Joint Force Quarterly - Spring 1996

The articles on “The Security of the Americas” found in thisissue provide a useful primer on the challenges to the hemi-sphere and the relationship of the United States with itsneighbors. The current pace of change in Latin America ri-vals that of East Asia or Europe. However, absent significantthreats or instability, these challenges have drawn littlecomment in the United States. In the future, Washingtoncannot afford to take this dynamic region for granted. Itdemands our close attention.

Spring 1996 / JFQ 1

JFQAWord from the Chairman

(continued on page 4)

U.S.-Honduran airborne drop.

U.S

. Air

Forc

e

The cover features F–117 being refueled (U.S. Air Force/Val Gempis); the cover insets (from top) show Stingermissile launch during Roving Sands ’94 (U.S. Air Force/Steve Thurow), Venezuelan troops at National Pantheonin Caracas (DOD/R.D. Ward), M–88A1 recovery vehiclecrossing into Bosnia (U.S. Air Force/Lisa Zunzanyika-Carpenter), airborne troops boarding C–141 (U.S. AirForce/Jerome G. Suson), and Chester Nimitz looking overmaps during World War II (Naval Historical Center).

The front inside cover incorporates (clockwise, fromtop) marine firing down range during Bell Thunder ’95(U.S. Navy/Stephen Batiz), high endurance cutter Gallatin

(U.S. Coast Guard), ski-equipped CH–47D Chinook during training in Italian Alps(U.S. Air Force/Mike Reinhardt), C–5 taking off for Vigilant Warrior (U.S. AirForce/Brett K. Snow), and USS Seahorse enroute to the Mediterranean (U.S. Navy/Kenneth H. Brewer).

The table of contents photos include (from top) theater high altitude areadefense (THAAD) FTV–03 (U.S. Army), Miraflores Locks on Panama Canal(DOD/R.D. Ward), Salvadoran naval commandos (Julio A. Montes), SEAL indefensive perimeter during exercise in Italy (U.S. Navy/George A. Del Moral),and F–16 and German MiG–29 (U.S. Air Force/Tana R. Hamilton).

The back inside cover captures SH–2F landing on USS O’Bannon duringpassage through Straits of Magellan (U.S. Navy/Richard Boyle).

The back cover shows mobile aerostat in Caribbean (U.S. Coast Guard/Chuck Kalnback).

JFQ1 A Word from the Chairmanby John M. Shalikashvili

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

6 Letters to the Editor

■

9 Joint Warfare and theArmy-Air Force Teamby Dennis J. Reimer and Ronald R. Fogleman

16 AFATDS: The Fire SupportWindow to the 21st Centuryby Steven W. Boutelle and Ronald Filak

22 A Primer on Naval TheaterAir Defenseby Alan G. Maiorano, Nevin P. Carr, Jr.,and Trevor J. Bender

29 Unity of Command—Countering Aircraft and Missile Threatsby Vincent P. DiFronzo

■ C O N T E N T S

2 JFQ / Spring 1996

■ J F Q F O R U M

36 The Security of the Americasby Hans Binnendijk and John A. Cope

40 Good Bridges Make Good Neighborsby William J. Perry

44 A Former CINC Looks at Latin Americaby Barry R. McCaffrey

52 Operation Safe Border: The Ecuador-Peru Crisisby Glenn R. Weidner

59 A Brazilian Strategic Outlookby Luiz Paulo Macedo Carvalho

64 Changing Argentine Military Cultureby Martin Antonio Balza

67 Security and Democracy in the Regionby Luigi R. Einaudi

73 Defense of the Hemisphere:An Historical Postscriptby Jose F. Mata

P H O T O C R E D I T S

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Joint Force Quarterly

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76 NATO’s Military Futureby Daniel W. Christman

82 A Fight for Lodgement: Future Joint Contingency Operationsby Anthony J. Tata

90 Medical Dimensions of Joint Humanitarian Relief Operationsby Leonard M. Randolph, Jr., andMatthew W. Cogdell

98 Leadership, Community, and Virtueby James H. Toner

104 Brilliant Warriorsby Jay W. Kelley

111 Research, Writing, and the Mind of the Strategistby Gregory D. Foster

116 Days of Future Past: Joint Intelligence in World War IIby James D. Marchio

■ O F C H I E F S A N D C H A I R M E N

124 Arleigh Albert Burke

■ O U T O F J O I N T

125 Where are the Arleigh BurkesToday?by Mark Yost

■ T H E J O I N T W O R L D

128 Organization, Doctrine, and Education

■ O F F T H E S H E L F

130 Moral Obligation Versus “BeeperEthics”: A Review Essayby William G. O’Neill

134 A Jubilee for Airmen: A Book Reviewby Thomas A. Keaney

135 Of Cabals and Complots: A Book Reviewby James L. Zackrison

S P R I N G 9 6 / N U M B E R 1 1

Spring 1996 / JFQ 3

Hans BinnendijkEditor-in-Chief

Patrick M. CroninConsulting Editor

John A. CopeContributing Editor ( Issue 11)

Robert A. SilanoEditor

Martin J. Peters, Jr.Production Coordinator

Calvin B. KelleyCopy Editor

The Typography and Design Division of the U.S. GovernmentPrinting Office is responsible for layout and art direction.

JFQ is published for the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staffby the Institute for National Strategic Studies, National De-fense University, to promote understanding of the integratedemployment of land, sea, air, space, and special operationsforces. The journal focuses on joint doctrine, coalition warfare,contingency planning, combat operations conducted by theunified commands, and joint force development.

The opinions, conclusions, and recommendations ex-pressed or implied within are those of the contributors and donot necessarily reflect the views of the Department of Defenseor any other agency of the Federal Government. Copyrightedportions of this journal may not be reproduced or extractedwithout permission of copyright proprietors. An acknowledg-ment to Joint Force Quarterly should be made whenever mate-rial is quoted from or based on its contents.

This publication has been approved by the Secretary of Defense.

ISSN 1070–0692

The editors invite articles and other contributions on jointwarfighting, interservice issues that support jointness, and top-ics of common interest to the Armed Forces (see page 136 fordetails). Please direct all editorial communications to:

EditorJoint Force QuarterlyATTN: NDU–NSS–JFQWashington, D.C. 20319–6000

Telephone: (202) 685–4220 / DSN 325–4220FAX: (202) 685–4219 / DSN 325–4219

Internet: [email protected]

A cumulative index to articles published in JFQ can befound on the National Defense University World Wide Webserver. Access any Web Browser (for example, Mosaic orNetscape) by addressing http://www.ndu.edu.

May 1996


Latin America is a vast region with remark-able potential, a vibrant blend of New and OldWorld traditions, of modern societies and ancientcultures. It is a geographic term for an amalgam of450 million people living in 33 diverse states, eachwith a unique history and sense of national pur-pose. To the United States, the countries of LatinAmerica and insular nations of the Caribbean arepartners in three distinct though interactive ways:in the development of democracy, in commerce,and in the creation of hemispheric security.

This region has undergone extensive politi-cal development. A decade ago Latin America waspolitically troubled, with half of its states ruled byauthoritarian regimes which repressed their peo-ple and mismanaged their economies. Central

America in particular was a hotbed of instability,much of which emanated from the influence ofthe Sandinistas in Nicaragua and Manuel Noriegain Panama. Most of that instability has vanishedfrom the scene. For the first time in history, everynation in Latin America is a democracy exceptCuba. Each of these nations is determined to fos-ter representative institutions, respect humanrights, and incorporate itself into a wider world.Latin America today is striving to meet the ulti-mate goal enunciated by Simon Bolivar: “to befree under the auspices of liberal laws, emanatingfrom the most sacred spring, which is the will ofthe people.”

While much economic reform is still needed,Latin America has jumped into the mainstream ofinternational economic life. Many economies inthe region are surging and several rank amongthe fastest growing in the world. This has enabledU.S. exports to Latin America to increase at an av-erage annual rate of 21 percent in recent years,twice the rate of those to the European Union. Bythe end of the century, U.S. trade with LatinAmerica will likely exceed trade with Europe.

Moreover, Latin America has achieved strik-ing growth while avoiding ruinous arms races. Ofall regions in the world, it spends the least on de-fense and has the fewest military personnel percapita. Gone also is the notion that resourcesmust be redivided to attain prosperity in the

■ A W O R D F R O M T H E C H A I R M A N

4 JFQ / Spring 1996

(continued from page 1)GEN John M. Shalikashvili, USAPublisher

ADVISORY COMMITTEE

Lt Gen Ervin J. Rokke, USAF ■ National Defense UniversityChairman

BG David A. Armstrong, USA (Ret.) ■ Office of the Chairman

Col John W. Brooks, USAF ■ Air Command and Staff College

Brig Gen Roger E. Carleton, USAF ■ Armed Forces Staff College

MG Richard A. Chilcoat, USA ■ U.S. Army War College

A. Denis Clift ■ Joint Military Intelligence College

Col K.A. Conry, USMC ■ Marine Corps Command and Staff College

MG John S. Cowings, USA ■ Industrial College of the Armed Forces

BG Robert F. Dees, USA ■ The Joint Staff

Col Paul V. Kelly, USMC ■ Marine Corps War College

Lt Gen Walter Kross, USAF ■ The Joint Staff

RADM Michael A. McDevitt, USN ■ National War College

BG David H. Ohle, USA ■ U.S. Army Command and General Staff College

Maj Gen D. Bruce Smith, USAF ■ Air War College

RADM James R. Stark, USN ■ Naval War College

EDITORIAL BOARD

Hans Binnendijk ■ National Defense UniversityChairman

Richard K. Betts ■ Columbia University

COL William D. Bristow, Jr., USA ■ U.S. Army Command and General Staff College

Eliot A. Cohen ■ The Johns Hopkins University

COL Robert A. Doughty, USA ■ U.S. Military Academy

Aaron L. Friedberg ■ Princeton University

Col Robert J. Garner, USMC ■ Armed Forces Staff College

Alan L. Gropman ■ Industrial College of the Armed Forces

Col Douglas N. Hime, USAF ■ Naval War College

Mark H. Jacobsen ■ Marine Corps Command and Staff College

Thomas L. McNaugher ■ The RAND Corporation

William H.J. Manthorpe, Jr. ■ Joint Military Intelligence College

CAPT Rosemary B. Mariner, USN ■ National War College

John J. Mearsheimer ■ The University of Chicago

Col Philip S. Meilinger, USAF ■ Air Command and Staff College

LTG William E. Odom, USA (Ret.) ■ Hudson Institute

James H. Toner ■ Air War College

LtGen Bernard E. Trainor, USMC (Ret.) ■ Harvard University

COL Lawrence B. Wilkerson, USA ■ Marine Corps War College

COL Terry J. Young, USA ■ U.S. Army War College

A PROFESSIONAL MILITARY JOURNAL

Latin America spends the least on defense and has the fewestmilitary personnel per capita

hemisphere. Latin American nations are workingtogether to increase their prosperity, which willswell their economies to $2 trillion by the turn ofthe century.

U.S. cooperation in the search for hemi-spheric security has made admirable progress. Aswe have combined efforts to improve perfor-

mance of our respective armed forces, we alsohave expanded our efforts to suppress narcoticstraffic and conducted multilateral operationsthroughout the hemisphere. As old adversariesfind new democratic partners, combined trainingis becoming commonplace. Ten Latin Americannations are participating today in 13 peacekeep-ing operations around the world, including oneon the border between Ecuador and Peru.

Most notable among the recent peace opera-tions has been Operation Uphold Democracy inHaiti. There, under the banner of the United Na-tions, 24 states, including 12 from Latin Americaand the Caribbean, joined in a well planned op-eration that stabilized this beleaguered nation.The operation represents a high water mark inhemispheric security cooperation. As Secretary ofDefense William Perry noted, “Peacekeeping inthe Americas, in support of conflict resolutionand democracy, is more than a principle—it is areality.”

In 1995, military cooperation in the hemi-sphere reached an all-time high when the defenseministers of 33 nations met to discuss further co-operation. They agreed to support openness andtransparency to lower threat perceptions, subordi-nate militaries to democratically elected regimes,and resolve outstanding disputes through negoti-ations. Because of this conference, cooperation

between our defense forces in support of legallyconstituted roles is at an unprecedented level.

While much has been accomplished, muchremains to be done for hemispheric security. Inparticular, the United States, working with itsneighbors, seeks to:

■ increase cooperation and broaden regional suc-cess against drug traffic, a major threat to U.S. securityand to the economic and social order in many LatinAmerican countries

■ improve controls over immigration within theregion

■ deepen military-to-military contacts and furthermultinational training opportunities

■ restructure the U.S. command and control orga-nization to accommodate conditions in the region, in-cluding the relocation of U.S. Southern Commandheadquarters to Miami in 1997.

While Latin America remains an active part ofthe world community, U.S. military activity there isinexpensive. Given the low level of the threat fromextra-regional powers and the spread of democraticinstitutions, a high level of security has beenachieved within the hemisphere with the UnitedStates contributing only a fraction of a percent of itsdefense budget and less than 5 percent of its world-wide security assistance outlays. Given these facts,as well as U.S. interests and commitments, a strate-gist might conclude that Latin America, though animportant region, is an economy of force area. Thatis true, and with continued emphasis on democ-racy, the free market system, and collective security,it will remain so.

JOHN M. SHALIKASHVILIChairman

of the Joint Chiefs of Staff

Spring 1996 / JFQ 5

S h a l i k a s h v i l i

Grenadian vessel on patrol.

U.S

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uard

6 JFQ / Spring 1996

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

BRIDGING THE GULFTo the Editor—In “The Middle East: Chal-lenges Born of Success” (JFQ, Autumn 95), Ambas-sador Freeman points out the inadequacies in se-curity arrangements among members of the GulfCooperation Council (GCC). Developing these na-tions into a collective security organization shouldbe a top priority of U.S. policy. Providing the sixGCC members with capabilities to clear mines,track submarines, and assist the United States inmaintaining regional security makes sense in mili-tary as well as economic terms.

It allows Washington to help foster a standingcoalition with a common goal of securing the Per-sian Gulf for commerce. U.S. policy in the past hasbeen to support one power in the region, which leftus at the whim of that regime and exposed us topotential Islamic radicalism and various externalthreats. A multinational coalition alleviates thisproblem as the possibility of all the GCC memberssimultaneously suffering internal or external strife isunlikely. And economically, each nation could con-tribute to the cost of collective defensive forces.

It is paramount that we take advantage of thecessation of hostilities to shuttle diplomats and de-fense experts to the Persian Gulf with a strategicplan on which nations in the region can agree.Freeman’s comments on the importance of devel-oping GCC is both timely and pertinent. The nextstep is to make both military and economic cooper-ation among Gulf states a national security issue.

—LT Youssef Aboul-Enein, USNRFleet Surgical Team Six

TO BE AMONG THOSENUMBERSTo the Editor—After scrutinizing the articleentitled “Operation Downfall: The Devil Was in theDetails” by D.M. Giangreco (JFQ, Autumn 95) whichcriticizes my book, The Invasion of Japan: Alterna-tive to the Bomb, I wondered if he had read thesame book I wrote. Giangreco reproaches me forthings I did not say and views I do not hold. His aimand purpose appear to be to pillory my book be-cause it might give aid and comfort to revisionists.A reader might come away from this article believ-ing that my principal intention was to rehash theseemingly interminable debate over casualties andto find low casualty estimates as part of another ef-fort to prove that dropping “the bomb” was unnec-essary. This distorts both my views and purposes inwriting The Invasion of Japan. Let me try to set therecord straight.

While it is impossible to analyze plans to in-vade Japan without discussing casualties, that wasnot my chief purpose. The chapter on casualtiesfills only 10 of 250 pages. While the issue of casu-alties is the most hotly contested subject in the de-bate over the atomic bomb, it is far from the cen-terpiece of my book. Projecting casualties for anoperation that never occurred and that was still inthe planning stages at the end of the war obscuresmore than it reveals. We simply do not know whatthe casualties would have been, and we can neverknow. With that in mind, I set out merely to deter-mine the casualties that were projected by the mili-tary planners. Within those limits, the documentaryrecord is not particularly rich, but the numbers I found were not inconsistent with other major op-erations in Europe and the Pacific. Casualty esti-mates were made only for Olympic, not for Coronet.Furthermore, I found no revisions of casualty esti-mates as a result of the massive enemy buildup insouthern Kyushu in May through July 1945. I foundno original contemporary document that projectedthe kinds of numbers used by Stimson, Churchill,and Truman after the war (aside from the discred-ited “Hoover memorandum”). The absence of largecasualty estimates does not indicate, however, thatthe military planners were unconcerned about ca-sualties. Clearly, a major Japanese buildup insouthern Kyushu revealed by Ultra intercepts inSummer 1945 shook U.S. planners because itpromised to translate into higher U.S. casualties.I do not argue that the planners were unconcernedabout casualties—only that there is no credible evi-dence for the large numbers cited after the war. Ifmy numbers give aid and comfort to the revision-ists, so be it.

I did not set out to write a book that con-formed to a particular interpretation about the endof the Pacific War, nor do I consider myself a revi-sionist. In fact, I differ fundamentally with most ofthe conclusions of the revisionists—especially thebelief that America utilized two atomic bombs on“an already defeated Japan that was desperatelytrying to surrender.” Though this issue is much toocomplex to discuss in detail here, let me say simplythat the massive buildup of Japanese forces insouthern Kyushu in Summer 1945 did not appearto U.S. planners as if Japan was “desperate to sur-render.” Finally, my book looks at the proposed in-vasion of Japan from the perspective of our ownmilitary—a perspective that revisionists havelargely ignored.

I tried in The Invasion of Japan to have thedocuments speak and base conclusions solidly ontheir contents. While readers of Giangreco’s articlewould not know it, the purpose of my book was not

only to examine casualties and connections be-tween the invasion plans and the bombs but to an-swer some intriguing, long-ignored questions. Whydid JCS choose a strategy of invasion? What werethe invasion plans? How were they made? Whatwas to be the role of the Soviets and the British,French, Canadians, and Australians? To what extentdid the invasion plans depend on redeployingforces from Europe? No author can account for theintellectual baggage readers bring to his book. I in-vite Giangreco to reread my work. Perhaps then hewill see more balance in it.

—John Ray Skates

To the Editor—D.M. Giangreco provided aspirited critique of John Ray Skates’s recent book inyour Autumn 95 issue. For my part, I want to re-spond to a few points on pre-invasion thinking andsources as well as the use of the atomic bomb. Gi-angreco states that Marshall, presumably on July25, 1945 at Potsdam, informed President Trumanthat total U.S. casualties for the invasion of Japan“could range from 250,000 to 1,000,000.” Gian-greco also defends the alleged recollection by Tru-man, supposedly based on Marshall’s advice, whichSkates has challenged.

There is direct evidence on this recollectionwhich neither Skates nor Giangreco consulted thatbears directly on the matter: What did Truman rec-ollect, and did Marshall advise him of the possibilityof a million U.S. casualties? The relevant evidencehas been available for over a decade in the files ofthe President’s secretary at the Truman Library.They reveal that the famous January 12, 1953 let-ter by Truman to Air Force historian James Cate(found in volume 5 of The Army Air Force in WorldWar II, pp. 712–13), which is the basis of the “mil-lion” recollection, was not really by the former Pres-ident. In a handwritten reply in late 1952, he toldCate: “[At Potsdam] I asked General Marshall whatit would cost in lives to land on the Tokio plane (sic)and other places in Japan. It was his opinion that1/4 million casualties would be the minimum costas well as an equal number of the enemy. The othermilitary and naval men present agreed.”

In early January 1953 a White House aide,troubled by Truman’s low numbers, decided to in-flate them to bring them in line with a claim by ex-Secretary of War Stimson (published in Harper’s,February 1947) that military advisors before Hi-roshima had estimated a million or more Americancasualties in the invasion of Japan. The aide ac-knowledged that Truman’s initial recollection of aquarter million or more U.S. casualties “soundsmore reasonable than Stimson’s, but in order toavoid conflict [with Stimson’s claim], I have changedthe wording to read that General Marshall expecteda minimum of a quarter of a million casualties andprobably a much greater number—as much as a

Letters . . .

Spring 1996 / JFQ 7

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

million.” That is how and why the final letter, signedby Truman, greatly inflated the numbers to include amillion casualties and therefore is not a reliablesource.

Strangely, Stimson’s postwar claim is unsup-ported by reliable pre-Hiroshima sources that anyscholar has unearthed. Admittedly, PresidentHoover in Spring 1945 did twice suggest very highcasualties, but his numbers were quickly dismissedby Army planners, including notably General GeorgeA. Lincoln, with whom Marshall agreed. On one oc-casion, a physicist suggested very high U.S. casu-alty figures, but there is no evidence that this esti-mate ever reached Stimson or that the physicistwould have been accepted as a credible source onissues which he admitted were beyond his purview.But McGeorge Bundy, Stimson’s ghost writer duringthe period in question, tactfully acknowledged inDanger and Survival (p. 647) that the numbersprobably were inflated: “Defenders of the use of thebomb, Stimson among them, were not always care-ful about numbers of casualties expected.” In short,don’t trust Stimson’s figures.

Importantly, postwar claims by Stimson—both in the Harper’s article and a 1948 memoir, OnActive Service—never included any statement thatMarshall was the source for the million-or-more es-timate. There is substantial indirect evidence—Ad-miral Leahy’s diary for June 18, 1945, Truman’s“Potsdam” diary, and Marshall’s August 7, 1945cable to MacArthur—that Marshall did not makesuch an estimate before Hiroshima. No scholar (in-cluding Marshall biographer Forrest Pogue or theeditor of the Marshall papers, Larry Bland) hasfound any pre-Hiroshima estimate by Marshall thatreaches a million or even a quarter million. Thehighest available number is 63,000. Whether Mar-shall in fact gave Truman any estimate at Potsdamis even unlikely. No contemporary archival sourceprovides direct substantiation. There is oblique evi-dence in Truman’s “Potsdam” diary entry for July25, 1945: “At 10:15 I had General Marshall comein and discuss with me the tactical and political sit-uation. He is a level headed man—so is Mountbat-ten.” Whether the phrase “tactical and political situ-ation” even referred to the forthcoming Olympicoperation (the invasion of Kyushu) is unclear. It may

only refer to the use of the bomb. The evidence issimply inadequate to allow more than a cautioussurmise.

Hence, to conclude as Giangreco does thatMarshall gave Truman advice on July 25 about apossible million U.S. casualties seems highly ques-tionable. The date of any such counsel, even muchlower numbers, is suspect. Moreover, though goingsomewhat beyond Giangreco’s claims, it is unlikelythat Truman ever had a formal meeting at Potsdamwith his top military leaders—Marshall, Leahy,King, and Arnold—on probable casualties or thequestion of using the atomic bomb. None of theavailable diaries (the archival versions) for Potsdam,including those by Leahy, Arnold, and Truman, aswell as those by Stimson and McCloy, mentionssuch a meeting. Only Truman, well after Potsdam,ever claimed that such a meeting occurred.

At one point Giangreco, apparently conflatingcasualty with fatality estimates, claims that Skatesstated Olympic would not have cost more than20,000 casualties. Elsewhere, Giangreco admit-tedly got matters right and notes that Skates fore-saw no more than 60,000–75,000 total U.S. casu-alties, including that upper limit of 20,000 dead, inthe entire Olympic operation.

Giangreco is probably correct, as another re-viewer of Skates’s book has suggested, that thework could have benefitted from a detailed discus-sion of how the author arrived at the estimate of60,000–75,000 casualties. But perhaps such rea-soning, with counterfactual scenarios, appeared tobe both cumbersome and distracting for an opera-tion that never happened. Nevertheless, Skates’ssubstantial explanation of his numbers would havebeen valuable.

In his final sentence, Giangreco mentionspossible U.S. fatalities, contends that even a pre- orpost-Hiroshima estimate of 20,000 would justifythe use of the atomic bomb, and warns against“assuag[ing] the guilt of the revisionists.” One won-ders if he is counting Eisenhower, MacArthur,Leahy, King, Nimitz, and other World War II leadersin the ranks of those “revisionists.”

—Barton J. BernsteinDepartment of HistoryStanford University

SOMALIA LESSONSTo the Editor— I am grateful for the let-

ter from GEN Downing (JFQ, Winter 95-96) clarify-ing the point that SOCOM was not included de jurein the odd command relations which characterizedTF Ranger operations in Somalia (though SOCOMde facto involvement probably awaits the futurejudgment of historians). However, we disagree onthe assertion that the chain of command duringUNOSOM II was somehow justifiable under currentjoint doctrine or the Goldwater-Nichols Act. Thesedoctrinal and legislative authorities make CINCs thefocal points of operational command in order togive them the greatest possible flexibility in match-ing command arrangements with unique missionrequirements. Of course, neither doctrine nor lawcan prevent mistakes, such as the one in whichCENTCOM decided to retain operational control of ajoint force over nine thousand miles away.

The conclusion to draw from that experienceis noted in a UNOSOM II after action report: “Unityof command and simplicity remain the key princi-ples to be considered when designing a JTF com-mand architecture. The warfighting JTF commandermust retain operational control of all forces avail-able to him in theater and to posture those forcesas allowed under UNAAF doctrine.” Even thoughGEN Downing apparently favors a loose form of“coordination and de-confliction,” in my view on-scene command authority should include controlover all assigned forces, including those fromSOCOM. While command relationships may varywith every mission, the JTF commander must al-ways be able to say, “You get off the plane, youwork for me.” Yet until that concept becomes astandard for delegating combatant command au-thority, we will have “lessons identified” rather than“lessons learned.”

—COL C. Kenneth Allard, USAInstitute for National Strategic StudiesNational Defense University

put your pen to paper . . .

JFQ welcomes your letters and comments. Write or FAXyour correspondence to (202) 685–4219/DSN 325–4219,

or over the Internet to [email protected]

8 JFQ / Spring 1996

A N N O U N C E M E N T


ESSAY CONTEST ON THE

REVOLUTION in Military Affairs

To encourage innovative thinking on how theArmed Forces can remain at the forefront inthe conduct of war, JFQ is pleased to

announce the second annual “Essay Contest on theRevolution in Military Affairs” sponsored by theNational Defense University Foundation, Inc.

The contest solicits innovative concepts for oper-ational doctrine and organizations by which theArmed Forces can exploit existing and emergingtechnologies. Again this year, those essays that mostrigorously address one or more of the followingquestions will be considered for a cash award:

▼ The essence of an RMA is found in the magnitude of

change compared with preexisting warfighting capabilities. How

might emerging technologies—and the integration of such

technologies—result in a revolution in conducting warfare in the

coming decades? What will be the key measures of that change?

▼ Exploiting new and emerging technologies is dependent

on the development of innovative operational concepts and

organizational structures. What specific doctrinal concepts and

organizations will be required to fully realize the revolutionary

potential of critical military technologies?

▼ How might an adversary use emerging technologies in

innovative ways to gain significant military leverage against U.S.

systems and doctrine?

Contest PrizesWinners will be awarded prizes of $2,000, $1,000, and$500 for the three best essays. In addition, a special prize of$500 will be awarded for the best essay submitted by an officer candidate or a commissioned officer in the rank ofmajor/lieutenant commander or below (or of equivalent grades). A selection of academic and scholarly booksdealing with various aspects of military affairs and innovation will also be presented to each winner. JFQ

Contest Rules1. Entrants may be military personnel or civilians (from the

public or the private sector) and of any nationality. Essayswritten by individual authors or groups of authors areeligible.

2. Entries must be original and not previously published(nor under consideration for publication elsewhere). Essaysthat originate from work carried out at intermediate andsenior colleges (staff and war colleges), service schools,civilian universities, and other educational institutions areeligible.

3. Entries must not exceed 5,000 words in length and mustbe submitted typewritten, double-spaced, and in triplicate.They should include a wordcount at the end. Documentationmay follow any standard academic form of citation, butendnotes rather than footnotes are preferred.

4. Entries must be submitted with (a) a letter clearlyindicating that the essay is a contest entry together with theauthor’s name, social security account number (or passportnumber in the case of non-U.S. entrants), mailing address,telephone number, and FAX number (if available); (b) a coversheet containing the contestant’s full name and essay title; (c) a summary of the essay which is no more than 200 words;and (d) a brief biographical sketch of the author. Neither thenames of authors nor any personal references should appear inthe text (including running heads).

5. Entries must be mailed to the following address(facsimile copies will not be accepted): RMA Essay Contest,Joint Force Quarterly, ATTN: NDU–NSS–JFQ, Washington, D.C.20319–6000.

