defense budgets to fund civilianprograms neglected during the war. The resultwas increased reliance on strategic nuclearweapons as opposed to large and expensiveconventional forces.

The Army-Navy Compromise Plan in1947 did little more than create a loose con-

federation among the services.Rather than integration, the AirForce became a separate servicewhich further complicated at-tempts to institutionalize jointwarfare. Legislation enacted in1949, 1953, and 1958 strength-ened the authority of the Secre-tary of Defense and increasedhis staff. Between 1958 and thepassage of the Goldwater-Nichols Act the only significantorganizational change occurredwhen the Commandant of theMarine Corps became a fullmember of JCS in 1978. Pres-sure to preserve service auton-omy squelched all attempts atreform before the Jones andMeyer proposals.

Throughout many hearings that led toGoldwater-Nichols, operational failures inVietnam and Desert 1 were cited as evidenceof a need for reform. Even Grenada, wherethe United States won, gave serious concernover the lack of progress in executing jointoperations. Inadequate joint doctrine, equip-ment interface problems, and more casualtiesthan anticipated caused many within theArmed Forces to rethink the need for in-creased jointness. Listening to military leaderstoday it is difficult to believe there was everopposition to JCS reorganization. Overall

Goldwater-Nichols is regarded as a success,given subsequent joint operations in Panama,the Persian Gulf, and Somalia.

The Post-Cold War EraFor over two years the services have

been downsizing to meet force levels recom-mended by CJCS and adopted by the Bushadministration. Added budget savings pro-posed by the Clinton administration meanmore cuts. Thus, while the military has en-joyed operational successes since 1986,shrinking budgets and force structures willmake future operations more challenging.This is not unlike the situation in 1947which was difficult for defense planners andplaced pressure on the military to address“difficult questions being asked by Congressand the American people about their ArmedForces.” 6 If the President, Congress, and citi-zenry perceive the Chairman is unable toprovide direction, they will go elsewhere foranswers. Few, if any, senior officers will ad-vocate further JCS reform because they be-lieve the Goldwater-Nichols Act fixed whatneeded to be fixed. Nevertheless, that legis-lation—like the National Security Act of1947 which formally established JCS—was acompromise. Both stopped short of institut-ing far-reaching proposals. Before askingwhether further reforms are necessary, anevaluation of Goldwater-Nichols is in order.

What Goldwater-Nichols AchievedOne seasoned congressional staffer, who

was an architect of Goldwater-Nichols, con-tends that the most effective aspects of the1986 law were directed at improving opera-tional matters. 7 This view is confirmed byboth General Gordon Sullivan, Chief of Staffof the Army, and General Merrill McPeak,Chief of Staff of the Air Force, who have em-phasized that successful operational employ-ments are proof that Goldwater-Nicholsachieved what it intended to. 8 When com-paring the performance of the U.S. forces inOperations Just Cause, Desert Storm, andProvide Comfort with Vietnam, Desert I, andGrenada, it is hard to argue that change wasnot for the better.

The legislation specifically prohibitedCJCS from exercising military command overthe Joint Chiefs of Staff or the Armed Forces;that is, the Chairman is not in the chain of


the Army-Navy Compromise Plan in1947 did little morethan create a looseconfederationamong the services

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command betweenthe President andCINCs. Nevertheless,two features of Gold-water-Nichols enablethe Chairman to as-sert considerable op-erational authority.The law specificallydesignates CJCS asthe principal militaryadvisor to the NCA.He is encouraged, al-

though not required, to seek the advice of thechiefs and CINCs. If the chiefs are not unani-mous, in the words of Goldwater-Nichols,“the Chairman shall, as he considers appro-priate, inform the President, the National Se-curity Council, or the Secretary of Defense ofthe range of military advice and opinion withrespect to that matter.” Furthermore, the Pres-ident may—as Reagan and Bush did—“directthat communications between the Presidentor the Secretary of Defense and [the CINCs]be transmitted through the Chairman of theJoint Chiefs of Staff.”

In general civilian experts and militaryleaders seem convinced that the Chairman’srole was buttressed by Goldwater-Nichols.But few could state with any certainty

whether the legislation hasimproved the quality of ad-vice provided to the civilianleaders. According to oneformer senior DOD official,JCS “frequently arrive withtheir advice after the trainhas left the station. Eventsin the real world do notwait for the present JCS sys-

tem, which is four layers of staffing to reacha compromise acceptable to each of the fourservices.”9 Others counter that because CJCShas more autonomy he no longer has togather individual service views and developa corporate position.

While reorganization is credited for op-erational improvements, some debate overwhether it is structural change alone or thepersona of General Colin Powell, USA—thecurrent CJCS who is regarded as the mostpowerful Chairman since General Maxwell

Taylor—that has been the more signifi-cant. 10 But despite Powell’s accomplish-ments, or perhaps because of them, othersvoice the concern that power may haveshifted too far in the direction of CJCS andthe Joint Staff as a result of Goldwater-Nichols. To be sure, the legislation both en-larged the Joint Staff and gave it greater au-tonomy and enhanced responsibility.However, it specified that “the Joint Staffshall not operate or be organized as an over-all Armed Forces general staff and shall haveno executive authority.” Yet some complainabout an “imperial Joint Staff” and the di-rect access which CINCs have to the NCA,Congress, and the Chairman without goingthrough the service chiefs and their staffs.

Resource AdviceIn contrast to operational matters,

Goldwater-Nichols did little to help resourceallocation according to one observer:

My biggest disappointment is the Chairman’sfailure to be more involved in resource allocation. Re-source allocation is what the services do 90 percent ofthe time. We expected the Joint Staff to put togetherresource requirements from the CINCs and comparethat list against the service POMs [Program Objec-tive Memorandums]. The Chairman does not havethe power to modify service POMs; however, he canuse his position to recommend changes to the Secre-tary of Defense. That has not happened. It is thename of the game in peacetime. I think it is time wewent to a single joint POM. 11

General Meyer’s proposal in 1982 for re-organization was based in part on the inabil-ity of JCS to do a horizontal, rather than ver-tical, examination of resource issues. Today,Meyer cites reports that the Air Force wouldrecommend a delay in C–17 procurement tosatisfy a portion of its budget cut as proofthat Goldwater-Nichols did not go farenough.12 He believes a recommendation todelay or scale back this program should notbe the Air Force’s alone: “The C–17 is beingdeveloped by, not for, the Air Force.” 13 Gen-eral McPeak expands upon this point:

There may be a conflict in programmatic issues.Today the services rely on each other. If the Navy cutsincreased sealift out of their budget, I have a problembecause I can’t get everything the Air Force needs tothe war. The Air Force relies on sealift to move muchof its equipment. If I give up on the C–17, the Armyhas a problem. I could get along without the C–17,but the Army can’t. 14

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if the President, Congress,and citizenry perceive the Chairman is unable toprovide direction, they will go elsewhere for answers

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Lieutenant General N. E. Ehlert, DeputyChief of Staff for Plans, Policies and Opera-tions, at Headquarters, Marine Corps, alsovoices concern about the expanded role ofCINCs and their staffs as contrasted with thereduced role of service staffs in POM formu-lation: “I worry that when you serve on aCINC’s staff you don’t have a long-rangeview—you are more concerned about short-term, day-to-day problems that can quicklybecome a crisis.” 15

Roles and MissionsSome of the foregoing concern was

echoed in bipartisan criticism of the Chair-man’s “Roles and Missions Report.” (Goldwa-ter-Nichols requires submission of such a re-view to the Secretary of Defense every threeyears.) Senator Sam Nunn had called for athoroughgoing review aimed at cutting the“tremendous redundancy and duplication” inthe military.16 After being briefed on the re-port, Representative Floyd Spence warned that

the services “may havemissed a chance to directtheir own fate. . . . Effortsto further reduce defensespending may lead to apolitically driven out-come that neither themilitary or the Nation canafford.” 17 Even DeputySecretary of DefenseWilliam Perry said the re-port “was a good plan asfar as it went, but it didn’tgo very far.”18

At issue is distribut-ing power among senior

decisionmakers. As a former Under Secretaryof Defense for Policy characterized this prob-lem more than a decade ago:

The system is simply out of balance between ser-vice interests and joint interests. Because of the way itis set up there is a basic, built-in conflict of interestbetween the role of JCS members and the role of ser-vice chiefs. Indeed, it was deliberately designed thatway to protect parochial service interests even at theexpense of the joint interests of the Nation, the Presi-dent, the Congress, and the Department of Defense. 19

This argument is central to those whohave criticized the “Roles and Missions Re-port.” Although General Powell is adamantthat his report to the Secretary of Defense“presents my views and is not a consensus

document,” 20 others suggest that it tacklesfew service sacred cows. In support of theChairman’s view, however, Generals Sullivanand Ehlert cite the report’s proposal to desig-nate Atlantic Command as headquarters forCONUS-based forces as proof the report isnot a consensus document. Under this rec-ommendation, Forces Command—a speci-fied command responsible for all Armyforces in the United States—will relinquishthose forces to Atlantic Command: “Whilethe services would retain their Title X re-sponsibilities, the training and deploying ofCONUS-based forces as a joint team wouldbe a new mission for this expanded CINC.Unification of the Armed Forces, whichbegan in 1947, would at last be complete.”21

General McPeak has dubbed the report aconsensus document which is “at best tin-kering at the margins.” He also said that“since there is a new administration with anew set of assumptions, we—or someone—will soon be preparing a new report. I’mafraid the military may not take the lead inthe next review.” 22 When compared to theother services, the Air Force had more atstake. The report looked at possibly consoli-dating space and strategic commands as wellas at continental air defense, theater air de-fense, theater air interdiction, close air sup-port, and aircraft requirements. These are allTitle X functions that the Air Force wants tomaintain, assume, or take the lead on. Rec-ommendations perceived as consensusbuilding by McPeak were likely viewed byPowell as what was needed “to maintain themaximum effectiveness of the ArmedForces.” 23 The question is not dissensionwhen JCS formulates resource advice; it iswhether those disagreements translate intopredictable advice due to inherent conflictsof interest. If predictable—or perceived assuch—the utility of the advice to the civilianleadership is diminished.

Goldwater-Nichols did not erase theview that the chiefs are prone to beingparochial when providing resource advice.Now that the Chairman is the principal mili-tary advisor to the NCA, parochialism isonly important if civilian leaders questionCJCS advice. Asked to evaluate whether the


M–1A1 Abrams layingdown smoke duringOperation DesertStorm.

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. A

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report “stifled” his call for a review of rolesand missions, Senator Nunn responded:

No, I don’t think the problem is Colin Powell. Ithink there are two Colin Powell reports. Phase one re-port really was what I think he believed and phasetwo was what he compromised in order to get itthrough the chiefs. So it’s not a matter of one individ-ual of Colin Powell [sic]. It’s got to be every memberof the chiefs. 24

The Joint StaffPrior to Goldwater-Nichols the Joint Staff

was not perceived as elite and assignment toit was not considered a desirable career step.The system was characterized as stifling initia-tive since Joint Staff officers were dependentupon their services for advancement. ButTitle IV instituted the Joint Specialty Officer

(JSO) designation amongprovisions intended to im-prove the Joint Staff andfoster joint culture. Prereq-uisites for JSO designationare graduation from an ac-credited Joint ProfessionalMilitary Education (JPME)program and completion ofa joint duty tour. The legis-

lation approved a limited number of desig-nated joint duty assignments. In addition,Goldwater-Nichols contained two other pro-visions to improve the Joint Staff:

▼ officers who are serving in, or have servedin, joint duty assignments are expected as a groupto be promoted at a rate not less than that for allofficers of the service in the same grade and com-petitive category

▼ officers may not be selected for promo-tion to brigadier general or rear admiral (lowerhalf) unless they have served in a joint duty as-signment.

General Powell credits Title IV withmaking the Joint Staff one of the best staffsin the world, and he sees JPME and jointtours as key to improving the quality of offi-cers assigned to the Joint Staff. Furthermore,he states that “the authority given to theChairman to review promotion lists from ajoint perspective has paid enormous divi-dends in enhancing jointness. I am confi-dent that without the power of legislation,we would not have seen the progress madeover the past six years.”25

Many observers agree with the Chair-man and are convinced that Title IV has im-proved both the quality of the officers serv-ing on the Joint Staff and their work. GeneralEhlert has noted that: “[The Marine Corps]used to send officers who were retiring towork on the Joint Staff—not since Goldwa-ter-Nichols. Now we send our sharpest folksand so do the other services.”26

Nevertheless, the provision requiringcompletion of a joint assignment before pro-motion to flag rank will if it is not amendedsoon cause some potentially serious prob-lems for all services. Congress enacted tem-porary exemptions and waivers during thetransition to full implementation of Title IV.The two most important waivers, joint equiva-lency and serving-in, expire on January 1,1994. Without these waivers “the currenttrend suggests that in 1994, nearly one-halfof those selected for brigadier general willnot be qualified to serve in an Army positionin their initial tour as a general officer. In-stead, they must serve an initial two-yearjoint tour.”27 This is not just a single serviceissue; in fact the Army is in the middle of thepack compared with other services. The onlyway to promote officers in this situation is by“good of the service” (GOS) waivers from theSecretary of Defense. If not, as Title IV goesinto effect, their first assignment as flag offi-cers will be a two-year joint tour. Unless ser-vice cultures change, such officers would fallbehind their joint qualified contemporarieswho go into service-specific operational as-signments (e.g., assistant division comman-ders). This problem is exacerbated by the factthat the segment of the population givencredit for JSO qualification includes those ex-empted from joint duty based on scientific ortechnical waivers which do not expire, suchas those in fields like civil engineering, mili-tary police, and public affairs. Thus many ofthose who would require GOS waivers arewarfighters, namely, combat arms officers, pi-lots, and naval line officers.

Supporters of Title IV claim that it hascorrected serious defects in the Joint Staff sys-tem. All agree that high-quality officers arebeing assigned to joint billets and the qualityof Joint Staff work has improved dramatically.If one purpose of the legislation was to forceofficers to regard joint duty as important,Goldwater-Nichols is an unqualified success.For any who missed this aspect of congres-

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Goldwater-Nichols did noterase the view that thechiefs are prone to beingparochial when providingresource advice


sional intent it will be-come abundantly clear astransitional waivers ex-pire. Many who thoughtthey were competitive forpromotion to general/flagrank may be passed overbecause they did not com-plete a joint assignment.

Nevertheless, there isconcern that Title IVmay not be the best wayto foster joint culture.Officers that Title IV tar-gets—warfighters—havean aversion to serving on

any staff. Nevertheless a tour on a servicestaff is usually considered a prerequisite foranyone with aspirations. Exposure to serviceleaders can help to make officers competi-tive for command or selection to flag rank.The framers of Goldwater-Nichols were un-willing to establish a general staff with pro-motion authority and instead used Title IVas an incentive to stop high-quality pilots,combat arms, and line officers from avoidingjoint duty. They wanted to create an envi-ronment in which duty on the Joint Staffwould be accepted as analogous to duty on aservice staff.

But Title IV did not create a joint culturecapable of attracting the best-qualified offi-cers to joint duty assignments. Officers donot compete for joint duty assignments;they go because they are required to by law.Once they finish their qualifying tours, theyreturn to their service and jobs that will keepthem competitive with their contemporariesfor future promotion. Furthermore, theygenerally believe that if they support joint-ness to the detriment of their service whilein joint billets, they will not get those all-im-portant follow-on service jobs.

During the Vietnam War, Congress ac-cused the services of promoting the practiceof ticket punching whereby officers man-aged their careers by seeking assignmentsthat helped their chances for promotionwithout considering the needs of their ser-vice. Once assigned, officers stayed onlylong enough to get credit for the assign-ments before they moved on to carefully se-lected positions. Joint duty should not be

something officers are forced to do. If jointwarfare is indeed the future, as senior mili-tary leaders since Eisenhower have claimed,then joint duty should attract the best andthe brightest in the military on its merits.There is more than a little irony in the factthat Congress reinvented ticket punchingfor the sake of jointness.

Goldwater-Nichols is like the Articles ofConfederation—each is better than whatwent before; however, each failed to endowthe new order it created with the authorityneeded to unify its parts. The Articles of Con-federation created a weak national govern-ment where citizens of individual states in-vested legitimacy in their state first andWashington second. Goldwater-Nichols failedto go far enough in strengthening the Chair-man, JCS, and the Joint Staff. The successor toGoldwater-Nichols must not legislate jointculture; it must ensure jointness is legitimate.

The value of this analogy ends here. Thesole purpose of the services is to provide forthe national defense; they are not persons orminorities to be provided with constitu-tional protections. Funding, organization,and integration decisions must be madebased on what is best for defending the Na-tion, not on what is acceptable to any givenservice. We must move beyond Goldwater-Nichols so that critical decisions in the post-Cold War era support building the best mili-tary for the future.

Meaningful ReformThe end of dual-hatting must be the be-

ginning of any future reforms. Expecting thechiefs, who are required by law to organize,train, and equip forces, to cut programs orpersonnel when they also represent serviceinterests is unrealistic. Even when the chiefsprovide truly joint advice on resource issues,the political leadership will often discounttheir recommendations. The Meyer proposal,as well as bills introduced in the House andthe Senate in 1985, recommended abolishingJCS and replacing it with a National MilitaryAdvisory Council or NMAC. Goldwater-Nichols did little to change the conditionsthat prompted this proposal. In fact creatinga NMAC remains more relevant today than itwas a decade ago as one of its original advo-cates reminds us:

In 1982 it was difficult for me to find the timeto wear both hats. The Cold War and a bipolar worldwas less complicated than a world where the United

F–15E fighter armedwith Sidewinders.

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States is the only superpower and there are many “hotspots.” The bipolar world provided a framework withwhich to quickly and accurately evaluate conflictsand their impact on U.S. vital interests. Minus thatframework, this process is much more complicatedand time consuming for JCS and the National Com-mand Authorities. This problem is exacerbated by thetime and effort required to downsize the ArmedForces. Expert military advice is more critical becausefewer members of Congress, the President, and his ad-visors served in the military. 28

The NMAC would be made up of onefour-star flag officer from each service—notcurrent service chiefs—selected from the re-

tired list or on a finalassignment prior toretirement. Possibleprerequisites mightinclude duty as aCINC or on the JointStaff. Former servicechiefs would alsoseem particularly wellqualified. However,membership couldprompt accusationsof parochialism—charges that theNMAC constitutednothing more than arepackaged JCS.

Originally Meyer included one seniorcareer foreign service officer as a NMACmember; today he would expand that inter-agency approach by adding a second civil-ian, an economist. That emphasis coincideswith Secretary of Defense Les Aspin’s viewthat the poor performance of the U.S. econ-omy is one of the major threats facing theNation. 29 Although trained as an economist,General Meyer thinks few senior officers areschooled in economics to the extent neces-sary for high-level defense decisionmaking.In addition, civilian representation facilitatesthe interagency perspective required formany of today’s nontraditional missions.

The NMAC would allow the chiefs tototally focus on Title X responsibilities suchas organizing, training, and equipping theirindividual services. They and their staffscould propose and lobby for initiatives de-signed to support the national militarystrategy. The NMAC, with input fromCINCs, would evaluate the proposal, priori-

tize it along with other initiatives, and for-mulate the final resource advice for theNCA. Meyer added that “a recommendationfrom the NMAC would add credibility tothe chiefs’ program or proposal.” 30

The major advantages of the NMACover the current JCS system are threefold.First, the make-up of the council would endthe perception that joint advice—especiallyresource advice—is inextricably linked toservice parochialism and ignores economicrealities. Second, it would offer cross-serviceoperational resource advice to CJCS andcivilian decisionmakers. Third, it would be afull-time body whose members focused onthe formation, implementation, and resourc-ing of a viable national military strategy de-signed to protect U.S. interests in the post-Cold War world.

Goldwater-Nichols established joint offi-cer management policies to attract or com-pel high-quality officers to duty on the JointStaff. Title IV was a compromise between thesupporters and opponents of a general staff.The traditional argument against a generalstaff has been that it would jeopardize civil-ian control of the Armed Forces. The Ger-man experience—especially under Hitler—israised as an example of a general staff runamuck. During four years of Goldwater-Nichols hearings historians pointed out thatGermany never had a general staff and em-phasized that civilian control of the militaryis such a strong, consistent, and essentialtenet of American culture that the Nationwould not be threatened by a general staff.

The NMAC should be supported by ageneral staff which is independent of all theservices. It must be responsible for managingpersonnel and assignments and be given au-thority to evaluate and promote general staffofficers. This would attract the best and thebrightest from all services to a career offeringupward mobility, that is, promotion and po-sitions of responsibility comparable to thosewithin the services.

The Acquisition Corps is a helpful, albeitincomplete, model for creating a generalstaff. Officers could volunteer or be requisi-tioned at various stages in their careers:some after command tours as lieutenant

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Clearing the deck for a SH–3H Sea King takeoff.


colonels or commanders, others as colonelsor captains, and a few after being selectedfor flag rank. There would be two tracks, ser-vice and general staff. General staff officerswould be assigned to the field or the fleet fora service sabbatical designed to amelioratethe ivory-tower syndrome and regain opera-tional currency while service officers couldmove onto the general staff to offer opera-

tional expertise and develop ageneral staff perspective to takeback to the field.

CINCs and deputy CINCscould be service or general staffofficers. If a CINC came fromthe general staff track, thedeputy CINC would be drawnfrom the service track. One por-tion of unified commands

would be designated as general staff com-mands, the others as service command bil-lets. The command of divisions or corps—and comparable naval and air commands—would be filled by flag officers from the ser-vice track. However, general staff flag officerscould retain their service currency throughassignments as deputy or assistant comman-ders (for example, as assistant division com-manders, maneuver or support). Chiefswould be selected from among those officerswho remained on the service track and theChairman (a former CINC) from the generalstaff track.

Given that the general staff took thelead in resource issues, it would be largerthan the existing Joint Staff. If the joint ca-reer track did not attract the quantity andthe quality of officers needed, the generalstaff could access personnel data and requisi-tion candidates from the services.

Congress has been and will remain amajor obstacle to JCS reform since it mayhave the most to lose. As a former special as-sistant to the Secretary of Defense has stated:

The attitude of the Congress towards JCS hasbeen essentially opportunistic. When it has appearedthat there might be profit in it, members of Congressoccasionally have tried to play off the chiefs againsttheir civilian superiors, though usually without muchsuccess. As a whole, the Congress has appeared happyto have JCS remain a weak compromise organization.31

That observation, made over a decade ago,remains valid today. While Goldwater-Nichols made CJCS and the Joint Staffstronger, JCS was weakened. Will pressure to

reduce the budget deficit and maintain anadequate defense allow the Congress to sup-port the reorganization proposed here?

There is a recent precedent set byCongress with regard to the relinquishmentof its power. To depoliticize base closures,which are essential to downsizing and cut-ting the budget, Congress established a De-fense Base Closure and Realignment Com-mission and ceded authority to this bodybecause experience indicated that it was nec-essary to “shield members from the anguishand the political hazards of picking whichbases to close.”32 The NMAC would not havethe autonomy of the Base Closing Commis-sion, but it would be difficult for partisan-ship to discredit the advice of a distin-guished council of military and civilianleaders. The politics of resource issues couldrequire that a select group of members criti-cize advice formulated by the NMAC. How-

ever, a majority inCongress could hidebehind its prestigewhen compelled tomake difficult re-source decisions.

The most likelyhurdle to meaningfulreform is the Secre-tary of Defense. If ageneral staff were es-tablished, it would

take the lead in defense policy and programdevelopment, and the role of the Office ofthe Secretary of Defense would be relegatedto implementation. It seems doubtful thatSecretary Aspin would instigate reforms thatled to this kind of realignment. If reorgani-zation is going to occur, the current leader-ship of the Armed Forces—just like GeneralsJones and Meyer in the early 1980s—musttake up the banner of reform.

The Goldwater-Nichols Act made CJCSthe principal advisor to the NCA andstrengthened the Joint Staff. But negative re-actions to the “Roles and Missions Report”indicate that this advice is discredited byperceptions that JCS is incapable of makingdifficult decisions. The challenges of thepost-Cold War era call for replacing both JCSwith an independent NMAC and the Joint


Congress hasbeen and willremain a majorobstacle to JCSreform since itmay have themost to lose

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Staff with a general staff. The end of dual-hatting would allow the service chiefs to de-vote their time to parochial responsibilities.A full time NMAC could evaluate nontradi-tional threats and also provide credible, un-inhibited advice to CJCS. Title IV improvedthe quality and output of the Joint Staff.Nevertheless, it has not fostered a joint cul-ture capable of competing with diverse ser-vice cultures: a general staff would create aseparate career path and develop a crediblejoint culture.