6. Entries must be postmarked no later than August 31,1996 to be considered in the contest.

7. JFQ will hold first rights to the publication of all entries.The prize-winning as well as other essays entered may bepublished in the journal.

8. Winners’ names will appear in JFQ and prizes will bepresented at an appropriate ceremony in Washington, D.C.

Spring 1996 / JFQ 9

By D E N N I S J. R E I M E R and R O N A L D R. F O G L E M A N

The Army and Air Force are natural partners in the conduct ofcombat operations on and over land. Since day-to-day opera-tions are intertwined, particularly in areas of service support,we often take this partnership for granted. It was forged duringWorld War II, Korea, Vietnam, and most recently in the GulfWar. The most important teamwork occurs on the battlefield,where our combined capabilities produce a synergistic increasein joint combat power that provides a decisive advantage overan adversary. The Army-Air Force team is robust and forwardlooking, unequalled among the armed forces of the world. We

intend to strengthen that part-nership as we work together inthe future.

General Dennis J. Reimer, USA, and General Ronald R. Fogleman, USAF,are the chiefs of staff of their respective services.

Joint Warfareand theArmy-Air Force Team

JSTARS aircraft andlight ground stationmodules.

Nor

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Cooperation does not imply that we haveidentical views on every issue, nor that we shouldbe combined. Each service optimizes its uniquestrengths. National security depends upon dis-tinct warfighting capabilities on land, at sea, andin the air. Moreover, each service brings separatecore capabilities—the missions they performbest—to the joint table. One lifetime is barely suf-ficient to master every skill needed to fight andlead in one medium of war. Learning to fightjointly in three is a tough business—leveragingunique capabilities, specialties, and individualcompetencies to the warfighting advantage of all.

Such efforts are especially important in a re-source constrained environment. Together we can

selectively apply advancesin technology to compen-sate for the redundanciesthat we have lost throughthe force drawdown. Thisprocess of leveraging oneanother’s strengths buildson current doctrinal foun-dations to evolve a more

mature, complementary perspective of joint oper-ations. The savings will be measurable in bothlives and resources, and ultimately by missionsuccess.

The Persian Gulf War provided a glimpse ofthe dramatic changes in warfare and results ofrapid evolutions in technology. It also demon-strated the tremendous power which the Armyand Air Force could generate by working togetherand with the naval services and coalition part-ners. After an intense air offensive disabled Iraq’skey capacities and reduced its warfighting capa-bility, the ground offensive, supported by maxi-mum tempo air operations, demonstrated the ef-fectiveness of teamwork in defeating an adversaryand minimizing American casualties.

Both of our services gained important in-sights into 21st century military operations fromthe Gulf War; however, there are divergent inter-pretations of that brief conflict. Relations be-tween the Army and Air Force became strained aseach tried to incorporate and capitalize onlessons learned in the Gulf. We recognized doctri-nal disparities and quickly began an effort of co-operative review to ensure our preeminence asthe world’s finest air-land team.

Developing UnderstandingSince the Gulf War, in what has become an

annual event, senior leaders of our respective ser-vices have met to discuss lessons learned as wellas opportunities for improving joint operations.At the Army-Air Force Warfighter Talks in 1994we set up a working group to tackle tough issues.

Chartered by the deputy chiefs of staff for opera-tions and plans of both services, the group tookon the job of identifying and resolving these is-sues. Building on a heritage of teamwork and mu-tual respect, Army and Air Force officers have de-voted months to clarifying matters of commoninterest and finding useful solutions. This has ledto shared understandings, increased trust, andpragmatic agreements. Numerous organizations,including Air Combat Command, U.S. ArmyTraining and Doctrine Command (TRADOC), 1st Battlefield Control Element (BCE) at FortBragg, and 9th and 12th Air Forces, have helpedthe group. After a mid-year review revealed therewere more areas of agreement than disagreementbetween our two services, the working group refo-cused on air and missile defense and on jointcontrol measures.

The first issue centers on controlling air andmissile defense assets not directly assigned tocorps commanders and on theater missile defense(TMD) attack operations in the area of operations(AO) of land component commanders (LCCs).Since CINCs often employ echelon-above-corps(EAC) air and missile defense assets as theater as-sets, the Air Force held that such units should beput under the operational control (OPCON) ofjoint forces air component commanders(JFACCs). As stipulated in joint doctrine, JFACCsare normally area air defense commanders(AADCs) and will usually control all theater airand missile active defense efforts. Likewise, theAir Force saw TMD attack operations—actions tolocate and destroy hostile missile launchers andtheir associated command, control, and support-ing infrastructure regardless of their location—ascounterair efforts under JFACC purview. TheArmy viewed TMD attack operations inside theland AO as an integral part of the LCC scheme ofmaneuver and supporting counterfire operations.

The group also examined joint control mea-sures because of the apparent friction over whichcomponent commanders should plan and controldeep operations beyond fire support coordinationlines (FSCLs). The Air Force considered JFACCs asbest suited to coordinate operations beyondFSCLs, while the Army thought LCCs should planand synchronize fires in the entire land AO.When the working group could not completelyresolve TMD or joint control measures, we agreedto address them in a four-star review at the Army-Air Force Warfighter Talks in December 1995, theresults of which are described below.

Joint DoctrineService concerns arise when areas of responsi-

bility potentially overlap, creating questions overcontrol of combat assets. But on a fluid, dynamicbattlefield joint force commanders (JFCs) cannot

■ A R M Y – A I R F O R C E T E A M

10 JFQ / Spring 1996

relations between the Army and Air Force became strainedas each tried to incorporatelessons learned in the Gulf

JFACC Supported

JFLCC Supported

JFACC Supporting

JFLCC SupportingAmphibious Objective Area

Land AO

Naval AO

JFACC is supported commander for • Overall air interdiction • Counterair operations • Theater airborne reconnaissance, surveillance, and target acquisition • Strategic attack when air provides bulk of capability

Within their respective AOs, land/naval commanders • Are designated supported commanders and are responsible for synchronization of maneuver, fires, and interdiction • Designate target priority, effects, and timing of interdiction operations • Do not typically have responsibility for the entire joint AOR

Some Key Responsibilities.

R e i m e r a n d F o g l e m a n

Spring 1996 / JFQ 11

permit disagreements on issues such as targetingand missile defense to remain unresolved. Regard-less of how complementary our views on joint op-erations might be, specific responsibilities producelegitimate differences among component com-manders. We must minimize the differences andmove toward greater understanding of one an-other’s strengths and limitations.

Each component has area and functional re-sponsibilities as well as custody of the people andresources under its command. These responsibili-ties may intersect when components work to-gether. Thus we must allow flexibility for respon-sibilities to shift during various phases of acampaign and act to minimize mutual interfer-ence and maximize mutual support. What maybe optimum for one component can come at theexpense of others—by decreasing combat poweror increasing risk. Joint doctrine is an excellentstarting point for assisting LCCs and air compo-nent commanders (ACCs) in efforts to resolve anyoverlaps. Together we must learn to tailor air-landsolutions to circumstances, missions, risks, andopportunities at hand.

Commanders normally seek to conduct oper-ations to gain maximum advantage at minimumrisk to their forces. For example, ground com-manders stress counterfire and maneuver opera-tions while air commanders stress strategic attack,counterair, and interdiction; yet all seek to attackdeep targets and enemy air defenses to providemaximum flexibility for their forces. Such opera-tions are not always mutually supportive, espe-cially when resources are scarce.

Interior of JSTARS aircraft.

Joint Publication 3-0, Doctrine for Joint Opera-tions, published in September 1993, offers direc-tion for every element of a joint force. It instructsJFCs, as senior commanders, to provide guidanceand set priorities. Moreover, it establishes the lati-tude required to optimize and fine-tune arrange-ments between land and air forces under various

circumstances. Thispublication serves as acommon baseline forunderstanding both inand among services,and also within ourwarfighting arrange-ment, the unified com-

mand structure. No component should developdoctrine that directly contradicts this validatedbaseline.

Joint doctrine ascribes authority and respon-sibility to JFCs and provides a framework for con-ducting joint operations and designating theroles of supporting and supported commanders.Both services recognize that LCCs are normallysupported commanders in assigned AO bound-aries and ACCs are normally supported comman-ders for theater air operations. Joint doctrine pro-vides flexibility to allow JFCs maximum latitudeto devise the best solution for a mission. If con-flicting priorities arise, JFCs will determine theprecedence of priorities. However, a solid basis oftrust between component commanders will go along way towards alleviating potential problems.

Key to SuccessCoordination among components is critical

on the battlefield. One of the best methods forensuring proper coordination of operations issound command and control (C2). Modern war-fare requires us to increasingly share real-time,common views of the battlefield. We must under-stand overlapping as well as occasionally inter-secting needs of component commanders, recon-ciling their different views with improved riskmanagement techniques. The commanders haveoptimum tools in their staffs and headquarters toconduct detailed planning and execute missions.Moreover, they liaise with other components tofacilitate both the flow of information and timelydecisions. Senior liaison elements are importantin sharing the broad concerns of componentcommanders.

BCE is a critical Army element attached tothe senior command and control agency withinthe Air Force, the Air Operations Center (AOC).Similarly, the Air Force provides Tactical Air Con-trol Party (TACP) representatives at key Armyheadquarters. BCE and TACP should be fullystaffed with highly trained personnel to supportcomponent commanders. Senior members of

both agencies must understand the intent ofcommanders as well as provide timely, informeddecisions.

As partners in the air-land team, mutual un-derstanding of command relationships must bestrong and clear. Just as Generals George S. Pattonand O.P. Weyland, the respective commanders of III Army and 19th TAC in World War II, recognizedthe need for a strong C2 relationship between landand air components, we are committed to smooth,seamless operations throughout the theater.

Areas of ConcernUsing the efforts of the working group as a

point of departure, the senior leadership of ourservices prepared five agenda items for discussionlast December: the role of the Joint Targeting Co-ordination Board (JTCB), joint control measures,command and control arrangements for air andmissile defense, offensive counter-air and TMDattack operations, and dual hatting of JFCs. Manyof these issues overlap and some may never be re-solved. But when possible, candor will pave theway for greater understanding. In addition, wecovered tangential areas that impact our overallrelations on the battlefield. Further advances inconnectivity, coordination, and perception of sis-ter service doctrine will decrease differences andincrease mutual trust.

Joint Targeting Coordination Board. The JTCBconcept has been controversial since the GulfWar. The Air Force held that the board would hin-der operations, while the Army contended that itwas necessary to establish targeting priorities.Joint Pub 3-0 codifies JTCB without going intogreat detail. JFCs typically create JTCBs and de-fine their roles. The services accept the vision ofJTCB, but we agree it must be focused at a macrolevel. JTCB as a planning support function assistscomponents in following the intent of JFCs in ex-ecuting operations by preparing targeting guid-ance, refining joint target lists, and reviewing tar-get information. The board must maintain acampaign-level perspective and should not be in-volved at levels best left to the component com-manders, such as selecting specific targets andaimpoints or developing attack packages.

Joint Control Measures. The heart of this doc-trinal discussion concerns operations beyondFSCLs but within the land force AO. Since bothcommanders seek to maximize results in this areaconsistent with their intent to shape the battle-space, it represents the greatest overlap of landand air objectives. The land component’s capabil-ity to exploit deep attacks before an enemy can



as partners in the air-land team,we are committed to smooth,seamless operations throughoutthe theater



adjust to them will vary with depth, terrain, resis-tance, and resources. Air component capabilitieswill vary less with distance, but since air forcesoperate beyond FSCLs on a normal, continualbasis, ACCs must also manage risks to theirforces. Coordination and deconfliction are essen-tial to reducing duplication, conserving resources,maximizing results, and managing risks in thisarea. Managing risks requires careful design andtuning of control measures and authority to min-imize restrictions on all forces and maximizecombat power. JFCs will normally establish for-ward AO boundaries and adjust as necessary tobalance the needs of LCCs to rapidly maneuverwith the needs of ACCs to rapidly mass and em-ploy airpower with minimal constraints.

Between FSCL and AO forward boundaries,LCCs are supported commanders and must coor-dinate operations with ACCs when possible. LCCsshould judiciously use control measures such asFSCLs to facilitate attack operations. ACCs shouldcoordinate attacks inside the land AO to comple-ment support of both the needs of LCCs and theoverall theater campaign plans of JFCs. Improvedfriendly and enemy situational awareness, rapidinformation sharing, expertise in BCE and TACP,

and more advanced tactics, techniques, and proce-dures (TTP) will also improve mutual support be-tween the land and air components.

Whenever we discuss targeting the placementof FSCL inevitably comes up. Joint doctrine grantsLCCs authority to place this line anywhere withintheir AO. To maximize the effectiveness of bothland and air forces, LCCs should coordinate theplacement of this line with ACCs to ensure maxi-mum coverage of all enemy targets with availableassets. It is incumbent on each component com-mander to establish a level of mutual trust withthe other commanders to make this relationshipwork. ACCs must provide LCCs making FSCL de-cisions with relevant facts that will help them, butmust trust LCCs to place FSCLs in the best loca-tion to support the objectives of JFCs.

Air and Missile Defense. Coordination of firesnaturally leads to this next area of concern. Thisissue centers on the degree of control the area airdefense commander should have over EAC air de-fense assets. The Air Force holds that JFACCs—who are normally designated as AADCs—are sup-ported commanders for overall theater air and

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missile defense and should exercise OPCON overair defense units unassociated with a corps. TheArmy is reluctant to release such control over itsorganic EAC air defense assets.

While no one disputes the right of each unitto self defense, we must balance that right withthe need for close coordination of fires againstenemy threats beyond FSCLs to prevent fratricide.Since JFACCs will be operating forces in this areafor counterair, interdiction, strategic attack, andsurveillance and reconnaissance, coordination

and deconfliction are cru-cial. Both services agreethat while corps comman-ders will retain OPCONover their organic air de-fense units, AADCs as sup-ported commanders will es-

tablish rules of engagement and assign air defensemissions for EAC assets. LCCs must communicatetheir desires but trust AADCs to make the correctdecisions.

The Army and Air Force have made greatstrides in target identification, attack cueing, andresponsiveness since the Gulf War, and more im-provements are on the horizon. The threat posedby weapons of mass destruction emphasizes theneed to share information, tailor countermissiledispositions and response postures, and work to-gether to create the greatest possible risk toenemy missiles. LCCs must communicate theirneeds to JFACCs/AADCs in developing air andmissile defense plans. This close coordination isessential to ensure timely and correct decisions.

TMD Attack Operations. Closely tied to airand missile defense are TMD attack operations.While the Air Force believes TMD is part of thecounterair effort requiring theater-wide integra-tion, the Army holds that these operations arebroader in scope and considers existing fire sup-port as the most responsive for attacking enemymissiles in an LCC’s AO. Regardless of opinions,common sense dictates that between FSCL andthe AO forward boundary, LCCs and ACCs mustcoordinate TMD attack operations to maximizeeffects and minimize fratricide. There will betimes when an airborne asset provides a moretimely response to pop-up targets than a corpscommander’s assets. At other times a corps mayhave the appropriate weapon. The Air Force isconsidering increasing the amount of “on-call”assets available for TMD attack operations. Withimproved connectivity, coordination and ap-proval will become easier. Until that time, current

doctrine provides JFCs with the flexibility to de-velop the necessary C2 arrangements based on thesituation in theater.

Dual Hatting. Political and operational pres-sures on JFCs were the crux of the dual-hattingissue. Because dual hatting a corps commander asa division commander or a numbered air forcecommander as a wing commander would be ir-regular, the Air Force contended that a dual-hat-ted JFC or CINC would also be irregular, resultingin a possible loss of focus on theater or compo-nent details. During our discussions, senior Armyleaders acknowledged that this could occur, butthe likelihood is low. Dual hatting must be han-dled on a case-by-case basis. CINCs must deter-mine, subject to the approval by the Secretary ofDefense, whether to simultaneously retain com-mand of an entire operation as JFC and a compo-nent—land, maritime, or air—or to designate an-other senior leader as component commander.This is in line with joint doctrine. Situation-spe-cific political or operational considerations willinfluence JFC decisions to retain leadership of aspecific functional component in addition to theoverall JFC role.

Looking to the FutureIn addition to those issues discussed at the

Warfighter Talks, there are many areas in whichinterservice cooperation has made great strides.While the Army-Air Force working group offersan avenue to pursue such developments, otherorganizations including TRADOC and ACC, Armyfire support elements, and various Air Force wingsand numbered air forces are constantly striving toenhance Army-Air Force team operations.

To improve TTP, the services have been de-veloping a multiservice targeting TTP under theAir, Land, Sea Application Center (ALSA). Com-mon TTP will allow component commanders toknow how other components operate. Commonprocedures, as well as improved C4I, will help en-sure proper prioritization, deconfliction, and at-tack of targets.

There has also been an extensive effort toimprove connectivity in combat identificationand tracking. Tests conducted by the All ServiceCombat Identification Evaluation Team (ASCIET)in Gulfport, Mississippi, in September 1995 iden-tified specific areas which needed attention. Wemust develop both the hardware and processes topass real-time combat identification data amongelements of all services to reduce the possibilitiesof air-to-surface, surface-to-air, and air-to-air frat-ricide. Although the work of ASCIET has justbegun, its contributions will receive careful atten-tion because we stand to gain much from its suc-cesses in the area of combat risk management.The Army and Air Force plan to incorporate



political and operational pressures on JFCs were the crux of the dual-hatting issue



ASCIET into the next Roving Sands and Blue Flagair-land combat exercises.

Integration of this information with evolvingcapabilities such as the joint surveillance and tar-get attack radar system (JSTARS) and unmannedautonomous vehicles will provide commanderswith improved battlefield information. Real-timeimagery is a step towards the information domi-nance that we are striving for.

We are making significant progress in in-creasing connectivity between Army and AirForce planning and fire control elements. Theseinitiatives have the potential to greatly increasethe ability to share and deconflict data on emerg-ing targets in real time. Ongoing work to link theAir Force contingency theater automated plan-ning system (CTAPS) and Army advanced field ar-tillery tactical data system (AFATDS) will ensureour forces put the right weapon on the right tar-get at the right time, increasing effective fire-power while reducing waste and delay. Connec-tivity between air and missile defenses (such asthe Army TMD Force Projection Tactical Opera-tions Center and the Air Force combat integrationcapability) also helps to rapidly deconflict air andsurface targets. This is increasingly important asweapons and threats change and a commander’sreaction time decreases.

The Army-Air Force Warfighter Talks, as wellas working group and interservice efforts, areeach small steps towards greater understandingbetween our services. Improving connectivity,strengthening command relationships, and devel-oping trust are key elements in ensuring theArmy and Air Force remain the premier air-landteam. We have witnessed numerous advance-ments over the past year that increase a comman-der’s awareness of the battlefield. By the turn of

the century, through interservice initiatives andsystems like JSTARS, our commanders shouldenjoy increased interoperability and a more com-plete view of the battlefield. Both technologicalenhancements and sound joint doctrine are es-sential in strengthening ties between our services.But great technology and good doctrine alone areinsufficient. Without trust and mutual under-standing, an enemy could exploit our weaknessesand possibly defeat us.

Trust is based on insight and familiarity,knowing who will do the right thing in theproper way. A soldier’s expectation of airpowermust be based on the realization that airmenhave theater-wide perspectives and responsibili-ties. An airman must appreciate the vital role ofairpower in land combat and understand that airflown in support of LCCs must complement theplans of LCCs. The Army and Air Force dependupon and leverage the capabilities of one anotherto be decisive in battle. Our separate strengths, aswell as differences, will ensure that we remain anair-land team without equal. In fact, no othermilitary will even come close. JFQ

Destroyed Iraqi fighter.

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The trend toward “third wave warfare”(namely, de-massing and customizingforces and weapons) and creation of adigitized battlefield has been widely

discussed within the Army. And although doctri-nal and organizational implications must be fi-nalized, it is clear that smaller, more dispersedforces as well as joint and combined capabilitieswill be hallmarks of future operations. Further-more, command and control (C2) systems thatsupport JFCs must provide horizontal and verticalinteroperability and be able to exchange situa-tional awareness information across the force.

This also is true of fire support—that is, can-nons, rockets, missiles, mortars, naval guns, andbombs—which provide lethal, flexible, and deci-sive assets to JFCs in prosecuting the battle.While fire support has long been characterized bymassed fires such as artillery barrages or carpet

bombing, it is becoming more identified with ac-curate sensors, weapons systems, and munitions.

A Joint ResourceAdvances in weaponry and targeting have

increased the burden of managing fire supportoperations, always a complex and exactingprocess. This difficulty, however, is being lessenedgreatly by automation. The Army advanced fieldartillery tactical data system (AFATDS) is about tomake its third wave warfare debut. This state-of-the-art system supports the need for horizontaland vertical interoperability, distribution of situa-tional awareness information, and automation inthe process of matching fire support weapons sys-tems against high-payoff targets.

From the field artillery digital automatedcomputer of the 1960s to the tactical fire directionsystem (TACFIRE) of the 1980s and the initial firesupport automated system of today, the field ar-tillery community has been in the forefront in au-tomated support for commanders in combat.AFATDS developers have drawn on experiencefrom earlier systems—coupled with requirements

■


Colonel Steven W. Boutelle, USA, is project manager for Field ArtilleryTactical Data Systems and Lieutenant Colonel Ronald Filak, USA (Ret.), is a member of Computer Sciences Corporation.

AFATDS: The Fire Support Window to the 21st CenturyBy S T E V E N W. B O U T E L L E and R O N A L D F I L A K

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analysis and ongoing feedback from soldiers andmarines in the field and advanced warfighting ex-periments—to develop a C2 system responsive to acommander’s needs by supporting:

■ the integration of all fire support assets into theplanning and execution of support for the maneuvercommander’s operation

■ the application of commander’s guidance to pri-oritize targets, enabling fire support assets to be directedat the most relevant and important enemy assets

■ the automated exchange of digitized target in-formation and situational awareness with other unitsthroughout the joint force.

While AFATDS was originally an Army sys-tem, it is now joint and under development bythe Army for its own requirements and those ofthe Marine Corps. A major portion of version 2

development incorporatesMarine-unique require-ments. Furthermore, pre-liminary discussions are un-derway on the applicabilityof the “core software en-gine” of AFATDS to the firesupport roles of the Air

Force and Navy. This article discusses operational,technical, and interoperability features of AFATDSthat provide JFCs and fire support coordinators(FSCOORDs) with these capabilities.

OperationalWith AFATDS, the Armed Forces and fire sup-

port community are taking a quantum leap in theability to provide timely help for conducting firesupport operations in aid of a single service or JFC.The operational capability of AFATDS is made upof 27 major functional capabilities in five func-tional categories. The breadth of fire support func-tionality and horizontal interoperability ofAFATDS make it the most comprehensive informa-tion warfare combat system available. The fire sup-port planning function provides FSCOORDs withseveral key capabilities.

First, since the concepts of operation andguidance are entered into its database, AFATDScan assist in performing course of action analysison alternative battle plans. Operators can adjustany combination of variables to identify the im-pact of the changes on the ability of fire supportto sustain a commander’s plans. The same degreeof flexibility allows for the application of analysisagainst several options proposed by JFCs to deter-mine which plan is most supportable from a firesupport perspective. AFATDS performs this analy-sis using information on all types of available firesupport: air attack (including attack helicopterand fixed-wing close air support), naval gunfire,mortars and offensive electronic warfare, as well

as field artillery assets (cannons, rockets, and mis-siles). This automated analysis process also en-ables a fire support commander to automaticallygenerate and digitally distribute fire support an-nexes and plans.

Second, the exchange of situational aware-ness information allows AFATDS to constantlyprovide up-to-date graphic depictions of battle-field information. This provides commanderstimely information with which to formulate oradjust guidance while eliminating the need totransport and post (via grease pencils and tape)bulky situation maps.

Target AcquisitionSince it is interoperable with a variety of C2

systems, AFATDS provides commanders withmajor advances in the ability to see the battlefieldand plan future operations. Intelligence collec-tion systems can develop large amounts of dataon potential targets throughout a battlefield.AFATDS provides commanders interoperabilitywith the all source analysis system (ASAS), an au-tomated Army C2 system used by the intelli-gence/electronic warfare community. ASAS, inturn, provides access to targeting information viaTrojan Spirit and tactical intelligence collectionsystems. Trojan Spirit offers a communicationsgateway to national intelligence databases andmultiservice tactical intelligence systems includ-ing material from the Central IntelligenceAgency, Defense Intelligence Agency, and Na-tional Security Agency, as well as tactical targetdata from systems such as the joint surveillancetarget attack radar system (JSTARS), the Guardrailand Rivet Joint electronic intelligence collectionsystems, and the Air Force tactical reconnaissanceaircraft (see figure on next page).

PlanningAt the same time weapon systems are be-

coming more capable of attacking identified tar-gets with pin-point accuracy. It may no longer benecessary to launch a wave of bombers or massan attack by tube artillery to take out a criticaltarget. Instead, planners—through the AFATDS–ASAS interoperability capability—can open thedoor to a storehouse of available targeting infor-mation and use automated target analysis andtarget attack capability from AFATDS to matchweapons assets against selected targets. If a situa-tion warrants—against tactical missiles such asScuds—this can be done in seconds and withouthuman intervention.

While providing access to this vast array ofinformation, AFATDS also uses distribution crite-ria and graphic overlay filters to ensure that users

the Armed Forces are taking a quantum leap in conductingfire support operations in aid of a single service or JFC

�

MLRS (ATACMS-Equipped)

MLRS FIRE DIRECTION

CENTER

MLRS

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TR-1

GROUND STATION MODULE

TROJAN SPIRIT

ASASAFATDS

GROUND PROCESSING

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NATIONAL ASSETS

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National, Strategic, and Tactical Sensors Linked to Fire Support Weapons Systems.

receive only needed information. Operator con-trolled distribution lists filter the informationwhich is conveyed by AFATDS to its subordinatestations. For example, an AFATDS operator canestablish distribution criteria for remote stationsthat will provide only information of importance.

Although vast amounts of information residein the AFATDS computer, map, and overlay tools,human interfaces have been designed so that op-

erators can selectively screeninformation. Examples in-clude multiple tactical over-lays with varying parametersas well as the ability to controlthe area depicted by scrollingand zooming to portray differ-ent information. Both opera-

tors and commanders can select the informationand area they want to view. Moreover, potentialtargets can be portrayed graphically and, at anoperator’s discretion, additional information ontargets can be viewed by clicking on an icon andreviewing database entries.

The AFATDS database contains data which isrelevant to all levels of command. However, theinformation routinely portrayed at a field artilleryor maneuver battalion level likely differs fromthat portrayed at division or corps level. AFATDSaddresses this situation by providing operatorswith the ability to establish parameters on thescope (breadth of information) and granularity(depth of information) that is routinely pre-sented. By monitoring activities down two levels,

AFATDS operators in a corps fire support element(FSE) normally observe status down to the battal-ion level. However, the AFATDS database has in-formation on firing platoons and batteries thatconstitute each battalion. This data is successively“rolled up” to develop status on the battalion.Corps FSE operators can institute a parameterthat tells the computer to distill the informationon subordinate units and report status at battal-ion level. (Concurrently, counterparts at divisionFSE or division artillery level can establish para-meters, with the same database, at battery or fir-ing platoon level.) Corps FSE operators canchange a parameter to allow insight into specificinformation that applies to any of the firing pla-toons within a given area.

The fire support execution portion ofAFATDS implements many functions which havenot been previously automated. In providing au-tomated target analysis—ensuring that the righttarget is engaged at the right time by the rightweapon/ammunition mix—AFATDS offers majorincreases in speed fire mission processing. (Perfor-mance tests indicate that AFATDS processes mis-sions in 10 to 50 percent of the time for Armytraining standards.) Fire support execution fea-tures include:

■ elimination of “first in, first out” processing andengaging of targets: target management matrix andhigh payoff target list tools provide for sensor inputs tobe matched against concept of the operation and firesupport guidance to move important targets to thefront of the queue

■ a database of unit information, extant battle-field geometry, and fire support coordination measuresto verify that target engagement complies with restric-tions and guidance criteria

■ software that automatically assesses the capabil-ities of each available type of fire support weapon sys-tem: weapon status, ammunition effectiveness andavailability, commander’s guidance (such as limits onselected units to conserve ammunition), and factorswhich determine the optimal means of engaging a tar-get and generating an “order to fire” for selected unitsto engage.

AFATDS is designed to provide JFCs, FSCOORDs,and system operators with flexibility in responding toemerging needs. Each of its features is directly con-trolled by operator inputs. In all cases, operators havethe option of inputting parameters that identify thepoints and conditions at which human interventionand decisions are required to continue the process.This allows JFCs or their representatives to centrallycontrol fires by approving each mission or, con-versely, to provide more decentralized execution byenabling missions that meet certain criteria to auto-matically be forwarded without human intervention.