Neither Congress nor civilian leaders arelikely to initiate reform. The Secretary of De-fense commissioned a bottom up review offorce structure and Congress is planning tolook into service roles and missions. If theArmed Forces are to serve the Nation in con-fronting the challenges that lie ahead, per-ceptions of a military unable or unwilling toentertain any idea which is not supported bya consensus of all the services must be put torest now and forever. The world is changingand it is time for the military to do the samethrough reform that goes beyond Goldwater-Nichols. JFQ

N O T E S

1 This idea is also proposed by Edward C. Meyer in“The JCS: How Much Reform Is Needed?,” Armed ForcesJournal International (April 1982), pp. 82–90.

2 David C. Jones, “Why the Joint Chiefs MustChange,” Armed Forces Journal International (March1982), p. 64.

3 U.S. Congress, House of Representatives, Commit-tee on Armed Services [hereafter referred to as HASC],Reorganizational Proposals for the Joint Chiefs of Staff(Washington: Government Printing Office, 1982), pp.151, 161.

4 Goldwater-Nichols Department of Defense Reorga-nization Act of 1986, Public Law 99–433, 99th U.S.Congress, October 1, 1986.

5 HASC Hearings 1982, p. 5386 Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Report on the

Roles, Missions and Functions of the Armed Forces of theUnited States (Washington: Joint Chiefs of Staff, Febru-ary 1993), p. x.

7 Interview with Archie D. Barrett.8 Interview with General Gordon R. Sullivan, USA

(March 12, 1993), and with General Merrill A. McPeak,USAF (March 8, 1993).

9 HASC Hearings 1982, p. 508.10 Barrett interview.11 Barrett interview.12 David Evans, “Troubled Air Force Transport Inves-

tigated: C–17 Program May Be Cut or Canceled,” TheChicago Tribune, February 19, 1993, p. 7.

13 Interview with General Edward C. Meyer, USA(Ret.) (February 22, 1993).

14 McPeak interview.

15 Interview with Lieutenant General E. Ehlert, USMC(March 16, 1993).

16 Barton Gellman, “Services Moving to Protect Turf:Powell to Rebuff Call to Streamline,” The WashingtonPost, January 28, 1993, p. A4.

17 ”Dellums Wants Broader Pentagon Study of Rolesand Missions,” Aerospace Daily, February 25, 1993, p. 309.

18 William Matthews, “Nominee Perry Warns There’sNo Turning Back on Drawdown,” Air Force Times, March8, 1993, p. 4.

19 HASC Hearings 1982, p. 548.20 Chairman, Joint Chiefs of Staff, Memorandum for

the Secretary of Defense, Subject: “1993 Report on theRoles, Missions and Functions of the Armed Forces,”February 10, 1993.

21 In addition to Forces Command, the Atlantic Fleet,Air Combat Command, and Marine Forces Atlantic willbe merged. It is interesting to note that General Powellwas FORSCOM commander prior to becoming Chair-man. See CJCS “Report on the Roles,” p. xii.

22 McPeak interview.23 CJCS Memorandum, “1993 Roles and Missions.”24 Interview with Senator Sam Nunn, Meet the Press,

NBC News (March 1993).25 Letter from General Colin L. Powell, USA, to the

author (March 10, 1993).26 Ehlert interview.27 Headquarters, Department of the Army, Office of

the Deputy Chief of Staff of the Army for Personnel,Briefing Packet, Subject: “General Officer Joint DutyQualification” [no date].

28 Meyer interview.29 Address by Les Aspin at the National Defense Uni-

versity (March 25, 1993).30 Meyer interview.31 HASC Hearings 1982, p. 523.32 Elizabeth A. Palmer, “Commission Comes to Life,

Vowing a Fresh Look,” Congressional Quarterly’s Washing-ton Alert, April 20, 1991, p. 994.

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By virtue of geography and history, theUnited States is a Pacific power withenduring economic, political, and se-curity interests in the Asia-Pacific and

Indian Ocean region. For the United States,the Pacific and Indian Oceans constitutemajor commercial and strategic arteries—vitalparts of America’s lifeline to markets and re-sources overseas. Our national interests andstake in this dynamic region are substantialand growing. As Winston Lord, Assistant Sec-retary of State for East Asia and Pacific Affairs,

COOPERATIVE ENGAGEMENTBy C H A R L E S R. L A R S O N

The Asia-Pacific region claims attentionon geographic and historical grounds, butAmerican interests are intensifyingbecause of complex economic, political,and security challenges. Part of theregion’s importance derives from its sheerstrategic dimensions: covering 52 percentof the earth’s surface and encompassing a wide diversity of peoples, cultures, andreligions, and hence disputes. Anotherfactor is the phenomenal economicgrowth of some Pacific economies,leading to the rapid modernization ofregional military forces. Under thestrategic concept of cooperative engage-ment, the Pacific Command appliesmilitary assets, funds, and programs, toachieve three objectives: forward presence, strong alliances, and crisisresponse. Because of the vastness of Asiaand the Pacific and Indian Oceans, theArmed Forces play a significant rolethrough adaptive forward presence insustaining the U.S. military commitmentto regional stability.

Summary

F–16 at Misawa AirBase, Japan, duringCobra Gold ’93.

82d Airborne Divisionloading at 29 PalmsMarine Corps Air Station.

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U.S. Air Force (April Alexander)


observed, “Today, no region in the world ismore important for the United States thanAsia and the Pacific. Tomorrow, in the 21st

century, no region will be as important.” TheNation must remain engaged in the region tosupport and promote its interests.

Amidst the current transformation ofthe international order, it is helpful to re-member that American interests in Asia havebeen markedly consistent over the last twocenturies. They include access for trade, free-dom of navigation, and preventing the riseof hegemonic powers or coalitions.

Economic, political, and security en-gagement by this Nation in the Asia-Pacificand Indian Ocean region since the end of

World War II has been a domi-nant factor in its emergence asone of the engines of globalgrowth and a major market forour exports. The forward deploy-ment of the U.S. forces in the re-gion contributes significantly tomaintaining stability, enhancesour diplomatic influence, andpromotes an environment con-

ducive to the growth of our economic inter-ests there. In President Clinton's words, ourmilitary presence forms “the bedrock ofAmerica’s security role” in the Asia-Pacificregion.

We must seize the opportunity offeredin this new era to shape a better world—onebuilt on shared ideas, interests, and responsi-bilities. Our priorities for Asia-Pacific secu-rity are clear. As laid out by President Clin-ton in Seoul, they are: first, a continuedAmerican military presence in this region;second, stronger efforts to combat the prolif-eration of weapons of mass destruction;third, new regional security dialogues; andlast, support for democracy and democraticvalues, and by supporting regional securityand stability through our forward militarypresence. With continued engagement, wecan advance vital U.S. interests, while shap-ing a prosperous and secure future.

National power ultimately rests on thestrength of the economy. As we seek to rein-vigorate our economy and rekindle prosper-ity, we will look to Asia which still leads theworld in economic growth. Already morethan 36 percent of our international two-way trade is with the Asia-Pacific region. Wetrade more with this region than with anyother in the world, including the EuropeanCommunity and our North and SouthAmerican neighbors. Approximately 30 per-cent of our $448 billion in exports in 1992were with this area. Today, 800 U.S. firmshave business connections in Singaporealone. Furthermore, approximately 2.5 mil-lion American jobs are directly dependenton export markets in Asia and the Pacific.

As economic issues move to the fore-front and the pace of international tradequickens, our economy and our future arebecoming intertwined with other nations inthis region. There are increasing opportuni-ties for U.S. prosperity through trade and in-vestment and, despite the challenges of theregion, we hope to maintain the regionalstability essential for that trade to flourish.

Regional ChallengeAs a theater of operations the Asia-Pa-

cific region poses a number of major chal-lenges for the United States. Its tremendoussize—from Arctic waters and frozen tundrato tropical isles, the region comprises about105 million square miles or 52 percent of theearth’s surface—creates some critical timeand distance problems. We often refer to thischallenge as the tyranny of distance. It takesabout three weeks for a Navy battle group orMarine amphibious ready group to cross theregion. A jet transport carrying troops to acrisis needs more than a day. A fighter planemay have to refuel more than a dozen timesjust to get to a trouble spot. If North Koreansinvaded the South today, as they are poisedto do on a few hours notice, it would takeabout 21 days for forces to get there fromthe U.S. mainland with large numbers ofground reinforcements and heavy equip-ment. More immediate help would have tocome from forward forces in Japan, Alaska,and Hawaii.

Another major challenge of the region isdiversity: among nations as well as withinthem. Diversity of history, culture, and reli-

L a r s o n

Admiral Charles R. Larson, USN, is Commander in Chief ofthe U.S. Pacific Command. A naval aviator, he also has servedon board ballistic submarines and had the distinction earlierin his career of being the first naval officer to receive an appointment as a White House fellow.

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Exercise Tiger Balm ’89.

Adaptive Presence in Action


gion, as well as territorial andboundary disputes and historicanimosities, color the perspec-tives of regional leaders.

The third major challenge ischange: political change, as thepeoples of the region demandmore open and democratic formsof government; economic change,

as growing Asian economies continue to out-strip the rest of the world; and militarychange, as modern weapons proliferate andnations seek to adjust their security arrange-ments with the demise of the old bipolarworld. Today, the most rapidly modernizingarmed forces in the world are found in theAsia-Pacific region.

Strategic FrameworkTo meet the challenges and address the

issues confronted in this theater, our strategymust be consistent with the three pillars offoreign policy outlined by the President andarticulated by the Secretary of State. Theseinclude making our economic security a pri-mary goal of foreign policy, basing policy ona military structure that meets new and con-tinuing threats to our security interests andinternational peace, and promoting demo-cratic principles and institutions worldwide.

Our strategy must also address thethreats of both today and tomorrow. Re-cently Secretary of Defense Aspin identifiedfour dangers in the world:

▼ the rising tide of regional, ethnic, or reli-gious conflicts

▼ the proliferation of weapons of mass de-struction

▼ the possible failure of democratic reform(especially in Russia)

▼ the pursuit of security interests in waysthat do not protect economic interests.

Cooperative Engagement StrategyIn synthesizing the proposed elements

of the strategic framework I developed astrategy for the U.S. Pacific Command(PACOM) which I call cooperative engagement.This is a process of aggressively employingmeans available to PACOM—namely, mili-tary assets, funds, programs, and forces—torealize three strategic goals: forward pres-ence, strong alliances, and crisis response.This process aims to achieve engagementand participation in peace, deterrence, andcooperation in crisis, and unilateral or multi-lateral victory in time of conflict.

Cooperative engagement not only ad-vances security, but as a by-product pro-motes stability, political and economicprogress, democratic ideals, and Americanvalues through bilateral relations with morethan forty nations.

Under cooperative engagement PACOMforces are organized on three tiers: forwarddeployed, forward based, and CONUS-based.At the core of forward deployed forces is amodest number of forward-stationed forcesin Japan and Korea (with stationing costslargely underwritten by our allies), alongwith maritime forces continuously afloat inthe Western Pacific. We deploy additionalforces on a rotational basis, such as Marinesto the Indian Ocean or Air Force units toSingapore. And we temporarily deploy forcesforward for exercises or projects. This pro-vides all the benefits of forward presence—engagement, deterrence, influence, andrapid reaction—together with the flexibilityto adjust rapidly.

We can tailor forces for specific chal-lenges by pulling them from forward Ameri-can bases (viz., Alaska, Hawaii, and Guam),units afloat in the Eastern Pacific, or PACOMforces based in the continental UnitedStates. We can even draw on the forces ofother CINCs. I call this process of rapidly tai-loring forces to a specific mission adaptiveforward presence.

C O O P E R A T I V E E N G A G E M E N T

it takes about threeweeks for a Navy battle group or Marine amphibiousready group to crossthe region

Somalia(Provide Hope)

Dec 1992

Bangladesh(Cyclone)May 1991

Thailand(Cobra Gold)

May 1992–May 1993

PhilippinesMt. Pinatubo

(Volcano Eruption)Apr 1991

Hawaii(Hurricane Iniki)

Sep 1992

Tandem ThrustJun 1992

Kwajalein(Provide Refuge)

Jan 1993

Guam(Typhoon Omar)

Aug 1992


Adaptive Force Presence KeyBecause of the region’s size, savings in

time, distance, and the cost of deployingforces forward are enormous. This presenceunderscores the vitality of existing alliances:it promotes new friendships as host nationsobserve the benefits of training with the U.S.Armed Forces in an atmosphere of trust andconfidence; it encourages and helps sustaina stable geopolitical climate in which to pro-mote economic growth; it assists not onlynation-building efforts but the advancementof democracy by illustrating the apoliticalrole of the American military; and it in-creases the readiness of both U.S. andfriendly nations. Most importantly, forwardpresence demonstrates the continued Ameri-can commitment to remain an Asia-Pacificpower on a daily basis.

Quite simply, a continued credible mili-tary presence is the cornerstone of our suc-cessful strategy for regional peace and pros-perity. Our modest forward presence providesthe opportunity to reap the economic bene-fits of Asian dynamism through trade and in-vestment, and allows us to avoid the enor-mous financial costs of conflict thatinstability would almost certainly generate.

Furthermore, we rely on forwardpresence and the international co-operation it engenders to buildcoalitions for collective action intime of crisis. As we draw down ourforces in a more competitive world,it is imperative to do so wisely, withour national interests in mind, inorder to continually play a positiverole in the region during peacetime,crisis, or conflict.

Cooperative Engagement inPeacetime

In peacetime our goal is toachieve engagement and participa-tion. PACOM endeavors to do thisby engaging virtually every nationof the region in military-to-mili-tary relations. Their active partici-pation is sought through forwarddeployed forces as well as a varietyof military programs.

PACOM sponsors joint andcombined exercises which empha-size everything from tropicalmedicine and basic seamanship to

amphibious operations and computer-simu-lated war games. This offers a chance to re-inforce treaty relationships with Korea,Japan, the Philippines, Australia, NewZealand, the United Kingdom, France, andThailand by increasing interoperability withallies and opening channels to friendlycountries. For example, last year we con-ducted successful naval exercises with bothIndia and Russia for the first time.

In addition, we run one of the most ef-fective education exchange programs in theworld. More than 4,000 foreign military per-sonnel trained with us during 1992. Partici-pation in seminars and conferences is grow-ing: 24 nations joined us for a logisticsseminar in Sri Lanka recently, and 29 at-tended a disaster relief conference in Hon-olulu. One Security Assistance Programwhich has proven especially beneficial is theInternational Military and Education Train-ing (IMET) Program. In FY92, 718 foreignstudents, civilian as well as military, receivedtraining under IMET.

At the same time PACOM promotes arange of contacts with senior leaders, not

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just from traditional allies (such as Japan,Australia, and the Republic of Korea), but

from those nations with whichwe are developing relation-ships (such as Russia and Mon-golia). The Russian initiativehas been so successful that it isbeing expanded to include ju-nior officers to foster future co-operation among the next gen-eration of military leaders inthe region.

PACOM provides a positiveinfluence in the theater inmany other ways. Our shipsmake hundreds of port visitseach year, from a carrier battlegroup visit to Australia to a sal-vage ship to Micronesia. We

also assist developing countries with human-itarian aid under cooperative Title 10 pro-grams. And we currently have five 13-personcivic action teams composed of Army, Navy,and Air Force personnel providing continu-ous assistance to South Pacific nations.

The end product of our peacetime effortto reach other countries is a network of bi-lateral military relations that span the Pa-cific, a framework for stability which pro-motes our own interests and encourageseconomic prosperity, political progress, andstability across the region.

Cooperative Engagement in CrisesWe work to deter aggression and encour-

age cooperation with friends and allies intimes of crisis. Our strategy is to build on the

solid military relationshipsthat we develop and thetough, realistic joint train-ing that we coordinate inpeacetime. We want to beable to react promptly anddecisively—and to build acoalition if necessary. In thepast two years we have de-

veloped a joint task force (JTF) concept atPACOM to respond to any contingency withthe appropriate force.

Under this new concept an existing sin-gle-service unit is designated a JTF in time ofcrisis and its commander reports directly toCINCPAC. Multiple service components pro-vide forces and logistical support tailored to

meet a specific challenge at hand. A smalldeployable contingent from the CINCPACstaff also augments the task force to providejoint expertise.

We have practiced this concept in exer-cises and employed it in crises. It may takemany forms as when a massive storm bothkilled 139,000 people in Bangladesh in 1991and rocked a democratic government just 39days old. On short notice we activated a Ma-rine Corps general and his staff from Oki-nawa, assigned an Air Force Special Opera-tions colonel as deputy, and provided forcesfrom all services to include Army helicoptersfrom Hawaii and more than 7,000 sailorsand Marines from the 7th Fleet. No interme-diate headquarters was allowed to intrudebetween the JTF commander and CINCPACheadquarters. We used this same streamlinedapproach to tailor forces when MountPinatubo erupted in the Philippines. A JTFwas activated with an Air Force general incommand, an Army general as deputy, andNavy and Marine Corps forces from as faraway as Japan to evacuate 18,000 Americanssome 6,000 miles in eight days from a stand-ing start. Most recently we used the JTF con-cept during Typhoon Omar on Guam, Hurri-cane Iniki on the island of Kauai in Hawaii,and during Provide Refuge (the rescue andrepatriation of more than 500 Chinese na-tionals) at Kwajalein Atoll, Marshall Islands.Training forces for flexibility and adaptingtheir employment to the mission with achain of command that reports directly tothe CINC also works in support of continu-ing missions such as POW/MIA accountabil-ity and counterdrug operations.

Of course our goal in any crisis is to pre-vent the situation from deteriorating intoconflict, not only by deterring aggression bythe use of force, but by cooperating withfriends and allies. We expect others to sharethe responsibility for maintaining the peace,but history reveals that coalitions coalescearound winners, and cooperative engage-ment enables PACOM to provide quick, deci-sive responses that let friend and foe alikeknow that we mean business.

Cooperative Engagement in ConflictFinally, if conflict cannot be avoided, we

are ready to fight and win—through a multi-lateral operation if possible, or with unilat-eral force if necessary. Here the JTF concept

C O O P E R A T I V E E N G A G E M E N T

forward presence demon-strates the continuedAmerican commitment toremain an Asia-Pacificpower on a daily basis

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Commanders confer-ring at Korat, Thailand,during Cobra Gold ’93.


is again employed and, more importantly,will work. Last year we practiced it with aforce of 22,000 deployed in and aroundSouthern California, in an operation thatduplicated every aspect of regional conflict,from Special Forces deployments, airbornedrops, Marine amphibious assaults, and sub-marine and carrier operations to multiser-vice air strikes. All services had forces underthe 3d Fleet Commander who worked di-rectly for me. It was a remarkable exercise interms of flexibility with Army operators incombat information centers afloat and AirForce planners scheduling carrier strikes. Wehave successfully tested the concept again,this time in an international context, duringExercise Cobra Gold ’93 in Thailand withthe I Corps commander serving as my JTFcommander.

Exercises such as these demonstrate thatwe are not just recasting our Cold War strat-egy or realigning our Cold War force struc-ture. Fundamentally, we have a new forceand a new vision.

As I look to the future I see Pacific eco-nomic prosperity, regional stability, and po-litical progress, all vital to U.S. national in-terests, depending on cooperation andengagement with others—and all continuingto rest on the reality of American power. Incooperative engagement we have a soundmilitary strategy to achieve national objec-tives in peacetime, crisis, or conflict.

The Pacific is important to our future. Wemust remain actively engaged in the region topromote democratic values and economicgrowth. And as we restructure our ArmedForces for the post-Cold War environment,we must remember that remaining engagedwith an adaptive forward presence is essentialto maintaining our national security.

In his first State of the Union address,President Bill Clinton said, “Backed by an ef-fective national defense and a stronger econ-omy, our Nation will be prepared to lead aworld challenged as it is everywhere by eth-nic conflict, by the proliferation of weaponsof mass destruction, by the global demo-cratic revolution, and by challenges to thehealth of our global environment.” All thosechallenges certainly exist in the Pacific the-ater. With American presence and participa-tion, allies are reassured, potential adver-saries are warned, and our commitment isassured. With an adequate force and modestforward presence, the United States will re-main a leader, partner, and beneficiary ofthis dynamic region. JFQ

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Working on H–46Nightrider during Tandem Thrust ’93.2d Combat Camera Squadron(Val Gempis)

we are ready to fight andwin—through a multilateraloperation if possible, orwith unilateral force if necessary


Warfare is a changing art, a factclearly illustrated by the eventsin the Persian Gulf during1990–91. The type of human

behavior reflected by the Hundred YearsWar can now be manifest with modern

technology in one hundred hours as Opera-tion Desert Storm. Yet in the Gulf, for allthe modern dimensions of that conflict,military operations were conducted withweapon systems that had been designed andfielded in the 1970s: Patriot missiles,

Warfare is about to enter a new phase that will upset the traditional balance between information and force.As firepower becomes an appendage to information, organizational transformations will begin to underpin anew architecture. A separate Information Corps could guide this revolution, create common doctrine for thediverse requirements of information warriors, and facilitate liaison among civilian information agencies. Sucha corps could also obviate the need for the services to integrate their data systems because standardizationwould exist from the outset. Moreover, the corps could foster innovations more consonant with the logic of the information revolution than would be the case if the services were left to their own devices. But eventhough the proposal for such a corps has merit, a number of issues concerning its likely impact on operationalautonomy, the critical functions of operational units, and certain joint imperatives must first be addressed.

Summary

Do We Need An Information Corps?By M A R T I N C. L I B I C K I and J A M E S A. H A Z L E T T

U.S. Navy (Tim Masterson)Monitoring large screendisplays aboard Aegismissile cruiser USS Vincennes.

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Abrams tanks, Aegis cruisers, a suite of fight-ers (F–14s/–15s/–16s/–18s), Apache heli-copters, and even the Airborne Warning andControl System (AWACS). At the same time,the operation of those platforms, and theiraugmentation by powerful information sys-tems, suggests that the revolution in warfareis about to enter an entirely new phase. Fu-ture changes will be most successfullyadopted by systems which have been themost thoroughly structured.

Information, in sum, is the principal dif-ference between eras. Granted, the benefitsof both strategic and tactical informationhave never gone unnoted; they have beendecisive in many battles. What is new is thesheer size, speed, and volume of the infor-mation flow needed to achieve superiority incombat. Information superiority is emergingas a newly recognized—more intense—areaof competition. The result may be the up-ending of the relationship between informa-tion and force. Thus it may be the time toform a future force to examine future warfareissues, like how to best deal with the infor-mation revolution by developing the requi-site strategies to exploit it.

The existing relationship betweenweaponry and information is similar to therelationships among weapons systems andother supporting elements such as commandand control, logistics, and personnel. Opera-tions sit atop; all else supports them. Currentweapons have accommodated the informa-tion revolution by taking advantage of addi-tional data inputs, but the military remainsorganized around units of force. This architec-ture may soon become obsolete. Instead,those who prevail tomorrow may build theirforces around a central information process-ing core. Such a core would launch informa-tion probes into the media of war (that is, inland, air, sea, or space warfare, or the entirespectrum), gather, transform, fuse, and har-ness the returning stream and ladle results instrategic synchrony directly to fire-controlunits or indirectly to operators. In either case,the traditional relationship between informa-tion and force will be turned on its head. In-formation no longer serves units of force—

rather units of forceare fire support for in-formation systems.

The necessaryand sufficient corol-lary to this transfor-mation is about orga-nization. Currentstructures are builtaround legions of op-erators, served bylesser communities,such as intelligence (as well as logistics, engi-neering, communications, etc.). In this con-text lesser is not meant in a strictly pejora-tive sense. However, in any unit whichcombines this discipline, the operators takecommand. Moreover, although career tracksare similar up to a certain level, operatorsclearly make up a much higher percentage ofthe top ranks (O8s and above) than they doof the officer corps as a whole. On the otherhand, if information warriors belonged to aseparate organization (be it a corps, service,or command), their relationship to thewhole would undergo a concomitant andperhaps necessary adjustment.