■ F I R E S U P P O R T W I N D O W


AFATDS allows JFCs or theirrepresentatives to centrallycontrol fires by approvingeach mission



The remaining AFATDS functions are move-ment control, field artillery mission support, andfield artillery fire direction operations. Movementcontrol provides the ability to request and coordi-nate convoy movements while the field artillerymission support furnishes logistical backing. Fieldartillery fire direction operations bolster the firesupport execution function by maintaining the sta-tus of weaponry, ammunition, and unit capability,and by making technical fire direction calculations.

Technical ConceptsAFATDS will ultimately become a part of the

Army battle command system (ABCS), an over-arching scheme conceived as the keystone of adigitized battlefield. When developed, it will fur-nish seamless connectivity from the tactical(squad/platoon) to strategic level (national com-mand authorities), ensuring an integrated digitalinformation network to support warfighting sys-tems and C2 decision-cycle superiority. This sys-tem will be realized by a migration of systems—including the current Army tactical commandand control system (ATCCS)—using both an evo-lutionary and transitional process.

Today, AFATDS is one of five battlefield func-tional area (BFA) control systems that make upATCCS. As with all ATCCS BFA control systems,AFATDS makes use of ATCCS common hardwareand software. Under this concept, a project man-ager provides the ATCCS component systemswith a suite of common computers and periph-eral devices on which to host their respectiveBFA-specific applications software. The projectmanager for common hardware and software alsoprovides common support software for basic

functions (such as operating system, graphicaluser interface, and communications manage-ment) as well as modules for common applica-tions (such as terrain evaluation). This supportsoftware is being upgraded to meet joint stan-dards for a common operating environment withautomated information systems to increase inter-operability. This will help assure that comman-ders or their staffs can, from any terminal, accessthe common picture of the battlefield and com-municate with other operational facilities, regard-less of service.

Fire support-specific software has been inte-grated with ATCCS hardware and software toform AFATDS. Fire support software is modular,user friendly, and can be tailored. In addition, itincludes an embedded training module. Thewhole package is integrated in wheeled andtracked shelters developed under the ATCCS stan-dard integrated command post system program.Shelters have one, two, or three AFATDS worksta-tions, depending on mission requirements.

Throughout the development process, thehardware platform housing AFATDS has beenconsistently upgraded to state of the art. Initialfielding of AFATDS will be on a Hewlett-Packard735 reduced instruction set computing machine;subsequent fielding will be on a Sun Sparc dualprocessor terminal. These configurations offer atremendous computing potential for meeting thechallenges of the dispersed Force XXI battlefield.

The operational fire support requirementswere thorough and accurate. The nature of thethreat, doctrine, force structure, missions, andtechnology have dramatically changed since ini-tial development in the mid-1980s. With thesechanges has come the need for AFATDS to evolveto address future requirements. This has beendone through involving AFATDS in training exer-cises and advanced warfighting experiments.

AFATDS was designed to operate with allstandard Army tactical communications systems.Within an operational facility, AFATDS terminalsshare data using an internal local area network.In a maneuver command post, AFATDS ex-changes information with other components ofATCCS using local area network. For communica-tions between command posts, AFATDS transmitsand receives information on the single channelground and airborne radio system, enhanced po-sition location reporting system, and mobile sub-scriber equipment packet network. Operatingwith these systems gives AFATDS a high degree offlexibility in satisfying its communications needs.

The challenge of minimizing bandwidthusage has also been met. For AFATDS–AFATDScommunication, transfer syntax is employed toupdate the databases of remote stations. Underthis technique, all data items are time-stamped

Battle command vehicle with ASAS.

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and only those which have changed since the lastupdate are sent. For communication with non-AFATDS stations, the variable message format(VMF) is used in lieu of the U.S. message text for-mat (USMTF). Studies indicate that VMF messagesyield bandwidth utilization savings of 50 percentover the USMTF format.

The technical design of AFATDS meets Armygoals for commonality and interoperability andfully promotes fire support mission requirements.

InteroperabilityAFATDS is designed to be interoperable with

various systems and subsystems and to exchangeinformation with other ATCCS elements, namely,

the maneuver control system,combat service support controlsystem, and forward area air de-fense command and control sys-tem, in addition to ASAS. This in-cludes utilizing messages thatconform to USMTF and jointVMF standards, and databasetransfer processes which employdistributed computing environ-

ment and data distribution services software.Using messages that conform to the TACFIRE

or VMF standard, AFATDS can exchange informa-tion in the fire support community, including firedirection for the multiple launch rocket system(MLRS), cannon battery computer system, and

JSTARS ground station module. With messages thatobserve a four-nation common technical interfacedesign plan, AFATDS is interoperable with British,French, and German automated fire support C2 sys-tems. The design plan was framed by these nationsunder the auspices of the artillery systems coopera-tion activities program. The basis of the technicalinterface is a common tactical concept documentalso developed under the program. The commontactical concept emphasizes a commitment to en-suring that all four nations are able to conduct firesupport operations on a combined basis.

Using messages conforming to the TACFIREand VMF message standards, AFATDS can ex-change information with emerging systems suchas the combat vehicle command and control sys-tem. In the future AFATDS will interoperate di-rectly with overhead sensor systems via the com-manders’ tactical terminal (until that capability isprovided, AFATDS will get that informationthrough ASAS).

Program OutlineAFATDS development is a phased effort. The

first phase will yield AFATDS version 1 softwarethat automates half of the Army’s fire support op-erational requirements. The next phase is dividedinto subphases and will result in AFATDS version2.0 and 2.1 software. Operationally, version 2.0software is focused on satisfying requirements es-tablished by the Marine Corps while version 2.1will automate additional Army requirements.While satisfying service-unique needs, this sec-

■ F I R E S U P P O R T W I N D O W


AFATDS V2 will include automation processes related to requesting and executing close air support missions

JSTARS aircraft.

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ond phase will also incorporate major additionalsoftware modules to enhance the ability ofAFATDS to participate in joint operations.

The inclusion of unified-build software—theheart of the joint global command and controlsystem—provides software compatibility at thejoint level for 19 fundamental computer proc-esses ranging from network administration todatabase management. Aided by the further useof a standard application program, this will helpto direct AFATDS towards the ultimate goal of fullinteroperability with the automated systems of allservices.

As a result of ongoing work by the Naval Re-search and Development Center in San Diego,AFATDS V2 capabilities will include automationof processes related to requesting and executingclose air support (CAS) and battlefield air inter-diction (BAI) missions. This capability will easethe daily coordination and planning of fires withthe facility to electronically transmit preplannedand immediate air support requests to the AirForce contingency tactical automated planningsystem (CTAPS). AFATDS will also be able to re-ceive confirmation of preplanned CAS missionsvia the CTAPS-produced air tasking order (ATO).The operator can parse, store, and display ATOdata by sortie type (such as CAS, BAI, or searchand rescue) and incorporate sortie data for ATOsin the process of deconflicting air attack missionsfrom cannon, rocket, and missile activity.

The final phase (version 3) will lead to theproduction of the AFATDS objective system. Thisphase will automate remaining operational firesupport requirements and incorporate technicalfire direction functionality currently resident inthe battery computer system (for cannon opera-tions) and the fire direction system (for rocketand missile operations).

AFATDS version 1 software underwent initialoperational testing and evaluation in August1995 and a Milestone III production decision wasmade by the Army System Acquisition ReviewCouncil (ASARC) in December 1995. The 1st Cav-alry Division, as an operational test unit, hasAFATDS Beta software and will become the firstorganization in the field to receive version 1.After ASARC III, it was fielded to elements of the4th Infantry Division comprising the EXFOR (TaskForce XXI).

EmploymentTo ensure that the design meets the require-

ments of warfighters, AFATDS has been placedwith units and taken part in advanced warfight-ing experiments. The 1st Cavalry Division re-ceived the system in July 1993 and has taken it

through force development test and experimenta-tion, field and command post exercises, and rota-tions at the National Training Center. Moreover,the division used AFATDS in Kuwait from Augustto October 1995 during Exercise Intrinsic Action.Feedback has led to improved human interfaceand selected operational characteristics.

In Germany, V Corps headquarters employedAFATDS during Atlantic Resolve in 1994. As a di-rect result, implementation of a deep strike sup-port capability, first scheduled for version 3, wasaccelerated, and AFATDS currently can supportemerging operational requirements such as attackon hostile tactical missile launchers.

AFATDS is the fire support command, con-trol, and coordination system of choice for thefollowing advanced warfighting experiments:Prairie Warrior (Fort Leavenworth), Warrior Focus(a Joint Readiness Training Center experiment atFort Polk with the 10th Mountain Division), and atheater missile defense experiment at Fort Blissduring Roving Sands. Each advanced warfightingexperiment allowed AFTADS developers to refinefunctional and interoperability capabilities.

More recently, AFTADS was used during CJTFExercise (CJTFEX) ’96 which involved more than53,000 British and U.S. personnel in the southeast-ern United States and along the eastern seaboard.

The Task Force XXI advanced warfighting ex-periment slated for February 1997 will be the firstevent designed to survey the Army digitizationconcept on a wide scale. A brigade-plus of the 4th Infantry Division will be outfitted with com-puters and force management software. AFATDSwill be fielded to two dozen operational facilitiesthat deploy with the maneuver forces (includingFSEs, officer vehicles, and combat observation-liaision teams) and ten operational facilities thatare designated to support field artillery operations(including battalion and platoon fire directioncenters and field artillery battalion commanders,S–2s, and S–3s). The software delivered has beenmodified for the VMF message set designed forTask Force XXI operations.

AFATDS is an automated tool that will assistboth JFCs and FSCOORDs in managing and as-sessing large amounts of available informationand making effective use of forces and weapons.In meeting the operational needs of today,AFATDS offers the flexibility to support the evolv-ing requirements of Force XXI doctrine and thirdwave warfare. JFQ

Theater air defense is one of the Navy’s fundamental and en-during missions. It evolved both technically and tactically fol-lowing World War II to counter the threat to friendly forcesposed by manned aircraft, anti-ship missiles, sea-skimmingcruise missiles, and tactical ballistic missiles. The ability toquickly develop and maintain an accurate air surveillance pic-ture, coordinate defense-in-depth with available air defenseforces, and provide a high firepower response have been criti-cal to naval operations for over fifty years.

22

A PRIMER ONNaval Theater Air DefenseBy A L A N G. M A I O R A N O, N E V I N P. C A R R, J R., and T R E V O R J. B E N D E R

M a i o r a n o e t a l .


Commander Alan G. Maiorano, USN, is the prospective commanding officer of USS Vincennes; Commander Nevin P. Carr, Jr., USN, is Aegis requirements officer in the Office of the Chief of Naval Operations; and Trevor J. Bender is an analyst with Logicon-Syscon, Inc.

Evolution Based on ExperienceIn the 1920s, General Billy Mitchell intro-

duced a new threat by sinking a target battleship,thereby demonstrating the vulnerability of shipsto air attack. Early naval air defenses relied uponmassive, uncoordinated fire from anti-aircraft ar-tillery such as 20mm, 40mm, three-inch, andfive-inch guns. In those days, the battlespace ex-tended only to the visual horizon, normally lessthan 15 miles. Air defense was made up of a seriesof local anti-air battles fought close aboard,strictly in self defense. Ships counted on visualsightings and primitive, inaccurate voice commu-nication. Subsequent advances in precision aerialbombing and torpedo bombing during WorldWar II posed severe threats which demanded de-fensive capabilities.

Deploying air search radar on naval shipsdramatically altered the air defense environment.Long-range detection of the enemy enabled car-rier-based fighters to attrite incoming raids anumber of miles from the target task force. Earlydetection of distant raids provided defendingships with critical reaction time to initiate limitedcoordination of fire among friendly units underattack. Early detection and advance warning wereessential to effective air defenses when kamikazesappeared in 1944 as the first true guided missiles.Tactics evolved quickly, including tightly groupeddefensive ship formations and picket ships forearly warning. Although primitive by currentstandards, the concept of effective, coordinateddefense-in-depth took shape. But tactics were lim-ited by stand-alone equipment, intermittentvoice radio communications, primitive analogfire control computers, the inability to rapidly ex-change accurate target position data, and the lackof a long range weapon. The war ended before aneffective anti-aircraft defense was deployed.Nonetheless, the lethality of kamikazes revealed

In the 1970s and 1980s, system develop-ment, tactics, and training were largely driven bythe threat of massed Soviet missile attacks far atsea from long-range bombers, missile ships, andsubmarines. The decline of the Soviet threat andsimultaneous proliferation of offensive weaponryto littoral states prompted a reevaluation of theNavy’s contributions to the new world order. Firstoutlined in . . . From the Sea, and updated in For-ward . . . From the Sea, the focus of the Navy hasshifted from an open-ocean threat to near-land

operations against in-creasingly capable re-gional powers. Nowthe global maritimethreat has been re-placed by regionalchallenges that are

equally as demanding for theater air defenseforces. This change in focus has altered the pri-mary naval air defense mission from a blue-water,open-ocean defense to a more offensive extensionof naval air defenses overland. Naval theater airdefense objectives are clear:

■ initiate and maintain control of airspace earlyin a crisis or conflict

■ permit safe entry of follow-on U.S. and alliedforces into a theater of operations

■ protect and support forces and facilities ashore.

Navy air defense capability is built on a solidfoundation of leadership in combat systems inte-gration, experience in combined arms warfare,and decentralized command and control. Theseare the key strengths on which to build a theaterair defense capability in the 21st century.

kamikazes revealed shortfalls in air defenses and ushered in an eraof systems development

b USS Bunker Hillfiring missile from vertical launching system.U.S. Navy

Kamikaze attack onUSS Bunker Hill off Okinawa, 1945.

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Air ForceSurveillance Warning Control

JTIDS

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NavyArmy

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Patriot / THAAD

Weapons Control Sensor Netting

Theater Wide

HAWK

JFC Headquarters

• Theater CINC flexibility

• Seamless information transfer

• Interoperability with services / allies

• Weapon coordination

• Near real-time information

• Situational awareness

Theater Air Defense Joint Architecture

shortfalls in air defenses and ushered in an era ofsystems development.

The advent of unmanned missiles and long-range Soviet bombers led the Navy to develop de-fensive weapons and enhance ship-to-ship coor-dination. Transitioning from attacking aircraft tofaster, smaller anti-ship missiles required culturalas well as technological changes in warfighting.Paradigms of air defense based on lookouts andshipboard guns were scrapped in favor of systemsthat integrated radar data, high speed fire controlcomputation, and surface-to-air missiles (SAMs).

In the 1950s the Navy began deploying threeguided SAM variants known as 3–T missiles: long-range Talos (65+ miles), medium-range Terrier (20miles), and short-range Tartar (10 miles). Simulta-neously, a large-scale program to convert previ-ously non-missile ships to missile shooters wasinitiated with vessels capable of firing one of

these missiles. A guided missile capability was in-corporated in the designs and construction ofseveral new classes of cruisers and destroyers by1957, built from the keel up with air defense as aprimary mission.

The combination of advancements in airsearch radars, deployment of 3–T SAMS, and shiftto carrier-based fighter jets significantly improvedair defense capabilities. The extension of target de-tection ranges, coupled with long-range fightersand missiles, expanded the battlespace of navaltask forces to over 100 miles. Targets could now beengaged far beyond the visual horizon. New com-mand, control, and coordination requirementswere placed on naval air defense forces.

Despite significant advances in radar andSAM technology, performance shortfalls againstan increasingly demanding threat highlightedweaknesses in stand-alone systems. Improve-ments in search radars, fire control radars, com-puters, launchers, missiles, and displays werepiecemeal, built and supported individually withdesign and development agencies working inde-pendently. Search radars and display systems weremanaged in the Bureau of Ships while fire controlradars, computers, guns, and missile launcherswere handled by the Bureau of Ordnance. Oftenthe first chance to test and operate multiple sys-tem components occurred after installation.Combat systems were wired together by ship-builders, not system engineers. Lack of technicaland organizational coordination created expen-sive and nearly insurmountable system interfaceproblems. The reaction time gained by increasedradar detection and target engagement range wasoffset by manual data evaluation, display, anddissemination. Continuous attention and actionwere required to deal with a growing volume oftactical data required by a disparate set of war-fighting equipments.

The transition from guns to missile batterieswas the first step in a series of initiatives to ad-dress high speed threats. In the late 1950s, theNavy recognized that technology would one daypermit an enemy to develop weapon systems thatcould overwhelm first generation missile sensorsand equipment. The flaw was in the speed and re-liability of target information exchange betweenships and aircraft. Voice communication was tooslow and unreliable to be effective against largenumbers of supersonic missiles launched by regi-ment-size Soviet bomber formations. As missilescould carry nuclear warheads, ship formations be-came more dispersed to minimize damage fromsingle missile strikes, further aggravating air de-fense coordination. Faster and more reliablemeans of surveillance and identification data ex-change were required.

■ N A V A L T H E A T E R A I R D E F E N S E




The Navy tactical data system (NTDS) wasintroduced in 1958, the world’s first shipboardtactical data system based on programmable com-puters. This was an initial step in the integrationof multiship systems in a force-wide air defensesystem. Conceived as a means of exchanging airsurveillance radar information throughout a taskforce, NTDS replaced and automated older man-ual displays and reduced dependence on voicecommunications for air defense. NTDS incorpo-rated target position and identification informa-tion from a ship’s sensors, as well as informationinserted over an electronic data link by otherships in a task force, into one computer-managedtrack file. Data were exchanged and updatedamong ships several times per minute via an elec-

tronic data link known asLink-11. Early warning andreaction time, informationexchange speed, and informa-tion reliability improvedstrikingly. Link-11 data stan-dards and protocols wereadopted by Britain and

Canada and soon by NATO as a whole. The sys-tem’s efficacy is reflected in the fact that NTDS,upgraded over the years to keep pace with threatand technology advances, remains at the heart ofnaval and joint air defense management systemstoday.

NTDS linked long-range surveillance sensorsand surface-to-air weapons for the first time withan automated information management systemto support the coordinated defense of widely dis-tributed forces. Air defense tactics continued toevolve as individual ships became more potentdefenders and anti-air warfare commanders(AAWCs), responsible for defending battle groupsor task forces, became capable of monitoring bat-tlespace beyond the range of their organic sen-sors. With more reaction time and reliable targetidentification and position data, further decen-tralization of air defense command and controlbecame possible. Able to oversee numerous indi-vidual ship engagements, AAWC could quicklyand reliably provide command by negation or di-rect specific target assignments when necessary.In response, a centralized control/decentralizedexecution anti-air warfare organization was im-plemented. Area defense provided from forces atsea or near land became a reality. With an infor-mation exchange system (NTDS) and the requi-site firepower (3–T missiles) coordinated throughan effective command and control mechanism,naval forces could regulate the air battlespacewithin a designated theater.

These tactical and technical advances camenone too soon. The Soviets began deployment ofa series of air and surface launched cruise missilesin the 1960s, including the subsonic Styx. Thefollowing year Badger C and Bear B/C long-rangebombers were equipped to fire supersonic, nu-clear-capable AS–2 Kipper and AS–3 Kangaroo air-to-surface missiles from ranges in excess of 100miles. The launch range of some weapons ex-tended beyond the surveillance range of radarsaboard ships. Undetected missile launch and su-personic speeds combined to reduce reactiontime, while increasing raid density threatened tosaturate defenses.

The Navy recognized that stand-alone de-fense components would eventually not be capa-ble of responding to air threats. Search and firecontrol radars were based on analog technologyand first generation computers. SAM launchersdepended upon hydraulic loading operations andlarge rotating magazines, restricting the rate offire to one or two missiles a minute. High speed,low altitude cruise missiles stressed existing mis-sile fuzing systems. In combination, the stand-alone components were manpower intensive andcould not react in the required time.

The widespread introduction of digital andother electronic technologies initiated a period ofcombat system improvements that affected al-most every aspect of sensor, weapon, andlauncher design. This development included truecombat system integration for the first time. In1963, the 3–T missile effort transitioned into adual-track Standard missile (SM) program whichincorporated earlier designs. Though Talos wasdiscontinued, Tartar became SM–1 (MR ormedium range) and Terrier became SM–1 (ER orextended range). Responding to the threat ofcruise missiles, SM had an improved autopilot,proximity fuzed target detecting device, greaterrange, jamming resistance, and inertial naviga-tion to guide the missile from the launch ship toa designated homing basket.

Advancements in combat system capabilitywere not limited to ships. In 1964, the E–2AHawkeye airborne early warning aircraft enteredthe fleet. With an aircraft version of NTDS to ex-change track data with other ships and aircraft,Hawkeye expanded air defense surveillance andbattlespace beyond a ship’s radar horizon, restor-ing costly reaction time for fleet air defense units.With the advance warning provided by E–2 air-borne radar, carrier-based fighters and guidedlong-range SAMs became the first line of air de-fense for task forces as tactics stressed “shoot thearcher” before an arrow was launched. Fighterand ship actions, target assignments, and the em-ployment of weapons were initiated by pre-planned operational orders and coordinated via

E–2A Hawkeye expanded air defense surveillance and battlespace beyond a ship’s radar horizon

NTDS by AAWC. Together, missile ships, E–2s,and fighters exchanged data continuously viaLink-11 to mutually reinforce defense-in-depth.This tactic focused on heavy attrition of incom-ing raids, forcing enemy aircraft and missiles topenetrate multiple, coordinated layers of defense.

Vietnam provided the first test of new air de-fense capabilities. Not only did systems prove tobe reliable and effective for air defense of forces atsea; the Navy also found that it could extend theair defense envelope over land in support offorces operating near the coast. Various enemy airbases were within shipboard and E–2 radar range,allowing naval forces to monitor and respond tolaunch and recovery activities. In 1965, theguided missile cruiser USS Long Beach engagedtwo MiGs detected 60 miles inland with ship-launched SAMs. From offshore, naval forcesshowed that they could protect friendly forcesoperating in port facilities, beachheads, andcoastal airfields.

Theater Air Defense MaturesThroughout the conflict in Vietnam, enemy

aircraft frequently flew in the same battlespace asfriendly air forces. Tactics and procedures provedsufficiently responsive and flexible to enableAAWC to manage the complex battlespace as wellas adjust to various operating environments andthreat conditions. Air defense tactics were testedand refined. Fleet air defense identification zoneprocedures were drafted to control the intense airsurveillance and identification environment overthe Gulf of Tonkin and to confirm the identity ofreturning friendly aircraft. Later, the procedureswere used extensively to track, identify, and de-conflict thousands of flights over land and waterin the Persian Gulf War. Zero blue-on-blue engage-ments remains an essential air defense criterion.

In spite of advances, new dangers from highspeed sea skimming cruise missiles required morethan incremental improvements. Rotating radarsupdated data too slowly on targets travelling atsupersonic speeds. A widespread reliance onstand-alone combat system components imposedmanpower intensive and time consuming steps inthe detect-track-engage sequence. A shipboardcombat system was required to automate man-power intensive functions and to enable employ-ment of on board weapon systems more rapidly.In response to these air defense challenges, theNavy began full scale development of the Aegisshipboard weapon system in 1973.

Aegis combined virtually every aspect ofanti-air warfare management in a fully integrated,multi-sensor, computer-aided combat system. In-troduced operationally in 1983, the heart of theAegis weapon system is the SPY–1 phased arrayradar, which provides automatic detection and

fire control quality tracking for hundreds of tar-gets simultaneously. Since its radar also commu-nicates directly with SMs in flight to provide mid-course guidance information, the demand todedicate a separate fire control radar for the dura-tion of a missile’s flight is eliminated. Target illu-mination, required for semi-active homing mis-siles, is provided only for the final seconds ofmissile flight, or endgame. The result is a dra-matic increase in the number of simultaneous en-gagements, since the ship is no longer limited bythe availability of tracking fire control directors.The uniqueness of the fully integrated Aegisweapon system is not only in the increased num-ber of actions completed automatically, but alsoin the ability of operators to alter the conditionsunder which actions can be performed using au-tomated doctrine. This is accomplished by pro-grammable “if-then” statements that associatetrack criteria such as speed, altitude, IFF (identifi-cation, friend or foe), and range with a specificautomatic or semi-automatic action.

Throughout the Aegis design and develop-ment process, five performance factors were usedto evaluate its capabilities: reaction time, fire-power, electronic countermeasure and environ-mental resistance, continuous availability, andcoverage. With design efforts focused, new initia-tives and potential warfighting capabilities had tocontribute to the improvement of one or more ofthese key performance factors. The era of stand-alone components and black boxes, which re-quired added shipboard manpower and uniquelogistics tails, had ended. In the past twentyyears, these factors successfully guided everymodification or upgrade to the Aegis system.

Three other recent developments promise tohave a dramatic impact on theater air defense: co-operative engagement capability (CEC), joint tac-tical information distribution system (JTIDS), andthe proliferation of tactical ballistic missiles. CECis a computer-based information exchange sys-tem that allows ships or aircraft to remotely shareraw radar measurement data at near real-time ex-change rates. Cooperative engagement is a nat-ural result of tactical computer networking whichcaptures major technological and reliability ad-vancements in high speed computer processingand communications. With sensor netting firecontrol, quality sensor data can be exchangedamong multiple cooperating units (CUs) includ-ing ships, aircraft, and ground forces, enablingparticipants to view the same tactical picture. Thepotential for force-wide automated doctrine to as-sist track evaluation, identification functions, andengagement decisions could optimize the speed,





reliability, and utility of data exchange. Leaderscan spend more time evaluating data than pro-cessing it.

CEC is being tested at sea today. Planned foroperational introduction in 1996, it provides aquantum leap in data accuracy exchange betweenair defense forces. CEC-equipped forces will beable to engage hostile targets not seen on theirsensors. The unparalleled accuracy of compositetrack data will allow missiles in flight to behanded off to other units better positioned to con-trol the engagement endgame. The implicationsfor coordination of air defense actions across theentire theater of operations are enormous.

In addition to CEC, JTIDS is being fielded byall services. This system is a high speed, secure,jam-resistant, voice and tactical data communica-tions system over Link-16. It provides users withreal-time position, status, special purpose, andidentification information on friendly, unknown,and hostile tracks. The associated command and

control processor (C2P) introduces the capabilityto exchange information between tactical links(such as Link-11, Link-16, and CEC) and conductmultiple simultaneous data link operations. JTIDSwill be the joint surveillance, warning, and com-mand and control coordination net of the nextcentury.

Finally, the widespread proliferation of tacti-cal ballistic missiles (TBMs) is the most recent andthreatening challenge to effective air defense. TheGulf War clearly demonstrated the tactical andstrategic impact of TBMs and stressed the politicaland military importance of TBM defense. Likeanti-ship cruise missile defense at sea, TBM de-fense of forces ashore has become an essential tosuccessful operations in regional conflicts. Toachieve this capability quickly and affordably, theNavy is capitalizing on prior investments in SMand the Aegis weapon system, which are being

Aegis cruiser launch-ing multiple Standardmissiles.

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Combat informationcenter aboard USS Vincennes.

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modified to incorporate a TBM capability. De-fense against TBMs from ships at sea will permit asafe entry of joint forces into a hostile theater.

The real-time exchange of tactical informa-tion among the services is fundamental to jointoperations along littorals. With multiservice trackdata exchange provided by JTIDS and plannedCEC deployment with real time shooter-to-shooter coordination, the C2 architecture to or-chestrate theater air defense units at sea and

ashore will be in place.Synergism among re-cent air defense ad-vances—Aegis, CEC,JTIDS, and theater bal-listic missile defense(TBMD)—makes them

force multipliers and ensures robust air defenseand seamless transition to a joint commandstructure on arrival of follow-on forces.

Since Vietnam, air defense tactics and proce-dures have been developed to address specific re-quirements of near-land and amphibious opera-tions, emphasizing early coordination withmarine and joint forces ashore. The reorientationof the Navy toward littoral operations imposesadded C3 requirements on commanders ashore.Forces operating ashore or in an amphibious ob-jective area require defenses against cruise mis-siles, hostile air, and tactical ballistic missiles. Theincreasing emphasis on joint operations in re-gional conflicts established a clear demand fortheater air defense battle management proceduresto quickly transition from an area air defense

commander (AADC) afloat to a counterpartashore without loss of continuity.

Navy theater air defense is a model of joint-ness and the product of technological evolution,training, and operational lessons. AAWC is nor-mally stationed on board an Aegis cruiser. In theopen ocean they control and coordinate air de-fense assets, including guided missile ships andearly warning, combat air patrol, airbornetankers, and electronic warfare aircraft. Land-based aircraft are coordinated through AAWCswho are responsible for proper identification,check-in, and flight safety. Coordination amongair defense units is accomplished via Link-11 (in-creasingly by JTIDS) and optimized by CECamong shooters. Flexible and robust tactics are inplace to support Navy, joint, and allied air de-fense requirements, near-land or in open ocean,including operations from crisis prevention to re-gional conflict.

The Navy theater air defense capability is de-rived from equipment, computer programs, tac-tics, and training that have evolved over fiftyyears. Periodic validation in combat has proventhe efficacy of these capabilities and demon-strated the Navy’s essential contribution to air de-fense. Driven by a changing threat, tactical andtechnological improvements have ensured thatthe Navy maintained its air defense capabilities inevery potential theater of operations. For the fore-seeable future, the Navy role in air defense willinclude four key components:

■ fleet and amphibious objective area air defenseagainst cruise missiles, aircraft, and tactical ballistic missiles

■ overland area tactical ballistic and cruise missiledefense of joint and coalition forces

■ tactical TBMD for defense-in-depth and reassur-ance of allies

■ joint theater air defense battle management andC3 prior to and during transition to AADC ashore.

Navy ships and aircraft are forward deployed365 days a year in virtually every region of theworld. They can establish an air defense umbrellaat sea or overland, bring organic firepower forarea and self defense, and provide doctrinal au-tomation to help watchstanders remain vigilantfor long periods of time under stressful condi-tions. CEC-equipped, TBMD-capable Aegis ships(with SM block IV variants) ensure that the Navystays in the vanguard of joint theater air defensein the 21st century. JFQ



flexible and robust tactics are in place to support Navy, joint, and allied air defense requirements

Task Force 70 in western Pacific.

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Joint force commanders (JFCs) must achieveand maintain air superiority against a rangeof threats. Controlling the air is a prerequi-site for force projection, surveillance, inter-

diction, strategic attack, and surface maneuver.Politically, command of the air environment canbe an integral aspect of coalition cohesion, espe-cially when population centers are at risk.

The joint warfighting capability assessment(JWCA) process was instituted to ensure that the

warfighting needs of CINCsare met. To support thisprocess, the air superiorityJWCA team established aframework, based on a strat-egy-to-task analysis, for con-trolling the air. It focuses on

gaining unimpeded use of airspace while denyingit to an adversary. One aspect of the strategy-to-task analysis is that myriad aircraft and missile

threats—aircraft, cruise missiles, ballistic missiles,and surface to air missiles—must be neutralizedto attain air superiority.1

Because all components and allied forces havesome assets to counter such threats, JFCs face adilemma in integrating them. Lessons from WorldWar II to Desert Storm highlight the role unity ofcommand plays in neutralizing threats. In terms ofemerging capabilities, these lessons also reinforcethe relevance of command which unites offensiveand defensive operations, since the former canprofoundly reduce stress on the latter. Moreover,countering aircraft, cruise missiles, and ballisticmissiles is tied to theater air operations and is cen-tral to airspace control. For instance, fighter andsurface based air defenses must be integrated undera single air commander to maximize effectiveness,minimize fratricide, and avoid inhibiting offensiveair operations such as close air support and inter-diction. Therefore, joint force air component com-manders (JFACCs) must have responsibility andauthority to control joint operations to counteraircraft and missile threats.Major Vincent P. DiFronzo, USAF, is a fighter pilot assigned to the

directorate of operational requirements at Headquarters, U.S. Air Force.

Unity of Command—Countering Aircraft and Missile ThreatsBy V I N C E N T P. D I F R O N Z O

myriad aircraft and missilethreats must be neutralizedto attain air superiority

P–51s escortingbombers during WorldWar II.

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The World War II RecordOperations in Western Europe in the latter

part of World War II, when contrasted to DesertStorm, reflect the importance of unity of com-mand in air superiority. Allied unity of command

for air superiority fifty years ago was mar-ginal, whereas in the Gulf War there werevery clear lines of authority. In the Euro-pean theater the Allies had two comman-ders with different concepts of how air-power might achieve their objectives.General Carl Spaatz, commander of U.S.strategic air forces, felt the Luftwaffe had tobe defeated before the Normandy invasionby striking enemy aviation and oil indus-tries as well as the Luftwaffe itself. But AirChief Marshall Sir Trafford Leigh-Mallory,who had responsibility for Allied tacticalforces dedicated to support the land inva-sion, held that air superiority could beachieved by waiting to fight off the Luft-waffe over the beaches of Normandy dur-

ing the landing. It is an understatement to char-acterize Leigh-Mallory’s approach as high risk.2

Strategic bombing losses had become prohib-itive in 1943 and the Allies had not establishedair superiority. Spaatz realized that an all out ef-fort, including P–51s and medium bombers underLeigh-Mallory’s control, would be needed to de-feat the Luftwaffe. But the air marshall would notrelease medium bombers for counterair opera-tions. After debating this question for weeks,Spaatz won support from Air Chief Marshall SirArthur W. Tedder, the deputy supreme comman-der, who directed Leigh-Mallory to support thecounterair operation. P–51s began escortingheavy bombers deep over German territory asfighters and medium bombers attacked Luftwaffeairfields. Direct air and ground attacks against theGerman air force greatly increased Allied bombersurvivability and imposed a 20 percent monthlypilot attrition rate on the Luftwaffe.

Meanwhile, Spaatz ordered controversial at-tacks against the enemy oil industry. Primarilybecause of persistent attacks on the Luftwaffe andits source of fuel, not a single German aircraftsuccessfully threatened the landing force duringthe daylight hours of June 6, 1944.3 Within thefirst week of the invasion, the few operationalGerman fighters within striking range were di-rected to “abandon the ground support role” andconcentrate on air defense. Meanwhile, the con-tinuing bomber offensive destroyed 90 percent ofenemy aviation fuel by the end of June 1944, ren-dering the Luftwaffe ineffective against groundforces and only marginally effective against airoperations.

Even though coordination alone is normallynot adequate to achieve unity of effort, most ofthese operations occurred prior to the invasionwhen competition for Allied air resources was notbased on requirements for ground combat or airdefense and there was time to debate strategy. Butdespite overcoming command discontinuity in op-erations against manned aircraft, the Allies werenot as fortunate with Operation Crossbow—coun-tering V–1 cruise missiles and V–2 ballistic mis-siles—for which a special committee was estab-lished to direct intelligence and operational efforts.

Crossbow directives were inconsistent and,despite ample information on launch sites andtheir infrastructure, the lack of perfect intelli-gence became an excuse for delaying critical tar-geting decisions. For instance, the original launchinfrastructure for V–1s was completely destroyedprior to the initial attacks, delaying the V–1 of-fensive by several months. But the committeechose not to target alternate launch sites whichwere under rapid development. Ultimately, theGermans staged the V–1 offensive from thosesites and Allied operations against them were er-ratic. Moreover, the committee failed to directtargeting against three supply dumps used for thefinal assembly of V–1s, despite the fact that a sin-gle attack on one site led to a marked reductionin launches for a week.

Nor did the committee come to decide onthe best weapon system to employ against launchsites. Despite evidence that low altitude fighterattack had the pin-point accuracy to neutralizesuch facilities with minimal sortie expenditure,the committee refused to commit fighters, prefer-ring to use heavy and medium bombers whichwere too inaccurate for the task. The Allies com-pensated in mass and committed 31,000 sorties,or 22 percent of the air effort between November1943 and May 1944, to strike the original launchinfrastructure. However, the payoff was marginalbecause alternate launch sites and supply depotswere ignored.

Defensively, the Allies had no capabilityagainst V–2 ballistic missiles, employing fightersand anti-aircraft (AA) guns against V–1 cruise mis-siles. Fortunately, because they had successfullycountered the aircraft threat, air defenses in Lon-don, Antwerp, and Liege were optimized againstV–1 missiles, greatly increasing air defense effec-tiveness.

Air Marshall Sir Roderic Hill was responsiblefor AA, fighters, and barrage balloons in the de-fense of Britain. Initially AA guns were not appro-priately calibrated to engage V–1s, so Hill re-stricted gun operations and modified the rules ofengagement to take full advantage of fighters.After the guns had been modified, he saw an op-portunity to improve the entire air defense system

■ A I R C R A F T A N D M I S S I L E T H R E A T S


Squadron LeaderJoseph Berry, RAF,credited with downing60 1/3 V–1s.

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by repositioning guns to optimize their effective-ness while restricting fighters. Six weeks after theguns were repositioned, air defense performancepeaked as the guns and fighters intercepted 90 of97 cruise missiles in one day. Although unity ofcommand for this regional defensive effort wasvaluable, it was not sufficient.

As the locus of V–1 attacks shifted to the con-tinent and V–2 attacks began, Hill could not effi-ciently redirect his fighters for preemptive strikesor defense of critical assets across the channel be-cause there was no theater commander concen-trated on counter V-weapon operations withwhich timely coordination could be effected.

Overall, the Crossbow committee was a poorvehicle for offensively countering V-weapon oper-ations. According to one official history, the Al-lies, “hampered by their failure to make clear-cutchoices between the various courses open tothem, never achieved the singleness of purposewhich might have helped them to stake success-fully on information that fell short of certainty.”4

The chroniclers of the Army Air Forces were evenmore pointed:

There were serious faults . . . in the organization ofcontrols over the [Crossbow] campaign. . . . As to thefailure in organization, below the supreme comman-der’s immediate staff, Crossbow channels were, intheir complexity and gradually fading dispersion ofauthority, hardly to be rivaled.5

In the end, the Allies suffered 32,000 military andcivilian casualties as the result of V-weapons.

In retrospect, despite disunity of commandthe Allies succeeded against the manned aircraftthreat because General Spaatz was able, throughpersistence and personal commitment, to mar-shal unity of effort against the Luftwaffe. Opera-tions against the V–1 and V–2 lacked unity ofcommand and effort and thus failed to neutralizethe threat.

The Lessons of Desert StormWe again floundered over unity of command

for air operations during both the Korean and Viet-nam conflicts. Then, in 1986, the Joint Chiefs of

Staff codified the conceptof a single joint air com-mander in Joint Pub3–01.2, Counterair Opera-tions. According to it,counterair operations are“all measures such as the

use of SAMs, AAA, fighters, bombers, and ECM todefeat the enemy air and missile threat both beforeand after launch.” Fortunately, this doctrine wasapplied during the Gulf War, with unity of com-mand for all air operations to include air superior-ity. As JFACC and area air defense commander,

Lieutenant General Charles Horner, USAF, inte-grated offensive air operations as well as directing“a combined, integrated air defense and airspacecontrol system in coordination with componentand other friendly forces.”

In Desert Storm, we confronted a sophisti-cated, battle-proven air threat. Iraqi fighters hadmade mass raids during the Iran-Iraq conflict, in-cluding chemical weapons delivery.6 Moreover,intelligence assessed possible chemical and bio-logical storage bunkers at several airfields, leadingGeneral Norman Schwarzkopf to fear a massive“Tet-like” attack by Iraq’s air force. The enemyalso had employed Scuds against Iran, and thecoalition was concerned that these missiles couldbe used to deliver weapons of mass destruction(WMD). In addition to posing a significant offen-sive threat, Iraq also had an advanced air defensesystem with SAMs and fourth generation fighters,all coordinated through a complex command andcontrol system.

The coalition launched Desert Storm withthe distinct advantage of unity of command forair operations and a clear strategy to deny sanctu-ary to the enemy. All elements of Iraq’s air force,ground-based air defense system, and supportingC3 were attacked simultaneously the first night ofthe war. This included synchronized attacks onearly warning sites as well as command nodes byArmy attack helicopters and Navy Tomahawkmissiles. The missions were planned under JFACCby the joint air operations center in Riyadh anddisseminated on the air tasking order.

During the initial hours of the campaign,Iraqi SAM operators came to fear high-speed anti-radiation missile (HARM) attacks and transitionedto non-radar guided launches, greatly increasingsurvivability but severely limiting lethality. Wepersistently targeted airfields since enemy fightersposed a multi-role offensive and defensive threat.Airfield attacks, compounded by 14 Iraqi air-to-airlosses in the first two nights, convinced Baghdadto disperse its air force rather than challengecoalition airpower, much like the SAM operatorswho chose survivability over effectiveness.

Offensive missiles, primarily Scuds, also werea challenge. Allied aircrews had not trained againstScuds, and intelligence on infrastructure wassparse. A total of 1,245 sorties were flown againstthe Scud infrastructure, including production facil-ities, hide sites, lines of communication, and C3.Another 1,215 sorties were launched as combat airpatrols (CAPs) to attack launchers and support ve-hicles. Of these, a thousand were diverted to alter-native interdiction or strategic targets after thetime allotted for a CAP expired. Inadequate sensorsand cumbersome communications made it diffi-cult to find and attack transporters, erectors, and

Iraq had an advanced air defense system with SAMs and fourth generation fighters

AWACS.U.S. Air Force

launchers (TELs). However, fighter presence mayhave deterred Scud launches.

Special operations forces (SOF) were also inte-grated into counter-Scud operations. Initial aircrewreports of success, combined with compelling bat-tle damage video, reinforced by a sharp decline inScud launches, convinced air planners that theseattack operations were effective. Despite limitedbattle damage assessment capability, coalition SOFteams also verified several Scud TEL kills. More-over, the Scud launch rate during Desert Storm was35 percent lower than against Iran in the so-called“War of the Cities” of 1988 despite the fact thatIraq possessed more launchers and missiles duringthe Gulf War.7 Attacks against infrastructure andTEL facilities—operations not exercised by the Ira-nians in 1988—were a likely cause for reducedlaunches. Furthermore, the enemy executed 80percent of its launches at night, most in poorweather. This is a logical way of limiting vulnerabil-ity, consistent with the actions of Iraqi air defenseand air force counterparts who also more highlyvalued survival. Overall, there was a trend that re-flected a reduction in launches by enemy aircraft,

guided SAMs, and Scuds despite the capacity to em-ploy those weapons.8

Patriot represented the coalition’s only defen-sive theater ballistic missile (TBM) capability. De-spite the controversy over tactical effectiveness,Patriot missiles protected forces and populationcenters in both Saudi Arabia and Israel. While pri-marily relying on Scuds for offensive air attack,Iraq launched one mission with two F–1 Miragesinto Saudi airspace, possibly with Exocet anti-shipmissiles. Saudi F–15s destroyed the fighters underAWACS control. In this case, our forces were pro-tected in a time-critical situation with standard-ized procedures and unity of command.

Throughout the campaign, unity of com-mand for air operations led to a coordinated of-fense and defense that included assets from allcomponents and coalition members, unlike expe-riences in World War II. A fully integrated jointapproach is even more important against emerg-ing threats.

Threat TrendsThe aircraft and missile threat of the future

will be more capable and diverse than in pastconflicts, including increased lethality, range, ac-curacy, stealth, and progressive countermeasures.Fourth generation threat aircraft such as theMiG–29 are being produced and exported, whileolder aircraft like MiG–21s are being modifiedwith fourth generation weapon capabilities. Addi-tionally, advanced SAMs are being acquiredworldwide and counter-stealth capabilities are inhigh demand.

Offensively, ballistic missiles are being ac-quired by developing nations as more advancedmissiles are produced with increased ranges. Forinstance, the maximum range of Iraq’s modifiedScud is 600 kilometers. North Korea recentlytested the 1,000-kilometer Nodong missile andalso is working on the Taeodong II, a missile witha 3,500 kilometer range. Anti-ship cruise missileshave been a threat since the 1960s, and the spreadof stealth technology will increase the risk tonaval forces, especially in littorals. Land attackcruise missiles could also be a serious threat ifguidance improvements are married with stealthcapability. The accuracy of cruise missiles will im-prove with access to advanced internal navigationtechnology and satellite navigation information,such as the American global positioning systemand Russian global navigation satellite system.

But the most serious trend, WMD prolifera-tion, does not typically rely on accurate deliveryvehicles. A number of states, including Iraq, Iran,North Korea, Syria, Libya, and former Soviet re-publics, possess or are seeking the technology fornuclear, biological, and chemical capabilities.These weapons can be paired with aircraft, cruisemissiles, or ballistic missiles.

Air Superiority TrendsThe United States is moving to counter the

diverse aircraft and missile threat. A review of fu-ture systems illustrates how different systemsmust be synchronized to achieve unity of effort.Future fighters such as the F–22, with its highspeed and low observability, will enable ourforces to dominate the air over enemy territoryearly in the campaign, clearing the path for otherattack and surveillance aircraft and protectingfriendly forces from aircraft and cruise missile at-tack as well as preventing aerial observation.



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Iraqi aircraft bunkersduring Desert Storm.

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Improved surveillance systems will ensureearly detection of cruise missiles and aircraft.AWACS, E–2s, and potential aerostats will offercues via LINK–16 to fighters as well as terminalsystems. Wide-bandwidth communications, suchas the Navy cooperative engagement capability

(CEC), will allow rawdata from multiple sen-sors to be fused in real-time to enhance thecommon air picture.With sufficient sensordata, CEC can extend

the engagement range of terminal systems be-yond the horizon line-of-sight.

SAMs can be neutralized by HARM, the jointstandoff weapon (JSOW), the Army tactical mis-sile system (ATACMS), and the Navy tactical landattack missile system (TLAMS). Non-lethal SAMsuppression will depend largely on the upgradedNavy EA–6B. Detailed centralized planning alongwith joint battle management will support timelydecentralized execution.

The Patriot PAC–III will offer an improvedcapability over the PAC–II of Desert Storm and,along with Navy lower-tier assets, will provide abasic TBM point defense while preserving or im-proving defenses against the air-breathing threat.Therefore, these systems must remain fully inte-grated in air defense architecture to provide a lay-ered defense in the future. The Army THAAD andNavy upper-tier will engage TBMs at higher alti-tudes and defend larger areas. The airborne laserwill intercept TBMs during the boost phase, pro-tect wide areas, and deposit warhead debris overenemy territory—a deterrent to WMD use. Be-cause such systems take time to field, we will beeven more reliant on offensive measures as partof an overall counterair strategy in the interim.

Collectively, improvements in attack opera-tions systems since Desert Storm are significant.For post-launch strikes, overhead detection ofTBMs is now processed more effectively to locatelaunch sites, probably the greatest shortcomingin attack operations during the Gulf War. Soonafter launch, evolving battle management sys-tems will be able to pass launch point estimatesto fighters, ATACMS, and attack helicopters. Cur-rently, F–15Es, F–16s, and F–18s have moving tar-get indicator (MTI) radar modes that allow themto track fleeing TELs. Additionally, U–2 sensor in-formation is being processed in-theater in nearreal-time, in contrast to Desert Storm operationswhere control and processing resided in theUnited States. JSTARS offers a wide area capabilitywith MTI for moving targets and synthetic aper-ture radar for fixed target location. Unmannedaerial vehicles provide similar capabilities deep inenemy territory.

Much remains to be done to exploit inherentsensor capabilities to detect and identify time-critical targets. Intelligence and surveillance in-formation must be combined in near real-time,analyzed, and preferably data-linked to shootersto minimize time-lines. Further, from a planningand execution standpoint, joint battle manage-ment will be essential for capitalizing on thesevarying capabilities which will also be in high de-mand for other mission areas.

Overall, a significant investment is beingmade in weapons systems which either directly orindirectly contribute to attaining air superiority.These will be complimented by battlespace aware-ness and battle management tools. A challenge toJFCs will be ensuring unity of effort to preventpiecemeal use of these systems. The first step to-ward success is a logical doctrinal construct.

Air SuperiorityAccording to joint doctrine, “The purpose of

unity of command is to ensure unity of effortunder one responsible commander for every ob-jective.” Current doctrine recommends that JFCsnormally designate JFACCs as supported comman-ders for counterair operations.9 This obviously in-cludes command authority for all joint operationsto defeat both aircraft and SAM threats, based onJFC guidance. However, for operations againstcruise and ballistic missiles, doctrine sanctions di-vided responsibility among the components.

There are a number of advantages to com-pletely integrating counter-TBM and cruise mis-sile efforts with overall air superiority operations.First, JFC needs to ensure forces and vital interestsare free of air attacks. Defeating part of the air

systems must remain integrated in air defense architecture to provide layered defense

Apache cruise missileawaiting buyers.

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threat is inadequate in an era when delivery vehi-cles are becoming more accurate and lethal andcan project WMD. Second, all systems with anaircraft defense capability also have capabilitiesagainst missiles—Patriots, Aegis destroyers andcruisers, and Hawks either can or will soon beable to counter aircraft, cruise missiles, and ballis-tic missiles as fighters engage aircraft and cruisemissiles. JFACCs, who derive their authority fromJFCs and maintain a dialogue with JFCs and othercomponents, can capitalize on strengths in onedefensive system to offset weaknesses in others,based on the overall enemy air order of battle.Last, offensive operations can be prioritized tocompensate for weaknesses in defense and vice-versa.

Operational capabilities used to counter air-craft threats often overlap with those used againstcruise missiles. To operators of surveillance andweapon systems, cruise missile and aircraft radartracks will often appear identical in their flightprofile, airspeed, and altitude. This normallymeans that rules of engagement, combat ID, andweapons control measures will be similar if not thesame for defense against aircraft and cruise mis-siles. Furthermore, overlaps and voids in engage-ment capability between surface-based systems andfighters must be managed to optimize overall sys-tem capability. For example, surface based systemsdesigned to engage TBMs at high altitude can beaugmented by fighters to take on low-altitudecruise missile and aircraft threats. This level ofteamwork requires clear command authority andan integrated communications system.

In addition, overall rules of engagement anddefensive force lay-down must be consistent withthe air concept of operations and airspace controlmeasures.10 As airspace control authorities,JFACCs are charged with safe passage of joint andcombined offensive, surveillance, and supportmissions to include military airlift and civil avia-tion. Integrating air defenses with other airspacerequirements in a combat zone is daunting be-cause of the enormous demand on limited air-space. For example, JFACC deconflicted 3,000 sor-ties per day during the Gulf War whilemonitoring and controlling 160 restricted opera-tional zones, 122 airborne refueling points, 32CAP areas, 10 air transit routes, 60 Patriot engage-ment zones, 312 missile engagement zones, 60 re-stricted fire areas, and 17 airbase defense zones.Because of the underlying friction between air-space control measures and air defense (includingmissile defense), any change can cause a ripple ef-fect. Thus, centralized planning under JFACC isessential with a streamlined battle managementstructure to support decentralized execution of airdefense while simultaneously providing airspacecontrol.

Ultimately, JFCs must integrate air defensesto maximize the attrition of enemy air vehicleswhile minimizing fratricide. Previous exerciseshave identified a positive correlation betweenhigh threat attrition and high fratricide. Severalvariables influence that link, including clear com-mand authority, joint training, combat ID capabil-ity, and interoperable communications links. JFCsand components can influence our capability inthe short term by integrating aircraft and missiledefense operations under JFACCs and pursuingjoint training consistent with this approach.

Historically, positive control over terminalsystems by JFACCs through decentralized battlemanagement systems such as AWACS has limitedfratricide. Positive control of terminal systemsalso minimizes procedural routing constraints onCAS and short range air interdiction missions, ef-fectively giving corps or MAGTF commandersmore offensive airpower to support close combatoperations. This will remain the case against air-craft and cruise missiles because of their similarflight profiles. Finally, positive control never in-fringes on the right to self defense and does allowsurface commanders the flexibility to position or-ganic air defense units as required to protect theirforces. However, procedural control is normallyadequate for ballistic missile engagements, giventhat engagement airspace is deconflicted, sincethere is minimal risk of fratricide. Of course,JFACCs can also influence overall defensive per-formance by reducing the diversity and numberof threats through offensive operations.

More importantly, JFACCs can prioritize of-fensive operations to compensate for weakness indefense. Unfortunately, current joint doctrineconsiders attack operations against cruise missilesand ballistic missiles to be part of “counterair,strategic attack, interdiction, fire support, maneu-ver, antisubmarine warfare, antisurface warfare,strike warfare, amphibious operations, or specialoperations.”11 This approach, wherein attack op-erations are considered as part of every mission,dilutes focus on the objective.

Additionally, responsibility for planning andexecution is divided among components basedon shifting areas of operation (AOs). Doctrine al-lows AOs to extend beyond the traditional depthsof maneuver force operations which enables sur-face commanders to influence interdictionagainst forces that will have a near-term impacton operations.12 Consistent with joint doctrine,targeting of short range ballistic missiles that pri-marily threaten surface forces should fall underthe purview of surface commanders as part of



D i F r o n z o


their counterbattery objective. But changing re-sponsibility based on ground maneuver bound-aries for strikes against theater-ranging air threats,which may not be the priority for surface com-manders, could expose all forces to increased risk.

Conversely, maintaining command continu-ity in the counter-TBM fight serves the interests ofa theater. JFACCs plan as well as execute theater-wide deep strike operations, to include joint sup-pression of enemy air defense (JSEAD), air-to-air,surveillance, joint interdiction, and strategic at-tack. In addition to attack assets, offensive opera-tions against individual mobile missiles such asScuds may require surveillance and reconnais-sance support when organic weapon sensors arenot adequate for target discrimination. Until theaircraft and missile threat is defeated, both air-to-air and JSEAD assets must be synchronized notonly to support attack missions but also to protectsurveillance and reconnaissance assets. Moreover,attack operations will compete with demands byJFCs for interdiction, strategic attack, and other

counterair opera-tions. Because oftheir deep strikeand air superiorityresponsibilities,JFACCs can effi-ciently integrate

attack operations into campaigns for JFCs. Bystepping up attacks on the threats that are mostdifficult to defend against, they can also compli-ment aircraft and missile defense.

The current JFACC counterair process offersa solid foundation for joint unity of command tocounter theater missiles, both offensively and de-fensively. Centralized planning will occur at thejoint air operations center. Liaison personnel inte-grate component capabilities into the master at-tack and air defense plan in accord with JFC guid-ance. Liaison personnel are key to this processsince they provide weapons systems expertise forjoint planning. They can also articulate the con-cept of operations as well as the protection priori-ties of their respective components which allowsJFACCs to resolve issues at the lowest level. How-ever, because there is often a shortage of assets,no plan will satisfy everyone, and some issuesmust be resolved by JFCs. For decentralized exe-cution, component battle management nodesplay a critical role, and as these systems becomemore jointly interoperable overall effectivenesswill increase significantly.

This matter can be reduced to either air supe-riority as one mission with a single commanderfor theater-wide efforts or to counteraircraft andcountermissile operations as separate entities. The

former was the approach in Desert Storm and wassuccessful given the constraints of the coalition.The latter reflects the World War II model whichled to gross inefficiencies and marginal results.Current and emerging capabilities potentiallyoverlap and there are some voids in offensive aswell as defensive operations. To optimize capabili-ties, a clear command and control process is re-quired for centralized planning and decentralizedexecution. If air superiority is more difficult toachieve in the future because of threat diversityand WMD, we must maximize our potential byensuring unity of effort through unity of com-mand. A single commander is at the center of thiscommand process and must be vested with theauthority to make decisions and resolve conflicts.To accept anything less threatens the warfightingcapabilities of JFCs. JFQ

N O T E S

1 J.N. Donis, Analyses of Selected Issues for the InitialAir Superiority and Strike Joint Warfighting Capability As-sessments (Alexandria, Va.: Institute for Defense Analy-ses, 1995), p. 14.

2 Richard G. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz and the Air War inEurope (Washington: Center for Air Force History, 1992),pp. 5, 123, 299–317.

3 Omar N. Bradley et al., The Effect of Airpower on Mili-tary Operations in Europe (Wiesbaden: n.p., 1945), p. 21.

4 F.H. Hinsley et al., British Intelligence in the SecondWorld War, Vol. 3, Its Influence on Strategy and Operations(New York: Cambridge University Press, 1988), p. 544.

5 Wesley F. Craven and James L. Cate, The Army AirForces in World War II, Vol 3, Argument to V–E Day(Washington: Office of Air Force History, 1983), p. 541.

6 Barry D. Watts and Thomas A. Keaney, Gulf WarAir Power Survey: Effects and Effectiveness (Washington:Government Printing Office, 1993), p. 147.

7 Ibid., pp. 330–32.8 Ibid. Combines charts from pp. 110, 140, and 337.9 Joint Pub 3–0, Doctrine for Joint Operations (Wash-

ington: Government Printing Office, 1995), p. IV–5.10 Joint Pub 3–52, Doctrine for Joint Airspace Control in

a Combat Zone (Washington: Government Printing Of-fice, 1995), p. II–6.