Rationalizing a CorpsThe purpose of the Armed Forces is to

fight and win wars. Winners in the futurewill take advantage of the fruits of the infor-mation revolution—including global posi-tioning systems, global surveillance, andspace-based sensors—while the losers willnot. To win one must be organized to takeadvantage of the opportunities offered bythe information revolution.

A separate corps and an associated com-mand structure linking operations and intel-ligence will facilitate effective joint opera-tions, promote the information revolutionin warfare, unify the disparate informationelements and give them an identity, create acommon ethos for information warriors, andprovide a unified interface with civilian in-formation infrastructures.

Jointness. The farther platforms can seeand shoot, the larger their battlespace, andthe more service-specific battlespaces inter-sect with each other. Aircraft of the Navy andAir Force use the same Air Tasking Order.Data collected by Air Force assets guide Armymovements. National sensors alert anti-tacti-cal ballistic missile forces of missile launches.

Martin C. Libicki and Commander James A. Hazlett, USN, areboth senior fellows in the Institute for National StrategicStudies, National Defense University.

information no longer serves units of force—rather units of force are fire support for information systems


All the services use the same satellite systems.Another factor that demands interoperable,or single, information systems is the tremen-dous annual increase in the volume and vari-ety of data collected.

Most importantly, there is transition inhow wars are fought and the diminishedlocal ties between seeking and shooting. Todaythe two usually are closely linked. Althoughprepped by intelligence reports, a tank mustboth find and kill the target itself. Yet, otherforms of warfare have already experiencedthe separation: strike operations are plannedfrom externally collected data; anti-subma-rine warfare operations use an elaborate lo-calizing program prior to administering acoup de grace. The Joint Surveillance and Tar-get Attack Radar System (JSTARS) andAWACS support an efficient cue-and-pin-pointing system. The advent of precision-strike systems that use both absolute and rel-ative positioning (that is, latitude, longitude,bearing, range, course, and speed) is at hand.The growing proliferation of sensor systemsimplies that the targeting systems of tomor-row must be able to fuse data collected froma wide variety of sources. Such fusion meansthat seamless interoperability is being de-manded for missions ranging from single-shot targeting all the way to situationalawareness by CINCs.

To illustrate the value of an integratedperspective consider a hypothetical Un-manned Aerial Vehicle (UAV) sensor packageand how it might be developed—not only itshardware, but also its software, communica-tions, integration with other data units, andmost importantly its doctrine and conceptof operations.

UAVs can serve all services, and on theirown each service would develop a packageto fit its own mission profiles and supporttheir own platforms. Yet it can be expectedthat the data flows from UAVs would go tocommon data receptors and would have tomeld with other joint data collection assetsincluding ground-based sensors, higher-alti-tude aircraft, and space sensors. To the ex-tent that each sensor package performs itsown on-board processing, it may wish totake advantage of common neural trainingregimens and pattern recognition tools. Datafrom the various sensor packages—whichcould come from any of the services—haveto be analyzed in real time to determine

where follow-on data collection efforts haveto be focused, or whether and when fire con-trol solutions have to be generated. The in-teroperability requirements of such a pack-age are therefore demanding.

The need for interoperable informationsystems has been widely recognized by thesenior leadership within DOD. Earlier thisyear Secretary of Defense Les Aspin observedin a graduation address at the National De-fense University, “Most of our systems forthe dissemination of intelligence imagerycannot talk to each other.” The principaljoint command and control initiative (“C 4Ifor the Warrior”) is exclusively about inter-operability, and all new information systemsmust be able to communicate jointly. Unfor-tunately, history suggests that after-the-factstandardization frequently leads to unsatis-factory results. Why?

▼ Standardization is a long-term processthat accommodates new developments only afterlong delays. Over the next twenty years the per-centage of new applications to existing ones isapt to grow greatly; intelligent filters that corre-late and process multispectral and nonelectro-magnetic sensory data are on the threshold ofmajor growth.

▼ Standards developed by competing inter-ests often choose a least-common-denominatorapproach, letting each side agree to disagree atthe expense of interoperability.

▼ Emphasis on data interoperability ignoresthe growing role of software interoperability.

Therefore, in the case of the sensorpackage, development by different platformsgroups increases the possibility that eachsystem stands alone and makes completedata fusion that much harder to achieve.

An Information Corps is an alternateroute to data integration. Instead of the ser-vices and DOD agencies (and the multiplecommunities within them) attempting tomerge information collection and dissemi-nation systems, the functions would be car-ried out by a single organization that oper-ated under centralized doctrine andcommand. Data would be standardized fromthe start; internecine politics that allowcomponents to agree to disagree would be, ifnot eliminated, then substantially muted.What would otherwise be a conflict between

I N F O R M A T I O N C O R P S


the need for innova-tions in data collec-tion, and the subse-quent need to reportonly that which hasbeen standardized,

would be muted as well. Successful innova-tions would be integrated into the wholemuch earlier in their development.

A related rationale emerges from theemphasis on Joint Task Forces (JTFs). Todayand in the future the services will be increas-ingly cobbled together by JTFs. Such organi-zations, which usually are made up of achunk of this and a chunk of that, demandthat most chunk commanders (and key staffmembers) know each other beforehand. Acoterie of information warriors whose spe-cialty is preparing the battlefield image butwho are attached to different operating unitsis already integrated. Acting as the glue, theycan help bring together far more fine-grained units.

Innovation. The information revolutionis almost a cliche. Less well accepted is thethreat that it will pose to the concept ofputting men and women in steel, titanium,or ceramic boxes to fight wars. Why are plat-forms at risk? As more data is collected over

the battlefield, the grid atop it grows tighter,smaller, and stealthier. Objects can be foundfaster and tracked more reliably. True,today’s weavers—and the United States hasthe best—are themselves large platforms andare thus tomorrow’s targets. Yet as sensors,processors, and communicators grow smallerand cheaper, comparably effective grids canbe built from networks of distributed sensorswhich collectively would be more robustthan complex platforms (e.g., it is harder totake down a million balloons than a dozenJSTARS). The contest between industrial-eraplatforms and information-era networks willincreasingly favor the latter (even thoughstealth will postpone the inevitable forsome). Forces with fewer manned platformssuggest radically different capabilities for themilitary of today. History suggests that orga-nizations may resist change but to their ulti-mate disadvantage.

No one questions the overwhelming rela-tive superiority of the U.S. Armed Forces, andfor that reason our manned platforms wouldlogically be the last to be threatened orcopied. A potential competitor would be fool-ish to challenge our dominance by a strategy


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Receiving informationfrom E–2C Hawkeye.


that copied our forcestructure. Forces builtaround information sys-tems constructed fromcommercially availablecomponents, however,would pose a more seri-ous threat—one whichcontests our reigningparadigm. Thus, it wouldbe far more attractive tochallenge us in that way.

Although an Infor-mation Corps may notbe inherently more in-novative than the ser-vices, it is more likely topursue the kinds of in-novations that accordwith the logic of the information revolution.Left to themselves, the Armed Forces will in-corporate information into weaponry, butwith information technologies as platformsupport rather than with platforms as firesupport to an information grid. An informa-tion Corps, however, would take an entirelydifferent approach from the outset, empha-sizing the information grid as central. Con-stituent elements and doctrine for such agrid would be evaluated on their ability tolocate, track, and evaluate objects and eventspassed for conversion into fire-control solu-tions and servicing. Such a service or corpswould be an institutional advocate for aparadigm shift, and would, by its advocacy,better prepare for a threat which comes froma different direction.

Unity. The common argument againstcreating a completely new organization isthat its planned functions are all being doneby someone else. When this question is

posed, however, the compo-sition of the group varieswidely: the Director forCommand, Control, Com-munication and ComputerSystems (J–6) on the JointStaff, Defense InformationSystems Agency, Defense

Mapping Agency, Space Command, and in-telligence agencies—all without going intothe services. Under the latter are functionssuch as command and control, electronicwarfare, meteorology, oceanography, infor-mation processing, and high-information

platforms such as Aegis, AWACS, JSTARS,and UAV contingents. Other functionswhich technology may soon enable are noteven listed for obvious reasons; when theydo emerge the soup will be even thicker.This is just the point. The various sub-com-munities in the information-based warfarecommunity see themselves as disparateplayers. Each relates to one or two others atmost, and they all lack the common unify-ing doctrine of operations. Information war-riors are more than simply communicators,data processors, or intelligence agents. Theyare all part of a global structure that wouldbecome apparent with the creation of an In-formation Corps.

Culture. A related reason for integratingvarious DOD informational elements into asingle corps is to provide information war-riors with status, culture, and an ethic. Theissue of respect is relatively straightforward.As information becomes more important, sodoes cultivating the ability to develop and


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Mobile satellite dishesin Somalia.

information warriors aremore than simply commu-nicators, data processors,or intelligence agents


manipulate it. DOD needs to attract thesepeople not only as contractors but more im-portantly as operators. Successful militaryorganizations must deploy not only superiorinformation systems, they must also be ableto fix, adapt, and maintain them in battle inreal time. Yet an aspiring officer today wouldbe advised to specialize not in informationbut in operations. Even the Air Force—themost information-intensive service—is ori-ented toward its fighter pilots as the Navy isto ship and submarine drivers and naval avi-ators. Top echelons in other specialties suchas administration, material management,and command and control are often as-signed from the ranks of operators. This pro-cedure makes sense if various specialties callfor similar skills and the best are attracted tooperations; an elite is an elite regardless ofwhat it does, and it could as easily be merg-ers and acquisitions. However, if the skills re-quired to be a good information warrior aredifferent from the qualities and ethosneeded to be an operator or these skills re-quire long, specialized training, then the sys-tem makes less sense. The best people avoidinformation and those who remain do notget the consideration their views deserve.

An Information Corps offers the possibil-ity of separate and more appropriate trainingand career management as well as an ethosfor an information warrior. As computers getmore sophisticated, training necessary fortheir effective use may get longer. The infor-mation warrior must know not only pro-gramming but systems integration and sys-tems theory, communications, security,artificial intelligence, logic in all its manyforms (classical, fuzzy, and convergent), andstatistical techniques. The information war-rior must also know the customer’s needs:the commander’s intent, doctrine, and strate-gies. In addition, the information warriorshould know something about specific media(land, sea, and space). Sending a college grad-uate to the field for a few tours of general ex-pertise interspersed with training classes andthen expecting first-rate information tech-niques in a more specialized tour later maynot be adequate. The amount of informationnecessary to be an information warrior is im-mense, and the time required to master it


Infosphere

Global Positioning Satellites

Ground Sensors

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Special Operations Forces

AWACS

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Unmanned Aerial Vehicles (UAVs)

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will have to be at theexpense of more gen-eral command in-struction. If thistradeoff is to be made

voluntarily, the results have to be rewardedcommensurately. An integrated InformationCorps with clear career paths and opportuni-ties for command and success would do this.

As for ethos, a divergence between oper-ators and information warriors must be ex-pected. Discipline under fire places a pre-mium on certain qualities: courage,decisionmaking, instinct, self-control, loy-alty, and so forth. The information warrior,by contrast, must be highly intelligent, cre-ative, independent, flexible, tenacious (tocounter infamous 3 a.m. computer bugs),and maybe somewhat eccentric. The exam-ple of Admiral Grace Hopper will not excitea tank commander any more than GeneralGeorge Patton excites a bit twiddler. Thesequalities are not necessarily antithetical, andsome qualities—common sense, judgement,contrapuntal thinking, decisiveness—areuniquely common to all warriors regardlessof weapons. To seek such qualities in opera-

tors and not information warriors furtherrelegates the latter to subordinate status.

Ethos, status, and training issues suggestthe need for an Information Corps as well asa unified or specified information com-mand. The latter could produce unity of op-eration, advocates for change, and liaison,but not doctrine, status, or continuity (e.g.,information warriors who are evaluated byother information warriors) that such acorps needs.

Liaison. Just as the information space ofthe various services is converging, so too isthe information space of the defense andcommercial sectors. DOD uses commercialcommunications satellites and bought thebulk of Spot’s imagery in the Gulf War; andboaters use the DOD Global Positioning Sys-tem. The defense and commercial sectorsswap weather data, and the DOD GlobalGrid is the military version of the NationalInformation Infrastructure (which is a com-ponent of a global infrastructure). An Infor-mation Corps would play a major role in thedevelopment of a national information strat-egy and a complementary national militaryinformation strategy.

Like the sign which reads “Call MissUtility Before You Dig,” both communitieswill have to shake hands before one or theother adds, subtracts, or alters its infrastruc-tures. DOD used to formally liaise withAT&T when the latter was still dominant intelephony in the United States. Since then,the number of information players has mul-tiplied, and not just because AT&T has beenrent asunder. In addition, as the DOD needfor information intensifies, and its assetscommingle with commercial systems, thevolume of interaction will greatly exceedwhat one community can cope with. A com-mon point of contact on the civilian side—with its public and private players—willnever happen; but a common point of con-tact on the military side is quite possible. Aseparate Information Corps would providenot only a common point of contact butcommon doctrine and outlook. With a na-tional information strategy and a nationalmilitary information strategy human proto-cols would not have to be reestablishedevery time the two worlds come in contact.

Functions of a CorpsDetermining what an Information Corps

does (on formation, its duties will be those ofthe units which comprise it) is thus tanta-mount to delineating the borders betweenthe corps and the services from which itwould grow. The first concern is doctrine.The transformation of the Army Air Corpsinto the Air Force was more than a catch-allfor those who flew planes; it was also an ex-pression of a theory of war, to wit: the abilityof airpower to transcend the ground situa-tion and transform strategic conflict through


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Apache helicopterequipped with high-tech sensors andguidance systems.

the amount of information necessary to be an informationwarrior is immense


aerial bombardment. The Marine Corps, inits evolution as a separate service, similarlyhas built a doctrine of amphibious warfare.Each service maintains its ability to compre-hend war from its perspective.

An Information Corps would also haveits doctrine. As alluded to above, the doctrinewould support a primary mission of theArmed Forces: to develop and exploit a com-mon integrated image of battlespace. This in-

tegrated image would, ofcourse, be divided andapportioned to meet theneeds of various warfight-ers. Slicing and dicingwould entail analysis, fil-tering, enhancement, cor-relation, data fusion, andwhatever else is requiredto assist decisionmaking.The image, in turn, is animportant component fordecisions which rangefrom strategy to weaponscontrol. The bounds of

such a system would vary from situation tosituation. In some cases a coherent imagewould be used for centralized decisionmaking(such as an Air Tasking Order); in other casesan image would call forth efforts to collectfurther information (launching sensors).Some fire control solutions would be auto-matic, to take advantage of evanescent oppor-tunities that a decisionmaking hierarchywould only slow down. Other images arebackground to on-the-spot decisions (tanksshould not have to relay pictures of targets toa central grid for a go-ahead before engagingthem). Clearly the usefulness of a unifiedimage depends on what percentage of the in-formation involved in making a decision isgenerated by the shooter (coupled with whatshare of the processing necessary to transformdata into decision is supplied by external al-gorithms). The doctrine is predicated on theassumption that nonlocal information (fromother units or remote sensors) and analysis(from artificial intelligence) will rise in rela-tive importance.

Two other reasons for organizing an In-formation Corps are only now beginning toemerge. One is the concept of informationas a realm of battle; just as tanks fight tanks,

and subs fight subs, so too would data corps-men on one side fight those on another.More specifically, data corpsmen wouldspend their time confounding the otherside’s operations in the electromagneticspectrum or disrupting the operations oftheir net. This concept alone may be toonarrow a basis for a corps and is susceptibleto improvements in telematics technology,which may make it harder to interfere withinformation systems. A second and con-tentious notion is that any operation thatinvolves information, or alternatively com-mand and control, in its broadest contextshould be part of a corps. But this is toobroad a definition. Not only does everyonedeal in one respect or another with informa-tion, but command and control tends to in-volve the top level of a hierarchy. To suggestan Information Corps would become thetop-level corps within DOD to which theservices must report is presumptuous. How-ever to use such a corps to collect, process,transmit, and present information and thenconvey the resulting orders is not.

The core of a compact corps and its asso-ciated command would consist of elementswhich gather, assess, and distribute both sili-con- and human-based information: an info-sphere (see figure on page 93). Space wouldbe a central component, since virtually everycurrent use of space (viz., surveillance, com-munications, navigation) is directly involvedin information. Added to that would bechunks of the intelligence business, and thecreation, operation, and maintenance offixed-site command and control assets, infor-mation collection such as ground-based radarand the Sound Surveillance System (SOSUS),mapping, and meteorology.

How far an Information Corps shouldextend into mobile information collection,in the infosphere, is a difficult question. Plat-forms as diverse as AWACS, JSTARS, Aegis,P–3 squadrons, unmanned aerial vehicles,artillery trajectory indicators, portableradars, and the like are information-inten-sive and thus similar to fixed-site informa-tion systems; but not every function (likeairplane driving) on such platforms is appro-priate for the data corps. Consider an Aegiscruiser: it certainly collects a considerablevolume of data, and much of it could betransformed into actionable targets for otherplatforms, but most of its functions call for


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Coordinating informa-tion on a weaponssystems situationboard.


other skills. Which among equipment main-tainers, screen watchers, situation assessors,and communicators should be data corps-men? Should they be permanently or tem-porarily assigned?

A tougher question will involve the mixof military and civilians in an InformationCorps. Should it be a defense or joint organi-zation? Some functions of an informationservice can be best performed by militarypersonnel with varying degrees of expertiseand experience of the weapons systems withwhich they must interface. Other positionswill have to be filled by computer geeks whoare not disposed to military service.

Objections to a CorpsThe difficulty in delineating an Informa-

tion Corps suggests that creating one issomewhat problematic: it must interfacewith other command and control organiza-tions, will remove critical functions of anoperational unit, and may perhaps relievesome of the pressure of jointness.

Autonomy. Single-service cohorts are gen-erally capable of operating autonomously intactical environments, with little helpneeded from the others. For the most part anInformation Corps could not. If the corpswould be limited to fixed-site facilities, itcould at least function autonomously, but itsvalue would depend on its ability to providedata to others—it could complete few mili-tary missions on its own. But with dispersedsensors and emitters (e.g., UAVs, buoys, lis-tening posts) gathering a larger share of the

total data, a fixed-site datacorps would become increas-ingly marginal. It would bevaluable for strategic surveil-lance and distributed interac-tive simulations.

Including mobile elementsin an Information Corps intro-duces command problems.Each unit of an InformationCorps would have to reportthrough its administrativechain of command, but itwould have to respond to theoperational chain of commandas well. Who, below the CINCor JTF commander, deter-mines, for instance, when and

where to deploy sensors? Who determineswhether an aircraft is used for reconnais-sance, electronic warfare, strike operations,or emitter dispersion? Do such needs re-spond to the requirements of the travellingunit (ship) or the deployed units of some in-formation command (or under centralizedcontrol if not command)? All of these issuescan be resolved over time or may be eclipsedby circumstances (if ships disappear fromthe inventory, shipboard problems do also),but that will take some effort.

A related objection is that even plat-forms whose exclusive mission today is togather information may not necessarily re-tain that character. Consider the vignetteabout UAV sensor packages. If the developersof this hardware and doctrine are informa-tion warriors rather than operators, theymay not appreciate the potential of a UAV asa weapon rather than simply as a data col-lector. This problem can be managed andshould be addressed as the acquisition proc-ess is adjusted to the post-Cold War era.

Criticality. Every organization is an in-formation organization; moreover, informa-tion is power. Removing information cadresfrom such an organization could lead toseveral unintended consequences. The lattermay be tempted to duplicate its lost capabil-ities—no important organization in the Fed-eral Government, for instance, leaves policyanalysis to others. Besides wasting resourcesit reintroduces the very coordination short-falls an Information Corps was designed toovercome. Alternatively, affected militaryunits may simply ignore the information


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Plotting incoming artillery on a Firefindersystem.


they cannot control, relying on time-provenbut obsolescent means of gathering infor-mation (reconnaissance in strength) ratherthan methods which technology makesmore appropriate (sophisticated sensors).Thus, the very modernization that an Infor-mation Corps was meant to induce wouldbe retarded by its formation. To avoid thisstrong leadership will be required inside andoutside the corps.

Jointness. Finally, while creating an In-formation Corps may promote a joint bat-tlespace image, it may retard other aspects ofjointness. Having removed the most impor-tant reason for the services to work together(they would instead liaise with an Informa-tion Corps) removes a large part of the impe-tus for operational units to work and meetacross service lines. The need for joint de-ployment, joint operations, and, most im-portant, joint thinking, remains, but theday-to-day practice of working jointly would

be undercut by the act ofshoving off certain joint du-ties to separate organiza-tions. When the time cameto act jointly, the variouscomponents would be farless prepared than if they

had interacted on a day-to-day basis. Again,good leadership should overcome this prob-lem. An Information Corps and the efficien-cies it offers can be made to enhance ratherthan retard jointness.

When it comes to radical reorganiza-tion—and forming an independent Informa-tion Corps certainly qualifies—a first rule ofthumb may be: when in doubt, don’t. Aswars are currently fought, the need for adata corps is, while perhaps inevitable, notnecessarily urgent. Unlike, say, the Army AirCorps, which was a single identifiable opera-tional arm, an Information Corps wouldhave to be merged from several disparate or-ganizations. By taking from all services, itwould be opposed by all. This will be diffi-cult to overcome.

The logical conclusion is that DODshould form an Information Corps. The ar-gument is that a corps would promote joint-ness where it is critically needed (informa-tion interoperability), elevate information asan element of war, develop an informationwarrior ethos and curriculum, and heightenDOD attention to the global civilian net.

When threatened with the loss of personneland resources, the services may respond thatthey are doing all of this and more. Thegreater the threat, the more meaningfullythe services may respond. But their responseis likely to address problems—integration,doctrine, or ethos—that would otherwisecall for an Information Corps. Solving theseproblems, after all, was the original point.But they cannot do it as effectively as an In-formation Corps.

One approach to mastering future war-fare that should be considered is the creationof a future force cell of forward-thinking offi-cers and civilian specialists charged with tak-ing a long-term look at the nature of warfareand how best to cope with it. To attract, re-cruit, and maintain what would have to be ahighly talented and motivated group of indi-viduals, a separate career field should be es-tablished (not unlike the acquisition corps)that breaks off officers and civilians fromtheir contemporaries at the O4/O5 and theGS–13/GS–14 levels and provides them withrequisite guarantees of promotion and careerenhancement (probably with certain limitslike time-in-service). Such a group could ulti-mately form the nucleus of a corps, draft anational information strategy, and bring thefruits of the information revolution to theArmed Forces. These men and women wouldserve a unique role in the Department of De-fense and provide a joint, quality test-bed forfuture ideas and concepts.

An Information Corps would increase theeffectiveness of the Armed Forces. It wouldallow us to do the job better, cheaper, andfaster. It would give us an edge that would behard to beat or even challenge. It would keepthe United States in the forefront of the ongo-ing revolution in military affairs. JFQ


an Information Corpswould have to be mergedfrom several disparateorganizations


T o borrow and amend a saying, someare born joint, others achieve joint-ness, and some have jointness thrustupon them. It sometimes appears

that the search for a joint approach to war-fare has become an end in itself, a mantrathat substitutes for serious thought. One sus-pects that much of what is written or spokenon this subject—paraded as authoritativeand deserving of serious consideration—would fail rigorous scrutiny, yet at the sametime one would not seriously question theimportance and relevance of joint warfare.

At a lecture given in summer 1942 atCamberley, the British army staff college, anofficer lately returned from Washington re-marked that Britain was light years ahead ofthe United States in terms of joint planning,a state of affairs he attributed to the fact thatAmerica lacked a Royal Air Force. The estab-lishment of an independent air service inApril 1918 forced joint planning on theBritish military because thereafter no singleoperation could lie within the private do-main of a single service. Across the water theU.S. Navy, however, by virtue of possessing

Guadalcanal: The Naval CampaignBy H. P. W I L L M O T T

The Guadalcanal campaign in the lower Solomons is a paradox in the history of joint warfare. It was thefirst American offensive of World War II and purely Navy in design. Yet the impact of the campaign in thesouthwest Pacific on joint operations was far-reaching. Above all, it underscored the real interdependence of the services: the supply of forces on land relied on escorts; the cover of escort forces depended on fleetunits; and the denial of enemy sustenance of their troops ashore was largely accomplished by shore-basedairpower. Thus, to a surprising degree, Japanese forces were displaced from the lower Solomons by virtue ofa singularly joint effort.