11 Joint Pub 3–01.5, Doctrine for Joint Theater MissileDefense (Washington: Government Printing Office,1994), p. III–12.

12 Joint Pub 3–0, p. IV–14.

the current JFACC counterair processoffers a solid foundation to countertheater missiles

W hile ethnic strife andregional conflict con-tinue to erupt aroundthe world, the geopo-

litical situation has markedly becomemore peaceful in the Americas. Thistransformation is obvious in the dis-course used to describe the area. Goneare terms that once distorted NorthAmerican images of Latin America andthe Caribbean—communist subver-sion, military dictatorships, deathsquads, nuclear proliferation, hyperin-flation, and U.S. imperialism. Theseterms have been replaced over the last

decade by constructive images repletewith a fresh vocabulary—democraticreform, market economy, peace opera-tions, confidence building, transna-tionalism, and cooperative security.Such expressions are evidence of a rev-olution that has quietly awakened thehemisphere, offering greater hope forsolidarity and security than at anytime in history. New economic, politi-cal, and cultural rhythms that are gain-ing strength in many nations are notrandom or unrelated developments,nor are they cyclical in nature. Theseare unique responses to profound local

experiences and atransformed in-ternational envi-ronment.

This largely unfamiliar and under-valued area to the south of the UnitedStates encompasses 33 Latin Americanand insular Caribbean states, rangingfrom Brazil, the fifth largest country inthe world (with a land mass greater thanthat of the continental United States),to Barbados, one of the smallest. Thereare some 451 million people in the re-gion, a third of them in Brazil and aquarter in Mexico. The population is ex-pected to exceed 750 million by 2010,as São Paulo and Mexico City becometwo of the largest cities in the world.

The emerging market democraciesof Latin America have replaced the tra-ditional means of protectionism andstatism with private initiative, foreigninvestment, and export-orientedgrowth. Additionally, the region has

■ J F Q F O R U M


The Security of the AmericasBy H A N S B I N N E N D I J K and J O H N A. C O P E

Caracas. DOD (R.D. Ward)

Hans Binnendijk and John A. Cope are, respectively, directorand senior research professor in the Institute for NationalStrategic Studies at the National Defense University.

experienced the ascendancy of subre-gional cooperative regimes such as theNorth American Free Trade Agreementand the Southern Cone Common Mar-ket as well as an end to international-ized conflict in Central America. Over-laying the slow processes of economicreform and realignment is a shift fromauthoritarian government to constitu-tional democracy.

In 1979, the democratic commu-nity included only Costa Rica, Colom-bia, Venezuela, and the Caribbeanmembers of the British Common-wealth, and stability in the region was

deteriorating. Today, however, 32 of 33Latin American and Caribbean stateshave representative governments. OnlyCuba retains an authoritarian system.This “quiet revolution” has stimulatedsubstantial Asian and European tradewith and investment in American mar-kets. Of greater potential consequence,this transformation has promoted anunprecedented awareness of hemi-spheric community based on commonvalues, interests, and concern about thefuture. Domestic developments haveled nations in Latin America and theCaribbean to reconsider their attitudestoward Washington, resulting in moreharmonious relations despite long-standing asymmetries in North-Southpower and episodic U.S. engagement.The possible outcome of the shift to-ward political and economic homo-geneity, while still indeterminate, sug-gests the emergence of Brazil as a powerand, as well, the concept of SouthAmerica as a distinct region with itsown strategic perspectives.

The StakesThe overreaching U.S. security ob-

jectives in Latin America and the Car-ibbean are to ensure the area remainsstable, democratic, and friendly tocommerce and trade, and to maintaina regional military presence. Since theenunciation of the Monroe Doctrine,this goal has entailed diplomacy and,

occasionally, the use of force to pre-vent rivals from undermining the in-fluence of the United States and itsability to keep regional events fromgetting out of control. Except for theCuban missile crisis, no country in thehemisphere has posed a direct threatto the United States.

During the Cold War, Washingtonfocused on the Caribbean Basin andwas less attentive to South America.U.S. strategic priorities stressed protect-ing access to and movement withinthe region (including unrestricted useof the Panama Canal), maintaining

presence through its militarybases in and around the Carib-bean, and assuring access tofuel and nonfuel minerals.Neighbors regarded the U.S. ap-proach as fixed exclusively onits own goals, with little regard

for the interests or priorities of otherstates. Their leaders sensed a tendencyto look southward only through NorthAmerican eyes and rely on U.S. solu-tions to local problems. Actions oftenwere taken unilaterally and withoutconsultation, resulting in diplomaticconfrontations and mutual distrust.

During the 1980s Washingtonfound that security was not the only re-gional policy issue. There were core de-mocratic values to be upheld in theAmericas. The United States perceivedthat it had an obligation to back mod-erate forces which advocated a commit-ment to human rights, social justice,and representative government, andchampioned democratization. Supportfor this political transition took manyforms, ranging from public manifesta-tions and technical assistance for newlyelected governments to relatively sig-nificant amounts of military aid for theSalvadoran state during its civil warand U.S. military action to restoredemocracy in Grenada and Panama,and more recently in Haiti.

North-South relations are morepositive and cooperative in the currenttransformed context. In December1994, for example, leaders of the hemi-sphere’s 34 democracies gathered inMiami for the Summit of the Americas.Then, in July 1995, senior defense offi-cials from these nations convened inWilliamsburg for the Defense Minister-

ial of the Americas. Moreover, therewas a rapid effective response in early1995 to fighting between Ecuador andPeru over a contested part of their fron-tier in the Amazon. Close partnershipamong the guarantors of the 1942 Rioprotocol, which includes the UnitedStates, facilitated a cessation of hostili-ties and separation of forces, creatingthe basis for a diplomatic solution. Therecent case of Haiti also demonstratedeffective and extensive regional cooper-ation during maritime interdiction ofarms and oil prior to September 1994as well as during Operation UpholdDemocracy and the follow-on phaseunder the United Nations.

The United States is beginning torealize that it has a substantial stake inpeaceful, stable, and prosperous LatinAmerican and Caribbean nations andthat Washington’s traditional one-sided strategic approach is no longeruseful in assuring its security interests.By collaborating with allies and friendsin the region, the United States willbenefit from trade and investment op-portunities, some relief in immigrationand other spillover effects of instabilityoutside its borders, and long-soughtafter advancements in core values.Working together is a function of ne-cessity in order to be free of traditionaland non-traditional threats and appre-hensions in the region, such as territo-rial claims, drug-trafficking, organizedcrime, and terrorism.

The Core IssuesAlthough the Caribbean basin still

commands public attention, often nar-rowing the scope of U.S. interests andblurring distinctions between domesticand foreign policy, Washington is try-ing to interact on a wide range of issuesacross the hemisphere. Opportunitiesand vulnerabilities are increasinglytransnational in nature. Thus the needis greater than ever for the UnitedStates and its neighbors to successfullyaddress regional core issues: trade anddevelopment; political, economic, andsocial reform in fragile democracies;and stemming drug traffic.

Latin America is once again thefastest growing market for U.S. exportsand investment. The average annual

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except for the Cuban missile crisis,no country in the hemisphere hasposed a direct threat

rate of growth in exports was 21 per-cent from 1987 to 1993, twice the rateof the European Union. Oil is anothereconomic factor. Venezuela is thelargest supplier of refined petroleum tothe United States. Mexico, Trinidad,and increasingly Colombia are majorsuppliers, reducing U.S. dependenceon the oil fields of the Middle East.World commerce continues to passthrough Panama, where the issue of re-duced U.S. military presence after finalimplementation of the Panama Canaltreaty is still open to exploratory dis-cussion. The possible retention of asmall military infrastructure after theyear 2000 has strategic significance,signaling that the United States hasboth a commitment to the region anda desire to cooperate in facing transna-tional threats.

The sustained appeal and credibil-ity of democratic governance and freemarkets are vital to the United States. Ofimmediate concern is the outcome ofpolitical, economic, and social reformsthat affect commerce and trade and, per-haps most significant, drive decisions toemigrate. Sixty percent of over a millionlegal immigrants annually to the UnitedStates in recent years come from theAmericas, mainly Mexico. But this pic-ture is incomplete. The region also gen-erates well over half of the estimated twoto four million undocumented arrivalsand an additional 1.1 million who areapprehended and turned back. Controlof illegal migration and refugees canonly begin abroad.

The region is also the source of allthe cocaine, most of the marijuana,and a growing share of the heroin en-

tering the United States. This amountsto an estimated 300 metric tons of co-caine, two-thirds of which enters viaMexico, roughly 2,000 metric tons ofmarijuana, chiefly Mexican, and 37metric tons of heroin from Colombiaand Mexico. The inter-American re-sponse to the illicit traffic in drugs in-volves attempts to cut the U.S. de-mand, coordinate the interdiction of

the flow, and cooperate in the curtail-ing of money laundering. There also isdeep U.S. interest in reinforcing justiceand democracy by helping neighborsdefeat internal threats from illegal nar-cotics activities to core institutions—political parties, legislatures, courts,and law enforcement.

As the United States draws closer toits neighbors, there are opportunities forcooperation, but there is also the dangerof adverse consequences from setbacks

and disturbances in the region.It will take time for most LatinAmerican and Caribbean statesto strengthen fragile govern-ments, create accountable in-stitutions, counter corruption,right injustice, and meet the

needs of minorities. Elected leaders stillfear social conflict within their borders.The most serious threats to national sta-bility are caused by domestic crime andviolence which is increasingly linked topoverty, drug traffic, and unresponsivepublic policy. Fortunately, political and

economic reforms over the last decadeand a secure intra-American environ-ment have eased tensions over territorialdisputes. But old enmities and suspi-cions persist and conflicts are still possi-ble. The difference is a commitmentwhich exists now to use legal frame-works and diplomacy to find equitable,lasting solutions.

Defense Engagement The Department of Defense has

long exercised an important role in LatinAmerica and the Caribbean by encour-aging military cooperation on sharedprofessional interests. However, the na-ture of U.S. security interests today, theemergence of common concerns, and asteady reduction in military resourceshave caused engagement in the regionto become more diverse and innovative.As articulated in U.S. Security Strategy forthe Americas, issued in 1995 by the Of-fice of the Assistant Secretary of Defensefor International Security Affairs, thisdefense engagement encompasses pro-viding intelligence, operational, and lo-gistical support for counterdrug efforts;encouraging the peaceful resolution of

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the most serious threats to nationalstability are caused by domesticcrime and violence

Chilean vessel Almirante Williamsduring Unitas 32–91.

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disputes, adoptingconfidence and se-

curity building measures, and achievingnonproliferation and conventional armscontrol goals; promoting democraticnorms in civil-military relations; anddeepening professional contact amongmilitary counterparts. Traditional andnon-traditional U.S. policy objectivesplace a high premium on leveraging de-fense assets to expand security contactsand strengthen professional collabora-tion. The focus is no longer solely onforces deployed in the region, but ratheron military and civilian defense contactsand programs in the United States andoverseas. Examples include meetings of

defense ministers and their staffs, bilat-eral working groups, academic activitieswhich facilitate political-military dia-logue, combined planning and informa-tion sharing, military deployments thatbolster U.S. diplomatic efforts (such asrestoring democracy in Haiti or deploy-ing peace observers and logistic supportalong the Ecuador-Peru border), multi-national military exercises, humanitar-ian relief, and innovative human rightsinitiatives.

Defense strategy today in theAmericas reflects the influence of un-precedented political and economic

transformations in the hemisphere. Em-phasis is on developing low-profile mul-tilateral cooperation to address sharedsecurity concerns, expanding profes-sional contact, and encouraging devel-opment of a military ethos suitable fordemocratic society. For the foreseeablefuture, engagement will be successful tothe extent it meets U.S. core interests,continues to demonstrate commitmentto the region with a rapid-response ca-pability for natural or diplomatic emer-gencies, and lowers the odds of intra-re-gional conflict and need to deployforces in a crisis.

Partnership Is the United States ready for inter-

American partnerships? Does it recog-nize that security now and for the fore-seeable future will be more closely tiedto its American neighbors than before?Secretary of State George C. Marshall, adistinguished statesman not usually as-sociated with the Americas, replied af-firmatively to these questions in 1947while testifying before Congress on theInter-American Military CooperationAct: “. . . with the Atlantic Ocean onone side and the Pacific Ocean on theother, between us and the great distur-bances in the world of other peoples, itis all the more important that the West-ern Hemisphere be maintained on asunified a basis as possible. That is to ourinterest and to the interests of everycountry in the Western Hemisphere,and therefore I think in the best inter-ests of the world.”

As in Marshall’s day, the UnitedStates is drawn to the East and Westoutside its immediate neighborhood inpursuit of its global interests. In thepast, attention to inter-American af-fairs has tended to wane and the focuson solidarity and security has vanishedfrom the national view, often to ourmutual detriment. Secretary of DefensePerry, General McCaffrey, and otherdistinguished American authors fromNorth and South who contributed tothis JFQ Forum put the hemisphere inproper perspective and underscore thecomplexity of regional defense issues.They introduce a scene that is rich infresh possibilities for greater mutualunderstanding and partnerships aswell as more flexible and positive pro-fessional thinking. JFQ

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Guyanese troops negotiating obstaclecourse.

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A small group of U.S. soldiersis serving in a peacekeepingoperation in the jungles onthe border between Ecuador

and Peru after both nations agreed toend their boundary dispute at the ne-gotiating table rather than on the bat-tlefield. The agreementto stop fighting and de-militarize the border wasbrokered by Brazil whichalong with Argentina,Chile, and the United States providedtroops to monitor the agreement.

This is only one example of thehistoric opportunities that now existfor the nations of the Western Hemi-sphere to build stable bridges of com-munication, cooperation, and trustthat increase the security of our neigh-borhood. Times have changed. Thehemisphere has embarked on a newera of democracy, peace, and stability.

Most previous Secretaries of De-fense looked south and saw only secu-rity problems. When I look southtoday, I find security partners. Just tenyears ago, nearly half the nations ofthe region were ruled by military dicta-torships. Now all but Cuba are democ-

racies led by elected governments.Nearly every part of the Americas isfree. The end of the Cold War offers achance to consolidate these manydemocratic gains. With a decline in in-surgency and increase in bilateral andmultilateral cooperation, peace domi-nates the region.

Negotiation has replaced con-frontation. All parts of the hemisphereare reaching out to one another as eventraditional enemies become trading

partners. In theprocess, the Ameri-cas have been

linked in a considerable and expandingeconomy. The gross hemispheric prod-uct will exceed $13 trillion by the endof the decade. Thanks to this growth,per capita income in Latin America isexpected to increase by a fifth—a suc-cess that promises to ease poverty andraise living standards to enhance politi-cal stability. If these trends continue, in-cluding new agreements on free trade,Latin America will be a larger U.S. trad-ing partner than Western Europe.

With such a growing harmony ofinterests, the Americas have an unpar-alleled opportunity to create an era oftrust, cooperation, and unity, and acommunity of free, prosperous, and se-cure nations. As President Clinton hasindicated, “We’ve arrived at a momentof very great promise and great hopefor the Western Hemisphere.”

That promise and hope were con-spicuous in December 1994 at the Sum-mit of the Americas in Miami. This wasthe first gathering of hemispheric lead-ers in more than a generation and the


The Honorable William J. Perry is Secretary of Defense.

Good BridgesMake Good NeighborsBy W I L L I A M J. P E R R Y

the hemisphere has embarked on a newera of democracy, peace, and stability

■ J F Q F O R U M

first of exclusively democratically-elected leaders. The participants ex-plored a number of common inter-ests—democracy, trade, technology,and environment—and outlined an ac-tion plan on the economic and politi-cal future. Because a meeting of freelyelected heads of government would nothave been possible during the ColdWar, the summit was a notable politicalsymbol; but it was also significant forits political substance. The nationsagreed that the future would be builton strong democratic institutions, sus-tainable development, and free trade.Moreover, they agreed to develop a FreeTrade Area of the Americas to ensurethat goal.

After the summit, which concen-trated on political and economic mat-ters, the governments also recognizedthe need to cooperate on security mat-ters. Creating closer links among de-fense and military establishments andcommitting to uphold the democraticprocess will bolster democracy, stabil-ity, and economic reform. Specifically,

defense and military links will help ad-dress threats to peace and stability,promote hemispheric cooperation, andfoster the growth of military institu-tions that serve and benefit democracy.As the first step in further cooperation,the defense leaders of the 33 democra-tic nations present accepted an invita-tion from the United States to attendthe first Defense Ministerial of theAmericas in Williamsburg, Virginia,last summer.

Williamsburg—where Jefferson,Washington, and Madison drafted theframework for the first democracy inthe hemisphere two centuries ago—was the perfect site for this historicmeeting. Among stately halls and cob-blestone streets,the ministers metto sketch out aframework to se-cure democracythroughout thehemisphere. Theyset realistic goals and did not endeavorto resolve the hemisphere’s securitychallenges. Rather, they focused onways in which defense establishmentscould build ties. Such personal rela-tions are invaluable to communica-tion, trust, and cooperation among na-tions—sometimes even more thanwritten agreements or formal relation-ships.

While this meeting was held inand hosted by the United States, it wasnot a “U.S.” event. Instead, it was anAmerican event in the broadest mean-ing of the term, with North, Central,and South America as well as theCaribbean participating equally. In thesame sense, the meeting did not oper-ate under a U.S.-imposed agenda. Itwas guided by an itinerary collabora-tively developed following discussionsamong all the nations throughout theprevious year. This mutually acceptedagenda set the right tone because it re-flected a democratic process anddemonstrated, in a practical sense, thebest way to secure and advance democ-racy in the hemisphere.

The agenda consisted of threemajor areas—transparency and confi-dence building, defense cooperation,and the role of the military in democ-ratic societies. Each is important topost-Cold War hemispheric security.

Transparency and confidence-building mean being open about de-fense plans, programs, and policies.They involve sending soldiers to eachother’s military schools and holdingcombined training exercises to rein-force cooperation and trust. Opennessis an unusual concept when applied todefense because the art of war involvessecrecy and surprise while the art ofpeace involves the opposite. Opennessabout defense matters reduces chancesthat nations will arm and act out offear of the unknown. It fosters trust be-tween the military and public, a keyingredient in a democracy.

The second area of discussion wasdefense cooperation. While the hemi-

sphere is generally peaceful, sporadicsecurity issues do arise. Among themare illicit drugs that poison communi-ties, threaten societies, and underminenational security. Working coopera-tively on such challenges is an effec-tive and efficient use of our resources.In the process, nations and militariescan learn from one another and aboutone another, as well as how to performbetter in cooperative operations.

The third area of attention wasthe proper role of armed forces in 21st

century democracies. In varying de-grees, defense and military establish-ments face major changes in reducingtheir forces and reconfiguring for mis-sions in the next century. In the sameway the Armed Forces have seen theirstrength and spending reduced overthe last ten years and are reexaminingtheir roles and missions in the post-Cold War era, many militaries in theregion are making fundamentalchanges in force structure, plans, poli-cies, or even in the way they relate todemocratic governments.

At the ministerial meeting defenseestablishments were urged to share ex-periences and ideas on how to ap-proach change and forge stronger ties

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many militaries in the region are making fundamental changes in the way they relateto democratic governments

between civilian and military institu-tions. Just as the latter learn moreabout serving in a democracy, civilianexpertise is required in defense andmilitary matters. Similarly, armedforces might contribute to national de-velopment in areas such as infrastruc-ture and public works, functioning likethe U.S. Army Corps of Engineers andNational Guard. As agreed in Miamiboth civilians and the military mustprotect human rights, and militarytraining can be adapted to reflect that.

Participants at the Williamsburgmeeting accomplished more thanreaching an agreement on a commonagenda. As Jefferson outlined the prin-ciples of a new democracy two cen-turies ago, the defense leaders of thishemisphere outlined six principles toguide regional security relationshipsinto the next century which theycalled the Williamsburg principles:

■ the preservation of democracy asthe basis for mutual security

■ the critical role of the military insupporting and defending sovereign demo-cratic states

■ the respect of the military for demo-cratic authority, constitutional law, andhuman rights

■ the spread of openness in discussingdefense programs, policies, and budgets

■ the resolution of disputes throughnegotiated settlements—not military ac-tions

■ the need for greater cooperation inpeacekeeping and the fight against nar-coterrorists.

These principles are truly revolu-tionary since they represent consensusand commitment on the part of 33 na-tions to the cause of peace and democ-racy in the hemisphere. That unity ofpurpose would not have been possibleten years ago. The precepts are all themore revolutionary because they arealready being implemented.

At the meeting, the United Statesdemonstrated its commitment toopenness in defense and security mat-ters by announcing a policy of notify-ing all democratic governments in thishemisphere before holding significantmultilateral military exercises in the re-gion. To further underscore the resolvefor openness, I distributed copies ofthe 1995 Department of Defense An-nual Report to the President and the Con-gress . This document informs the

country and world about the kind offorces we are building, the rationale forthem, and the amount being spent onthose forces.

Canada also presented its nationaldefense policy document. And all par-ticipants discussed a variety of infor-mation-sharing measures, such as stan-dardized reporting to the UnitedNations on defense expenditures, fullparticipation in the U.N. Register ofConventional Arms, and sharing thesereports with the Organization of Amer-ican States.

There have also been positive re-sults from implementing the commit-ment at Williamsburg to redress hemi-spheric conflicts through negotiation.A coalition headed by the UnitedStates and joined by many neighborsof Haiti worked with the United Na-tions to create a stable environmentfor the safe return of its democrati-cally-elected president and conductingnational elections. And the collabora-tion among Argentina, Brazil, Chile,and the United States played a criticalrole in the agreement between Ecuadorand Peru to demilitarize their border.That agreement and Operation Sup-port Democracy in Haiti set a signifi-cant precedent: peacekeeping in theAmericas in support of conflict resolu-tion and democracy is more than aprinciple—it is a reality.

In the area ofdefense coopera-tion, we are build-ing on significant

contributions which the region hasmade to international peacekeeping.For example, 20 countries from thishemisphere support 15 of the 16 cur-rent U.N. peace operations around theworld. Forces have served together torestore order in both El Salvador andHaiti. Regional militaries have com-bined for humanitarian hurricane re-lief efforts. U.S. Reserve forces are get-ting hands-on training by workingwith Latin American militaries to buildroads, schools, and wells in rural areas.The hemisphere’s annual Unitas exer-cises help navies cooperate while othermultilateral exercises expand our abil-ity to join together in peacekeepingand counterdrug missions and buildinteroperability.

Pursuant to the Williamsburgagreements, there will be a full rangeof combined exercises. Also, Argentinaand Canada offered to open moreplaces in their peacekeeping trainingcenters to students from other coun-tries, and the United States proposedexpanding education for civilians innational security studies.

Already this year in Santiago, gov-ernments of the hemisphere reachedaccord on military confidence-buildingand transparency measures. For exam-ple, they agreed to give advance noticeof military exercises, exchange infor-mation on defense policies and doc-trine, invite observers from other na-tions to exercises, and develop bordercommunications. The U.S. SouthernCommand and the Inter-American In-stitute of Human Rights co-hosted aconference on human rights trainingin February 1996, which resulted fromdiscussions in Williamsburg. The guar-antor nations to the Ecuador and Perupeace process agreed to extend theirborder presence through June 1996.

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Secretary Perry briefing the press onJuly 26, 1995.

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With the support of U.S. Southern Command,a special Spanish-language edition of this JFQ Forum on “The Security of the Americas”is being published simultaneously for distributionby U.S. Military Group commanders throughoutthe region.

The United States has also partic-ipated in improved bilateral activitiesthat serve as a model for cooperation.In October 1995 at the invitation of theMexican minister of defense, I becamethe first Secretary of Defense to makean official visit to that country. Sincethe United States and Mexico have de-veloped closer economic ties under theNorth American Free Trade Agreementand closer political ties with PresidentClinton’s visit to Mexico, this was an-other opportunity to build a new bilat-eral security relationship based onopenness, trust, and cooperation.

The U.S.-Mexican security rela-tionship is already underway in severalareas, particularly in disrupting narco-trafficking. Beyond that, military-to-military bonds are growing as leadersbuild working relationships; our navieshave begun staff talks; airborne forceshave jumped out of each other’s air-craft; U.S. officers teach English atMexican military schools, while Mexi-can officers teach Spanish at U.S. facili-ties; and the carrier USS Kittyhawk re-cently received a warm welcome on aport call to Acapulco.

Such bilateral activities will erect anew bridge between Washington andMexico City. The United States alreadyengages in similar activities with manynations in the hemisphere, including a

bilateral working group with Argentinaand, more recently, with Chile. InMarch 1996, I became the first Secre-tary of Defense to visit Venezuela. I amencouraging every hemispheric nationto fully participate in a range of activi-ties, such as more officer exchanges,more multilateral peacekeeping train-ing and exercises, and more coopera-tion on other real-world missions(such as disaster relief). Nations shoulddevelop more defense and militarycontacts, broader dialogue, and openlyshare information on everything fromdefense plans, policies, and prioritiesto specific missions.

The nations of the hemispherecan still do much more. To ensure thatwe do, the defense ministers decided atWilliamsburg to develop a process forworking together. Just as James Madi-son created a democratic process forour Republic by drafting the U.S. Con-

stitution, the hemispheric de-fense leaders developed aprocess to achieve the sixWilliamsburg principles, amechanism the Argentineminister fittingly dubbed the“Williamsburg process.” This

procedure is based on dialogue andconsensus-building and techniques toenergize and consolidate democracies,and extends from formal agreementsto personal relationships.

The Defense Ministerial of theAmericas laid a foundation for inter-hemispheric defense cooperation. Thechallenge ahead is to build on that andtransform good intentions, good will,and common interests into concreteactivities and achievements. TheWilliamsburg principles must beimbedded in security relationshipsthroughout the hemisphere. Turningthem into action will require consis-tent dialogue and frequent meetings.Argentina volunteered to host the next

ministerial laterthis year, and de-fense leaders across the hemisphere arenow shaping the agenda for it.

If these activities continue, the de-fense establishments of the WesternHemisphere may well fulfill the dreamof the great Latin American liberator,Simon Bolivar, who spoke of the Amer-icas becoming the greatest region onearth: “. . . not so much by virtue oftheir area or their wealth, but by theirfreedom.” The United States has atremendous stake in Bolivar’s dreambecoming reality and a major opportu-nity to advance it by building bridgeswith neighbors throughout the Ameri-cas. The poet Robert Frost suggestedthat “Good fences make good neigh-bors,” but this does not always holdtrue. Instead, when neighbors sharecommon ideals and concerns, andwork together to achieve goals, it isgood bridges that usually make goodneighbors. JFQ

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the challenge ahead is to transformcommon interests into concrete activities and achievements

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Latin America and the Caribbean are poorly un-derstood by many North Americans whose super-ficial awareness of the nations to their south islimited to Cuba and Mexico, and perhaps to a be-lief that the other countries of the region are ho-mogeneous and Spanish-speaking. These peopledo not understand that the largest community inSouth America speaks Portuguese, that most inthe Caribbean speak Spanish, and that Dutch,French, Guarani, and Quechua are important lan-guages. This perspective is further distorted by theprism of the 1960s and 1970s, when Latin Amer-ica was regarded as a land of military dictator-ships where elites ruled and human rights wereviolated. That false impression still endures todayand influences U.S. policy toward the region.

For this reason, Latin America isranked low by Washington when itcomes to economic, political, and in-ternational security priorities. Indeed,only one of six stated U.S. principalforeign policy objectives, counteringdrug trafficking, is regarded as at stakein the area. The low prominence of theAmericas partially reflects a perceptionthat there are no vital national securityinterests to the south of the UnitedStates that threaten our survival. Nordoes the region have many problemsin common with other areas of theworld. It is not haunted by unstableregimes that blackmail other states.Neither are there hegemons thatthreaten their neighbors and necessi-

tate a counterbalancing U.S. presenceor rapid reinforcement. Nor are thererogue states that challenge the interna-tional order or sponsor terrorism. Eth-nic and religious strife donot tarnish the politicalscene. Finally, no failedstates are fomenting civilwar, chaotic fiefdoms, de-privation, or unchecked vi-olence. From all perspec-tives, it is a good news part of theworld. But unfortunately this meansthat the United States is tempted to ig-nore the area.

During the 1980s the reality wasdifferent, and many contend that U.S.attention to that part of the world was

greater. In South America, a troubledArgentine dictatorship miscalculatedand tragically went to war againstGreat Britain. At home, there was arancorous debate over how to influ-ence the civil wars in Central Amer-ica—a controversy that culminatedwith the Iran-Contra hearings. Nicara-gua was seen as a communist footholdand Washington was appropriately in-tent on preventing a victory by Marx-ist insurgents in El Salvador. Indeed,U.S. policy toward Latin America wasunderstandably heavily influenced byEast-West ideological struggles. As lateas 1987 there were 25 Marxist insur-gencies supported by the Soviet Union,Cuba, and Nicaragua in the area. In re-sponse, U.S. naval forces loitered offCentral America, Washington trainedand advised conventional and guerrillaforces, and the U.S. military consideredhow to more actively support allieswho were mired in vicious internalwarfare throughout Central America.

Today the scene has improveddramatically. The Central American in-stability of the 1980s is essentiallyover. A U.N. peacekeeping operation

successfully oversaw a reconciliationprocess in El Salvador. The disruptiveSandinista regime has been voted outof office in Nicaragua. The corrupt dic-tatorship of Manuel Noriega was re-placed by democracy in Panama. Onlyin Guatemala has turmoil persisted ina civil war which now seems to beslowly ending. In South America, thetransition from authoritarianism todemocracy has largely been completed.

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in South America, the transition fromauthoritarianism to democracy haslargely been completed

A Former CINC Looks at

Latin AmericaBy B A R R Y R. M C C A F F R E Y

General Barry R. McCaffrey, USA (Ret.), is director of the Office on National Drug Control Policy and previously served as commander inchief, U.S. Southern Command.

While Jeffersonian democracymay not be the rule, political systemsare becoming more responsive to widerconstituencies. Military institutions areessentially loyal to constitutional anddemocratically elected governments.More than 830 million people in theWestern Hemisphere live in democra-tic regimes, with only Cuba enslavedin tyranny. Our collective economiesconstitute a $13 trillion market. Intra-hemispheric commerce is striking. U.S.trade is greater with Brazil than Chinaand with Venezuela than Russia, andgreater with 3 million Costa Ricansthan 100 million Eastern Europeansand with 14 million Chileans than abillion Indians. By the turn of the cen-tury, Latin America will have a $2 tril-lion economy. It will trade more than$600 billion in goods and services, andthe level of U.S. trade with the regionwill exceed that with Europe.

Clearly, this part of the world war-rants continued U.S. attention basedon positive political and economic de-velopments. Despite its being an areawhere no vital national security inter-ests are at stake, we must still addressthe flow of drugs from and through it.Moreover, we must prevent uncon-trolled immigration from the region.In the past five years, eight of twenty-seven operations conducted by theArmed Forces dealt with uncheckedimmigration from Cuba and Haiti.

Given the low level of threat toU.S. interests, few defense resources areapportioned to the region. Less than .2percent of our military (both active andReserve) is assigned there. In fact, thereare more DOD civilians in Japan thanU.S. troops permanently assigned inLatin America. The share of the defensebudget expended in the region is simi-larly small. So why does one of the fiveU.S. regional combatant commandswatch the area? Absent the focus that aunified command brings to U.S. secu-rity dialogue with any region, meaning-ful security relations languish. A look atour security affiliation with sub-SaharanAfrica supports that assertion.

Regional Cooperative SecurityThe role of U.S. Southern Com-

mand (SOUTHCOM) is to support theobjectives of U.S. policy in its assignedarea of responsibility (AOR)—Centraland South America with contiguouswaters—and assist friendly nations. Itis distinguished from the other re-gional commands in how the militaryinstrument is used. SOUTHCOM is notabout power projection or forwardpresence to dissuade potential adver-saries or assure access to strategic re-sources, but it could be. Planning con-ventional military operations is not

the central focus, al-though this type ofplanning is done.Nevertheless, the

command is a strategic military head-quarters which has as its primary func-tion the command and control of de-ployed U.S. forces committed tonational security policy objectives. To-ward that end, SOUTHCOM each yearoversees the deployment of more than50,000 soldiers, sailors, marines, andairmen from the active and Reservecomponents. The three major elementsof this strategy are building regionalcooperative security, supporting thenational counterdrug strategy, and fos-tering the development of appropriateLatin American militaries.

Historical insecurities and borderdisputes continue to affect Latin Amer-ican contingency planning, procure-ment decisions, and force deploy-ments. SOUTHCOM believes thatincreasing professional interactionamong militaries fosters cooperation inthe security arena. This contact can re-duce the insecurities that influence de-fense planners and can help resolvelong-standing disputes. National forcescan then concentrate on peacekeeping,counterdrug operations, illegal migra-tion, arms smuggling, and the coopera-tive effort to manage land, sea, and airfrontiers.

The primary SOUTHCOM vehiclefor promoting contact among thearmed forces of Latin America is theforeign military interaction program.This program includes multinationalexercises, conferences and symposia,personnel and unit exchanges, staff as-sistance and assessment visits, and ori-entations that are pursued withoutseeking to mediate or eliminate dis-agreements. Instead, we seek collabora-tion through activities that involvecommon interests.

Peacekeeping Exercises. The mili-taries of Latin America contribute tovarious multinational peacekeepingoperations. Argentina, Brazil, Colom-bia, and Venezuela have participatedwith great valor and effectiveness informer Yugoslavia. Brazil has played asuperb leadership role in peace opera-tions in Angola and Mozambique,both Portuguese-speaking nations,

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while 39 percent of the highly profes-sional Uruguayan army has peacekeep-ing experience. Currently, 10 LatinAmerican countries are participating in13 U.N. missions around the world.

In August 1995 SOUTHCOM facili-tated a multinational peacekeeping ex-ercise in Argentina to foster coopera-tion among national military forceswithin the southern cone. The effortwas led by the visionary chief of staff ofthe Argentine army, and featured a sce-nario that replicated challenges facing

peacekeepers in Bosnia. A computer-assisted command post exercise drewplayers from the U.S. Army Peacekeep-ing Institute, U.S. Army School ofthe Americas, XVIII Airborne Corps,10th Infantry (Mountain) Division, andU.S. Army South. This was the first timethat protagonists in the War of theTriple Alliance (1865–70)—Argentina,Brazil, Paraguay, and Uruguay—cametogether in an exercise that emphasizedthe benefit of multinational militaryactivities to regional security. A similarexercise is scheduled for Montevideo inAugust 1996.

In addition, SOUTHCOM sup-ported multinational exercises (at theJoint Readiness Center, Fort Chaffee,Arkansas; San Juan, Puerto Rico; Na-tional Simulation Center, Fort Leaven-worth, Kansas; and Joint Task Force-Bravo, Honduras) which addressedmutual interests such as narco-guerril-las, disaster relief, or peacekeeping.Moreover, wargames that once focusedon neighbors are no longer played.During the last year, approximately10,000 Latin American troops tookpart in SOUTHCOM-supported train-ing aimed at building regional cooper-ative security.

Peacekeeping on the Ecuador-PeruBorder. In January 1995, a traditionaldispute between Ecuador and Peruover an undemarcated section of theirborder erupted. Although the fightingwas confined to a remote jungle area,mobilization by both sides threateneda bloody conventional war similar to

one conducted in 1941. Fortunately,this latest episode was halted by quickdiplomatic and military efforts on thepart of Argentina, Brazil, Chile, andthe United States, who committed toguarantee the accord reached after the1941 clash. Since March 1995 militarycontingents from these guarantor na-tions have progressively solidified astanding cease-fire. The Military Ob-server Mission to Ecuador and Peru(MOMEP) has supervised the separa-tion of some 10,000 personnel located

in the disputed area. Another150,000 troops were demobi-lized and returned to peacetimegarrison duty. We are enor-mously proud that Ecuadoriansand Peruvians have been inte-grated into the four-power ob-

server force in which they constitutethe majority of mission personnel.

This casualty-free observer mis-sion is being conducted at essentiallyno cost to Argentina, Brazil, Chile, andthe United States. Ecuador and Peruagreed to provide $15,000 daily, a bar-gain if compared to fighting a war—ahalf billion dollars for one month oftactical skirmishing. The mission hascreated military conditions that couldlead to a diplomatic settlement. Thisprocess must be given time to takeroot. If an accord is not reached, thehemisphere risks serious fighting be-tween these nations. SOUTHCOM hasa small contingent high in the Andesto support the effort. U.S. soldiers andairmen are providing helicopter lift, in-telligence, logistics, and command andcontrol for this remarkable peacekeep-ing mission.

Counterdrug StrategyLatin America is the source of the

world’s cocaine. Peru is the origin oftwo-thirds of the world’s coca and Bo-livia is the second largest producer.Colombia is the only other country thatraises a significant crop. The cocainepotential of South American coca in1994 exceeded 800 metric tons with avalue of over $30 billion in the UnitedStates. The cultivation of Colombianopium has exploded over the past five

years. In 1990 Colombia produced noheroin, yet today it accounts for 5 to 10percent of the international supply.Heroin sold on U.S. streets is ten timesmore pure than in the 1970s and sells at1.5 times the price. Each year, the drugsthat come to the United States fromLatin America—including almost 300tons of cocaine—cause irreparableharm, contributing annually to 10,000deaths and a $67 billion price tag asso-ciated with drug abuse.

The economic power of drug traf-fickers makes them almost invulnera-ble to the unassisted counterdrug ef-forts of Latin American governments.In Colombia, for example, annual pro-ceeds from trafficking by the cocainecartels is about $8 billion. This is morethan total legal exports in 1992 andabout 10 percent of the gross domesticproduct (GDP). The influence of thecartels is so great that allegations oftheir contributions to the 1994 presi-dential campaign led to a constitu-tional crisis. Undoubtedly, the notionof a narco-democracy is a threat to theentire region.

Closer to home, the route for 70percent of all cocaine entering theUnited States is Mexico. Traffickersmade an estimated $30 billion profitlast year according to Mexico’s attorneygeneral. Drugs have been transportedinto Mexico with almost total impunityon commercial jets and then to the U.S.market. Methamphetamines, once analmost exclusively domestically manu-factured drug pushed by Californiabiker gangs, is produced in Mexico forbuyers in the United States. Clearly, theillegal drug trade is a transnationalthreat that requires international coop-eration to be countered.

Over the past six years SOUTH-COM counterdrug efforts have soughtto build a consensus on the drug threatin the region. Among them is the de-velopment of multinational capabili-ties that can be directed against thedrug trade. There have been numerousencouraging tactical successes. Sus-tained operations against small planesflying coca paste between Peru andColombia are paying off. Smugglersrisk interception and being shot downor having their aircraft impounded ordestroyed after landing. That increasedrisk is reflected by a nine-fold increase

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MOMEP is being conducted at essentially no cost to Argentina,Brazil, Chile, and the United States

in costs, amounting to $180,000 perflight in 1995. It is also seen in de-pressed prices for coca leaves in Peruwhere the cost has dropped by over 60percent in some cases as supplies ex-ceed the ability to process and trans-port coca paste. We have great respectfor the valor and skill of the Colom-bian and Peruvian police and militaryin their struggle against this violent in-ternational threat.

Nevertheless, such successes arenot directed by an operational instru-ment that is capable of having a pro-nounced effect on the price, purity,and availability of cocaine in the

United States. Nor have internationalefforts succeeded in reducing the over-all supply. In Bolivia, for example,where the U.S. Government has main-tained an extensive counterdrug pres-ence for the last decade, there has beenno significant decrease in acreage dedi-cated to coca. A contributing problemis that there is no government agencyanalogous to SOUTHCOM to consoli-date international counterdrug efforts.Thus the approach to thistransnational problem hasbeen to work on a country-by-country basis. One solu-tion is to create a regionalcoordinator for counter-drug programs undertakenby U.S. agencies. The tactical success ofinterdiction efforts inspired bySOUTHCOM—which amount to lessthan 1 percent of the U.S. counterdrugbudget—suggest that unity of effortcan bring greater success. This menacedemands international will, coopera-tion, and sustained operations.

National Military ForcesThe primary value of SOUTHCOM

programs is extensive interaction withnational military forces in the AOR. Atthe forefront of the command’s effortsare security assistance organizations(SAOs) and defense attaché teams thatare part of U.S. missions. These activi-ties serve complementary but mutuallyexclusive functions. SAOs are subordi-

nate to SOUTHCOM and normallyhave command and control over de-ployed U.S. military elements withinthe country to which they are accred-ited. Defense attachés on the otherhand respond to the Defense Intelli-gence Agency and are essentiallyfriendly and overt intelligence collec-tors. Some have suggested mergingthese two organizations to conservemanpower. Yet there are fewer than

200 military personnel assigned tosuch positions in Central and SouthAmerica, and consolidating themcould result in both functions beingexecuted poorly.

SOUTHCOM experience suggestsa variety of observations about the mil-itaries of the region to examine.

Despite accusations to the contrary,national military forces do not cause mostregional ills. Defense spending in LatinAmerica is extremely low; in fact, noother region expends so little on eithera per capita basis or as a percentage ofGDP. Like most militaries of the world,these proud national institutions areproducts of unique historical, political,

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defense spending in Latin America isextremely low; in fact, no other regionexpends so little on a per capita basis

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(continued on page 50)

MISSION: The primary mission of U.S. Southern Command (SOUTHCOM) is toestablish and implement plans, programs,and policies in peacetime, conflict, and warwhich will contribute to the defense of theUnited States and its allies, and protect andpromote U.S. interests in Latin America.Other major missions include conductingdisaster relief and humanitarian operations;monitoring security assistance programs inthe region; conducting combat, counternar-cotics, counterterrorism, counterinsurgency,and nation assistance; defending thePanama Canal; and implementing thePanama Canal Treaty-2000.

BACKGROUND: The command tracesits origins to the arrival of marines inPanama in 1903, days after Panama

declared independence from Colombia. TheArmy arrived in 1911, three years before thecanal opened. U.S. military strength peakedat 67,000 in Panama during World War II.After the war, Army, Navy, and Air Forcecomponents were joined to form CaribbeanCommand which was redesignated SOUTH-COM in 1963. Under the Panama CanalTreaty, signed in 1977, the waterway will beturned over to Panama on December 31,1999. However, the United States is commit-ted to guaranteeing the neutrality of thecanal “indefinitely.”

AREA OF RESPONSIBILITY: Thegeographic region assigned to SOUTHCOMrecently was expanded to include the watersadjoining Central and South America and theGulf of Mexico, areas that were formerly the

responsibility of U.S. Atlantic Command(ACOM). This change satisfies two key ob-jectives. The first is to enhance the com-mand’s interaction with the navies of Centraland South America. The second is to haveone commander in control of all U.S. militaryactivities in the Caribbean basin as well asin Central and South America. Because oflong-standing relations between theCaribbean and ACOM, including ongoingU.N. operations in Haiti and counterdrug operations across the region, the transferwill occur in two phases (see map). Phase I,implemented on January 1, 1996, trans-ferred responsibility for the waters adjoiningCentral and South America. Phase II—to beexecuted only on order of the Secretary of Defense, but not earlier than June 1, 1997—will transfer responsibility for the CaribbeanSea and its island nations, the Gulf of Mexico, and an additional portion of the Atlantic Ocean.

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U.S. SOUTHERN COMMAND

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COMPONENT COMMANDS:U.S. Army South (USARSO); U.S. Southern Air Force (USAFSO)—12th Air Force; U.S.Atlantic Fleet (LANTFLT); U.S. Marine CorpsForces, SOUTHCOM (MARFORSOUTH); andSpecial Operations Command SOUTHCOM(SOCSOUTH). JFQ


P a c i f i c O c e a n

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COLOMBIA

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PERU

BRAZIL

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SOUTH GEORGIA ISLAND

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DOMINICAN REPUBLICHAITI

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28° North

The geographic area of responsibility for the conduct of normal SOUTHCOM operations includes Central and South America and the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans from 92° West, east to 30° West, north to 8° North, west to the Guyana/Venezuela coastal border, and coastal waters out to 12 nautical miles north to the Belize/Mexico border. On order of the Secretary of Defense, but not earlier than June 1, 1997, the Caribbean Sea and its island nations and European possessions, the Gulf of Mexico, and the Atlantic Ocean south of 28° North and west of 58° West will be added to this area of responsibility. In 1997, SOUTHCOM headquarters will be relocated from Quarry Heights, Panama, to Miami, Florida.

Phase I

Phase II

SOUTHCOM headquarters,Quarry Heights.

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and social dynamics. Each reflectsthese factors in its organization andcorporate ethic. Less military is not thesolution to challenges of poverty, in-justice, economic development, anddrugs in Latin America.

Most national military forces are pro-fessional and honorable. Moreover,many have strong support and trustfrom citizens. They are led by superblyqualified officers such as Martin Balzaof Argentina, Benedito Leonel ofBrazil, Moises Orozco of Venezuela,and Jaime Guzman Morales of El Sal-vador who understand national secu-rity and fiscal realities. They are work-ing to maintain disciplined, modernforces capable of accomplishing theirconstitutional tasks.

National military forces may be inap-propriately organized and equipped. Somenavies seek blue water capabilities in-stead of more functional brown waterones, purchasing diesel submarines anddestroyers instead of coastal and riverinepatrol craft, while air forces acquire jetair-to-air fighters instead of short take-off and landing utility aircraft, coastalpatrol aircraft, and helicopters. Theirarmies feature main battle tanks, ar-tillery, and conscript regiments insteadof professional active/reserve units orga-nized for peacekeeping, counterdrug,and engineering/medical operations. Inmost cases a focus on external threatsmay be less appropriate than one ad-dressing the new challenges of the 21st

century. Some Latin Americans see thebelief that a force’s professionalism is afunction of its similarity to First Worldmilitary forces as contributing to a dis-connect between organization and mis-sions. It is encouraging to note that oursenior colleagues reject the notion thatthe trappings of a modern militaryforce—doctrine, echeloned headquar-ters, traditional branches, war colleges,etc.—automatically confers profession-alism.

Our allies reject the notion of na-tional military forces that are corrupt, dis-trustful of civilian rule, and concerned pri-marily with self enrichment . Oneexample of such an organization wasthe Panamanian Defense Force thatunder Manuel Noriega formed a part-nership with Colombian drug cartels.

SOUTHCOM contacts with regional al-lies have reinforced this continuedfocus on more professional and demo-cratic values.

In all dealings with Latin Ameri-can militaries, SOUTHCOM seeks tofunction in a collegial manner. It isonly through shared, respectful dia-logue that change can be achieved.The reality is that the command can-not be the agent of radical change inthe region’s militaries. SOUTHCOMmust assist in a balanced manner, evermindful of the right of each nation toestablish its own forces and doctrine asa function of national sovereignty.

Human RightsWhile the region has been marked

by enormous political and economicsuccess, there have also been egregiousabuses of human rights committed bystate and non-state actors includingthe military, police, insurgents, politi-cal organizations, and individuals. Butthere is reason to believe the humanrights record will continue to improve.Strengthening of democratic institu-tions and the end of Cuban-Soviet in-spired insurgency make subversion,terrorism, and associated restraints oncivil liberties less likely. Individualrights have also been strengthened bysocieties that hold governments moreaccountable and by contributions fromnon-governmental organizations.

As each nation debates how to ad-dress the legacy of human rightsabuses, SOUTHCOM has moved to in-tegrate human rights into all of its in-teractions with Latin American mili-

taries. The military utility of respectinghuman rights in peace as well as war isstressed. In February 1996, SOUTH-COM and the Inter-American Instituteof Human Rights sponsored a confer-ence in Miami on “The Role of theArmed Forces in the Protection of Human Rights.” Six governmentministers and eight chiefs of servicesattended this first regional military hu-

man rights conference. Other partici-pants included the Secretary Generalof the Organization of AmericanStates, Cesar Gaviria, and representa-tives from academe, the media, diplo-matic corps, and nongovernmental or-ganizations. The involvement ofinteragency, nongovernmental, andacademic spheres in the SOUTHCOMhuman rights program has been key toits success. It reinforces the conceptthat the military is accountable di-rectly to civilian governments and in-directly to the people they protect.

The FutureThe Panama Canal Treaty signed

in 1977 by Presidents Carter and Torri-jos transferred both the ownership ofand responsibility for the canal toPanama. Moreover, it stipulated thatthe U.S. military presence in Panamawould end at noon on December 31,1999. U.S. forces are drawing down andreturning facilities at a pace that can beaccommodated by the local authorities.While no U.S. vital national security in-terests demand a continued forwardpresence in Panama, it could have mili-tary utility. Many argue it would alsocontribute to regional stability. A post-1999 presence would only be feasible ifthe U.S. and Panamanian governmentsconclude that a common good can beserved by such an arrangement. In Sep-tember 1995 Presidents Clinton andBalladares agreed to hold exploratorytalks on the matter.

In 1997, the 800 personnel of thejoint SOUTHCOM headquarters will re-locate to Miami, the point of conver-

gence for the Caribbeanand Central and SouthAmerica. Miami was se-lected for its regional ties:85 percent of the flightsby U.S. flag carriers toCentral and South Amer-

ica operate out of Miami; all LatinAmerican and Caribbean countrieshave consulates there; 30 percent ofU.S. trade with those countries goesthrough its port; and more than twomillion Latin Americans visit yearly. Byall indicators, Miami is the economic,communications, and transportation

■ J F Q F O R U M


the sweeping progress in Latin Americacalls for new strategic thinking and international security arrangements

(continued from page 47)

hub of the Americas. It is the logicalplace for the headquarters responsiblefor U.S. military operations in theCaribbean and Latin America—theSOUTHCOM charter under the recentlymodified unified command plan (seemap on page 49).

The sweeping progress in LatinAmerica, the result of democratic andeconomic reform, calls for new strate-gic thinking and international securityarrangements. As a free trade area em-bracing all of the hemisphere emergeswithin the next ten years, a goal set atthe Miami Summit of the Americas inDecember 1994, we cannot afford toignore the nontraditional threats toour national security that emanatefrom the region: illegal migration, drugtrafficking, terrorism, and violations ofintellectual content and patents of U.S.products. In fact, many people seelower trade barriers as a downside thatcreates vulnerabilities which will be ex-ploited by international criminal orga-nizations. This is a serious concern ascustoms formalities on the U.S.-Mexicoborder are liberalized under the NorthAmerican Free Trade Agreement.

Most problems cannot and shouldnot be addressed in military terms. In-stead, they require collective efforts byall societies affected. Absent a coherentinteragency strategy to address these

threats, U.S. suc-cesses will be tacti-cal and episodic.They will mostlycause non-state ac-tors to shift their patterns of operation.The drug cartels and sophisticated ille-gal alien smuggling rings will continueto violate state sovereignty almost atwill. Nevertheless, the Armed Forces cancontribute to national and regional se-curity by continuing modest interac-tions with the militaries of Latin Amer-ica. We can help defuse conventionalmilitary crises—as we did on theEcuador-Peru border. We can help com-mitted nations stop drug traffickersfrom violating sovereign land, sea, andair space—as we have done with coordi-nated efforts against the Colombia-Peruairbridge. We can contribute to the on-going debate over appropriate roles andmissions of the armed forces in democ-ratic societies. While this is a debatethat must take place in each country, wecan share our experience. Forums suchas the Williamsburg Defense Ministerialwhich brought together defense leadersfrom the hemisphere and SOUTHCOM-sponsored symposia facilitate those de-bates. We can also help countries reor-ganize and modernize their forces underdemocratic leadership.

SOUTHCOMbelieves that mili-tary operationstoday offer a model for security dia-logue in the context of interstate rela-tions that are not fundamentally basedon traditional security concerns. Thecommand is about professionals col-laborating to tackle transnationalproblems and achieving efficiencythrough shared ideas. It focuses on ad-vancing regional security through ex-changes and confidence building mea-sures. Finally, the intention ofSOUTHCOM is to contribute to stabil-ity, the precursor of democracy andeconomic growth. Current U.S. mili-tary strategy for the Americas is sound.Washington spends only a fraction ofits defense resources in the region—less than .2 percent of its budget andunder 5 percent of security assistancefunds. These are sums that many part-ners of the United States in the regionfeel is money well spent. JFQ

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In January 1995, the hemisphere was shocked by an outbreakof fighting between Ecuador and Peru over a long-festeringborder dispute. During a six-week period, more than 100,000men were mobilized, fleets were deployed, air forces capable ofstriking the respective capitals of each protagonist were reposi-

tioned, and both sides suffered asmany as 300 casualties in fierce com-bat in the upper Cenepa Valley.

Colonel Glenn R. Weidner, USA, is commander of the U.S. Military Group-Honduras and served as commander of theU.S. Contingent, Military Observer Mission, Ecuador-Peru.

Operation Safe Border:The Ecuador-Peru CrisisBy G L E N N R. W E I D N E R

Santiago River (fore-ground) and YaupiRiver on Ecuador-Peruborder.

U.S. Army (Stuart J. Gubler)

Coming in the wake of the De-cember 1994 hemispheric Miami sum-mit, the conflict posed a serious threatto regional stability. Rapid, effective re-sponses by guarantors of the 1942 Pro-tocol of Rio de Janeiro—Argentina,Brazil, Chile, and the United States—helped to stop hostilities and createdconditions for negotiating a diplomaticsolution to a complex and highly emo-tional problem of long standing.

The Military Observer Mission,Ecuador/Peru (MOMEP) may becomean historic example of effective multi-national peacekeeping. This operationwas successful because of unprece-dented cooperation between politicaland military representatives of the guar-antors and the strong desire of the bel-ligerents to end the hostilities quickly.

The roots of the conflict lie in adispute between the two countriesover the delimitation and demarcationof the border along an isolated stretchof jungle highlands characterized byextremely difficult terrain and contin-uous cloud cover.1 Although the dis-pute extends back to the colonial pe-riod, the consequences of a warbetween these countries in 1941 wasparticularly relevant to the observermission. In that year, Peru invadedsouthern Ecuador and forced a settle-ment under the 1942 Rio Protocol.

That agreement committed both par-ties to a cessation of hostilities and de-fined a common border based on thelimited geophysical data which existedat that time.

Unfortunately, the demarcationwas never completed because of a geo-physical anomaly that was discoveredin the upper Cenepa Valley in 1946.Since 1960, Ecuador has insisted thatthe protocol is not executable in thatarea and is suggesting a claim to exten-sive territory in the Amazon Basin.Peru, on the other hand, asserted thatthe protocol is valid and has consid-ered the disputed territory to be sover-eign. As a result, numerous small-scaleclashes have erupted in the area over

the past fifty years, usually near theJanuary anniversary of the signing ofthe protocol.

Border WarIn December 1994, Peruvian intel-

ligence confirmed that the Ecuadore-ans had established base camps in thedisputed area.2 Combat operationsbegan with Peruvian air and ground at-

tacks in the vicinity of theCenepa and at the confluence ofthe Santiago and Yaupi Rivers.Over six weeks, both sides man-aged to introduce more than5,000 troops in a 70-square kilo-meter area of extremely dense

jungle. Meanwhile, general mobiliza-tion produced the forward deploymentof six Peruvian divisions along thecoastal plain, as well as the equivalentof four Ecuadorean brigades to theirimmediate front. With fleets at sea,high-performance aircraft forward-de-ployed, and combat in the Cenepa re-gion, the danger of escalation was sig-nificant. By mid-February, however, asthe extent of casualties and the eco-nomic impact of the fighting becameincreasingly clear, a battlefield stale-mate developed. Diplomatic pressurefrom the guarantor nations of the 1942

protocol brought the parties to the ne-gotiating table and ultimately to apeace agreement, the Declaration ofItamaraty on March 17, 1995.

The declaration required thatboth sides cease hostilities, demobilize,and support activities of a military ob-server mission provided by the guaran-tors that had an initial mandate ofninety days and could be extended onrequest of the parties. The accord’s lan-guage provided for the separation offorces under observer supervision andobligated observers to establish opera-tions centers and recommend an “areato be totally demilitarized” by eachside. The accord committed both par-ties and guarantors to construct a defi-nition of procedures for the observermission which would detail its organi-zation and employment. Finally, itcommitted the two parties to beginsubstantive talks, with the assistance ofthe guarantors, on the underlying bor-der issue, with a view to demarcationand a return to normal relations.

Brazil’s offer to provide a generalofficer as the chief of the observer mis-sion was accepted by the guarantorswith qualifications. Deliberations overthe definition of procedures, princi-pally on the issue of command rela-tionships, lasted for almost a month,during which time a number of cease-fire violations erupted in the conflict

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zone and around isolated outpostsalong the demarcated border some 60kilometers to the northeast.

A compromise on command rela-tionships was finally reached in earlyMarch. To preserve the coequal statusof guarantor contingents, the Braziliangeneral was defined as coordinatorrather than commander. Each nationwould contribute up to ten officers asobservers, led by a colonel, and theUnited States would provide an ele-ment consisting of aviation, opera-tions, intelligence, communications,and logistical support.