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Beached enemy transport burning onGuadalcanal as SBDbomber flies overhead.

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This article is based on a paper presented at a conference sponsored by the National War College on April 1, 1993.

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its own private army and air force, had themeans—not to mention the will—to go itsown separate way and to frustrate the causeof interservice cooperation.

Guadalcanal stands as the first Americancampaign of World War II. As a Britisher ithas always been a source of wry amusementto me that the initial U.S. offensive of thewar was staged in the southwest Pacific.American condemnation of an alleged Britishpredilection with peripheral campaigns, so

unacceptable when it came tocrafting strategic policy for thewar against Germany, wouldseem to sit uneasily alongsidethis offensive: few theaters canbe more peripheral to even thewar against Japan, still less theEuropean war, than the south-west Pacific. More relevantly,however, this first American of-fensive was most certainly never

considered in terms of joint warfare: indeed,at least in part, the Navy sought offensive ac-tion in the southwest Pacific for interdepart-mental, bureaucratic reasons to forestall itssister service both in Washington and in thePacific. The move against Japanese positionsin the lower Solomons was perhaps themeans whereby joint warfare could beavoided or crafted on terms dictated by theNavy, yet it was a campaign in the course ofwhich concepts of joint warfare were im-posed upon the services by effect and need.The campaign brought home two in-escapable facts, that the services could notachieve their missions by separate efforts butwere interdependent—even in their specificareas of competence and responsibility—andthat when the American high command au-thorized landings in the lower Solomons ithad no understanding of the nature of thecampaign on which it embarked.

Perhaps the simplest and most obviousexample of this lack of understanding can begauged by reference to the fact that in 1943when the combined planners in Washington

considered plans for the invasion of theJapanese home islands their provisional esti-mates suggested the use of between 120 and157 fleet, light fleet, and escort carriers.These calculations were committed to paperat a time when every fleet action had costthe Navy a carrier, either sunk or badly dam-aged. Undoubtedly these figures to some ex-tent reflected an overstatement of require-ments based on this experience. At thisstage, in September and October 1943, theNavy had yet to become familiar with “the-more-you-use-the-less-you-lose” formula.But the main interest in the 1943 figures liesin the fact that they were calculated in theaftermath of the Guadalcanal campaign and,perhaps even more importantly, on thepremise that the invasion of Japan wouldcome about after the Pacific Fleet had foughtits way into the western Pacific, and wouldhave won control of the skies over, and theseas that washed, the home islands in theprocess. When U.S. forces came ashore onTulagi and Guadalcanal on August 7, 1942,at a time when Americans had not won airsuperiority over the lower Solomons, theNavy had an order of battle in the southwestPacific that consisted of the fleet carriersSaratoga, Enterprise, and Hornet and the es-cort carrier Long Island. In other words, andeven allowing for differing scales of antici-pated resistance and the obvious differencesbetween a campaign in the southwest Pacificand one off the home islands, four carriersin 1942 were to do with respect to Guadal-canal what planners in 1943 believed wouldrequire the services of 157 carriers when itcame to Hokkaido and Honshu.

W i l l m o t t

H.P. Willmott is on the faculty of the National War Collegeand formerly taught at RMA Sandhurst. He is the author ofThe Great Crusade: A New Complete History of the Second

World War, Empires in Balance: Japanese and Allied Pacific

Strategies, and June 1944.

ADM William F. Halsey,USN, Commander,South Pacific Force,and MajGen A.A. Vandergrift, USMC,American OccupationCommander in theSolomons, January1943.

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Marines unloadingsupplies on Guadalcanal.

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Although the United States both movedsome aviation fuel to and evacuated somewounded from Henderson Field by air, theAmericans and Japanese moved every soldier,ration, basic load, and gun to Guadalcanal bysea. It was the U.S. ability to maintain con-voys to Lunga Point and the Japanese inabil-ity to sustain their forces on Guadalcanal thatdecided the outcome of this campaign. In thecourse of the campaign American groundforces on the island remained fed, medicallytreated, and supplied with ammunitionwhereas the Japanese were not. U.S. units onGuadalcanal were reinforced and rotated on a

full-strength basis unlike the Japanese. Ameri-can air units at Henderson Field were main-tained and however weak (with the possibleexception of October 13) were never pre-vented from meeting the enemy in the air. Inthe crisis of mid-November it was air unitsoperating from Henderson Field in conjunc-tion with carrier groups that inflicted pro-hibitive losses on Japanese shipping: dis-counting seaplane operations based at RekataBay on Santa Isabel the Japanese had no airunits closer than Rabaul—and after October11, Buin, though it is hard to believe that thehaste with which the airfield was prepared,rendered it anything other than marginal torequirements—and never had the opportu-nity to develop forward bases for units. Thesefacts of life which define the difference be-tween victory and defeat in the lowerSolomons provide terms of reference for ex-amining three aspects of the conduct of oper-ations at sea: the supply of forces on landwhich essentially involved escorts; the provi-sion of cover for forces from enemy attackwhich necessarily called on fleet units; andthe denial to the enemy of the means to sus-tain forces on the island which concernedprimarily shore-based airpower, although itshould be noted from the outset that this air-power—or rather its most effective singlepart—consisted of naval airpower.

SupplyWith regard to maintaining the flow of

supplies and reinforcements the interdepen-dence of forces is obvious. Although themain task of shepherding shipping fromNew Caledonia and other places fell to theescorts, the period of maximum danger forthis shipping came in the waters thatwashed Lunga Point which were exposed toattack by enemy aircraft and warships;throughout the campaign U.S. transportsand supply ships took losses in these waters.But in making their way forward from NewCaledonia the transports and supply shipsenjoyed immunity from loss in part becauseof the effectiveness of their escorts, andlosses incurred off Guadalcanal fell primarilyon warships or destroyer-transports. ThusJapanese warships accounted for the de-stroyer Blue and APDs Gregory and Little offLunga Point on August 22 and September 5,respectively, while APD Calhoun was sunk byJapanese aircraft on August 29. Damage to

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The Southwest PacificTheater Campaigns,1942–1944.

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USS Enterprise underattack.

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Alhena on September 29 and accounting forAlchiba and Majaba in November were ex-ceptions rather than the rule, and the effec-tiveness of escorts and fleet units in ensuring

the safe and timelyarrival of shippingcan be gauged by thelanding of reinforce-ments on September18 and November 11,the former involvingthe 7th Marines and

consisting of six transports escorted by threecruisers and seven destroyers. The pointwould seem clear: even in a period ofJapanese superiority the combination of es-cort forces and shore-based patrol and escort

aircraft ensured the security of shipping toGuadalcanal while off the island shore-basedairpower conferred a large degree of immu-nity from losses during daylight hours whilefleet units ensured the same in hours ofdarkness. In fact, U.S. shipping off Guadal-canal enjoyed a high degree of immunityfrom loss: the Japanese were remarkably in-effective in accounting for shipping in Iron-bottom Sound, in part because their forces—whether air, fleet, or submarine—had todivide their respective efforts against differ-ent targets.

CoverThe support of the beachhead against

enemy bombardment was obviously theleast satisfactory part of the proceedingsfrom the American point of view. The effec-tiveness of the cover provided for forces

W i l l m o t t

T H E G U A D A L C A N A L C A M PA I G NVice Admiral Robert L. Ghormley, USN, Commander in Chief South Pacific Area

versusAdmiral Shieyoshe Inouye,

Commanding Imperial Japanese Forces at Rabaul

Surface Action—November 13, 1942

U.S. Battle Force: destroyers Cushing, Laffey, Sterett, O’Bannon, Aaron Ward, Barton, Monssen,and Fletcher ; heavy cruisers San Francisco and Portland ; light antiaircraft cruisers Atlantaand Juneau ; and light cruiser Helena.

Japanese Battle Force: battleships Hiei and Kirishima ; destroyers Akatsuki, Amatsukaze,Asagumo, Harusame, Inazuma, Ikazuchi, Murasame, Samidare, Teruzuki, Yukikaze, andYudachi ; light cruiser Nagara.

Surface Action—November 15, 1942

U.S. Battle Force: battleships Washington and South Dakota; destroyers Walke, Benham,Preston, and Gwin.

Japanese Battle Force: battleship Kirishima; heavy cruisers Takao and Atoga; light cruisersNagara and Sendai ; destroyers Asagumo, Ayanami, Hatsuyuki, Ikazuchi, Samidare, Shikanami,Shirayuki, Teruzuki, and Uranami.

Ships Sunk or Scuttled—November 13 and 15, 1942

United States: Cushing, Laffey, Atlanta, Juneau, Barton, Monssen, Walke, Benham, and Preston[total crew on board: 2,984].

Japan: Hiei, Akatsuki, Yudachi, Kirishima, and Ayanami [total crew on board: 3,451].

Sources. Bryan Perrett, The Battle Book (New York: Arms and Armour Press, 1992); Eric Hammel,Guadalcanal: Decision at Sea (New York: Crown Publishers, 1988).

Disposition and Coursesof Opposing Warships

from apptoximayely0130 to 0145 hours

10 2 43 5

GUADALCANAL

CushingLaffey

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Juneau

Aaron Ward

BartonMonssen

Fletcher

Yuachi

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Nagara

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Amatsukaze

SamidareMurasame

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TeruzukiKirishima

Hiei

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Japanese Axis American Axis

NIGHTSURFACE ACTIONNovember 13, 1942

The night surface action off Lunga Pointin Sealark Channel (between Guandal-canal and Savo Island) on November 13,1942 disrupted the planned Japanesebombardment of Henderson Field.

Source. Eric Hammel, Guadalcanal: Decisionat Sea (New York: Crown Publishers, 1988).

it was the U.S. ability to main-tain convoys and the Japaneseinability to sustain their forcesthat decided the outcome

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ashore and the issue of superiority were ob-viously linked: satisfactory cover could notbe provided unless and until U.S. fleet for-mations met and defeated their oppositenumbers in battle. Once they did and Ameri-cans gained command of the waters north ofLunga Point the problems of cover resolved

themselves. From this prem-ise two matters would seemto arise. The first is the in-terdependence of the navaleffort involved in wrestingthe initiative away from theImperial navy. Carrier forcesneutralized their oppositenumbers and were them-selves neutralized in theprocess, and surface forces,in the climactic battles ofmid-November, broke theback of the Japanese effort.Nevertheless, the issue ofsuperiority was resolvedover a three-month, not athree-day, period.

The second point, obvi-ous though it might be,

nonetheless demands recognition: the coverprovided from Henderson Field limitedJapanese freedom of action in the lower Sol-omons in that they could not operate en

masse or in daylight and were restricted tonight operations that in the final analysiswere of limited effectiveness. For all the su-periority the Imperial navy exercised in thefirst three months of the campaign, thedegradation of American capacity as a resultof fleeting, furtive bombardments in thesemonths was small. This was the result inpart to other tasks that surface forces werecalled on to discharge and because Japaneseships did not have time for the deliberatesystematic bombardment that might haveworn down American resistance. But in theinterest of balance the effectiveness of indi-vidual Japanese actions and the narrownessof the margin by which the Imperial navyfailed to neutralize Henderson Field in Octo-ber should be noted. It is probably accurateto state that in terms of action by surfacewarships against airfields the Japanese opera-tions of mid-October were the most effectiveby any navy during World War II, althoughit should also be noted that these operationswere directed against a single airfield andthat the naval efforts with which compar-isons can be made were seldom orchestratedin that way.

The Japanese lacked time for this effortmainly due to the broods perched on Hen-derson Field. Admittedly the willingness of


Japanese sub sunk inKamimbo Bay by theNew Zealand corvettesKiwi and Moa.

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Officers confer onboard USS Wasp,August 7, 1942.

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USS Wasp with SB2Usand F4Fs on the flightdeck.

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U.S. surface forces to contest the Japanesesuperiority in Ironbottom Sound at nightwas a growing factor, but it was not untilNovember that this was properly recognizedas a result of a defeat that was critically im-portant to breaking the will of the Imperialnavy. But the fact was that from August 20—and certainly after August 28—the Japanesewere fighting a losing battle not so muchwith the Americans as with time, and astime worked to the Japanese disadvantage sothe cohesion of their forces and efforts wasdissipated. While this was not obvious then,the effectiveness of the threat presented byU.S. shore-based airpower at HendersonField to Japanese operations off Guadalcanalundoubtedly was apparent to both sides.

InterdictionIn terms of disrupting Japanese lines of

supply, the importance of shore-based air-power is self-evident and well known, hencethe need to examine the reverse side of thecoin. From the fact that between August 1942and February 1943 Japanese shipping lossesin the southwest Pacific amounted to 60 ships(285,419 tons) out of the total of 214 ships(979,190 tons) lost in all theaters and from allcauses, two points immediately emerge. First,U.S. warships and submarines played only aminor direct role in ensuring the isolation ofJapanese forces on Guadalcanal. Carrier-basedaircraft accounted for just two merchantmenin this period, the only two that carrier-basedaircraft sank between May 1942 and October1943, while warships accounted for three andshared in the destruction of a fourth duringthis same 18-month period. Second, the roleof U.S. submarines, though obviously moresubstantial, was nevertheless marginal to theoutcome of the campaign: crucially, the 24submarines deployed to the Solomons failedto account for a single merchantman in thecritical month of November 1942. Their realvalue lay not in this theater but elsewhere: ina 7-month period U.S. submarines accountedfor 120 ships (578,210 tons) or, in percent-ages, 56% of Japanese losses in this seven-month period, both by ships and tonnage.

The submarine returns are of interest inthat within one or two points they are thesame as those for the entire war; in otherwords, between August 1942 and February

1943, the submarines maintained a rate ofsinkings that accorded with their overall re-turns despite a major and, for much of thetime growing, commitment to the Solomonswhere they were singularly ill-suited to con-duct operations. Narrow and restricted wa-ters—although thesubs were not com-mitted in the slot—and fast-movingenemy ships were ahard combinationwith which to con-tend, not to men-tion poor intelli-gence, questionabledoctrine, and unre-liable torpedoes.Perhaps significantly it was not until Januaryand February 1943, when the main Japanesenaval effort had passed its peak and shippingwas reduced and less well defended, that U.S.submarines recorded 12 of their 18 sinkingsin the southwest Pacific theater between Au-gust 1942 and February 1943.

Nevertheless, the main effort againstJapanese shipping was borne by the aircraftbased at Henderson Field, and it is worthnoting from the outset that shore-based airaffected the integrity of organization morethan causing physical damage. The Japaneseforces put ashore on Guadalcanal were fedinto the battle piecemeal, without propersupport and with minimal, erratic supply,while the Imperial navy only maintainedeven this line of communication at the ex-pense of time and the cohesion of forma-tions. Attrition invariably involves seldom-acknowledged aspects of war such as time,distance, and the balance of formations andcommand. They are complemented by moreobvious and no less important aspectsthough in the end, of course, the process ofattrition must be physical. Thus the signifi-cance of the battles of November 12 through15 was the defeat in a short time of the mainJapanese attempt to use heavy transports tobring forces to Guadalcanal after the mainworkhorse of this effort had traditionallybeen destroyers of very limited logistical ca-pacity. Between October 1 and 20, for exam-ple, the delivery of nearly 10,000 Japanesetroops involved 92 destroyer, 7 cruiser, and 4seaplane/carrier missions, and however greatthe handicaps under which American ships

W i l l m o t t

Japanese forcesput ashore werefed into the battlepiecemeal, withoutproper support andwith minimal, erratic supply

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operated the presence of U.S. airpower atHenderson Field ensured that the handicapsunder which the Imperial navy operatedwere greater—and in the long term thatJapanese capital resources were smaller.

The extent of these problems can be un-derstood by considering two sets of data.First, although it was estimated that a 5,000-

ton transport could move2,000 second-echelon troopswith equipment or a full reg-iment with personal equip-ment, the 5,458-ton OyoMaru was able to carry only987 soldiers and assortedmunitions between Rabauland Kolombangara in Jan-uary 1943—such was the ero-sion of capacity imposed by

the haste of loading and the lack of handlingfacilities at the destination. Second, the cir-cumstances under which the Japanese aban-doned the struggle for Guadalcanal—the un-acceptable losses sustained in November—isdeceptive. In November 1942 the Japaneselost 15 transports of some 94,000 tons in thesouthwest Pacific, and the fact that most ofthe losses were concentrated over a matter ofdays and among some of the better shipsavailable made the losses grievous. TheJapanese most certainly could not have toler-ated such losses had they been repeated overa protracted period of time but the loss of 15

transports was small when compared withthe British loss of 44 transports, supply ships,and auxiliaries (222,824 tons) in April andMay 1941 during the course of the evacua-tion of Greece and Crete.

The real blow lay in the fact that, ac-cording to Japanese sources, the losses in Oc-tober and November 1942 totalled some345,000 tons of shipping and that in Jan-uary 1943 operations in the Solomons re-quired 710,000 tons. One must admit a cer-tain disbelief in these statistics: my owncalculations indicate that the statement ofJapanese losses of 345,000 tons of merchantshipping in October and November 1942 isoverstated though not by much, and onesuspects that the figure of 710,000 tons ofshipping refers to all operations based onRabaul, not just those in the Solomons. Butaccepting these figures at face value, one cannote the aspect of attrition imposed by timeand distance because such shipping had tobe found from a total of some 5,900,000tons available to Japan at a time when shecould not meet her import requirementsand, for the first time, her losses exceededreplacement capacity (in October or Novem-ber 1942 shipping tonnage showed the firstreal decline since the start of the Pacificwar). Moreover, in November 1942 the Im-perial army, having returned shipping totrade throughout the early summer butthereafter having stopped transfers, for thefirst time had to requisition merchant ship-ping to cover its losses. Herein, one suspects,is the real reason why the losses of Novem-ber 1942 were so unacceptable, not so muchfor themselves as for the loss relative to the-ater resources and to national requirements.

In conclusion, a number of points couldbe made about the naval campaign off andover Guadalcanal, some relating to wider as-pects of war and others to aspects of jointwarfare. The only World War II campaignwith which Guadalcanal can be compared isMalta, and whereas the Americans tri-umphed in the lower Solomons in largemeasure because of the successful employ-ment of different aspects of operations, inthe Mediterranean the fate of Malta was tobe decided in very large measure because theAxis powers were unable to do the same.With regard to wider aspects of the war, theperiod of maximum danger for a fleet is


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Artillery tubes headingfor Guadalcanal.

Soldiers moving for-ward on Guadalcanalin January 1943.

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when it is tied to the operations of forcesashore: the danger exists irrespective ofwhether the army advances or retreats, butthe period of greatest peril is when the armyis not moving at all. Obviously this was thecase for both the American and Japanesenavies, and one is tempted to consider theJapanese naval effort against HendersonField in an historical context framed by theNelsonian dictum that only a fool attacks

forts. To assert this, however,may stretch certain defini-tions, especially when thereare other more immediateand important matters athand. One vital factor wouldbe the critical importance of

position and time in deciding the issue ofbattle, and it could be noted that the U.S.victory was not a result of strategic or tacti-cal superiority—quite the contrary—but ofan adherence to basic principles of concen-tration, offensive action, and maintainingthe objective. The Americans traded ships

for the security of the airfield and safety ofits transports, just as the Serapis had done sosuccessfully long ago. American forces en-sured victory through loss. The United Statesachieved this in part because of what todaywould be called “reconstitution” in the formof the new warships that were to come intoservice in 1943; but if victory in the Pacificwas the result of supremacy in 1942 thatsupremacy was to be gained by victory.

In terms of joint warfare the points thatemerge from any consideration of the navalaspects of the Guadalcanal campaign wouldbe the critical importance of the integratedeffort involving warships, submarines, andboth carrier- and shore-based airpower; theelusiveness of the single “decisive battle”;and the relevance of recognizing in thesearch for a joint approach to war the impor-tance of diversity. With regard to the latter,and at a time when budgetary stringenciesstress the attractiveness of general-purposeaircraft, the significance of air operationsfrom Henderson Field is too easy to miss: theAmerican aircraft which carried the burdenof operations against Japanese warships and

W i l l m o t t

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Avenger being readiedfor takeoff from USS Enterprise.

the Americans tradedships for the security ofthe airfield and safety ofits transports

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transports were purpose-built naval strikeaircraft operating from a base ashore, notland-based Army Air Force aircraft. Thesepoints aside, the actions of November 12–15were the most important single episodes ofthe Guadalcanal campaign—in terms oftheir psychological importance in thatAmerican forces for the first time outfoughtthe Japanese at night and in terms of theseactions coming at the end of a 3-month pe-riod in which the Japanese skin had beendrawn ever more tightly over an Americandrum. To the warships, most obviously tothe Washington, went the final credit for thedestruction of the Japanese effort in thelower Solomons, but perhaps more signifi-cant than the sinking of the Kirishima wasthat of the Hiei. She may well have beensaved had it not been for incessant attacksby carrier- and shore-based aircraft on theday after being mauled in the course of anight action with U.S. cruisers and destroy-ers. Somehow, that the action which markedthe ebbing of the Japanese tide in the lowerSolomons saw the destruction of an Imperialnavy battleship as a result of the combinedefforts of warships, carrier-based, and shore-based aircraft seems an appropriate, even ec-umenical, comment on the naval dimensionof the Guadalcanal campaign. JFQ


T H E G U A D A L C A N A LC A M PA I G N

August 7, 1942–February 7, 1943

Land Forces

United States: 1st Marine Division; relieved in December 1942 by XIV Corps (2d Marine Divisionand the Army’s Americal and 25th Divisions) [1,600killed, 4,200 wounded, and 12,000 incapacitatedby disease].

Japan: 17th Army, plus reinforcements, totalling approximately 20,000 [14,000 killed in action,9,000 died from disease or starvation, an unknownnumber wounded, and 1,000 captured].

Source. Bryan Perrett, The Battle Book (New York: Arms andArmour Press, 1992).

A map discovered onGuadalcanal depictinga Japanese plan topush American forcesinto the sea with athree-pronged attackby elements of the16th, 29th, and 203d

regiments.

Sketch of a marine onGuadalcanal by Donald L. Dixon.

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General Matthew Bunker Ridgway, USA(1895–1993)

U. S. and Supreme Allied Commander, Far East

Supreme Allied Commander, Europe

Chief of Staff, U.S. Army

VITA


I N M E M O R I A M

Born at Fortress Monroe, Virginia. Graduated from the U.S. MilitaryAcademy (1917). Served as a company commander, 3d Infantry (1917–18).Instructor, West Point (1918–24). Attended the Infantry School, Fort Ben-ning, and served with the 15th Infantry, China, and 9th Infantry, Texas(1925–27). Served on the American Electoral Commission, Nicaragua, andthe Bolivia-Paraguay Commission of Inquiry and Conciliation (1927–29).Served with the 33d Infantry, Canal Zone (1931–32), and as technical ad-visor to the Governor General, Philippines (1932–33). Attended the Com-mand and General Staff School, Fort Leavenworth (1935), and Army WarCollege (1937). Assigned to Second and Fourth Armies (1935–39), andWar Plans Division, General Staff (1939–42). Commanded the 82d Air-borne Division (1942–44) and the XVIII Airborne Corps (1944–45). Com-manded the Mediterranean Theater of Operations and was DeputySupreme Allied Commander (1945–46). Served as U.S. representative to

the U.N. Military Staff Committee and the Chairmanof Inter-American Defense Board (1946–48), and asCommander in Chief, Caribbean Command(1948–49). Assigned as Deputy Chief of Staff for Ad-ministration (1949–50). Commanded Eighth Army,Korea (1950–51). Served as U.S. and Supreme AlliedCommander, Far East (1951–52), as Supreme AlliedCommander, Europe (1952–53), and as Chief of Staff,U.S. Army (1953–55). Dealt with postwar demobiliza-tion, training the South Korean army, strengtheningthe North Atlantic Treaty Organization, establishing aNATO line of communications, potential crises in In-dochina and on Formosa, and the effects of budgetcuts on the Army’s capability to carry out its mission.Retired in 1955 and lived in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania,where he died this past summer.