The Brazilian general would exer-cise operational control (OPCON) overthe observers from all four nations,while the colonels retained command

for administrative and disciplinarypurposes, less OPCON, over their con-tingents. The U.S. colonel would retaincommand as well as OPCON over thesupport element. The political direc-tion of the mission would be exercisedvia a committee consisting of a repre-sentative of the Brazilian foreign min-istry and the ambassadors of Ar-gentina, Chile, and the United Statesresident in Brasilia. (This function waslater assumed by a group of so-calledhigh functionaries who representedthe guarantors directly from their re-spective capitals.) The ad hoc commit-tee of ambassadors was advised by at-tachés in Brasilia, under thecoordination of a general officer fromBrazil’s armed forces general staff.

MOMEP DeploysOn March 10, the definition of

procedures was signed. Late that samenight, a JCS execute order was releasedpermitting deployment of the U.S.contingent. An advance party of thesupport element arrived in Ecuadorand began to receive deployment air-craft at Patuca and Macas, a C–130-ca-pable strip some 60 kilometers to thenorth. The observer contingents de-ployed from Brasilia on March 11, di-viding between the Peruvian regionalmilitary headquarters at El Milagro andthe Ecuadorean base at Patuca.

The coordinator, Lieutenant Gen-eral Candido Vargas de Freire fromBrazil, and a staff that consisted of se-nior colonels from each national con-tingent, arrived at Patuca on March 12.There they found that the U.S. supportelement had established headquartersfacilities, an encampment for troops,and barracks for observers on a base oc-cupied by the Ecuadorean 21st JungleInfantry Brigade. UH–60s had arrivedearlier that day, self-deploying from anintermediate staging base at Guayaquil.As the sun fell behind the mountains,the MOMEP staff met to spell out anapproach to operations and a strategyfor initial contacts with local comman-ders of the two parties.

Concept of Operations U.S. Southern Command (SOUTH-

COM) had analyzed the mission andprovided the U.S. contingent comman-der with guidance on certain funda-mentals. For example, no operationwould be undertaken unless it led toachieving the results outlined in theDeclaration of Itamaraty; also, thesafety of personnel and equipment wasparamount. MOMEP had no mandateto enforce the peace since it was onlyconstituted to observe and verify com-pliance under the terms of the accord.For those reasons, the United Statesadopted a policy of no foot patrols inthe conflict zone because of the dangerof mines and the proximity of the con-testing forces, and forbad use of the he-licopters of either party for observer op-erations. The U.S. representative alsostressed the requirement for the partiesto accept a defined demilitarized zone(DMZ) as a precondition for operations.

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General Freire felt strongly thatthe DMZ was too sensitive an issue toraise at this point; the parties wouldbegin endless haggling, preventing themission from proceeding to the separa-tion of forces. To Freire, the DMZ rep-resented the end result of MOMEP ac-tions rather than a control measure forconducting operations. Nonetheless ageneral outline for a four-phase opera-tion was accepted. Describing the con-ditions for both parties, and the corre-sponding tasks for MOMEP, itcontemplated a preparatory phase(MOMEP deployment, liaison, a secu-rity area as a substitute for the DMZ,and initial requirements for the orderof battle in the area), supervision ofthe cease-fire, separation of belligerentforces, and finally the demobilizationof units outside the conflict zone andestablishment of the DMZ. This con-cept was accepted by both parties.

In the meantime, Latin Americanobservers, less U.S. counterparts and

communications, deployed to twoconcentration points by Peruvian andEcuadorean helicopters and relieved at-tachés who had acted as interim ob-servers while the Brasilia negotiationswere concluded. On March 17, UH–60sbrought a complete multinational ob-server team to Coangos. On the 21st,the requisite assurances of control overair defense weapons were obtainedfrom Peru, and a U.S. observer andcommunicator were transported toPV1 to join Argentinean, Brazilian, andChilean observers who rotated by Pe-ruvian helicopters from El Milagro.From then on, relief of both posts wasconducted at 3-day intervals (weatherpermitting) without incident.

Separation of ForcesBetween March 12 and 31,

MOMEP concentrated on conductingobserver reliefs at the two concentra-tion points and preparing plans to sep-arate forces in the security area. Thetwo parties had cooperated with the

mission requirement to submit a list-ing of units, personnel, and weaponsin the area but were reluctant to trustthe other party to comply withMOMEP directives. The staff consid-ered a series of factors in preparing theplan before communicating it to theparties:

■ Units were intermingled on the bat-tlefield due to the density of the jungle andthe narrow concealed trails between fight-ing positions. Mines had been emplacedthroughout the area—some 6,000 byEcuador alone—often without proper reg-istry. Generalized withdrawals were certainto provoke firing incidents or mine injuries.

■ Ecuador had managed to infiltrate aunit into the Peruvian rear, capable of at-tacking their primary base at PV1 or cuttingtheir main supply route into the upperCenepa. It was clear that the Ecuadoreanunit had to be removed at the start to per-mit future Peruvian withdrawals.

■ Two contested bases, Tiwintza andBase Sur, were invested with a degree ofemotional significance that far outweighedtheir political or military significance. Bothsides claimed to have taken them. Ecuadorinsisted that MOMEP publicly take physicalpossession of their version of these bases toconfirm its battlefield gains. MOMEP re-fused to do any such thing.

■ Peru’s national elections werescheduled for April 9. President Fujimorihad announced the taking of Tiwintza and

W e i d n e r


MOMEP concentrated on observer reliefs and plans to separate forces in the security area

Gulf of Guayaquil

Zan

ia

Chi

ra

Rio Rio

Rio

Rio

RioR

io

Guayas

Rio

Napo

Dau

le Aquarico

Plura

Rio Chinchipe

Rio

Rio

Rio

Pasta

za

Moro

na

Santia

go

Co

rdili

era

Del

Co

ndo

r

RioCenepa

X

XX

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

E C U A D O R

in dispute

PortoviejoManta

Guayaquil

Santa Elena

Tumbes

Los Organos

Cabo Blanco

TUMBES

Trujillo

Pacasmayo

ChepenMonsefu

Santiago de Cao's

Chilete

Sagua

LA LIBERT

Zorritos

Brea

Lagunitos PortachueoMirador

Huancabamba

Jaen

Chulucanas

Olmos

FerrenafeChiclayo

Pimentel

Puerto Etens

Lambayeque

LAMBAYEQUE

Lobitos

Lomitos

Talara

Paita

Tablazo

Sechura

Punta Negra

La Tina

Loja

MacaraBorja

LORE

in d

isput

e in d

isput

e

Babahoyo

Azogues

Isla Lobos de Tierra

San Ignacio

Santa Rosa

Cuenca

Latacunga

Ambato

Riobamba

Pucala

P E R U

AMAZON

Celendin� Cajamarca�

Nunshatkame

SECURITY AREA

Base Sur

Coangos

Cueva de los Tallos

PV1 Soldado Pastor

Tiwintza

Base Norte

HITO 14

Banderas

26 JUNE PROPOSED DMZ

Source: U.S. Southern Command.

Original Security Area and Demilitarized Zone.

any action by MOMEP that tended to proveor disprove that statement would compli-cate Peru’s domestic political situation.

■ Because of its relative logistical ca-pabilities, Ecuador could conduct aerial ex-traction from a number of landing zoneswithin the conflict area, but Peru had tomove forces on foot to PV1 or Cueva de losTallos for pickup by helicopters—a processthat could require up to 48 hours for eachunit, given the terrain and weather.

The MOMEP staff designed a six-week program of directed withdrawalsof 60-odd units deployed in the con-flict zone. Each side was told to firstconcentrate by echelon, drawing com-bat outposts and patrols to squad-levelpositions, and squads to platoons.They then received phased require-ments for extraction of specific units.Each unit was notified to move to des-ignated points. Helicopters then tookthem to the MOMEP observers, whologged in departing soldiers, weapons,and equipment. Troops moved onfrom there by air and road (in the caseof Ecuador) to garrisons. This proce-dure, despite evident flaws from an ac-countability standpoint, resulted inthe extraction of over 5,000 soldiers,without incident, in just five weeks. Itwas successful simply because the par-ties were eager to comply with aprocess that permitted them to disen-gage without renouncing their honoror territorial claims and the fact thatMOMEP provided a veneer of control.

As the separation of forces contin-ued, both Ecuador and Peru pressured

MOMEP to verifydemobilization inareas outside ofthe conflict zone.Sensing eagernesson the part of

both sides to demobilize, the staff di-rected them to provide a demobiliza-tion plan to MOMEP. Then the staffmet with both liaison officers to con-struct a simultaneous and proportionalschedule of withdrawals into peace-time garrisons of those units deployedforward during the conflict.

From May 3 to 13, two MOMEPverification teams traveled to variousdemobilization sites on each side ofthe border. Each received a briefing bythe unit commander, presided at for-mal demobilization ceremonies, andinspected the garrison or abandonedposition to verify that forces had re-turned to a peacetime readiness pos-ture. The verification was admittedlysuperficial, given the rapid pace of de-mobilization and small size of the ob-server mission. Nonetheless, by May13 each side had substantially returnedto its pre-conflict military posture. Ifslight variations existed in the postwarconfiguration of forward units inpeacetime garrisons, they were not sig-nificant enough to permit either side adestabilizing capability.

DMZ AgreementBy early May 1995, MOMEP had

accomplished most of the specifiedtasks in the Itamaraty accord and alsosettled into a routine of aerial patrolsover the security area, relief of ob-servers on Coangos and PV1, and peri-odic insertion of operations centers atBase Sur and Tiwintza. With the upperCenepa clear of troops except for tokenforces at Coangos and PV1, MOMEPhad achieved conditions for the rec-ommendation to the parties of a DMZ,as required in the mandate.

Six options which had been pre-pared as early as April ranged from anarrow strip between Coangos andPV1 to a 20 kilometer strip that ran thelength of the border. Each was ana-lyzed from the standpoint of militaryjustification and political significance.MOMEP had to maintain complete im-partiality and divorce the DMZ fromultimate adjudications of territorialclaims while considering each side’sview of its sovereign interests.

Accordingly, MOMEP proposed toguarantor diplomats in Brasilia that theexisting security area become the DMZwith garrisons of 50 troops at PV1 andCoangos. The recommendation was de-livered on May 3. While Peru acceptedimmediately, Ecuador rejected it, citingthat it was unjust and betrayed earlierMOMEP assurances that the securityarea was not to be related “either to afinal border solution or to a demilita-rized area.” At the heart of Ecuador’sprotest was a minor logistics base, Ban-deras, within the DMZ.

During the last stage of the sepa-ration, the Ecuadorean liaison officerbrought up the issue with MOMEP,stating that Ecuador should not be re-quired to evacuate Banderas, because itwas in uncontested Ecuadorean terri-tory and had long been the site of aborder detachment. He based the con-tinued need for occupying Banderas onthe security and humanitarian supportof the indigenous population of 60 to70 families.

Two-tiered negotiations by guar-antor high functionaries and the viceforeign ministers of Peru and Ecuadorwere held on June 19–26. While thediplomats dealt with normalizing rela-tions, the MOMEP staff explored DMZadjustments and a draft definition of

■ J F Q F O R U M


Military representa-tives of guarantor nations (Argentina,Brazil, Chile, and theUnited States) andMOMEP coordinatorgeneral.

U.S

. Arm

y

Rio Yaupi

Rio

Ma

y lic

a

RioChiquisaa

Rio Sant iago

Mayalico

Cusumaza

Mirador

Subteniente Castro

ldado Cisneros

Kaputia

Jempeket

Cangas

Kaank

Tashapa (E)Puerto Morona

HITO 22, CORTE DE LA QUEBRADA SHAIME

HITO 21, ENFILAMIENTO CONFLUENCIA

SANTIAGO–YAUPI

HITO 18, DIVISOR DEL CONTRAFUERTE

HITO 19, CUSUMAZA- BUMBUIZA

PACHACUTEC

INCA ROCA

CHIQUEIZA

TAMBILLO

CAHUIDE

MOMEP ZONE

SOLADO MONGE

TENIENTE HUGO ORTIZ

ETZA VIEJO

SANTIAGO

ETZA

Supplemental Security Area Northeast of Demilitarized Zone. MOMEP IIWith the establishment of the de-

militarized zone on August 1, theMOMEP staff returned to negotiatingprocedures for continuing the mission.Early on, U.S. Ambassador Luigi Ein-audi had outlined a long-term planwhereby most observer tasks would beturned over to military officers of theparties to permit a drawdown of guar-antor presence. This approach, to-gether with an expanded MOMEPmandate to verify demobilization anddemilitarization, was at the heart ofthe draft given to the liaison officers.The integration would be conductedincrementally from the top down overninety days and result in a combinedMOMEP staff, support element staff,and observer teams.

Both parties agreed in principle tothis approach at the Brasilia talks. Butat Quito in early August they opted fora more gradual integration processlinked to diplomatic progress but notto a drawdown of MOMEP. As stipu-lated in the draft, the liaison officerswanted an effective veto on withdraw-ing guarantor observers from the mis-sion. While the United States favoredmore rapid integration, the consensuswas that changes in the wording wouldnot be accepted by both parties. Allconcerned recognized the implicit rightof the guarantors to make decisionswith regard to the continued commit-ment of their observers; as a result, thedefinition of procedures was endorsedby the guarantor high functionariesand accepted by the governments ofthe two parties on August 22.

With this success and the stage setfor integration and negotiations on theunderlying issue, a situation arose thatthreatened to derail the peace process.3

Since the completion of the separationof forces in May, a number of cease-fireviolations had occurred in areas adja-cent to, although not part of, the secu-rity area/DMZ. Between May 3 andSeptember 30, the two parties reportedover 20 incidents accompanied bypleas for MOMEP intervention. Manyinvolved mines which resulted in threekilled and one wounded, and smallarms fire which escalated to mortarand artillery duels. In both cases, eachparty accused the other of deliberatelyprovoking the incident and attempting

W e i d n e r


procedures with the liaison officers.However as the Ecuadorean presence atBanderas was revealed, the Peruviansthreatened to break off negotiations.MOMEP met through the night of

June 25–26, promoting an adjustmentthat had been sketched out in a privatemeeting between the liaison officers.Both sides informed the guarantorsthat they wished to suspend talks toconsult their respective capitals. TheMOMEP staff returned to Patuca facedwith the obligation to take action re-garding the apparent Ecuadorean pres-ence at Banderas.

At the urging of the guarantordiplomats, the MOMEP staff initiated athree-week series of meetings with theliaison officers in Quito and Lima tobreak the impasse. Based on adjust-ments drafted in Brasilia and a MOMEP

verification team situated at Banderas,a compromise was finally reached. Anhistoric meeting was arranged in Limafor July 24–25 for the two liaison offi-cers to sign a DMZ agreement on be-

half of their respective gov-ernments. It described aquadrangle (see the insetmap on page 55) coveringthe majority of the securityarea but left Banderas ex-cluded. As a confidence

measure, each side agreed to periodicinspections near the DMZ to assure anequilibrium of forces.

News of this historic agreementwas transmitted in time to be an-nounced by Secretary of DefenseWilliam Perry at the closing session ofthe Hemispheric Defense Ministerialthat was being held in Williamsburg—a fitting example of regional coopera-tion on defense issues in line with theprinciples enunciated at that impor-tant meeting.

Source: U.S. Southern Command. hito=boundary marker

this agreement was announced at theclosing of the Hemispheric DefenseMinisterial in Williamsburg

to sabotage the peace process. Refusingto endanger observers, and wary of ex-ceeding its mandate, MOMEP exhortedthe parties to cease active patrolling,concentrate in border outposts, and re-move indirect fire weapons from thearea. But neither side would complywithout MOMEP verification.

The mission adopted a strategysimilar to that which had produced fa-vorable results earlier. An area extend-ing 10 kilometers to either side of thedemarcated border from the DMZ to apoint east of the confluence of the

Yaupi and Santiago rivers was desig-nated as a supplemental security area(see map); inventories of outposts,troops, and weapons were demandedfrom the two sides; and a phased with-drawal of garrisons and indirect fireweapons was designed, leaving a maxi-mum of 80 soldiers for each side at thedesignated outposts. MOMEP observersverified that troops and weapons hadarrived at the nearest battalion head-quarters (Santiago, Ecuador, and Am-pala, Peru).

These steps, together with in-creased helicopter patrols, helped sta-bilize the situation. Since March 1996,

18 officers from Peru and Ecuador havebeen integrated into MOMEP and theguarantor observer contingents havebeen reduced to four members each.The U.S. support element remains at astrength of 60 troops. A long-standingpolicy on border contacts has beenreadopted by both sides, and signifi-cant progress has been made on thediplomatic front. The January 1996meeting of foreign ministers in Limaled to a formula for sustained negotia-tions on the underlying issue.

With a minimal investment in re-sources by the guarantors of the 1942Protocol of Rio de Janeiro, MOMEP canclaim extraordinary success in manag-

ing the situation both at the tacticallevel and through participation innegotiations to establish the demili-tarized zone as well as the structureof an extended (and integrated)peace observer mission. Substantivenegotiations on demarcation are thenext step for guarantor diplomats.The hope is that integrating both par-ties into the observer mission will ob-viate armed encounters and also pro-duce a climate of confidence andself-reliance in which to negotiate. Thefear is that without continued partic-ipation by guarantor observers in day-to-day operations, the mission couldlose credibility and control as diplo-mats deal with the lengthy and difficultproblem of achieving mutual conces-sions to produce a final settlement. JFQ

N O T E S

1 See William L. Krieg, Ecuadorean-Peru-vian Rivalry in the Upper Amazon (Washing-ton: Department of State, External ResearchProgram, 1986).

2 This overview is based on a combina-tion of SOUTHCOM reports and briefingmaterial provided to MOMEP by the liaisonofficers of the two parties.

3 The sources for events that occurredafter the author’s departure on August 23,1995 are SOUTHCOM reports and inter-views with both Colonel Steve Fee, U.S.contingent commander, and Coronel JorgeH. Gomez Pola, senior Argentinean repre-sentative to MOMEP.

■ J F Q F O R U M


11 FEBRUARY 1996

DECLARATION OF COMMITMENT TO PEACE BETWEEN ECUADOR AND PERU BY THE GUARANTOR NATIONS’ ARMED FORCESRecognizing the successful efforts by the armed forces of Ecuador and Peru to support

the peace process by showing constraint, discipline, and professionalism, fully integrat-

ing Ecuadorian and Peruvian observers into the Military Observer Mission (MOMEP),

and creating the conditions for peaceful diplomatic negotiations we acknowledge these

five principles:1. To further encourage the Ecuadorian and Peruvian armed forces to move toward in-

creased trust, openness, and candor in their bilateral military relations.2. To fully support the diplomatic initiatives toward peace undertaken by our respective

governments, as well as to encourage the diplomatic bilateral efforts conducted by the

governments of Ecuador and Peru.3. To maintain open communication and transparent actions between Ecuador and Peru

and the military commands of the guarantor countries and to share our observations

with each other in order to further the cause of peace.4. To develop confidence and security-building measures between the Ecuadorian and

Peruvian armed forces as means to reduce tension and discourage any future armed con-

flict to resolve differences.5. To continue our commitment to the Military Observer Mission Ecuador Peru

(MOMEP), provided there is continuous progress toward the peaceful resolution of the

dispute between Ecuador and Peru.We pledge to meet together as necessary to strengthen our firm resolution to promote

unity and friendship between the armed forces of Ecuador and Peru.Having visited Lima and Quito together on 9 through 11 February 1996, we declare our

mutual support and commitment to peace between Ecuador and Peru.Lieut. Gen. Mario Cándido Díaz General Benedito Onofre Bezerra LeonelChief of the Joint Staff

Chief of the Armed Forces General StaffARGENTINA

BRAZILLieut. Gen. Raúl Tapia Esdale

General Barry R. McCaffreyChief of the National Defense Staff CINC, U.S. Southern CommandCHILE

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

The end of this millenniumwill go down as the era thatwitnessed the collapse of theBerlin Wall, the demise of

the Soviet empire, and the terminationof the Cold War, a period characterizedby the repudiation of totalitarianism,the resurgence of democracy and na-tionalism, the awakening of the Pa-cific, and the geopolitics of economicblocks. Ruptures and changes have re-sulted from the clash of fragmentationand globalism. The Old World becamea battlefield with the breakup of theformer Yugoslavia, while Czechs peace-fully separated from Slovaks. The esca-lation of ethno-nationalist violence,

compounded by religious fundamen-talism and international terrorism, hasno respect for borders. Narcoterrorism,underscoring the impact of organizedcrime on urban centers afflicted by mi-gration, has emerged as a new socialthreat. The predominance of marketeconomies and strengthening of trad-ing blocks are cause to rethink the tra-ditional concept of sovereignty.

Decline in the strategic impor-tance of the nations of Latin Americain the face of geopolitical quirks, ex-cept for the Caribbean, has turnedthem into outcasts. This has forcedthem to compete, without much hope,for a place among the megablocks with

transnational eco-nomic power. Thus,the heterogeneousfreight train of Latin

America, lacking national reserves andforeign investment, lies motionless inthe station of underdevelopmentawaiting a mighty locomotive to pull itinto the terminal of modernization. Inthe meantime, Latin America importscapital goods and technology and is anexporter of raw materials and cheapmanufactured goods. It is also an at-tractive market. In Central and SouthAmerica, a range of border disputes,the Malvinas, and multilateral interestsin Antarctica contribute to political in-stability. In the Caribbean, the agoniz-ing swan song of the Castro regimecan already be heard.

The decline or collapse of nation-states can be anticipated with the for-mation of regional, continental, andextra-continental blocks or conglomer-ates. Paradoxically, there is a strength-ening of nation-states in search of na-tional identity as they witness theinability and lack of resources on thepart of international organizations toresolve their disputes. This suggeststhat nation-states are too large to settlesmall controversies, yet too small tosettle large ones.

The new international order stilllacks clear definition, yet one finds noshortage of friction or threats to secu-rity. There is an assumption that no so-lutions exist without U.S. support, atleast in the short term, although it ap-pears that reason may prevail overmight as we enter a new century.

A Cold PeaceAlternating periods of war and

peace have been a feature of world his-tory. Each generation perceives war asa solution to continuing conflicts,many fueled by self interest or a desireto reign over other men. The 20th cen-tury has been scourged by professionalpoliticians who have failed to use rea-son to reduce tensions that caused twoworld wars. Since the fall of Rome, 75percent of the deaths attributed to warhave occurred in this century.

The end of the Cold War created awave of euphoria based on the suppo-sition that the threat of a nuclear holo-caust was finally averted, leaving


Coronel Luiz Paulo Macedo Carvalho, Brazilian Army, is director of the Brazilian Geography and Military History Institute and the Brazilian Army Library.

A Brazilian

Strategic OutlookBy L U I Z P A U L O M A C E D O C A R V A L H O

U.S

. Arm

y (T

ad A

. Bro

wni

ng)

mainly limited re-gional or localarmed conflicts.But the reality of the ensuing years hasbeen a series of unexpected events: thePersian Gulf War, massacres in Soma-lia, armed conflict in Sudan, renewedfighting in Angola and Mozambique,the return of guerrillas in Namibia,ethnic disorders in South Africa, cease-fire violations in the eastern Sahara,separatism in Assam, Punjab, Kashmir,and Timor, chronic strife in Cambodia,continued carnage in Lebanon, civilwar in Afghanistan, brutality inBosnia, Russian genocide in Chechnya,further instability in El Salvador andNicaragua, crisis in Haiti, border dis-putes between Ecuador and Peru aswell as Colombia and Venezuela,clashes between Armenians and Azer-baijanis and Georgians, Abkhaz andOssetes, Hutus and Tutsis, Kurds andTurks, Tamils and Sinhalese, and Is-raelis and Palestinians, and others. Theworld faces a torrent of conflicts evenif they are legacies of the past.

The Gulf War did not eliminatethe threat of conflict in an importantstrategic area, given the national inter-ests of the “group of seven” (G-7)—Canada, France, Germany, GreatBritain, Italy, Japan, and United States.Moreover, the international commu-nity has responded differently to eachthreat that has emerged, showing noconsistent strategy for peace after theCold War. One reason is that presentconflicts differ from those for whichtheir forces were traditionally pre-pared. Another is that the world is un-dergoing a great transformation, andthe international community has yetto redefine its role, thus generatingmistrust among weak and less devel-oped countries.

Today’s insecurities are worsenedby a range of uncertainties virtuallyunknown to previous generations. Nu-merous contemporary internal con-flicts are a legacy of colonialism sincethe borders of half of the U.N. mem-bers were arbitrarily imposed by thecolonial powers. Thus, it should comeas no surprise that separatist and irre-dentist movements have surfaced.

In reality, the post Cold War erawill be known by a specter of violentdisaggregation of states that may leadto war. Unless the international com-munity identifies and courageouslyfaces the roots of conflicts resultingfrom noncompliance of individualhuman rights, disrespect towards racialidentities, and sovereignty of national

states, world violence as a whole willnot diminish, and humanity will failto correct its dangerous course.

Much has been said about disar-mament, and progress has admittedlybeen made; however, development andproduction of modern weapon systemscontinues, especially in the industrial-ized northern hemisphere. Billions ofdollars are still being spent in the saleof weapons from the First to the ThirdWorld. Other than the 1993 ChemicalWeapons Convention specifying thedestruction of production facilities, noexisting treaty calls for either disman-tling or converting weapons plants.The new world order assumes continu-ation of global military apartheid—

that is, disarmament and reduction ofthe armed forces of weak states infavor of the G-7 nations which, underthe pretense of U.N. sponsorship,would assure collective security. Thiscould pose serious threats to the con-cept of national sovereignty.

Despite stabilization or reductionof nuclear arsenals, existing stockpiles

still have enough power to annihi-late all life on the planet. Moreover,no nuclear powers promise totalelimination of atomic arsenals; yetthey assume the right to preventothers from mastering the completecycle of atom disintegration evenfor peaceful ends, since possessing

nuclear weapons confers political andmilitary status in diplomatic negotia-tions. Moreover, conventionalweapons stockpiles are growing andproliferating which promotes instabil-ity. Europe is the most militarized re-gion, in contrast to the Third Worldwhere unresolved conflicts fuel armsraces in which 60 percent of the hard-ware comes from G-7 countries, a prac-tice inconsistent with their advertiseddisarmament policies.

The image of blue helmets asglobal policemen is questionable. TheGeneral Assembly, which is dominatedby many new and insignificant coun-tries, has its decisions contested by the

■ J F Q F O R U M


the new world order assumes continuation of global militaryapartheid—disarmament of weak states in favor of the G-7

Augusta/Sikorsky helicopter.

Edu

ardo

Pes

ce

great powers; likewise, the veto powerof larger countries on the SecurityCouncil raises suspicion amongsmaller states. Moreover, lack of a per-manent budget for peace operations,combined with growing debt and latecontributions by numerous memberstates, exacerbates crises. Complicatingmatters is article 2 of the Friendly Na-tions Charter, which does not conferthe authority to intervene in mattersthat essentially fall under the internaljurisdiction of a state. It is becoming

increasingly difficult to distinguish be-tween internal and international con-flicts and predict their repercussions.The concept of self-determination col-lides with that of humanitarian action.

The interpretation of interna-tional law, even in the face of serioushuman rights violations, does not jus-tify foreign intervention in internalmatters. Thus, even though it hasnever been stated absolutely, sover-eignty becomes more important interms of the rights and duties of states.Hence, it is no surprise that some al-leged foreign intervention in weakstates is not universally accepted. Inthe future, nations will be hard-pressedto justify such practices.

Finally, peacekeeping requiresabove all that peace be achieved, sincepowerful states only resolve questionspertaining to their interests, confirm-ing La Fontaine’s adage that the bestreason is always that of the strongest.The days of amateurism are gone. Bothdiplomats and politicians have notbeen realists. The credibility of theUnited Nations will be compromised ifconflicts are resolved for the economicand political interests of world powersor multinational corporations, to thedetriment of universal principles of re-spect for human dignity. Such suspi-cions are based on the decisions takenby the Security Council, an organiza-tion that ignores human rights viola-tions when convenient or uses them tojustify interventions.

It is illusory to expect the UnitedNations to prevent every limited con-flict from assuming violent and large-scale proportions. Deterrence alone,through effective employment of apowerful force when necessary, willguarantee the right of mankind to livein peace and liberty.