General Ridgway wrote two books about his mili-tary career, Soldier: The Memoirs of Matthew B. Ridgway(New York: Harper and Brothers, 1956), and The Ko-rean War: How We Met the Challenges. . . . (Garden City,New York: Doubleday and Company, 1967).

Source. Commanding Generals and Chiefs of Staff, 1775–1991 by William Gardner Bell. Center of MilitaryHistory Publication 70–14. Washington: Government Printing Office, 1992.

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Portrait of GeneralRidgway by ClarenceLamont MacNelly.

T H E S O L D I E R

. . . when he had commanded troops, Ridgway had

excelled. In this, his true element, he demonstrated

a pronounced talent for getting men to pull together

and for inculcating unit pride. One reason was that

he was no tent hog grinding out orders. He was out

front all day, exhorting, cajoling, teaching. He drove

himself tirelessly from dawn to dusk and often late

into the night. His working motto, delivered in a deep

commanding voice tinged with a New York accent,

was ‘Haven’t got time? Well, get up earlier . . . stay

up later at night.’ He had little patience with human

failings and was notoriously outspoken and short-

fused. His dedication, zeal, and intensity led his

sweating GIs to joke: ‘There’s a right way, a wrong

way and a Ridgway.’ The Ridgway was the Army way

raised to perfection.

—From Ridgway’s Paratroopers

by Clay Blair.

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We all need orthodoxy. InAmerica the word ortho-dox smells of rigidity andrighteousness, of smallthoughts. But the defini-

tion sounds all right: belief in, and agreementwith what is, or is currently held to be right.

What’s wrong with having commonground for reality, what is more importantthan having shared values and beliefs? Groupmembers must experience things together, orelse they make a pretty sorry group. This istrue for what we call society, and it goes dou-bly for military culture.

So it’s all right for us to move along thesame path, to march to the same drummer.How do we do it? Partly by following a goodscript and, as any movie producer can tellyou, what sells a good script is good language.

But how are good movies rememberedand understood? Do we rely upon tabloid re-views or publicity blurbs? No, we repeat theone classic line that captures the spirit of afilm forever. Now think of the real world asa movie, and we are in it. How do we tellothers—as well as ourselves—who we areand where we are going? Remember, we toohave a script, even if it’s shelved in our un-conscious. We read from it every day. Andwe constantly use words or special phrasesto communicate with one another aboutwho we are as a group in the here and now.Call these grail words.

I don’t mean mottoes like Semper Fi,which are almost sacred markers of militaryculture. They resound across time and space,they are forever. No, I am talking about whowe are right now, in our movie. For what weare about is our story line. Hence the grailmetaphor. It’s what drives and defines us,and it gives our story coherence and focus.

Grail words provide a better insight intoourselves than actual orthodoxy which, afterall, is just the official documentation of whatwe believe. Grail words are actual expressionsof belief.

What are some of the grail words of thepast?

▼ for the Navy of the 1890s, it was steam en-gineering

▼ for the Army during the 1920s, mecha-nization

▼ for the Air Force in the 1950s, strategic▼ for the Army during the 1950s, atomic▼ for the Navy of the 1950s, nuclear power

Today our grail word is jointness. Sowhat’s the point of all this? What import dothese words have for us? They tell us how we

Michael Vlahos is a project director at the Center forNaval Analyses where he looks at the long-term. Hispublications include Thinking About World Change

and America: Images of Empire.

BY OUR ORTHODOXIESSHALL YE KNOW USBy M I C H A E L V L A H O S


relate to society, where America is going,and whether our vision is moving in stepwith the society around us.

It is important to understand that grailwords have far greater substance than theyappear to. In the 1890s, steam engineeringdidn’t mean just naval engineering. It meanta new world view—professionalism—and anew identity that fit the spirit of the age. Itwas the Progressive Era, and the Navy waschanging along with the scientific (take alook at the number of naval articles in the Sci-entific American circa 1912), forward-looking,reform agenda of American society at large.

And grail words tell us how the Army,Navy, and Air Force imagine their specialplace in a changing national agenda. In the1950s, for instance, the Air Force liked theword strategic since it signified that it was thepremiere, necessary service—the instrumentof victory. American strategy was the StrategicAir Command.

During the same period the Army, oncethe centerpiece of American arms, was fight-ing marginality. The word atomic an-nounced, “we’re relevant; we use the samebig weapons.” And it also said, “we can sur-vive and play a role in war, even on anatomic battlefield.”

The Navy following World War II wassuddenly the old-tech service. It had to showthat it was on the cutting edge just like theAir Force. What better way than to link thefuture of the Navy to the American way of

life: were not our entire livesabout to be reborn throughthe miracle of nuclear power?

What does jointness sayabout military culture today?First, jointness is aboutpeacetime. Its meaning ismore like the grail words

steam engineering than strategic or atomic in anearlier age. Strategic and atomic were oncepart of society’s grail words: the Cold War.America’s vision of itself in the 1950s was ofa world-on-a-string, and it was a warlike vi-sion. The Army, Navy, and Air Force were atthe center of that vision. But at the turn ofthe century, America’s vision was all aboutrenewal: the Nation transforming itself, be-coming modern, more civilized. Steam engi-neering was the Navy’s path to sharing inthat vision.

Second, jointness is about an Americalooking inward. Jointness is a conceptsteeped in self-improvement, in the processof becoming better (like Clinton’s revealingstatement, we can do better!). America’s spirittoday is intent on getting the national act to-gether or—in more traditional language—inreforming itself. In this quest the services willfollow, not lead; for the military lives at themargins, not at the center. America’s centerwill be, at least for the next decade, itself.

Third, jointness is about the survival—of the Army, Navy, Marine Corps, and AirForce—as a single military culture. Itstrongly suggests an awareness that interser-vice squabbles cannot be brooked in a longpeace unless the services are willing to riskmutual evisceration. There is also a sense—even if unspoken—that military power as wehave known it may wither away. A single,unified military culture will survive longer,be able to make its case longer, stay healthylonger than if the services bicker over ever-thinner gruel.

This may be interesting but again, sowhat? What’s wrong? Is there a real prob-lem? In a word, yes. If jointness is our grailword, if it corresponds to the spirit of a newage, if America’s spirit is inward-looking,then it means by implication that we are notthinking about the next war.

Sure, we talk about responding to futureconflicts, but enshrining jointness meansthat the outside world and its problems aredefined down. An era dominated by a questfor jointness means that we are allowingourselves the mental luxury of thinking interms of a stable world; we are assuming thatserious military challenges will remain mod-erate for the near-term and generic for thelong-term.

The problem is simple: we are definingwho we are and what we do according to theagenda of society. This is good in a certainsense because American military culturemust mirror the Nation as a whole. But it isbad in another, because it quietly encouragesus to see the world as a constant so that wecan be part of the big change at home. Amer-ica today isn’t worried about the world be-cause for now the world is not big and badenough to really preoccupy us.

The problem is that the world is chang-ing faster than we are able to grasp. And per-versely the greatest push for change is coming

V l a h o s

if jointness is our grailword, then we are not thinking about thenext war


from the United States—in two ways. First,change in this country could become turbu-lent, with real political and social upheaval.What happens here will be closely watchedabroad, and the international scene will be af-fected by how that change turns out.

But there is a second effect. Right nowwe are quitting the stage as the world’sleader, and it is probably not possible to re-verse that decision. The American peoplehave made it, and there is no Stalin aroundto change their minds. Nor will the rest ofthe world hang around waiting for us tohave a change of heart; they will watch whathappens and go their own ways. In ten ortwenty years we will find a very differentworld, and we may not like what we see.

You will find no predictions here; Idon’t know who might challenge us decadeshence, I don’t know how a grand crisismight arise. But I do know three things:

▼ there will be some very big powers outthere with a military potential that grows closerto ours each year and over which we have littleinfluence

▼ the technological revolution will meanthat if those powers want they will be able to ownweapons as wonderful and hideous as our own

▼ the only thing which will keep countriesfrom hurting us will be their attitude toward us,and shifts from friend to foe could come asquickly as a new idea taking root or a new move-ment igniting opposition against us.

Jointness is not the wrong vision—by allmeans, be joint. Let jointness be a grail wordfor the next twenty years. But let’s be clear:jointness does not focus our minds on thenext challenger or the next war.

My suggestion is to find a second grailword for this period of peace, however longit lasts. And let’s make sure that it focusesour attention on the future, to real chal-lenges to the United States—not to the resid-ual gunboat chores that the Cold War leftbehind.

This means bucking the spirit of the agea bit. But we are not paid to enjoy peace-time—even if urged on by the benefits ofself-improvement. Hard as it is, our real jobis the next war. JFQ

DO

D


jointness. The Navy consistently refused to par-ticipate in serious joint efforts because doing sowould have interfered with its “war at sea” con-cepts. The recent shift to “war from the sea”seems to tacitly recognize that the Navy almostmade itself irrelevant by the time of the GulfWar. Moreover, the authors missed one of theNavy’s most glaring mistakes: the failure to de-velop any realistic mine warfare capabilities.That, more than anything else, endangered bothnaval air and Marine operations and could havebeen a real problem for sealift as well, had Iraq’smining been more extensive.

Regarding the Strategic Air Command, theauthors again avoid the key lesson of the GulfWar for the future of the Air Force: neither ofSAC’s modern intercontinental bombers (B–1Bor B–2) were available. More importantly, Gen-eral Horner’s post-war statements to the SenateArmed Services Committee among othersnotwithstanding, no one missed them. As almost happened to the Navy, SAC’s insistenceon remaining the “first line of defense” left it adinosaur when the Soviet threat collapsed.

Finally, the authors’ discussion of alliesmisses two important points. First, was there really any payoff from all those years of interop-erability within NATO? And, second, what if wehad not convinced the Saudis to overbuild theirmilitary infrastructure?

Despite these points, the authors ultimatelymake a valuable point: does employing assetsfrom various services to implement the conceptsof only one really make an operation “joint”?

Caroline F. ZiemkeInstitute for Defense Analyses

To the Editor—While the authors of “Oper-ation Weserübung and the Origins of Joint War-fare” (JFQ, Summer 1993) succeed in present-ing the German invasion of Norway as a study inmaneuver warfare at the operational level, theydo not live up to the title of the article on severalcounts.

First, they fail to define operational art, in-stead linking it to maneuver warfare. Exceptionmust be taken to calling Operation Weserübung“the first ever joint operation involving significantland, sea, and air forces under unified com-mand.” Perhaps it may qualify as the first mod-ern operation, but it was not under unified com-mand, unless Hitler is to be seriously consideredas the unified commander.

Second, the relationship of strategic and op-erational planning is confused. While the strate-gic objectives are identified as securing raw materials, protecting the “northern flank for sub-sequent operations in the west,” and keepingGerman naval forces free for operations in theopen sea,” the operational objectives that they

cite are geographical entities. This does not tiethe strategic goal to the military aim of the cam-paign. It represents a failure to adhere to theparadigm of the operation being a campaign.

Third, even though they provide useful in-sights, particularly on German planning and theneed to quickly attain objectives, the authorsomit any discussion of strategic and operationaldecisionmaking. Was this an extemporized cam-paign as some historians claim?

Despite these criticisms, the authors do pro-vide a very useful summary of a neglected chap-ter in joint history. This rare German campaignshould be contrasted with Allied joint and com-bined planning carried out later in World War II.

COL Michael D. Krause, USA (Ret.)

To the Editor—Allow me to complimentyou and the staff of JFQ for producing an excel-lent addition to the ranks of military journals.Your new publication fills an immense void thathas existed since at least World War II. Finallythere is a forum where joint issues can be ad-dressed from a joint perspective.

Having had the opportunity to look throughthe inaugural edition, I am doubly impressed bythe list of distinguished authors and the range oftopics covered. You have properly set very highstandards for JFQ. At this time of great change—at home, overseas, and in the American mili-tary—your new publication can make a signifi-cant contribution to improving coverage of jointmatters. I especially applaud the inclusion of ar-ticles dealing with jointness from an historicalapproach.

Lord Ernest Rutherford, the British nuclearphysicist and Nobel Prize winner, was oncequoted as saying “We are short of money, so wemust think.” As defense budgets get smaller, thepremium on thinking will increase. Your newjournal should help promote the kind of original,even controversial, thinking on joint matters thatwill help maintain today’s Armed Forces as, in the words of General Powell, “the finest in the world.”

Ike SkeltonChairman, Military Forces and Personnel

SubcommitteeU.S. House of Representatives JFQ

F R O M T H E F I E L D A N D F L E E T

To the Editor—Although I tend to agreewith Stephen Rosen’s basic theme (see “ServiceRedundancy: Waste or Hidden Capability?,” JFQ,Summer 1993) that interservice rivalry is notnecessarily bad unless it degenerates intoparochialism, many of the examples he choosesto buttress his argument are flimsy. Here are afew specifics:

Roughly proportional cuts to all services is agood way to effect downsizing. Few people re-ally believe that equal reductions are the rightthing to do, simply the easiest.

America benefitted during World War II by notgiving the mission of homeland defense to a sin-gle service. His reasoning introduces a non se-quitur in that there is no reason to assume an in-dependent Air Force would have hurt the Army’sP–38 or B–17 aircraft. Besides, the P–38, asRosen notes, was designed as an interceptor. Butit was never used in this role and it was sheerluck that it was useful as a long-range escortfighter. This leaves one to wonder if Rosen advo-cates building weapons serendipitously becausewe might get lucky again.

Had the Marines been absorbed into theArmy in the interwar years, “the invention of am-phibious assault would not have come aboutuntil World War II broke out—inevitably at con-siderable strategic and human cost.” But somewould question whether it was even necessaryto storm most of those Pacific islands. Besides,the largest amphibious operations of the warwere actually conducted by the Army in Europeand North Africa. I seriously doubt it took a greatdeal of training to teach soldiers how to climbdown rope ladders and hit the beach.

“We afforded redundant Air Forces and a re-dundant Marine Corps during the 1930s whendefense spending as a whole was, at most, 1.5percent of GNP. . .” However, just because wemay have been foolish enough to buy redundantforces during the 1930s it does not mean thatwe should repeat that mistake in the 1990s.

Col Phillip S. Meilinger, USAFDean, School of Advanced Airpower StudiesAir University

To the Editor—In an otherwise well-writtenarticle about whether the Persian Gulf War rep-resented joint control of air assets or joint com-mand, Winnefeld and Johnson (“Unity of Control:Joint Air Operations in the Gulf,” JFQ, Summer1993) miss some of the important lessons.

The authors go too easy on the Navy, whichmade some big mistakes in the 1980s regarding

Letters . . .

JFQ welcomes your

letters and comments. Write, or

FAX your communications to

(202) 475–1012/

DSN 335–1012.


JOINTWARFIGHTINGCENTER

In an era of dwindling resourcesand shrinking budgets, the militaryis working hard to get the most outof every dollar. This process hasmany names, among them, right siz-ing, reshaping, and building down.Although readiness must be main-tained, it is no longer business asusual—efficiency and innovation arethe norms. Toward that end, theChairman approved creation of theJoint Warfighting Center (JWFC) as acost-effective, forward-thinkingcombat multiplier for joint warfare.It will facilitate joint doctrine devel-opment and support joint trainingand exercises.

The genesis of JWFC can betraced to Congress. The SenateArmed Services Committee believedthat a warfighting center would bebeneficial for developing doctrineand concepts for joint operations.The Senate considered it possible todevelop joint tactics and procedures,and to exercise joint operationsthrough extensive simulation. Infact, it directed the Chairman to re-port to Congress on plans for estab-lishing such a center.

A study group was formed to de-termine functionality and to set anazimuth for the center. The Vice Di-rector, Operational Plans and Inter-operability Directorate, Joint Staff,chaired the group which had repre-sentation from the combatant com-mands, the services, other elementsof the Joint Staff, and the NationalDefense University. While the CINCsand service chiefs unanimously sup-ported creating a center, their per-spectives varied. The primary con-cern of CINCs was training andexercise support; the services focusedon doctrine. In the final analysis theChairman chartered JWFC to doboth, as embodied in its missionstatement and functions (see insert).

It is somewhat intuitive to sug-gest that the development of jointdoctrine will enhance our ability tofight jointly. Military doctrine is thelanguage of warfighters and, as with

any language, if proficiency is lack-ing one’s ability to communicate isimpaired. By facilitating the devel-opment of joint doctrine, JWFC willbe a significant combat multiplier.

The importance of doctrine tooperations was succinctly stated byGeneral Curtis LeMay: “At the heartof warfare lies doctrine. It representsthe central beliefs for waging war inorder to achieve victory. . . . It is thebuilding material for strategy. It isfundamental to sound judgment.”General Robert RisCassi recentlygave a joint flavor to the role of doc-trine in these pages by pointing outthat “to achieve the full synergisticeffects of joint combat power, thewarfighting doctrine must be com-mon to all arms” (see “Principles forCoalition Warfare” in JFQ, Summer1993).

In 1992 Dr. John Hamre, a Sen-ate staffer, noted that unless an orga-nization was charged to foster thedevelopment of joint doctrine, theArmed Forces would be condemnedto fight the next war with the doc-trine of the last. JWFC will becomethat focal point for joint doctrine.The center will develop, assess, andrevise joint doctrine and joint tactics,techniques, and procedures (JTTP).Its focus will be to support the com-batant commander’s doctrinal needs.

JWFC will integrate emergenttechnologies and the doctrinal pro-cess. Tactics, techniques, and proce-dures of operational employmentwill grow as a piece of equipment isdeveloped from concept to proto-type and full operational status. The

goal is to ensure that systems are notfielded before doctrine is developedfor them. Unfortunately, history isreplete with examples of systems de-ployed without doctrine. Even a sys-tem as powerful as JSTARS was hand-icapped by the lack of a doctrinallybased employment strategy duringOperation Desert Storm.

The worth of any joint doctrinecorresponds directly with the degreeto which it is known and under-stood. All Professional Military Education (PME) institutions, and es-pecially the National Defense Uni-versity, are charged with assimilatingjoint doctrine. JWFC will link emer-gent doctrine with joint PME. Doctri-nal concerns also influenced the siteselected for JWFC. The synergism ofthe Tidewater area, with its proxim-ity to both the Armed Forces StaffCollege and service doctrine centers,offers enormous potential benefits.

JWFC will enhance our abilityto fight jointly by supporting jointtraining and exercises. As the centerof excellence for joint training pro-gram development, JWFC will buildupon existing theater-specific train-ing initiatives. Its training goal is toassist CINCs in bringing individualsto joint exercises who are better pre-pared to do their jobs—thereby en-suring a more effective use of theseexercises. Joint Task Force (JTF)staffs will be able to concentrate on important lessons from joint operations rather than on honingpersonal skills.

The center will provide expertiseto support CINCs in developing,planning, and executing joint training programs. Mobile trainingteams—composed of military, government civilian, and contractorpersonnel—will assist in preparingdesignated trainers for CINCs (ortraining the trainers). An academictraining program based on joint doctrine will guide joint academics,seminars, and war games. The program will be modified as neces-sary to accommodate training requirements that are unique to specific areas of responsibility.

In response to direction fromthe Chairman and CINCs, JWFC will

Joint Warfighting Center

MissionAssist the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of

Staff, CINCs, and chiefs of the services in theirpreparation for joint warfare both in the con-ceptualization, development, and assessment ofcurrent and future joint doctrine and in the accomplishment of joint exercises and training.

FunctionsFacilitate the joint doctrine development

process and provide a focal point for the consid-eration of emerging warfighting concepts.

Provide core expertise to assist in the planning, execution, and assessment of joint ex-ercises and training activities.


assist in designing joint exercises.The center will serve as an institu-tional memory with a global perspec-tive that will enhance the design ofexercises, and play a supporting rolein training control teams, role play-ers, and opposing force teams. Also,JWFC will catalog and disseminatejoint lessons learned.

The center will be limited onlyby the imagination of a CINC’s staff.The capability will exist to constructoperational environments in whichto train forces for traditionalwarfighting missions as well as foroperations other than war. Thesewill include but not be limited topeacekeeping, drug interdiction, anddisaster relief. Liaison will be devel-oped with the Department of State,Central Intelligence Agency, DefenseIntelligence Agency, Drug Enforce-ment Administration, and FederalEmergency Management Agency).

JWFC will use modeling andsimulation technology to createvalid operational environments.One vision is to enable CINCs totrain and exercise by transparentlylinking multiple simulations (andunits at multiple locations) togetherin a single, seamless, synthetic oper-ational environment. It is importantto clarify the meaning of simula-tion—everything except combat issimulation. There are three types ofsimulation: live, constructive, andvirtual. Live simulations are opera-tions with real equipment in thefield, such as those conducted at theNational Training Center, Red Flag,and Strike University. Constructivesimulations are war games and mod-els, such as the Corps Battle Simula-tion, Enhanced Naval WargamingSystem, and Air Warfare Simulation.Virtual simulations are systems andtroops operating in computer-gener-ated environments such as SIMNET,aircraft simulators, and virtual proto-types. JWFC will explore linkingthese simulations into one seamlessoperational environment in whichCINCs can train JTF staffs.

Distributed technology, thoughstill not fully mature, will link thesesimulations. The goal is to make the

connectivity transparent to opera-tors in the field, on the sea, or inthe air. Weapons and equipmentwill provide input as opposed tospecial computer workstations. Op-erators will fight with their organic,assigned equipment.

The long-term vision for JWFCincludes sending electrons on TDYmore often than people. Potentialdollar savings are enormous. Giventhe direction of the defense budget,this could be an important methodof training and exercising JTF staffs.Aside from fiscal realities, two otherreasons exist for training with simu-lation. First, the replay capability willenhance both learning and analysis.It takes much less time and energy toreset a simulation than it does to sep-arate the blue and orange forces dur-ing Team Spirit. The second consider-ation is minimizing environmentaldamage by maneuver forces. Ofcourse, units will still deploy for ma-neuvers—just not as often.

In an era of bottom-up reviewsthe expenditure of every defensedollar must be scrutinized and hardchoices made about many worth-while programs. The center is a cost-effective combat multiplier for jointoperations whose time has come.

—Contributed by MAJ Bill Graham, USA Operational Plans and Inter-

operability Directorate (J–7)Joint Staff JFQ

Doctrine

NAVAL DOCTRINECOMMAND

. . . there is a vital difference be-tween our naval manuals which pre-scribe minor doctrine and those of themodern army. Ours do not flow fromanything higher up, but representmerely a detached work unrelated to theother branches of the profession. Almostinvariably they are prepared by a boardof officers, many of whom have nogreater qualification for the task thanthat of being good all around officers.The product of this board is normallythe personal opinion of one or two of itsbest prepared members, based upontheir own study and experience, whichis necessarily limited and incom-plete. . . . Consequently our manuals arenot comprehensive and do not possessthe close relationship which is desir-able. The revisions do not develop thesubjects in an orderly, logical and sys-tematic manner but, due to variableconceptions and doctrines, produce con-fusion of service thought and practice.

It is often said that there isnothing new under the sun. Theabove words are as true today aswhen they appeared in a U.S. NavalInstitute prize-winning essay byLieutenant Commander Dudley W.Knox entitled “The Role of Doctrinein Naval Warfare” in the March–April 1915 issue of the Proceedings.Naval doctrine means many thingsto many people, yet a published def-inition cannot be found. The con-sensus at the deckplate level indi-cates that it generally refers toguidance, tactics, and procedures inthe Naval Warfare Publication(NWP) System. A marinized applica-tion of the DOD definition has gen-erally been accepted in the past, butthe advent of a new world order andcontinual institutional change havemandated a new look and rethink-ing of the role, missions, and struc-ture of the Department of the Navy.The establishment of the Naval Doc-trine Command (NDC) in March1993 was intended to ensure thatnaval doctrine is not only alive andwell, but that all naval personnel,

Symposium on Peacekeeping

The National Defense University will spon-

sor a symposium on “Military Coalitions

and the United Nations: Implications for

the U.S. Military” on November 2 and 3, 1993.

The program will focus on the backdrop of

peacekeeping missions, the U.N. agenda, re-

gional coalitions, and the roles of the Armed

Forces including the perspectives of CINCs.

Further details on this and other symposia can

be obtained by writing: National Defense

University, Institute for National Strategic

Studies, Fort Lesley J. McNair, Washington, D.C.

20319–6000, or calling: (202) 287–9230/

DSN 667–9230, or FAX: (202) 287–9239/

DSN 667–9239.


the other services, and Congress un-derstand the methodology behindthe Navy and Marine Corps teamconduct of operations in support ofnational military strategy.

The Relevant HistoryUntil now, the Navy doctrine

development process at all levels wasa fragmented, bottom-up, fleet-driven approach. The fleet or a cen-ter of excellence (Naval Strike War-fare Center, Naval War College,Space and Electronic Warfare Center,etc.) identified doctrinal deficiencies,assigned primary review authorities(PRA), evaluated solutions, anddrafted and coordinated the publica-tion in question. As deficiencieswere identified or new concepts en-visioned the impetus for revising orinitiating a publication was relatedmore to the resources allocated thanto the need. Not even at the highestlevel of doctrine was there a singleorganization providing top-downguidance. The Naval Tactical Readi-ness Division and the Navy TacticalSupport Activity played largely anadministrative role, providing over-sight, resources, and production ca-pabilities rather than substantivedocument review. Historically eitherthe fleet or centers have performedthe PRA document function but,while they will continue to preparesome doctrinal publications, NDCwill develop and implement a new,top-down approach to doctrine de-velopment to assure a centralizedfocus in dealing with the consis-tency, development, dissemination,and evaluation of doctrine.

Naval doctrine should be morethan simply a guide to naval forcessince effective doctrine is the corner-stone for all naval tactics, tech-niques, and procedures. Althoughthe Marine Corps has had a doctrinedevelopment organization at Quan-tico since the 1920s, the Navy is alatecomer to the field and has notuntil now had a resident cadre forthe sole purpose of developing doc-trine. Since procedures were notstandardized and there was no cen-tral agency for ensuring doctrinalcompatibility, the plethora of com-mands could not always reach ac-cord, initiate working dialogues, or

find common ground on which tobase doctrinal discussions or jointoperational philosophy. Lacking acentral coordinating authority it hasnot always been simple to get thefleets to agree on doctrinal matters.The different foci of the Atlantic andPacific Fleets offer the clearest exam-ple: the Atlantic Fleet, workingclosely with the North AtlanticTreaty Organization (NATO), con-ducted operations differently fromthe Pacific Fleet, for whom NATO isan unknown quantity. The inherentlink between the requirement fordoctrine, equipment, training, andforce structure was not always speci-fied; nor was the rudimentary truththat doctrine was absolutely essentialto warfighting capabilities.

While high-level attention tonaval doctrine and doctrine devel-opment has been somewhat spo-radic throughout Navy history, re-cent experience and events havespurred a respect for joint opera-tions. Foremost was the passage ofthe Goldwater-Nichols DOD Reorga-nization Act which directed theJoint Chiefs of Staff to develop ajoint warfighting capability. Thislegislation was the genesis for theJoint Publication System as well asthe process for both developing andcodifying joint doctrine. In delin-eating this system the services wereassigned lead agent responsibilitiesfor developing joint doctrine andthe legislation itself mandated thealignment of service doctrine withjoint doctrine.

Furthermore, with the collapseof the Soviet Union and dissolutionof the Warsaw Pact the world orderdramatically changed. With the re-moval of the cornerstone threat therelatively stable basis of Navy doc-trine and tactics was shaken, leftwith outdated strategic concepts em-bodied in Naval Warfare Publication1, and a development process totallyunsuited to the pace of evolving na-tional strategy. Yet the Navy re-mained committed to a blue water,war-at-sea mindset. While bothsorely needed and inevitable, changewas slow in coming.

Naval Doctrine CommandEvolution

Operations Desert Shield/DesertStorm highlighted deficiencies andshortcomings in Navy doctrine, par-ticularly with regard to joint opera-tions. Training in, and the under-standing of, joint doctrine wereinadequate, equipment and proce-dures for joint operations were notin place, and due to inattentiondoctrine had been developed thatwas ineffective or in some cases un-executable by naval forces. Com-bined doctrine employment faredsomewhat better in maritime opera-tions, but inadequate training, lim-ited previous interaction with non-NATO coalition forces, and the lackof a common command and controlsystem only served to worsen thedeficiencies.

In examining the lessons of thePersian Gulf conflict it became onlytoo obvious that Navy doctrine andits inherent developmental and re-view processes needed restructuring.While a Chief of Naval Operations(CNO) code was assigned oversightin developing tactical doctrine aswell as naval and allied warfare pub-lications, its small staff was only ad-ministrative and managerial; therewas little capacity to thoroughlyevaluate standardization and joint orallied congruency. Dispersed andbottom-up development of Navydoctrine had produced inconsistentdoctrine and procedures. The Navyhad been somewhat aloof in the de-velopment of joint, and to a lesserdegree, combined doctrine. In somecases, this resulted in less than opti-mum joint employment conceptsfor naval forces, highlighted by JointForce Air Component Commander(JFACC) procedures and execution inthe Gulf War. Operational levelnaval forces were not completelyconversant with joint and combineddoctrine; it was nominally under-stood at the Battle Group staff leveland higher, but, for most operators,it was a painful lesson-of-necessity.

Most importantly, the Navylearned a somewhat bitter lesson—it could ill afford to proceed with-out repairing the doctrinal gap be-tween its traditional single-service,


independent operations and thelarger scheme of joint operations.This gap hindered the optimum uti-lization of the Navy and its com-plete integration across the spec-trum of modern warfare.

Following Desert Storm doctrinaldeficiencies were voiced and varioussolutions surfaced. In early 1992 atthe Fleet Commander-in-Chiefs Con-ference, the Chief of Naval Opera-tions, Admiral Frank Kelso, presentedthe idea of a central Navy doctrineorganization. In April 1992, directionwas given by CNO for formation of aworking group to develop a proposedcharter and organization for a navaldoctrine center. Enthusiastic Navyand Marine Corps representativespursued Admiral Kelso’s initiative, de-veloping the structure and organiza-tion for a new command.

In September 1992 the Navypublished a white paper entitled“. . . From the Sea” which provided anew direction for the naval serviceand increased the impetus for creat-ing a centralized doctrine coordinat-ing authority. Concurrently, bothAdmiral Kelso and General CarlMundy, Commandant of the MarineCorps (CMC), met with the ActingSecretary of the Navy Sean O’Keefeto discuss establishing a naval doc-trine command. Mr. O’Keefe likedthe concept and asked that a Secre-tary of the Navy instruction be devel-oped in order to codify the missionof the command and its chain ofcommand. On September 25, 1992,an instruction entitled “Naval Doc-trine Command” was issued estab-lishing NDC. It would be com-manded by a two-star flag or generalofficer, normally assisted by a one-star deputy of the sister service. NDC

would have four core divisions: strat-egy and concepts; naval doctrine;joint and combined doctrine; andevaluation, training, and education.

With the decision to establishthe command in the Norfolk area,the NDC working group refinedmanning plans, developed a budget,coordinated communication andcomputer support, and continued toprocess the myriad of paperwork re-quired to establish a new Navy com-mand. Permanent personnel beganarriving in November 1992 andNDC anticipates full manning offifty military and civilian personnelby late 1993.

Organization and MissionOn March 12, 1993, the formal

establishment ceremony of the NavalDoctrine Command took place atNorfolk Naval Base and ushered in anew era for the development of Navyand naval doctrine. NDC is an eche-lon 2 shore command reporting di-rectly to CNO and CMC for all mat-ters related to developing navalconcepts and integrating naval doc-trine, and to CNO for matters relatingto Navy service-unique doctrine. TheNDC commander has broad author-ity to establish liaison for doctrinalmatters with the Coast Guard; theMarine Corps Combat DevelopmentCommand; joint, combined, andother service doctrine centers; Navyand Marine Corps centers of excel-lence; and appropriate Navy and Ma-rine Corps training commands. In ad-dition, the Army, Air Force, and CoastGuard have assigned liaison officerswho further attest to the jointness ofthe command.

NDC is chartered to be “the pri-mary authority for the developmentof naval concepts and integratednaval doctrine; serve as the coordi-nating authority for the develop-ment and evaluation of Navy ser-vice-unique doctrine; provide acoordinated USN/USMC naval voicein joint and combined doctrine de-velopment; and ensure naval andjoint doctrine are addressed in train-ing and education curricula and inoperations, exercises, and war-games.” The command will also ex-amine trends, keeping its eye on thefuture to meet the needs of jointwarfighting while forging viablenaval strategies. NDC works directlyfor CNO and CMC, and its Com-mand Assist Official (CAO) is theDeputy Chief of Navy Operations forPlans, Policy, and Operations.

Current PrioritiesSince it was formally commis-

sioned NDC is underway at flankspeed and accelerating. Expandingon the initial tasks and doctrinal pri-orities provided by CNO, a numberof initiatives have been undertakento create and develop doctrinal pre-cepts for the naval forces of tomor-row, to close the gap between Air-Land battle doctrine and NavalExpeditionary Warfare, and to en-hance the knowledge and under-standing throughout the naval ser-vice of existing and future doctrineand the doctrinal system. To providethe focus and guiding vision forthese efforts, the following list of toppriorities was established for NDC inthe near-term:

▼ Capstone Publications. Developa series of six Naval Doctrine Publica-tions (NDPs) to translate the strategicdirection found in “. . . From the Sea”into doctrinal reality and provide atop-down focus to ensure consistencybetween naval and joint doctrine, in-crease fleet awareness and understand-ing, and provide standardization fornaval operations. They include “NavalWarfare of the United States Navy andUnited States Marine Corps” (NDP–1),“Naval Intelligence” (NDP–2), “NavalOperations” (NDP–3), ”Naval Logisticsand Force Sustainment” (NDP–4),“Naval Planning” (NDP–5), and “Com-mand, Control, and Surveillance”(NDP–6).


▼ Naval Expeditionary Force (NEF)Concept. Review existing compositewarfare commander and amphibiousdoctrine and develop a NEF comman-der concept paper.

▼ Joint Doctrine Development. As-sume the Navy coordinating reviewauthority for developing, reviewing,and evaluating all joint doctrine, andparticipate in every step of the jointprocess and serve as a Navy representa-tive on joint doctrine working parties.

▼ Naval Education and Training.Ensure capstone documents are usedthroughout Navy and Marine Corpscurricula and become part of thetraining continuum in all warfarecommunities.

▼ Littoral Warfare. Conduct a de-tailed study of warfighting in the lit-torals, particularly in the areas of adap-tive force packaging, forward logisticssupport, strike and close air supportoperations, theater missile defense,multi/anti-ship missile defense, andshallow/very shallow water mine andanti-submarine warfare.

▼ Combined Forces OperationalDoctrine. Assume responsibility for allstandardization, allied publication, andNATO working party support and, also,collaborate in developing doctrine tofill the void in multilateral operationswith other than NATO nations.

▼ Command, Control, Communica-tions, Computers, and Intelligence (C4I).Develop follow-on doctrine to makemaximum use of the systems availableand future architectures.

▼ Naval Warfare Publication(NWP) System. Review the NWP systemto align it with the Joint PublicationSystem, shorten NWP production andrevision time, reorganize NWPs to bet-ter support assigned roles and mis-sions, and transition these publica-tions onto CD–ROM.

▼ Modeling and Simulation. Ensurenaval wargaming models accurately re-flect doctrinal guidance as well as pre-sent and future operational capabilitiesand are compatible with other servicemodels.

Future ChallengesWith the inception of NDC, the

naval services finally possess the ca-pability to provide complete coordi-nation and standardization for navaland Navy doctrine. NDC will providethe direction and coordination to en-sure that naval doctrine reflects theconcepts identified in “. . . From theSea” and enhances the integration of

naval forces in joint operations. Thiscentralization will give the naval ser-vice the top-down focus the otherservices already utilize, ensure consis-tency between naval and joint doc-trine, and provide the necessarystructure for a complementary doc-trine continuum. NDC will provideincreased fleet awareness and under-standing of Navy, naval, joint, andcombined doctrine, from sailors onother deckplates through senior flagpolicymakers and decisionmakers.And while not currently involved inthe requirements process, NDC willhelp provide the long-range strategyfrom which to derive platform re-quirements and systems.

Doctrine translates ideas intocomprehensive ways of thinkingand, ultimately, fighting. As the pri-mary authority for the developmentof naval concepts and integratednaval doctrine, and the coordinatingauthority for developing and evaluat-ing Navy service-unique doctrine,NDC will assist naval forces inachieving necessary flexibility whileproviding standardization essentialto the process. Through the estab-lishment of NDC, the Navy and Ma-rine Corps have clearly signalledtheir intent to enter the 21st centurywith doctrine that addresses a newgeostrategic environment, the inte-gration of naval forces in joint andcombined operations, and possiblymore importantly an acute aware-ness that naval doctrine must be uni-formly understood not just by navalpersonnel but by all the services andCongress as well.

—Contributed by RADM Frederick L.Lewis, USNCommander, Naval Doctrine

Command JFQ

AIR LAND SEAAPPLICATIONCENTER

Two current projects underwayat the Air Land Sea Application(ALSA) Center with broad interestacross the services involve develop-ing multiservice manuals on human-itarian assistance and on joint closeair support.

Humanitarian Assistance. TheJoint Action Steering Committeewhich directs ALSA’s activities, ap-proved development of a multiser-vice tactics, techniques, and proce-dures (TTP) manual on humanitarianassistance (HA) for decisionmakersand planners to include concepts,roles, and responsibilities. It will out-line the relationship between the ser-vices and governmental agencies andbe designed for use by service majorcommands, joint task force comman-ders, Special Operations Forces, Fed-eral agencies, and private volunteerorganizations (PVOs) participating inhumanitarian assistance operations.This project will fill the void in oper-ational TTP in the area of humanitar-ian assistance and also provide abaseline for developing a Joint Hu-manitarian Assistance manual whichhas been assigned to the Army by theJoint Doctrine Working Party. TheMarine Corps and Naval DoctrineCommand will support the Army astechnical review authorities in thateffort. ALSA will support the U.S.Army Training and Doctrine Com-mand (TRADOC) with research, in-formation, and writing.

Joint Close Air Support. ALSA hasrecently been assigned a project todevelop a multiservice Close AirSupport (“J–CAS”) TTP to eliminatedifferences in procedures among theArmy, Navy, Marine Corps, and AirForce. It will coordinate service per-spectives and procedures for CAS toenable any fixed or rotary wing air-craft to support any ground force.This effort should jump start thejoint effort. The Joint DoctrineWorking Party approved a joint TTPfor CAS (Joint Pub 3–09.3) at itsApril meeting; the Marine Corps wassubsequently assigned as the leadagent. ALSA will support the MarineCorps with the multiservice TTP asthe basis for the joint manual. ALSAis striving to have the TTP availablefor review evaluation in the autumn.This will give the Marine Corps atop quality product to submit in Jan-uary and hopefully reduce the coor-dination time required to produce ajoint publication.


Further information on the sta-tus of ALSA projects is found in TheAir Land Sea Bulletin which is avail-able by either writing: ALSA Center,114 Andrews Street, Suite 101, Lang-ley Air Force Base, Virginia 23665–2785; or calling (804) 764–5936/DSN 574–5934.

History

OFFICE OF JOINTHISTORY

The Chairman, Joint Chiefs ofStaff, activated the Office of JointHistory on July 27, 1993 to recordthe enterprises of the Joint Chiefs ofStaff, the Office of the Chairman ofthe Joint Chiefs of Staff, and theJoint Staff, and to support the docu-mentation of selected joint and com-bined operations. Accepting the cer-tificate of activation was the newlyappointed Director for Joint History,BG David A. Armstrong, USA (Ret.).The program of compiling accountsof joint and combined operationsand exercises will rest on the partici-pation of the Reserve components.Historical teams made up of Re-servists will assist the combatantcommands by providing coverage ofjoint operations, a concept that hasalready been tested successful inboth Somalia and Europe. JFQ

Education

JOINT MILITARYINTELLIGENCECOLLEGE

The Defense Intelligence Col-lege was redesignated the Joint Mili-tary Intelligence College (JMIC) onJune 1, 1993. Operated by the De-fense Intelligence Agency (DIA), thecollege has been reorganized to re-flect changes in DIA by realigningthe departments with basic militaryintelligence activities and establish-ing centers on collection, produc-tion, and systems.

The mission of JMIC, however,is unchanged: namely, to provideprofessional intelligence education

for the services and intelligencecommunity. The college functions asa joint institution with faculty andstudents from all services togetherwith civilians from the intelligencecommunity.

JMIC offers programs on the un-dergraduate and graduate levels, anda master’s degree can be earned inconjunction with the PostgraduateIntelligence Program. In addition,the college is in the process of be-coming a degree-granting institutionat the baccalaureate level. Programsare open to the active and Reservecomponents and to civilians in thefields of intelligence and operations.

For further details, contact Mr. Vince Tranchitella in care of theJoint Military Intelligence College,Washington, D.C. 20340–5485, or at(202) 373–2767/DSN 243–2767. JFQ

Documentation

THE JOINT STAFFOFFICER’S GUIDE

Since the first edition was pub-lished in August 1960, The Joint StaffOfficer’s Guide—also known asArmed Forces Staff College (AFSC)Pub 1—has become a standard refer-ence within the joint community.Beginning as a text for students atthe Armed Forces Staff College, AFSCPub 1 now has been adopted byother institutions for classroom useand established as an indispensabledesk reference for staff officers acrossthe Joint Planning and ExecutionCommunity (JPEC).

The popularity of AFSC Pub 1stems from its perspective on thejoint planning process and the sys-tems which support it. The volumeextracts basic guidance from variousprimary sources, blends that docu-mentation with proven proceduresused by expert planners, and thenpackages the resulting informationwith a helpful assortment of charts,diagrams, and sample formats. Al-though its audience extends far be-yond the walls of the school house,the original and primary purpose ofthe text is to support the curricula of

the Armed Forces Staff College. Pub 1was never intended to serve as a sub-stitute or replacement for joint or ser-vice doctrinal publications, nor is itpart of the Joint Publication System(AFSC Pub 1 should not to be con-fused with Joint Pub 1, Joint Warfareof the U.S. Armed Forces). However,this original purple book does offerpractical insights into the interactionof doctrine and process, and is partic-ularly helpful in referring readers torelevant official documentation on awide range of joint issues.

By the mid-1980s the press runfor AFSC Pub 1 passed the 15,000-mark. This year a new edition ofAFSC Pub 1 appeared in over 57,000copies. The text is issued to residentstudents at the Armed Forces StaffCollege who attend the Joint andCombined Staff Officer School; theJPE Phase II Senior Course; the JointCommand, Control, and ElectronicWarfare School; and the Joint Plan-ning Orientation Course. In additioncopies are distributed to the JointStaff, service staffs, combatant com-mands and component commands,subordinate unified commands, andthe various elements of the NationalDefense University. Some commandsand agencies attach their require-ments for copies of AFSC Pub 1 tothe initial printing contract whichcan result in significant cost savings.Efforts are underway to make AFSCPub 1 available through the JointElectronic Library (see the Summer1993 issue of JFQ for details on JEL).

One of the strengths of The JointStaff Officer’s Guide is its dependenceon the members of JPEC for updates,corrections, and accuracy. SinceAFSC Pub 1 is revised and publishedevery two years, the greater the in-formation received on joint andcombined planning, doctrine, andoperations, the better each subse-quent volume will become. Com-ments on the latest edition may besent to Lt Col Boyce Burley, USAF,(804) 444–5437/DSN 564–5437, andquestions on distribution may bepassed to MAJ Hector Rivera, USA,(804) 444–5591/DSN 546–5591.

AFSC Pub 1 is also available forsale from the Superintendent ofDocuments at $24.00 per copy. JFQ


Recent Events

CINCsCONFERENCE

The annual Commanders inChief (CINCs) Conference was heldat the Pentagon on August 10, 1993,with the following in attendance:(front row, from left) General Carl E.Mundy, Jr., USMC (Commandant ofthe Marine Corps), General MerrillA. McPeak, USAF (Chief of Staff ofthe Air Force), Admiral David E.Jeremiah, USN (Vice Chairman,Joint Chiefs of Staff), General ColinL. Powell, USA (Chairman, JointChiefs of Staff), Admiral Frank B.Kelso II, USN (Chief of Naval Opera-tions), General Gordon R. Sullivan,USA (Chief of Staff, U.S. Army), andAdmiral William Kime, USCG (Com-mandant of the Coast Guard); (sec-ond row, from left) General DennisReimer, USA (Forces Command),General George L. Butler, USAF(Strategic Command), AdmiralCharles R. Larson, USN (PacificCommand), General George A. Joul-wan, USA (Southern Command), Ad-miral Paul David Miller, USN (At-lantic Command), and GeneralJoseph P. Hoar, USMC (Central Com-mand); (third row, from left) GeneralGary E. Luck, USA (United NationsCommand/U.S. Forces, Korea), Gen-eral Ronald R. Fogleman, USAF(Transportation Command), GeneralJohn M. Shalikashvili, USA (Euro-pean Command), General Charles A.Horner, USAF (Space Command),General Wayne Downing, USA (Spe-cial Operations Command); AdmiralWilliam Smith, USN (U.S. MilitaryRepresentative to NATO). JFQ

BOOKS

Bevin Alexander. How Great GeneralsWin. New York: W.W. Norton,1993. 320 pp. $25.00 [ISBN 0–393–03531–X]

Roger A. Beaumont. Joint Military Operations: A Short History. Westport, Conn.: GreenwoodPress, 1993. 245 pp. $55.00. [ISBN 0–313–26744–8]

William J. Crowe, Jr., with DavidChanoff. The Line of Fire: FromWashington to the Gulf, the Politicsand Battles of the New Military.New York: Simon and Schuster,1993. 367 pp. $25.00. [ISBN 0–671–72703–6]

William E. Odom. America’s MilitaryRevolution: Strategy and StructureAfter the Cold War. Washington:American University Press, 1993.186 pp. $22.95. [ISBN 1–879383–15–2]

David Roth. Sacred Honor: A Biogra-phy of Colin Powell. Grand Rapids,Mich.: Zondervan PublishingHouse, 1993. 256 pp. $19.99.[ISBN 0–310–60480–X]

MONOGRAPHS

Christopher J. Bowie et al. The NewCalculus: Analyzing Airpower’sChanging Role in Joint Theater Cam-paigns. MR–149–AF. Santa Monica,Calif.: The RAND Corporation,1993. 85 pp. [ISBN 0–8330–1322–X]

R.A. Brown and Robert J. Schneller,compilers. United States NavalForces in Desert Shield and DesertStorm: A Select Bibliography. Wash-ington: Naval Historical Center, 1993. 50 pp.

John H. Cushman. Handbook for JointCommanders. Annapolis: U.S.Naval Institute, 1993. 52 pp.$5.95. [ISBN 1–55750–144–0]

Lorna S. Jaffe. The Development of theBase Force, 1989–1992. Washing-ton: Joint History Office, Office ofthe Chairman of the Joint Chiefsof Staff, July 1993. 60 pp.

Charles D. Melson, Evelyn A. Eng-lander, and David A. Dawson. U.S.Marines in the Persian Gulf,1990–1991: Anthology and Anno-tated Bibliography. Washington:History and Museums Division,Headquarters, Marine Corps,1992. 258 pp. [ISBN 0–16–038071–5]

Charles J. Quilter II. U.S. Marines inthe Persian Gulf, 1990–1991: Withthe I Marine Expeditionary Force inDesert Shield and Desert Storm.Washington: History and Muse-ums Division, Headquarters, Ma-rine Corps, 1993. 131 pp.

Sterling D. Sessions and Carl R.Jones. Interoperability: A DesertStorm Case Study. McNair Paper 18.Washington: Institute for NationalStrategic Studies, National DefenseUniversity, 1993. 42 pp.

ARTICLES

Paul Bracken, “The Military AfterNext,” The Washington Quarterly,vol. 16, no. 4 (Autumn 1993), pp. 157–74

Lawrence Di Rita, “I Went Joint (ButI Didn’t Inhale),” U.S. Naval Insti-tute Proceedings, vol. 119, no. 7(July 1993), pp. 66–70.

Scott A. Fedorchak, “It Must BeJoint,” U.S. Naval Institute Proceed-ings, vol. 119, no. 6 (June 1993),pp. 64–65.

William W. Mendel and LamarTooke, “Operational Logic: Select-ing the Center of Gravity,” Mili-tary Review, vol. 73, no. 6 (June1993), pp. 3–11. [Note: The June1993 issue of Military Review is en-tirely devoted to an examinationof operational art.]

Steven Metz, “Operational Level ofNuclear War Fighting: Missing orUnnecessary?” Airpower Journal ,vol. 7, no. 1 (Spring 1993), pp. 13–20.

Wayne A. Silkett, “Alliance andCoalition Warfare,” Parameters,vol. 23, no. 2 (Summer 1993), pp. 74–85.

Wallace Thies and James D. Harris,“An Alliance Unravels: The UnitedStates and ANZUS,” Naval WarCollege Review, vol. 96, no. 3 (Summer 1993), pp. 98–126. JFQ

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JFQuarterly Survey of Joint Literature


RETHINKING ASIANALLIANCESA Review Essay byPATRICK M. CRONIN

Alliances usually are marked byformal treaties whereby signa-tories pledge to defend each

other against external threats. Butmany Cold War alliances were sodominated by U.S. power, especiallymilitary power, that reciprocity wassupplanted because of asymmetricalcontributions. Today America hasfive treaty partners in Asia and thePacific: Japan, South Korea, Aus-tralia, the Philippines, and Thailand.In the past these allies helped form acordon sanitaire against the spread ofcommunism. The demise of the So-viet Union has forced the UnitedStates to review its security arrange-ments in Asia as well as other re-gions. But the old alliances must berecast not scrapped. As policymakerslook for ways to rebuild valuable se-curity frameworks they should re-turn to the original intent of theirarchitects—to men like Dean Ache-son—and emphasize the critical roleof alliance structures to the eco-nomic well-being of America.

Alliance FormationWhen American leaders ap-

praised the world in 1945 an aston-ishing number underscored the needfor a robust Asian order. Close team-work with Australia and NewZealand ensured that those two na-tions would emerge as the southernanchor in the postwar era. Similarly,in Southeast Asia, where Filipinosfought side-by-side with Americansat Bataan, on Corregidor, and inother battles, Manila figured large asa subregional mainstay of postwarsecurity. It is ironic, however, thatbecause of its wartime potential,

Japan—a vanquished foe—becamethe linchpin for long-range recon-struction of the Asian-Pacific region,a fact that gnawed at the Philippinesand other allies.

America lost no time in cultivat-ing Japan. In Controlling the Waves:Dean Acheson and U.S. Foreign Policyin Asia, Ronald McGlothlen recountshow statesmen laid the foundationsfor U.S. interests in the wake ofWorld War II. Above all, they reha-bilitated Japan as a bulwark fromwhich, in Acheson’s words, theUnited States could “control everywave in the Pacific Ocean.” Simi-larly, John Davies wrote: “The cen-tral American objective [is] a stableJapan, integrated into the Pacificeconomy, friendly to the UnitedStates and . . . a ready and depend-able ally of the United States.” But itwas Acheson, as Under Secretary andlater Secretary of State, who was the“extraordinary chief architect” of apostwar U.S.-centered order. DeanAcheson—working with perspica-cious analysts like Paul Nitze, DeanRusk, and George Kennan—foresawreconstructing Japan as the “work-shop of Asia” whose trade withKorea, Taiwan, China, and SoutheastAsia would be the engine for power-ing regional economic recovery.Writes McGlothlen: “From the early1930s through the end of World WarII, Japan aggressively pursued eco-nomic ascendancy in the Far Eastunder the guise of creating a ‘GreaterEast Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere.’ In thepostwar years, Acheson sought a sur-prisingly similar ascendancy for Japan,but one in which Japan exchanged itsfailed militarism for American tute-lage, protection, and domination.”

Acheson leaned heavily on theanalysis of Nitze, who was thenDeputy Director of the State Depart-ment Office of International Trade.Although Kennan and others inFoggy Bottom argued for a Europe-first strategy, Acheson and Nitze be-lieved that Japan and the rest of Asianeeded to be included in a recoveryprogram akin to the Marshall Plan.Nitze noted that the region’s per-centage of global trade had been vir-tually halved (from 15 to 8 percent)in the span of several years, and

Controlling the Waves: Dean Acheson and U.S. Foreign

Policy in Asiaby Ronald L. McGlothlen

New York: W.W. Norton, 1993.320 pp. $27.95.

[ISBN 0–393–03520–4]

Refighting the Last War: Command and Crisis in Korea,

1950–1953by D. Clayton James with

Anne Sharp WellsNew York: The Free Press, 1993.

282 pp. $24.95.[ISBN 0–02–916001–4]

The U.S.-South Korean Alliance:Time for a Change

edited by Doug Bandow and Ted Galen Carpenter

New Brunswick, N.J.: Transaction Publishers, 1992. 217 pp. $19.95.

[ISBN 0–56000–583–1]

Bound to Empire: The United States and

the Philippinesby H.W. Brands

New York: Oxford University Press,1992. 384 pp. $27.95.[ISBN 0–19–507104–2]

The Politics of Defense inJapan: Managing Internal

and External Pressuresby Joseph Keddell, Jr.

New York: M.E. Sharpe, 1993.230 pp. $47.50.

[ISBN 1–56324–129–3]

U.S.-Japan Alliance Diplomacy,1945–1990

by Roger BuckleyNew York: Cambridge University Press,

1992. 225 pp. $49.95.[ISBN 0–521–35141–3]

A Search for Enemies: America’s Alliances After the Cold Warby Ted Galen Carpenter

Washington: CATO Institute, 1992.238 pp. $12.95.

[ISBN 0–932790–95–X]

East Asia and the Pacific: Challenges for U.S. Policy

by Robert G. Sutter,with a contribution by Larry Niksch.Boulder, Colorado: Westview Press,

1992. 182 pp. $37.50.[ISBN 0–8133–1370–8]

Patrick M. Cronin is a senior fellow in theInstitute for National Strategic Studies at theNational Defense University and professoriallecturer at the School of Advanced Interna-tional Studies at the Johns Hopkins Univer-sity. He is also executive editor of JFQ.


Japanese exports had sunk to ameasly 4.3 percent of prewar levels.

McGlothlen’s portrayal of Ache-son as a prescient geoeconomist issomewhat hyperbolic. Nonetheless,he assembles a compelling case thatAcheson saw the need to reconstructan Asian economic system that fea-tured Japan at its apex. With morethan $16 billion in annual exports,Acheson figured in mid-1947, Amer-ica’s future hinged on foreign trade,which in turn required rebuilding theeconomies of both Europe and Asia.Accordingly, Acheson steadily workedto craft a beneficent assistance planfor Japan, slacken restrictions on in-dustry, foil any stringent reparationssettlement (which countries like thePhilippines coveted), negotiate acomprehensive peace treaty, and re-construct Japan’s trading network. Ineach endeavor he finally triumphedand, partly as a result, modern Japansprang from the ashes of the Pacificwar like a phoenix.

To a significant degree Achesonwas responsible for the commitmentto Korea, if only because he saw it asindispensable to Japan’s recovery. Hereversed a policy of withdrawingtroops from Korea and overcamemilitary resistance to a long-term al-liance with Seoul. In 1947, as UnderSecretary of State, Acheson success-fully set in motion a policy aimed atunderwriting the Korean economy.Unfortunately, the commitment inKorea was feeble, and it deterioratedafter Acheson’s departure from thescene in mid-1947. At that time, inresponse to a Soviet demarche de-manding a withdrawal of foreigntroops, the State-War-Navy Coordi-nating Committee asked the JointChiefs of Staff to estimate the im-pact of extracting all Americansfrom the Korean peninsula. Reach-ing a conclusion that anticipatedthat of Doug Bandow and Ted GalenCarpenter in The U.S.-South KoreanAlliance: Time for a Change, the JointChiefs led by General Dwight Eisen-hower provided an unequivocal re-sponse: “The United States has littlestrategic interest in maintaining thepresent troops based in Korea.”

In fairness to the Joint Chiefs,President Truman had cut the de-fense budget 85 percent (from $81.6to $13.1 billion). Naturally, removingthe two divisions stationed in Koreawas seen as a step toward matchingends and means. As McGlothlen in-dicates, retrenchment was supportedby the father of containment, GeorgeKennan, who noted that the timehad come to “cut our losses and getout of there as gracefully as possi-ble.” The policy, codified in NSC 8 ofApril 1948, specifically precluded di-rect U.S. intervention in Korea. Indetermining America’s vital intereststhe military consistently excludedKorea, instead relying onMacArthur’s island perimeter—acrossthe Pacific from the Philippinesthrough the Ryukyu Archipelago andJapan to the Aleutians.

NSC 8 did not long surviveAcheson’s return as Secretary of Statein 1949. But while he quickly imple-mented a policy that again commit-ted the United States to the eco-nomic rehabilitation of Korea, troopwithdrawals lunged ahead withcalamitous results. Few doubted thatthe North Korean army of 125,000was a lethal threat to the lightlyarmed South Korean force half itssize. Indeed, McGlothlen maintainsthat in February 1949 some CIA ana-lysts predicted North Korea wouldpounce across the 38th parallel justas soon as America’s retreat wascomplete. When the Army Chief ofStaff, General Omar Bradley, queriedhis staff about possible contingencyplans, they replied that a U.N. “po-lice action” would be the only feasi-ble option. Alas, the notion of aU.S.-led “police action” was dis-missed by the JCS as totally imprac-tical. Hence, when the last troopsleft Korea in June 1949, the UnitedStates had neither established a suffi-cient South Korean army nor devel-oped contingency plans to deal withthe real possibility of a North Koreaninvasion. Given this attitude it is as-tounding that just months laterAmerican troops were dying in thedefense of an ally “of little strategicinterest.” The impact of the Depart-ment of State on military strategyand policy toward Korea, as well asthe resolution to defend South

Korea, is lucidly communicated byD. Clayton James in Refighting theLast War: Command and Crisis inKorea, 1950–1953.

As threat perceptions grew morealarming, the United States neededan eastern mooring to check com-munist expansion. In marking theanniversary of Japan’s surrender in1946, MacArthur noted that Japancould be “a powerful bulwark forpeace or a dangerous springboard forwar.” Balance-of-power considera-tions reigned supreme. In the 1950sPresident Eisenhower repeatedly toldthe NSC to go gently on Japan, be-cause “even a nation of America’spreeminence would be highly vul-nerable without allies in Europe andAsia.” John Foster Dulles, then ar-ranging a peace accord in the Pa-cific, warned that it would be “ex-tremely unpleasant” if Japan wasdominated by the Kremlin: “[ShouldJapan] become a captive Sovietcountry, that would involve a majorshift in the present power positionin the world today.” Echoing thiszero-sum mentality Vice PresidentRichard Nixon gave a clear indica-tion in 1953 of why close relationswith Japan were necessary, “if Japanfalls under communist domination,”he reasoned, “all of Asia falls.”

America’s role in the KoreanWar, and thus in the postwar U.S.-Korean alliance, was one conse-quence of the belief that military de-feat anywhere could undermine theFree World’s struggle. Consider thewords of General Matthew Ridgwayspeaking to the Eighth Army in thedark hours of January 1951 aboutthe purpose of the war: “The real is-sues are whether the power of West-ern civilization . . . shall defy and de-feat communism.” This East-Westcontest became the foremost reasonfor formalizing security arrange-ments with the Philippines andThailand. As superpower rivalrygrew more intense and Washingtonbecame more obsessed with Mu-nich—that aggression must not beappeased—a scramble for alliesknown as “pactomania” eruptedduring the 1950s.


This was the larger context ofthe alliance structure in Asia, inwhich the Philippines played a sig-nificant part. Strategically thearchipelago was a vital link in the is-land chain that constituted Amer-ica’s line of defense against commu-nism. The long relationship betweenthe United States and the Philip-pines is well chronicled by H.W.Brands in Bound to Empire: TheUnited States and the Philippines.From Commodore Dewey’s victoryover the Spanish fleet in Manila Bayand the subsequent annexation ofthe Philippines to the closing of theSubic Bay naval base last year, America has alternately treated thePhilippines as a special partner or acolony. In its association with thePhilippines, the American failure tomatch global security concerns withmore localized responsibilities pro-vides lessons for future allianceswith smaller partners.

Because the main objective wasto align states against the Sovietbloc, U.S. officials tended to disre-gard corrupt, autocratic regimes inManila. As a consequence, arguesBrands, Washington let the Philip-pines be governed by a cabal of“privileged collaborators.” He opinesthat a more value-based foreign pol-icy might have impelled changes onthe Filipino ruling classes. Power,not ideology, was the criterion ofgreatest import for security planners.In November 1950 Truman ap-proved an NSC paper defining policytoward the Philippines. Writtenagainst the backdrop of Mao’s vic-tory in China, the conflict in Korea,and France’s deepening predicamentin Indochina, the paper dubbed thePhilippines an essential part of theisland chain encircling communismin the Far East. Thus, by 1951, thebasic structure of the U.S. alliancesystem in Asia had been born.

Growth and AdaptationBrands pulls few punches in re-

counting the volatility of Philippinerelations in the 1960s as PresidentLyndon Johnson escalated involve-ment in Vietnam. With Saigonunder siege, Johnson pressured al-lies, among them Manila, to showsolidarity with the Free World in the

fight against communism. But whenPhilippine President Diosdado Maca-pagal tried to dispatch a token forceto Vietnam, he was bitterly opposedby the then senate president, Ferdi-nand Marcos. Some months laterPresident Marcos made an ostenta-tious state visit to the White Housewhere he persuaded Johnson to ex-tend $80 million in aid for sending a2,000-man Philippine unit to Viet-nam. The more the United Statesthought they needed a show of al-liance solidarity, the more allies tookadvantage of American largesse.After all, quips a sardonic Brands,that is “what allies are for.”

Turning to another aspect of alliance management, the booksunder review demonstrate that domestic or bureaucratic considera-tions can affect alliances. For instance, Buckley analyzes the riftbetween the Departments of Stateand Defense over how to incorpo-rate a peaceful Japan into the U.S.-engineered postwar world. Due tothe occupation, the military tendedto have an advantage over diplomatswhen it came to Japan. As Ambas-sador Edwin Reischauer noted in1960 when he left the banks of theCharles for Tokyo, “To many Japa-nese, an American general or admi-ral seemed much more a genuineAmerican than a Harvard professor.”Thus, even before policymakers hadbeen forced to take the Japanese defense industry out of mothballsbecause of the Korean War ($4 mil-lion in munitions were purchasedfrom a former enemy), U.S. forceswere quietly molding the embryonicJapanese security forces. In effect,the Armed Forces were forging a spe-cial relationship with their fledglingcounterparts, more modestly but notunlike the British-Japanese allianceof naval secretariats some five dec-ades earlier. While the results of thismilitary influence on Japan provedto be salubrious, the early years ofU.S.-Japan relations aptly demon-strate how different agencies withinthe same government can pursueand implement alliance policiesquite autonomous of one another.

IN TAKING THE UNITED STATESinto the Korean conflict . . . [Presi-dent] Truman . . . attempted to sal-vage the American role as a worldpoliceman by having its interven-tion by force sanctioned by theUnited Nations. The military ele-ment, though predominantlyAmerican, was to appear to be atruly international force and torepresent a large segment of globalopinion regarding the particularcrisis. Actually, the U.N. guise atthe high-command level was sothin in 1950 that [General]MacArthur used the same officersto head the principal sections—forexample, intelligence, operations,and personnel—in the headquar-ters of both the United NationsCommand and the United StatesFar East Command. He was understrict orders to issue his periodicreports to the U.N. Security Coun-cil through the JCS, which freelyedited and censored them; and hewas to have no direct communica-tion with the Security Councilwhatsoever.

Four decades later the UnitedStates would turn to a variant ofthis scheme again, acting as po-liceman in the Iraq-Kuwait affairand providing a large majority ofthe combat forces of the coalitionwhose mission was to enforce adozen U.N. Security Council reso-lutions regarding Iraq’s aggression.In 1950 and again in 1991 theUnited States would undertake amilitary task enjoying U.N. sanc-tion and claiming to have worldopinion largely behind its use offorce. During and after the KoreanWar some thoughtful observersquestioned whether the compro-mises, complications, and re-sources drain involved in trying tomaintain the roles of the globalpoliceman and the internationalcommand were realistic and suc-cessful in furthering Americanstrategic interests.

—From Refighting the Last War:Command and Crisis in Korea,1950–1953by D. Clayton James with Anne Sharp Wells

when reassessing U.S. interests. Afterall, American (and, undoubtedly, allied) military analysts should behaunted by the vacillation towardKorea in the early postwar periodand the Philippines at various timesduring this century.

As the United States is pressuredto assume a greater role in peace-en-forcement missions, Carpenter’sguiding rules merit deliberation.First, we must define vital securityinterests more narrowly than duringthe Cold War. Unimpressed by thelessons of Korea, Carpenter assertsthat vital national interests shouldhave direct, immediate, and substan-tial consequences. Second, in for-malizing alliances decisionmakersshould have greater latitude to avoidcommitments with imprecise, long-term obligations that can limitAmerican options when significantinterests are at stake or that lead toentanglement in irrelevant conflicts.Third, the United States should resistpursuing ambitious international mi-lieu goals like stability which areunattainable at acceptable cost orrisk. Though desirable, in the finalanalysis such goals are not essentialto American security.

What is striking about thesebooks, however, is not the picture ofirredeemable decay, but rather theimpressive resiliency of American al-liances in overcoming adversity. Theessential glue that held the alliancestogether was a willingness and abil-ity to lead on the part of the UnitedStates. The leadership question is ac-centuated by the recent quest of theClinton administration and othersthroughout the Asia-Pacific region toestablish a multilateral mechanismfor security dialogue and coopera-tion. Just as we need to be cognizantof our own limitations, so too mustwe be aware of the limitations ofmultilateralism in Asia. For instance,it is doubtful that the United Statescan use its bilateral ties as buildingblocks for a nascent Pacific defensecommunity. Theoretically alliancesmay provide a bridge for regional in-stitution building; practically speak-ing, military alliances tend to be in-ferior instruments for integration.Economic means seem to carry moreweight throughout the region. But


Managing alliances also centerson operationalizing military cooper-ation, that is, planning and conduct-ing combined operations. Notwith-standing some limited successes,Joseph Keddell in The Politics of De-fense in Japan: Managing Internal andExternal Pressures explains why Japanhas been so reluctant to undertake agreater role in regional and globalsecurity. Throughout the Cold War,Japanese defense policy was princi-pally designed to manage conflictingAmerican and Japanese domestic po-litical pressures; the United Statestried to measure the internationalmilitary balance while Japan sawthings through the prism of mutualsecurity. This proved dispiriting toJapanese who sought a defense rolefor their country, but in the 1950sPrime Minister Shigeuro Yoshida de-liberately subordinated Japan to thealliance to concentrate on economicexpansion.

Although Japan took steps to-ward a larger defense role in the1980s under Prime Minister YasuhiroNakasone, it was the Gulf War thatfinally jarred Japan out of postwarinsularity. Tokyo belatedly con-tributed $13 billion to coalition cof-fers, but questions lingered aboutwhether Japan was pulling its fairshare within the alliance and inter-national community. Only after theGulf War did the Diet pass theUnited Nations Peacekeeping Opera-tions bill which authorized the cre-ation of a 2,000-person civilian andmilitary organization. This unitcould, under specific conditions,serve in noncombat roles in U.N.missions. Shortly thereafter the firstground forces deployed overseas tothe U.N. peacekeeping operation inCambodia. While the peacekeepingbill and the Cambodian deploymentrepresent a watershed in Japan’spostwar military posture, they aremodest, sharply-circumscribedevents. Keddell elucidates why theseincremental steps were almost pre-determined by Japan’s postwar polit-ical system, given its built-in, multi-layered conservatism.

Whether Japan’s defense postureof the future will change radically isdoubtful. In U.S.-Japan Alliance Diplo-macy, 1945–1990, Roger Buckley

states that we may never know theactual strength of the alliance unlessa conflict leads to the ultimate deci-sion that befalls allies: “. . . [the] al-liance has not yet been called uponduring its history to confront the ul-timate justification of any interna-tional pact—solidarity in the councilchamber and on the battlefield.”

The future of the U.S.-Japan al-liance is a matter of some specula-tion. The past, however, provides agrounding for forecasters and policy-makers alike. In particular, under-standing why Japan remained a mili-tary midget while becoming aneconomic giant goes far toward ap-preciating the impact of domesticpolitics on alliance management andon this bilateral alliance in particular.

Termination or Transformation?In A Search for Enemies: America’s

Alliances After the Cold War, TedGalen Carpenter argues vehementlyfor disengagement or, more eu-phemistically, for “selected engage-ment.” Asian alliances, as well asothers like NATO, are anachronistic.What Washington must do, Carpen-ter contends, is stand up and declarestrategic independence from thesevestiges of the Cold War. He faultsPresident Bush’s New World Order inwhich U.S. forces undergird globalstability as wooly-minded conser-vatism: it only perpetuates an out-moded alliance structure at excessivecost. Carpenter calculates that evena vastly scaled-back NATO commit-ment of 100,000 troops will cost atleast $90 billion a year, and 98,000or so troops afloat and ashore in theAsia-Pacific region will cost another$40 billion. This presumably meansthat every dollar spent only re-dounds to the advantage of others,not to the United States. Further-more, Carpenter prefers surgical re-sponses to commitments that arejust as Manichean as those proposedduring the Cold War, for instance,when Eisenhower dubbed theJapanese “indestructible partners”(read “permanent allies”).

Ignoring the more dyspepticcriticisms of current alliances, Car-penter seems to be on surer footing


given the difficulties nowadays inseparating economic and military security, the United States has wiselystepped up support for multilateralapproaches in the Asia-Pacific region—not only through participation inboth the Association of SoutheastNations and the Asia-Pacific Eco-nomic Cooperation forum, but alsoby helping to establish a pan-Pacificsecurity debate.

There also is a fundamental in-compatibility between alliances andcollective security. That is why thecurrent move toward Asian multilat-eralism should not strive for collec-tive security but simply cooperativesecurity—or basically, confidencebuilding. For the foreseeable future,a mere forum for security dialoguecannot replace an alliance. Amongother things, in the event of war, aninfant multilateral organizationwould face the traditional problemof leadership.

Today, economics is the engineof international politics. Alliancessupport stability in order to alloweconomic progress to continue tobring more nations of Asia into theindustrialized (if not necessarilydemocratic) world. Economic con-cerns were central in the postwaryears; they remain of paramountconcern in contemporary Asia. Andjust as Acheson recognized a halfcentury ago, Japan remains at theheart of regional economic prosper-ity. This could easily lead one to em-brace the conclusion offered byRobert Sutter in East Asia and the Pacific: Challenges for U.S. Policy, thatour interests argue for maintainingtraditional ties with Japan and othernations in Asia and the Pacific region whose interests coincide withthose of America.

U.S. alliances in the Pacific arebeing reexamined in light of the endof the Cold War. The critical ques-tion is whether the typhoon-likewinds of the post-Cold War worldwill completely rip apart the U.S.military umbrella which, althoughtattered, still stands over severalAsian allies. Conversely, will Wash-ington feel compelled to identify anew enemy such as China aroundwhich to recast old alliances and

forge new commitments to Singa-pore and other nations of the re-gion? Or will the United States per-haps agree on a more positivecooperative security agenda than thetraditional threat-based concept andthus seek the prospect of a meaning-ful multilateral security community?While the books reviewed offer someconflicting answers to these ques-tions, they will equip the reader tobetter appreciate the significance ofAsian-Pacific security issues. JFQ

CHIEFS FROMACROSS THE ESTUARYA Book Review byWALTER S. POOLE

You may take the most gallant sailor,the most intrepid airman, and the mostaudacious soldier, put them at a tabletogether—and what do you get? Thesum of their fears!

Winston Churchill’s wordsstill have a ring of truthabout them despite decades

of effort in London and Washingtonto foster crisp but truly joint deci-sionmaking. In The Chiefs: The Storyof the United Kingdom Chiefs of Staffthe British side of that effort is wellpresented. The authors of this workhave unique qualifications: GeneralSir William Jackson was AssistantChief of General Staff and Quarter-master General before becoming areputable military historian, andField Marshal Lord Bramall served asboth Chief of General Staff and Chief

of Defence Staff. It is a tribute to theauthors, particularly Bramall, thatthey do not flinch from pointing outshort-comings in the system theyhelped shape and some of thoseunder whom they served.

In Britain, as The Chiefs makesclear, military reforms often occur inresponse to failure. The Committeeof Imperial Defence was establishedin 1904 after embarrassing reversesduring the Boer War. The Chiefs ofStaff (COS) Committee was formedin 1923 in response to the nearlydisastrous clash of what the authorscall “political dictatorship versusprofessional judgment” in WorldWar I. One chief was selected to double as the chairman of the com-mittee, but without a separate sup-porting staff. The COS worked sowell that no serious reorganizationwas attempted for almost twentyyears. The rise of the Chief of De-fence Staff to pre-eminence tookplace gradually, through changeslaunched by Admiral Louis Mount-batten in the 1960’s, and continuedduring the 1980’s under two Secre-taries of State for Defence, John Nottand Michael Haseltine.

It is illuminating to comparethe post-1945 evolution of theBritish COS with that of the JointChiefs of Staff (JCS) in this country.The United States acquired a Secre-tary of Defense in 1947, whose staffand authority expanded enormouslyover the following two decades, anda JCS Chairman in 1949, whose in-fluence soon outgrew formal limita-tions imposed by law on the post.During the same period in Britain,the Minister of Defence had a tinystaff and imprecise, non-executivecoordinating functions that did notimpinge upon the powers and re-sponsibilities of the chiefs or serviceministries. It was not until 1957 thatMarshal of the RAF Sir William Dickson became Chief of DefenceStaff (CDS) as well as Chairman ofthe COS Committee. Yet, with onlya small briefing staff of his own,Dickson was really a toothless tiger.

Although a Defence Ministrywas created in 1964, managementremained decentralized in the ser-vices. The army, naval, and air staffsremained separate but were brought

Walter S. Poole is a member of the Office of Joint History and the author of three volumes in the series The History of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

The Chiefs: The Story of theUnited Kingdom Chiefs of Staff

by William Jackson and Lord BramallLondon, New York: Brassey’s (U.K.),

1992. 508 pp. $29.95.[ISBN 0–08–040370–0]

together in joint committees—anapproach attempted by the UnitedStates in World War II and judgedinadequate. Admiral Mountbattenwas the first CDS to outshine theservice chiefs, and he did so by ex-ploiting his close ties with the politi-cal establishment and by resortingto devious, even deceitful methods.Bramall was on Mountbatten’s staffand writes bluntly about his chief’sfoibles: “ ‘I was staying at Windsorlast weekend,’ he would say be-nignly at the start of a chiefs’ meet-ing, ‘and she said how glad she wasthat we were going to do so andso. . . .’ The fact that the particularsubject was of such complexity ortriviality that the Queen could notbe expected to have an opinion orinterest in it, destroyed the story’scredibility, but that seemed to con-cern him very little.” Unlike the sit-uation within the U.S. Armed Forces,where the Navy usually opposedcentralization while the Army andthe Air Force advocated it, Mount-batten found no allies among theservice chiefs for a more centralizedsystem of control. Even adding a Di-rector of Plans to the CDS’s staff pro-voked intense opposition. Mount-batten’s successor as CDS, an Armyofficer, moved back toward a con-sensus and corporate approach todecisionmaking.

In the 1980’s, however, majorreforms in both the United Statesand the United Kingdom movedtheir respective defense establish-ments in precisely the same direc-tion. John Nott pushed throughchanges making the CDS alone theprincipal military advisor to the government as well as making cen-tral operational and military policystaffs responsible to him. MichaelHaseltine later stripped the services


But Jackson and Bramall seedanger in the new dispensation: “Atthe heart of the matter lay the degra-dation of specialist Land, Sea, andAir advice in the formulation of De-fence policy and decisionmaking.”In 1982, the First Sea Lord, AdmiralHenry Leach, was the only chief onhand when Prime Minister Thatcherreceived her first briefing on the im-pending Argentine invasion of theFalklands. Leach’s judgment that theNavy could respond, the authors re-count, gave her the courage to act.Yet, under the post-Haseltine organi-zation, the First Sea Lord could nothave dealt directly with and advisedthe Prime Minister. This seems like aplausible argument, but we mustbear in mind that specialist advice isnot always sound, as illustrated byU.S. military history. During thewinter of 1970–71 a major incursioninto Laos, aimed at cutting the HoChi Minh Trail, was under consider-ation. The Chairman, AdmiralThomas Moorer, naturally did notfeel qualified to render judgmentand queried the Army Chief of Staff,General William Westmoreland,who was a former commander inVietnam as well as other seniorArmy officers. Their opinion wasthat the South Vietnamese Armyhad improved sufficiently to carryout the operation. So AdmiralMoorer recommended to the civilianleadership that the operation should

of their vice chiefs, reduced execu-tive staffs, and shifted managementresponsibility to the commanders inchief (CINCs) in the field. Similarly,the Goldwater-Nichols Act in 1986made the Chairman of the JointChiefs of Staff the principal militaryadvisor to the President and directedthat the Joint Staff respond to theChairman alone, not the corporateJCS. Jackson and Bramall contrastthe way in which the corporate COSwaged the Falklands War of 1982with how the CDS alone made deci-sions during the Gulf War ten yearslater, leaving the chiefs to supervisedeployments and logistic support.Within the Pentagon, in the wake ofGoldwater-Nichols, the Chairman,General Colin Powell, was perform-ing in exactly the same manner, firstacting and then calling the servicechiefs into his office to explain whathe had done.

Britain in some respects hasgone farther than the United Statesin trimming the sails of the services.One wonders, for example, if wecould follow their lead by dispensingwith vice chiefs. Originally, theAmerican chiefs were supposed toconcentrate on joint issues and theirvice chiefs on internal service mat-ters. Now that the chiefs havelargely lost their joint functions, arethe vice chiefs really necessary?

The Combined Chiefs of Staff meeting in 1943. TheBritish officers (from left to right): Rear AdmiralW.R. Peterson, RN; Field Marshal Sir John Dill;Brigadier Vivian Dykes; Lieutenant General G.N.MacReady; and Air Marshal D.C.S. Evill, RAF. The American officers (from right to left): AdmiralErnest J. King, USN; Admiral William D. Leahy, USN;Brigadier General J.R. Deane, USA; General GeorgeC. Marshall, USA; and Lieutenant General J.T. McNearney, USA.

U.S

. N

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proceed. Thus Lam Son 719 waslaunched, and the specialists wereproven wrong all too quickly.

One may be skeptical, too, ofJackson and Bramall’s claim that“five minds are invariably betterthan one” in assessing risks and op-tions. True enough if the five mindsspeak with a single, clear voice. Butfrequently the pre-1986 Joint Chiefsof Staff did not; their five mindsgave rise to either a split recommen-dation or a compromise whichplayed to the lowest common de-nominator. What you got, to para-phrase Churchill, was the sum oftheir parochialism.

Jackson and Bramall also warnagainst “policy being hijacked bybureaucrats who might be influ-enced more by political and eco-nomic factors than by the best avail-able professional judgment” andprovide two classic examples as evi-dence. First, the Treasury kept such atight rein on military spending dur-ing the 1920’s and much of the1930’s that Britain was woefully un-prepared to fight Germany. Second,John Nott would have emasculatedthe Royal Navy’s surface fleet exceptfor the fact that the Argentine juntaacted before the worst cutbacks tookplace. This is not to make a brief forNeville Chamberlain, who as Chan-cellor of the Exchequer and PrimeMinister insisted on strict economiesuntil the Anschluss in March 1938.But, as the authors acknowledge,Chamberlain was reacting to widertrends: the pacifism grown out ofthe bloodshed of World War I, over-stretched Imperial responsibilities,and an economy that lacked thevigor of the Victorian era. John Nottalso was taking account of trendsthat had reduced Britain to barely amiddle-sized power. For logical rea-sons, political and economic factorscan override “the best available pro-fessional judgment.” No one hasever devised a safeguard against badforecasting. President Harry Truman,who has become a folk hero in re-cent years, rejected JCS warningsand pursued an economic programthat left the Army unprepared forthe war that broke out in Korea.


The Chiefs is drawn entirelyfrom published works, supple-mented by the authors’ wealth of experience. Within these limits theyhave produced an eminently soundand readable book. But there are instances where they betray whatappears to be an insular bias. Admi-ral William Leahy was not the firstChairman of the Joint Chief of Staff;appointed as Chief of Staff to Presi-dent Franklin Roosevelt in 1942, hismain function was liaison betweenthe White House and the JCS. Dur-ing 1944, Hitler did not reinforcethe Italian front by drawing manyfirst-class divisions from France andRussia. Apparently echoes of thewartime Anglo-American debateover the merits of a Mediterraneanstrategy have not completely dieddown. There is no conclusive evi-dence, at least in American minds,that the Italian campaign con-tributed decisively to the success ofOverlord. As to the 1956 Suez crisis,it is wrong to say that the threat ofSoviet intervention “frightenedWashington more than it did Lon-don.” Both Eisenhower and Dullescondemned the Anglo-French inva-sion for reasons of principle, notfear. Finally, the notion of a NATOmultilateral nuclear force did not diebecause Bonn went cold on the idea.It was Prime Minister Harold Wilsonwho played the role of executionerbecause he had a razor-thin majorityin the House of Commons and someGermanophobic Laborites wereready to join the Tories on the issueand bring down his government.But these are minor points of clarification in an otherwise well researched book.

The Chiefs makes worthwhilereading for anyone interested in thehigher realms of defense organiza-tion. Unfortunately there is no comparable volume that tells thestory of the Joint Chiefs of Staff onthis side of the estuary. JFQ

RUSSIA’S MILITARY PASTA Book Review byBRIAN R. SULLIVAN

The past can often provide thebest guidelines for an uncer-tain future. With the collapse

of Soviet power, those who are curi-ous about future Russian strategywould do well to read Strategy andPower in Russia by William C. Fuller,Jr., who is a specialist on Russian mil-itary history and a professor in theStrategy and Policy Department atthe Naval War College. In this ab-sorbing book, Fuller applies the ana-lytical method developed at Newportwhich uses historical case studies tocritique approaches to Russian strat-egy. Strategy and Power in Russia pro-vides brilliant explanations of howthe tsars employed force to achievepolitical goals from the early 16th

century up to the eve of World War I.Although Fuller has produced

neither a military history of imperialRussia nor a study of its military the-ory, there is much to learn aboutboth from this well-written book. Itis an expertly-led tour across threecenturies of war and military policyfrom which a clear pattern emerges.In sum, effective Russian strategiesapplied native genius and indigenousresources to strategic challenges,while attempts to adopt purely Western methods usually failed.

The book begins its account in aperiod when the extinction of theruling dynasty had left Russia with-out national leadership, plunging thecountry into civil war and anarchy.

Brian R. Sullivan is a senior fellow in the Institute for National Strategic Studies atthe National Defense University. He hastaught European military history at boththe Naval War College and Yale University.

Strategy and Power in Russia,1600–1914

by William C. Fuller, Jr.New York: The Free Press, 1992.

557 pp. $35.00.[ISBN 0–02–910977–9]


to achieve the impossible goal oftotal overthrow of the Swedes but atacquiring territory along the Baltic ofstrategic or economic value. He wasprepared to endure operational de-feat, retreating into the vast interiorto gain strategic superiority by use ofRussian geography, in order to drawthe Swedish King Charles XII afterhim. Only when the enemy wasseverely debilitated by severalmonths of campaigning did Peteroffer battle, winning the crucial vic-tory at Poltava in June 1709.

Peter still had to batter theSwedes for twelve more years. Aftershifting the fighting north to theBaltic, the Tsar built a navy andlearned to conduct combined opera-tions. The Russian fleet smashed theSwedes at Cape Hangö in 1714.Thereafter, the Russians launchedmajor amphibious raids that culmi-nated in landings between 1719 and1721 in Sweden. These punitive ex-peditions ravished the Swedish econ-omy and finally forced the Swedes tocede the Baltic coastline Peter hadfought the war to acquire. Along theway, Fuller argues, Peter the Greathaphazardly created what can becalled the Russian way of war.

In the seventy years followingPeter’s death in 1725, his successors,

Its neighbors stripped huge territoriesfrom the carcass of what seemed tobe a dying land. When the Romanovsseized the throne, they bought peaceat home by acknowledging these for-eign conquests in order to consoli-date their power. But the Romanovsplanned to win back the lost landsand then expand their realm.

However, subsequent Russiancampaigns to recapture Smolenskfrom the Poles in 1632–33 and seizethe Crimea in 1687–89 failed. De-spite investing vast resources and im-porting foreign military experts andtechnology, tsarist armies were re-pulsed with huge losses. After Peterthe Great came to power in 1689–90he did have some success against theTurks. But when a small Swedishforce shattered his army at Narva in1700 Peter realized the need for anew approach to war. He did notadopt Western methods. Instead, asFuller shows, he did the opposite: indesperation, he studied the peculiari-ties of Russian society and adaptedthem to the situation.

Peter took advantage of his de-fenseless serfs by squeezing them fortaxes, as well as for manual labor andmilitary service. He dragooned serfsto create naval shipbuilding andweapons industries, build canals and

roads for military transportation, andconstruct a network of frontier forti-fications. Every spring, more serfswere drafted to replace the tens ofthousands lost the previous year inbattle, and through disease, expo-sure, and exhaustion. The serf-sol-diers that survived their years of ser-vice formed an autonomous militarysociety rigidly obedient to imperialcommand. Given the size of the pop-ulation and the tsar’s sacred author-ity, Russian conditions wereamenable to a system that spent un-told lives and caused enormoushuman suffering.

Of equal importance, Peter in-sisted that strategic and operationalissues be debated openly and thatproposals be reached collectively incouncils of war with his generals. Thetsar made the ultimate decisions him-self but his discussions of military af-fairs served as extraordinary seminarson war for Russian commanders, pro-vided for the widest possible play ofimagination, created a broad range ofoptions, and prevented the stagnationof dogmatic thinking.

National backwardness and na-tive genius produced an army of con-siderable, albeit hardly overwhelm-ing, power. Peter employed thismilitary force carefully, not aiming

First Offensive: The Marine Campaign forGuadalcanal. Henry I. Shaw, Jr.,Washington: Government PrintingOffice, 1992. 52 pp. [PCN 190 003117 00]

Outpost in the North Atlantic: Marines in the Defense of Iceland. James A.Donovan, Washington: GovernmentPrinting Office, 1992. 32 pp. [PCN 190 003118 00]

A Magnificent Fight: Marines in the Battlefor Wake Island. Robert J. Cressman,Washington: Government PrintingOffice, 1992. 37 pp. [PCN 190 003119 00]

See the previous issue of JFQ(Summer 1993) for a selection of titles on World War II published byboth the Army and the Air Force.

WORLD WAR IIREMEMBERED

THE 50TH ANNIVERSARY OFWORLD WAR II is being commemorated in various

ways, including publication by theservices of historical monographsand pamphlets on the European and Pacific theaters.

The Naval Historical Center will republish a series of “Combat Narra-tives” of campaigns which were orig-inally printed during World War IIby the Office of Naval Intelligence.The first volume in this series has

appeared and six others are slated tocome out in the next few months.

The Aleutians Campaign, June 1942–Au-gust 1943. Washington: GovernmentPrinting Office, 1993. 140 pp. [ISBN 0–16–041801–1]

The Marine Corps Historical Centeris publishing the “Marines in WorldWar II Commemorative Series”which thus far includes the follow-ing titles:

Opening Moves: Marines Gear Up for War.Henry I. Shaw, Jr., Washington:Government Printing Office, 1991.24 pp. [PCN 190 003115 00]

Infamous Day: Marines at Pearl Harbor, 7 December 1941. Robert J. Cressmanand J. Michael Wenger, Washington:Government Printing Office, 1992.31 pp. [PCN 190 003116 00]


especially Catherine the Great, for-malized this improvised military sys-tem to conquer huge new provincesin the course of nine major wars. TheRussian army even defeated Frederickthe Great, only to surrender its gainson the orders of the mentally unbal-anced Peter III. The history of Europefrom 1689 to 1815 is often describedas a struggle for supremacy betweenEngland and France. But Fuller makesclear that such a perspective is apurely Western interpretation. Infact, it was really France and Russiathat were dueling for continentaldominance.

Napoleon seemed to decide thecontest when he entered Moscow in1812. Within three months, how-ever, the Russians under Alexander Idrove out the French, employing ba-sically the same methods that hadbrought Peter victory over theSwedes a century earlier. (In detailingthis victory, Fuller offers an engross-ing description of the 1812 cam-paign.) At the time of Napoleon’sdownfall, the Russian empire hadreached its apogee. Russian armiesmarched into Paris, a feat whichStalin later grumbled even his victo-rious Red Army of 1945 was unableto match.

The second half of Fuller’s bookis devoted to the rapid decline ofRussian strength after 1815. The tsarsof the 19th century clung to the sys-tem created by Peter—victory overNapoleon had given it an invincibleaura—but they demolished the realpillars of Russian strength. To the al-ready conquered peoples of East Eu-rope, later tsars added the tribes ofthe Caucasus and Central Asia. If theRussians had been victors in the warsof 1853–56, 1877–78, and 1904–05,they would have also annexed mil-lions of Turks, Kurds, Manchurians,and Koreans. As it was, the monar-chy was transformed into a restiveempire of rebellious nations. Policingso many non-Russian lands pinneddown tsarist armies on garrison dutyor in frequent counterinsurgencycampaigns. By the mid-19th centurymaintaining the empire taxed Rus-sian military capacity to the limit.

Even worse, the tsars discardedthe strategic planning system thathad served them so well. Debate

gave way to autocratic decisions atthe center and competitive, uncoor-dinated expansion on the borders bysemi-independent provincial mili-tary governors. Territory wasgrabbed for hollow reasons of pres-tige, with little thought to its strate-gic value or the geopolitical conse-quences. Such pointless greed led toRussian military disasters during theempire’s last century.

The defeats which Russia suf-fered also were the result of otherweaknesses. Technological backward-ness, combined with the rapid devel-opments of Western military andnaval technology after 1815, pre-sented the tsars and their armieswith an apparently insoluble contra-diction. The imperial system wasbased on war and expansion but,from the mid-19th century on, itcould only acquire territory of valueby fighting enemies of superiorstrength. Defeat in the Crimean Warsent a tremendous shock wavethroughout the Russian imperial sys-tem and directly led to the abolitionof serfdom and a policy of modern-ization. But the force unleashed byreform disrupted the entire system;for example, a law abolishing themilitary enslavement of serfs injectedpolitically discontented conscriptsinto the main institution which hadsupported the monarchy. Mean-while, Russian expansion continued,even though it led to new militarydisasters. Paradoxically, a fear of re-vealing weakness created a psycho-logical imperative to project the ap-pearance of irresistible strength. Butinstead, Russian attempts at territo-rial aggrandizement in East Asia ledto defeat in the Russo-Japanese War.

Growing Russian fear of Germany and Austria-Hungary,prompted by rivalry for influenceover the Balkans, led Tsar AlexanderIII to form an alliance with France inthe 1890s. It had become painfullyevident to Russian officials that theempire was too weak to defend itself.Yet they retained a system thatforced expansion. Even the Frenchalliance actually increased Russianweakness by placing additionalstrategic demands on the Russian

army. And yet, Fuller argues, the empire’s collapse in 1917 was not inevitable, although to have avoidedit would have required a long periodof peace, entailing painful conces-sions to Russia’s enemies. ThisNicholas II and his officials were unwilling to do and thus theymarched to catastrophe in the sum-mer of 1914 rather than back downduring the Serbian crisis.

Fuller’s analysis of imperial Rus-sia’s military strategy suggests paral-lels with the communist era. Onecan see Stalin as compressing the accomplishments of Peter the Greatand mistakes of the later tsars into a25-year period, first creating a power-ful military machine, then using it toexpand the Soviet empire beyondRussian ability to control it. The Soviet technological decline in the1970s and 1980s, followed by defeatin Afghanistan and revolt of the sub-ject peoples, adds weight to the ap-pearance of history repeating itself.

Whether or not such analogiesare accurate, the history of Russianmilitary strategy does raise seriousquestions about the future. How farwill Russians go to regain those terri-tories lost with the collapse of theSoviet Union? Will they limit theirambitions to Russian-inhabited landsor seek to reincorporate potentiallyrebellious regions? Indications arethat Russians will establish volunteerforces. But will this mean emulatingtsars and communists by creating aggressive, ideologically committedlegions or establishing a military devoted to Western ideas of constitu-tional order and territorial defense?How will the Russian governmentovercome technological backward-ness? Will Russia remain strategicallyisolated or seek allies?

Strategy and Power in Russia doesnot answer all of these questions. Butit does provide a historical perspec-tive for making educated guessesabout the future. Despite present difficulties, the Russian people re-main by far the largest nationalgroup in Europe and possess great reserves of human strength and genius. When those resources areonce again harnessed to an effectivestrategy, Russia will regain the statusof a great military power JFQ

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P O S T S C R I P T


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KUDOSAs the inaugural issue of Joint

Force Quarterly came off the presseson June 25, 1993 (right), it markedthe beginning of the end of a periodof gestation that stretched from aconcept briefing presented to theChairman, Joint Chiefs of Staff, onNovember 4, 1992, to the publica-tion date of July 2, 1993. While get-ting there may not have been halfthe fun, launching a journal hasbeen rewarding. The satisfactionthat the editors experienced on re-ceiving the first copies of JFQ waslikewise shared by others outside theprecincts of Fort McNair who helpedto turn a concept into a reality.Among them are members of theGovernment Printing Office andGateway Press.

The editors wish to acknowledgethe outstanding contribution ofWilliam Rawley, Typography and Design Division, Government Print-ing Office, who designed and laidout the first issue. Thanks also go to

David Haddock and Frederick Uhlick,both of the Government Printing Of-fice, and to William Fante, of Gate-way Press in Louisville, Kentucky, fortheir invaluable advice and supportin publishing the inaugural issue. JFQ

JFQ

(Jim

Pet

ers)

MISCELLANEAThe F–5E pictured alongside the

Air Force F–16C on page 22 of issue1 (Summer 1993) is Jordanian, notSaudi Arabian as indicated in thecaption. Thanks to Colonel BanderAl Saud, Royal Saudi Air Force, forpointing out the error.

The caption on page 28 of issue1 should have read “A GBU–27 pro-totype laser guided bomb beingdropped from an F–117 stealthfighter”—a correction provided byCapt J.D. Ramsey, USAF.

The Marine Corps aircraftshown launching a missile in thephoto on page 35 of issue 1 is anF–4, not an A–4.

The JCS medal depicted on theback cover of issue 1 was presentedby General Earle G. Wheeler, USA(Chairman, Joint Chiefs of Staff), toGeneral Lyman L. Lemnitzer, USA(Supreme Allied Commander, Eu-rope), in May 1968. (Medal loanedby Special Collections, National Defense University Library.) JFQ

items of commentary on articles pub-lished in previous issues are invited.Copies of supporting material (suchas charts, maps, and photos) shouldbe submitted with manuscripts citingthe full source and indicating applica-ble copyright information if known.To facilitate the editorial review ofyour contribution, please providetwo copies of the manuscript to-gether with a 150-word summary.Place all personal or biographicaldata on a separate sheet of paperand avoid identifying yourself in thebody of the manuscript. You mayfollow any accepted style guide inpreparing the manuscript, but end-notes rather than footnotes shouldbe used; both the manuscript andthe endnotes should be typed indouble-space with one-inch margins.

If possible, submit your manuscripton a disk together with the type-script version to facilitate editing.While 3.5- and 5.25-inch disks prepared in various formats can beprocessed, Wordperfect is preferred.(Disks will be returned if requested.)Additional information on submit-ting contributions is available by either calling: (202) 475–1013/DSN 335–1013, or addressing queries to:


JFQ

DOD

An M–1 Abrams tankduring a night trainingexercise.

The back cover photo shows theJCS identification badge worn byGeneral Maxwell D. Taylor, USA,(courtesy of Special Collections,National Defense University Library).

JFQJ O I N T F O R C E Q U A R T E R L Y

Published by theInstitute for National Strategic Studies

National Defense UniversityWashington, D.C.