Future WarAfter both world wars, new interna-

tional orders appeared with the creationof the League of Nations in Geneva

(1919) and the UnitedNations in San Francisco(1945). The victors be-came keepers of thepeace based on a balance

of power. With the end of the Cold War,the United States emerged as the sole su-perpower, although it has shared thisrole with other G-7 members.

Accordingly, great wars will onlybe fought by more developed states. Inother words, as we reach the end ofthe millennium, only the United Stateshas the ability to fight and sustain atotal nuclear war, a fact that in itselfmakes such an occurrence unlikely.Otherwise, full-scale conflicts betweenThird World countries would beavoided or resolved by U.S. predomi-nance or G-7 global power, using theUnited Nations as a tool, or by interna-tional economic sanctions. If diplo-matic negotiations or economic pres-sures fail, then a U.N.-sponsored forcewould be employed with the consentof the Security Council. However, suchcoveted universal peace remains farfrom a reality.

Scientific and technological break-throughs in the coming decades willproduce significant material develop-ments which will change the nature ofwarfare, with profound implicationsfor the structure and the employmentof armed forces.

■ State-of-the-art, high precision con-ventional weapons must replace nuclearweapons of similar destructive power, with-out their malignant and devastating conse-quences.

■ The line distinguishing nuclear andconventional weapons will disappear.

■ Automated, computerized, high pre-cision weapon systems will be available, car-rying more powerful explosives and highlypenetrating munitions and possessing elec-tronic components and target acquisition

and targeting equipment capable of process-ing data at incredible speeds.

■ Microelectronics will allow the fur-ther development of invisible weapons ofextreme automatic precision. The main lim-iting factor will be the high cost.

■ The art of war will undergo pro-found changes.

■ Vertical coordination will gaingreater importance: ground forces, tradi-tionally supported by aircraft, will traderoles and support air operations. Conse-quently, the role of naval air forces will bereconsidered.

■ There will be no need to find andtotally destroy enemy combat, political,and economic power—or to break enemywill by employing massive ground forcesand occupying its territory.

■ Precision attacks against previouslyselected targets, using stand-off strategicweaponry, will reduce casualties and collat-eral damage but lead to disintegration of anenemy political system because of severedamage to industrial and power facilities,communication centers, transportation net-works, and populations. Such weapons willnot distinguish civilians from soldiers.

■ Electronic warfare and intelligencewill become especially important.

■ Operations will be considerablyshortened.

■ Command, control, and communi-cations (C3) will be extremely valuable.

■ Air defenses will have to be modern-ized to counter invisible high precisionweapon systems, undetected even by radarunder adverse weather and visibility condi-tions.

■ The computer will dominate thebattlefield; accordingly, victory will lean to-ward the side with effective informationsystems, operated by highly qualified spe-cialists in data processing, that exceedenemy command and control capabilities.

■ Data automation will eliminate ex-cessive manpower and require well-trainedpersonnel in relatively smaller numbers.

■ Aircraft will give way to unmannedaerospace vehicles.

■ Smart weapons will replace conven-tional and nuclear ones. However, nuclearweapons might be used in desperate situa-tions, which will attract new members tothe atomic club with comparatively primi-tive systems and limited stockpiles.

■ Combined operations will reachtheir apex through increased aerospace andnaval power.

■ Space will be a decisive factor.

Most states cannot stay abreast ofthe scientific and technological devel-opments as applied to the art of war

C a r v a l h o


international law does not justify foreign intervention in internal matters

which forces them to accept the neworder imposed by the larger powers.Weaker states can only fight limited orregional small wars, using conven-

tional weapons or old nuclear andchemical weapons to counter thepower of the strongest countries.

For some time, an astonishedworld will witness hostilities amongemerging nations that risk peace. Thenew international order—in which anymilitary institution unable to take partin an unrestrained arms race is viewedas a national guard or militia depen-dent on the great powers under theshield of international organizations—anxiously awaits a new strategy.

Armed ForcesAlthough the world may be less

dangerous politically, it is more com-plex economically and faces greaterrisks of conflict. Great wars may beaverted, but fierce economic competi-tion warns of dangers arising from awidespread loss of control which de-generates into armed conflict. Thus,

despite the contributions of interna-tional organizations to peacekeeping,there is no justification for convertingThird World armed forces into militias.

No outside system can suppressall the tension afflicting unjustsocieties that lack the means tomaintain order and secure theirplace on the world stage. Hungry,ignorant, and socially inferiorcombatants cannot resist the on-slaught of developed and better

trained adversaries. Without goodhealth and education, no armed forcewill be able to ensure respect and sta-bility among states.

Years ago, Adlai Stevenson statedat the United Nations that we do notenvision a world devoid of conflict. Re-gardless of how war evolves in the newworld order at the dawn of the nextcentury, the universal and enduringrole of armed forces remains constant:to deter aggression, defend the home-land, and guarantee law and orderboth internally and externally. Thusthe role of the armed forces must beconsistent with the goals of society ingeneral. Militaries are extensions of thesocieties to which they belong, whichis why they are national institutions.Any disharmony between the armedforces and society can hamper stability,liberty, and social peace.

To address the appropriate role ofthe armed forces in society, it is neces-sary to know how they are institution-alized. This requires a knowledge oftheir lawful missions—in other words,

their constitu-tional role andgoals. Genericallyexecutable mis-

sions are permanent in almost allarmed forces and are only distin-guished by the political and ideologi-cal connotations imposed on them bytheir legal role.

The role of the armed forces is afunction of the regime and the times;hence, it varies with political fluctua-tions. While in some nations militaryexpression is institutionally adapted toone party or the personal power of adiscretionary ruler, in democraticstates the law normally decrees thatthe armed forces guarantee a regime le-gitimized by popular representation.Their role therefore changes onlywhen a new group assumes power andsets a new course. Examples includepassage of the Tzar’s forces to the Sovi-ets and their return to the Russian na-tion; democratic transformation ofNazi and socialist military institutionsinto a reunited Germany; the greatnessof the military role in the United Statesand Britain; and the tumultuous his-tory of many Ibero-American regimes.

When a people achieve the levelof nationhood and create the state,one of its essential traits is maintainingindependence and ensuring that na-tional will is not subjected to any out-side powers. The state also underwritesthe supremacy of internal order—inter-preted as the inherent power of thestate to impose itself on the other in-stitutional powers within its territory.

In keeping with Brazilian consti-tutional tradition, article 142 of thecurrent constitution states that thearmed forces are permanent and regu-lar national institutions and destinedfor the defense of the homeland, theguarantee of constitutional powers,and the maintenance of law and order.This role is consistent with the na-tion’s level of political evolution. Butmaintaining law and order is notwithin the scope of the armed forces insome countries.

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despite international peacekeep-ing, there is no justification forconverting Third World armedforces into militias

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Defense of the homeland meansintegrating and protecting nationalterritory and democratic institutions ofthe representative regime, federation,and republic from aggression, be it in-ternal or external, overt or covert. Theguarantee of constitutional powersspecifies providing security to the ex-ecutive, legislature, and judiciary sothey may conduct their legal responsi-

bilities, independently and harmo-niously, free from any type of pressure.The guarantee of law and order is sum-marized as enforcing respect for estab-lished legal norms or those derivedfrom them, which puts the armedforces in a peculiar position. Even ifthe law did not prescribe such a role,society would find it difficult to acceptthe military being impassive in timesof chaos. It would be illogical andutopian for the state to forego the useof force in the face of an external or in-ternal threat. The old aphorism thatthe armed forces should be a giantmute only finds acceptance among theill-intentioned. The incapability ofspeech is an organic handicap thatmust not become a military attribute.

The first inviolable commitmentof the armed forces is defense of thenation—its moral and material patri-mony, territorial integrity, political-economic independence, and institu-tions. Second, the military is requiredfor the collective defense of the Ameri-can continents against aggression.Hemispheric stability resides in thepreservation of peace from north to

south. Finally, the armedforces are the instrumentfor meeting the interna-tional commitment tomaintain world peace

among nations. These three objectivessummarize the basic missions of Brazil-ian military institutions.

Without hampering missions estab-lished by constitutional decree, thearmed forces carry out activities of mili-tary interest in scientific-technological,economic, and social areas where thereis a lack of participation from the privateor governmental sectors. They also sup-port civil defense in disaster relief, emer-gencies, or humanitarian assistance.

During a seminar on “Army Edu-cation Policy for the Year 2000” heldunder the auspices of the Brazilianarmy staff and including military per-sonnel and civilians from the FirstWorld, there was unanimous consentthat the generic roles of armed forcesconsist of defending the homeland,participating in multinational forces to

support collective security, and provid-ing relief assistance in catastrophies

and emergencies. Ithas become clearthat in all countriesthe military forms

the basic element of coercive organiza-tion that serves the law.

Resting on the shoulders of thearmed forces—on their structural effi-ciency, training, and respectability—issocial peace in the international arenaand national prestige in the common-wealth of nations. Hence, they are ma-terial safeguards of both the existenceof a sovereign state and the achieve-ment of its goals. It is on their powerthat the status and self-determinationof the state rely in national and in-ternational crises. Thus, we cannot ac-cept the notion of entrusting the de-fense of the state to alliances or thirdparties, nor rely on mercurial decisionsby international organizations to as-sure national integrity.

Regardless of whether the worldfeels less threatened in the aftermathof the Cold War, the military is less dis-pensable than ever in the new worldorder. It is a permanent national insti-tution whose roles—originating in theconstitution—remain universal andlargely unchanged and cannot be rele-gated to militias, other states, or in-ternational organizations. Were thisnot so, the principles of sovereigntyand self-determination, the foundationof international law, the declaration ofhuman rights and duties, and the U.N.charter would be compromised. JFQ

An extended version of this article was pub-lished in the Portuguese-language edition ofMilitary Review (vol. 75, 3rd quarter 1995, pp. 35–44) under the title of ”O Papel dasForças Armadas no Século XXI.“ JFQ is grate-ful to Coronel Alvaro de Souza Pinheiro,Brazilian Liaison Officer, U.S. Army CombinedArms Center, for providing this English trans-lation.

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the first inviolable commitment of thearmed forces is defense of the nation

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Brazilian destroyer CT Paraíba.

In 1990 Argentina began a transfor-mation of the land component ofits armed forces based on assess-ments of current and future de-

fense needs, national objectives, eco-nomic conditions, and a changinginternational situation. This historicalchallenge was met by the Argentinearmy which implemented actions toachieve that end. The army is a disci-plined and cohesive institution thatperforms its mission with composure,perseverance, motivation, devotion toduty, and faith in a future which itdeems bright. It has also adapted tostructural changes undertaken by the

nation and sharedin the sacrificeswhich these diffi-

cult reforms have imposed on the Ar-gentine people. This has led to the firstchanges in force structure since a reor-ganization in 1964. Both geopoliticaldevelopments and extraordinary tech-nological advances during the 1980sprecluded the army from respondingto demands posed by this nationalchallenge.

The Malvinas War clearly indi-cated the failure of our doctrinal andoperational framework. Budget policiesand cost reductions embraced by theArgentine government, like othercountries, compounded structuralproblems. To meet this reality, studieswere required to guide development ofthe army. Thus, a long-range goal wasimplemented by a comprehensive andambitious project, “The MilitaryGround Component of the Future,”which spanned over twenty years(until 2010). That project, with subse-quent revisions and adaptations, hasbecome synonymous with the army’sfuture. From the start the effort hasbeen focused in a coherent and coordi-nated manner. Its most distinctivecharacteristic is that it is not static. Onthe contrary, it is flexible enough to as-similate changes deemed necessary bythe defense establishment while alsoensuring room for evolution.

Notwithstanding the lack of addi-tional funding to embark on this evo-lutionary process, by the end of 1991

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Teniente General Martin Antonio Balza is chief of staff of the Argentine army.

CHANGINGArgentineMilitaryCultureBy M A R T I N A N T O N I O B A L Z A

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the required actions had been takenand continue to be systematically im-plemented. The concept behind re-structuring the army was a process oftransformation which implicitly hadto start with cultural modernization.Our actions had to lead to profoundchanges in the corporate culture of thearmy including:

■ respect for and subordination to theconstitution and the law

■ a positive attitude toward commu-nity service to integrate the army into society

■ a call to excellence■ command based on shared objectives■ encouragement of higher levels of

responsibility, participation, and initiativeamong subordinate levels of command

■ assignments based on competence■ promotions based on merit■ modification of seniority through-

out a military career■ modernization of the army’s educa-

tional system ■ replacement of mandatory military

service with a voluntary army.

Qualitative changes in the educa-tion provided to personnel is funda-mental to the process of transforming

any organization. In this sense educa-tional requirements were raised in aneffort to gradually adjust the profes-sional skills required for the 21st cen-tury during the course of training anddevelopment. With that in mind thecurricula at institutions such as themilitary academy now enable gradu-ates to earn university degrees. Non-commissioned officers graduate withhigh school diplomas. This transfor-mation also includes establishment ofmilitary institutes of higher educationfor civilian personnel, which has led toa paradoxical situation at our militaryuniversity where the majority of thestudents are civilians.

Likewise, the implementation ofa voluntary army was a historicalmilestone for Argentina and our great-est challenge in the 1990s. The ideawas to address the formation of the

soldier of the future, defense needs,resource availability, and demandsposed by society. Its adoption led to

profound changes,both cultural andstructural, rangingfrom education andtraining volunteers tothe operation of units,equipment, personnel

practices, legal developments, etc.We should underscore that the

army implemented this particular recruitment system without any priorexperience or a transition period—an

unprecedented sit-uation among na-tions which have

introduced a volunteer force. The pos-sibility for individuals to voluntarilychoose to join the army as an officer ornoncommissioned officer is an innova-tive and invaluable recruitment alter-native not previously employed in Ar-gentina. Another remarkable change isthe fact the army decided to offerwomen the same recruitment opportu-nities as men, opening a series of posi-tions which will be gradually ex-panded as the system is consolidated.

At the same time the Argentinearmy has maintained and continues tostress the importance of ethical valuesthat are fundamental to the militaryprofession. Discipline, honesty, devo-tion to duty, loyalty, obedience, self-sacrifice, courage, and individual ex-ample have been emphasized in thepast and will continue to be objectivesfor developing the Argentine soldier.

Defense is a function of state thatcan only be entrusted to the military forimplementation. Our primary missionis and will continue to be the defense ofvital national interests, regardless of theexistence of internal or external threats.The challenge for the future is to iden-tify threats that may arise in the in-ternational order. In this new worldorder our traditional mission remainsvalid. It essentially consists of having acredible deterrent. However, new dan-gers have resulted in new subsidiary

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implementation of a voluntary army wasa historical milestone and our greatestchallenge in the 1990s

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roles that armies—as the institutionswith the greatest aptitude—have as-sumed.

The Argentine army has con-ducted peacekeeping operationsamong various other missions in an ef-fort to help maintain internationalorder and balance in compliance withresolutions of the U.N. Security Coun-cil. Our military has thereby gainednational and international recognitionfor its professionalism, devotion toduty, and discipline evidenced whileparticipating in multinational peace-keeping forces. This motivation has en-abled us to overcome other difficultiesand strengthen our commitment toworld peace, in keeping with the ob-jectives of Argentine foreign policy.

This wouldnot have beenachieved withoutthe active, intelligent, and selfless par-ticipation of our servicemen andwomen who, in turn, are able to counton the understanding and support ofArgentine society. The respect of thearmy for republican institutions andconstitutional power has deep roots,which is one of the most importantachievements of the modernizationprocess.

Additionally we have been able toovercome barriers that isolated us fromthe community. Society as a wholenow has the political will to attainpeace and well-being. This has beenpossible through mutual understand-

ing and the establishment of civil-mili-tary relations which are devoid of prej-udice and misconceptions. The firststep was to abandon our apocalypticvision and arrogance and begin accept-ing the right of dissent and respectingthe will of the people. We have beendoing that for several years to leave thepast behind and to build the Argentinaof the future—a nation that has foundmaturity in pain, and one that some-day will come together in a fraternalembrace.

The Argentine army will meet andexceed all these expectations. It is pre-pared to fulfill its commitment whileupholding the traditions and ethicalvalues that are fundamental to the mil-itary profession. Our human as well asspiritual heritage, solid and virtuous, isconsistent with the truth and with thevalues, interests, and objectives of Ar-gentine society. JFQ

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Argentine and Spanishobservers monitoringCuban withdrawalfrom Angola.

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Regional dynamics currentlyfacilitate military support fordemocracy and peaceful con-flict resolution in the West-

ern Hemisphere. Yet although condi-tions have greatly improved, continuedsuccess will require both civilian andmilitary leadership. With Canada, Mex-ico, and the United States in the NorthAmerican Free Trade Agreement(NAFTA), the Anglophone Caribbeanstill as solidly democratic as ever, anddemocratization in South Americacomplementing the resolution of in-

ternationalized conflicts in CentralAmerica, the 1994 Miami summit credi-bly set the integration of the entirehemisphere as a common goal.

Change toward a more harmo-nious regional order is broadly evident.In sharp contrast to strategic rivalries inother parts of the world, Argentina andBrazil ended their nuclear competitionand accepted international safeguards.With Chile, they banned chemical andbiological weapons. In another sphere,Argentina, Bolivia, Colombia, Mexico,Peru, and Venezuela followed Chile indismantling centralized economies.

And giant federalBrazil is adaptingwell to new demo-cratic and produc-tive forces. Growth

rates in several Latin American coun-tries have for some years been higherthan in the United States and Canada.If this trend continues, the glaring gapsin the quality of life between Northand South America could narrow in thefuture.

But the most impressive trend ispolitical convergence. Since the early1980s, democratic systems have with-stood leadership changes, severe austerity, and major adjustments.Democracy and economic moderniza-tion are proving compatible and are

contributing to a rebornawareness of the value offreedom. But there is noguarantee that new opportu-nities for regional coopera-tion will be fully developed.Already there are reactionsagainst the reformist opti-mism that opened the1990s. Yet the potential for anew era of hemisphericprosperity and good neigh-borhood is real.

Security ConcernsExtracontinental threats

have lost significance, buttravail in Haiti and loominginstability in Cuba makeclear that local problems re-

main. More generally, the ills ofpoverty, misgovernment, terrorism,drug traffic, and mass migration canoverwhelm the most settled bound-aries, entrenched relationships, andprecise legal guarantees.

A southward flow of automaticweapons through Miami has replacedCuban-trained guerrillas as threats tolocal authorities. Criminal and terroristgroups hostile to organized societiespossess levels of technology and fire-power that contrast starkly with thehistorically unarmed governments ofthe Commonwealth Caribbean andeven the capabilities of some LatinAmerican nations. From Chiapas downthe Central American isthmus andalong the continent’s Andean spine,


Ambassador Luigi R. Einaudi is a senior policy advisor at the Department of State and served as U.S. permanent representative to the Organization of American States.

Security and Democracy in the RegionBy L U I G I R. E I N A U D I

Argentine, Barbadian,and U.S. police monitors in Haiti.

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explosive mixes of race, poverty, politi-cal violence, and institutional failurecause more casualties than the head-line-grabbing calamities of earthquakesand hurricanes combined.

Democratic traditions largely en-abled the Commonwealth Caribbean toescape totalitarian temptations even inthe 1960s and 1970s. But articulated in-terests and favorable changes do notguarantee social stability. Exacerbatedby economic dislocations and modern

communications, old injustices and so-cial problems can challenge the respon-siveness of national elites and interna-tional cooperation. And unattaineddevelopment and missed opportunitiescan expose and magnify the faultlinesof otherwise forgotten resentmentsagainst neighbors.

Our hemisphere cannot be iso-lated from the broader world. The endof the Cold War has challenged globalorder on a scale comparable to the endof the world wars. The response to thedisintegration of the Soviet empire re-mains unclear. Will we overcome cen-trifugal nationalisms as happened afterWorld War II or indulge them as oc-curred following World War I? More-over, will we find workable responsesto deforestation, population overflow,and global warming?

Not only are such issues taxing inthemselves, however; we are barelyable to discuss them for lack of com-mon reference points. Politics, like na-ture, abhors vacuums, so this is one inname only; but it is filled with farmore particularisms and localismsthan the grand strategists have beenaccustomed to accommodating, whichmay actually be part of the problem.

RegionalismFor all its shrinkage the planet is

big and complicated. The United Na-tions can’t do it all, nor can the UnitedStates. And most other countries havetheir hands full with domestic con-cerns. A compromise between the ab-straction of globalism and weakness ofunilateralism already exists. It is called“neighborhood” and has the attributes

of proximity, language, culture, sharedproblems, and history. That neighborscan solve some problems best is beingdemonstrated from NAFTA to the Eu-ropean Union, from the SouthernCone Common Market (MERCOSUR)to the Association of Southeast AsianNations and the Organization ofAfrican Unity.

Yet an acceptance of regionalismcomes only grudgingly. Globalists seeit as second best or as indicative of fail-

ure, nationalists as anotherthreat to national identity,and liberal economists as aprotectionist “circling thewagons.” In today’s uncer-

tain conditions, however, regionalismcan be a building block to work outprinciples and relationships forbroader global cooperation.

Historically the United States sawitself solidly anchored in the Americasfrom the Monroe Doctrine to theGood Neighbor policy. But World WarII ended the “America First” debate,and the United States has had world-wide commitments ever since. Thisglobal outlook was reinforced duringthe Cold War. With the dissolution ofthe Soviet empire, the United Statesbecame the only genuinely globalpower. It is the only country that seesitself as having a role in every region—in Europe, the Middle East, Asia, andAfrica as well as throughout the West-ern Hemisphere.

From this perspective, NAFTA maybe a first step toward re-anchoring theUnited States in the region. CertainlyWashington has not moved so directlyto bolster its position in its immediateneighborhood since the days ofFranklin D. Roosevelt and the GoodNeighbor policy. However, NAFTA can-not be a mask for a Fortress Americaspolicy. Canada and the ABC states (Ar-gentina, Brazil, and Chile) are main-stays of the General Agreement on Tar-iffs and Trade (GATT) and peaceoperations. Future success “beyondNAFTA” will be neither exclusionarynor isolationist, but rather GATT-com-patible in economics, democratic inpolitics, and universalist in spirit.

CooperationWith the entry of Canada in 1990

and of Belize and Guyana in 1991, theOrganization of American States (OAS)became for the Western Hemispherewhat the United Nations represents forthe world: a body whose membershipincludes its entire potential universe.(The only obvious exception, Cuba, isstill formally a member and many lookforward to the day when a democraticCuba will reoccupy the seat it was sus-pended from in 1962.) More impor-tantly (unlike the U.N. charter whichdoes not invoke the word “democ-racy”), the OAS charter commits all itsmembers to representative democracy.Acceptance of the principle of nonin-tervention by President Roosevelt inthe 1930s gave meaning to the sover-eign equality of states, thus helping tolay the cornerstone of the moderninter-American system. For years, how-ever, OAS wallowed in internal contra-dictions, cheap rhetoric by dictators,and Cold War distortions which com-bined to sap its potential and earnpublic disdain.

Conditions changed as thisdecade began. In 1991 the annual OASgeneral assembly was hosted in Santi-ago by a Chilean government eager todraw attention to its transition frommilitary to civilian rule. In 1973, thecoup by General Pinochet against theelected government was not even com-mented on by OAS, many of whosemembers were under military rule. All34 delegations in Santiago representeddemocratic governments. The resultwas revolutionary: unanimous adop-tion of resolution 1080 calling for au-tomatic consideration of any interrup-tion of democratic processes in amember state. Over the next two years,this OAS procedure was applied in thecase of Haiti to withhold recognitionof the regime issuing from a militarycoup, and also in Peru and Guatemalato oppose unconstitutional seizures ofpower by civilian presidents.

Since 1990 the organization hasbeen in the forefront of efforts to de-fine the legal grounds for internationalcooperation in support of democracy.OAS missions have disarmed insur-gents in Nicaragua and Suriname whileprotecting human rights. Moreover,observers supported elections in

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old injustices and social problems canchallenge international cooperation

Nicaragua, Paraguay, Peru, El Salvador,Haiti, Venezuela, and Guatemala. Im-plementing the Miami summit willrely to an extent on the success of OASas a coordinator and a sounding board.

SovereigntyThe world is marked by truly

transnational forces, some with ap-palling destructive power. Added to theevils of dictatorship and protectionismare pollution, mass distribution of

drugs with their antisocial effects, andpopulation growth that often over-whelms existing social arrangements.At the same time, electronic communi-cation has created a new and transcen-dent universe.

The search for solutions must re-spect what is invisible from space andincreasingly ignored on earth: the in-ternational boundary distinguishingone sovereignty from another. Al-though very much under challenge byimpending waves of anarchy, with en-tire areas beyond the reach of any cen-tral government, the nation-state re-mains the basic unit of worldorganization. And states need to be or-ganized and energized before they can

cooperate, even to face urgent globalproblems.

From the standpoint of interna-tional cooperation, in fact, democracymay be as important among nations aswithin them. In our hemisphere, theveto-free OAS structure and accompa-nying search for consensus brings anotable dose of democracy to relation-ships expressed through the organiza-tion. A regional approach has two ad-vantages: bringing all concerned

parties together is an efficient formof communication, and maintain-ing the equality of states by shar-ing information and discussion ona one-country/one-vote basis re-

duces the asymmetry of purely bilat-eral settings and facilitates coopera-tion—even bilateral cooperation. Thefirst advantage typifies multilateralismand is singularly useful in supplement-ing normal communication channels.The second has special significance inthis hemisphere, where bilateral coop-eration can be inhibited by the dispro-portionate power of the United States.Gradual negotiation of common posi-tions in a regional setting is thus a wayto resolve transnational issues withoutsacrificing the rights of sovereignty.

The MilitaryDemocratization in Latin America

in the 1970s and 1980s involved tran-sitions from military to civilian rule.As the backbone of displaced authori-tarian regimes, military institutionswere seen as opponents of democracyeven among civilian leaders and move-

ments who owedtheir success to sup-port from men inuniform. Such ten-sion must be over-

come and new understandings devel-oped if democratic governments in theregion are to function in the midst ofsocial discontent, economic reform,and international uncertainty. Build-ing institutions and promoting justicerequires setting boundaries betweencivilian and military authority. Aremilitary personnel accused of humanrights abuses subject to military or civilcourts? Who makes the decisions oncounternarcotics policy or spending onarms? Should military personnel vote?

Such questions can be controver-sial. Moreover, they are complicated bylack of an agreed model of authority.Liberal traditions subordinate the mili-tary to civilian authority in all mattersbut grant military personnel the politi-cal rights of citizenship. Corporatist tra-ditions emphasize military autonomyin spheres of military competence,hence limiting or denying civilian au-thority in military affairs, but refuse po-litical rights to military personnel.

Well into this century, LatinAmerican constitutions regularly gavethe military a corporatist right, evenduty, to preside in a nonpartisan man-ner to determine when politicians hadviolated their constitutional mandates.Those practices, incomprehensible tothose educated in a liberal tradition,have all but vanished from constitu-tions written over the last generation.But corporatist attitudes remain power-ful, nowhere more than among mili-tary officers, whose function is to de-fend the state from its enemies andwho likely see freedom as meaninglesswithout social order. Officers have alltoo often been caught in cultural po-larity with and against advocates of in-dividual rights.

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democracy may be as importantamong nations as within them

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Both civil-military and liberal-cor-poratist differences can be reconciledover time by habits created by the ruleof law. But the challenge is mutual. Themilitary must realize that democracy isnot anarchy, that human rights are es-sential to their own dignity and honor,and that civil authority is the onlysource of legitimacy. Civilians, in turn,must accept that the nation is symbol-ized by the uniform as well as the flag,that unarmed world peace still remainsa utopian ideal, and that military coop-eration is essential to consolidate de-mocratic gains and economic reforms.

Civilian and military leaders mustdeal with the single most perniciousand destabilizing element in hemi-spheric politics today: impunity. Abuseof power and privilege, corruption,human rights violations—these evilsknow neither nationality nor civil con-dition nor uniform. Impunity frompunishment—whether the accused arecivilian or military—greatly destabilizesstate authority. The path to mutual re-spect can only be built when all areequal under the law and must obey it.

The PastDemocratization in the hemi-

sphere has strengthened regional politi-cal cooperation, but not military rela-tionships. Moreover, the end of theCold War has undermined the extra-hemispheric threat rationale on whichregional military cooperation has beenbased for more than half a century, firstagainst the Axis, then the Soviet bloc.

The 1982 Falklands/Malvinas Warhighlighted fundamental differences inperceptions and military alliances. InLatin America (as distinct from Canadaand the Caribbean), association withthe United Kingdom made the UnitedStates almost as much a loser as Ar-gentina, some of whose leaders hadacted believing the United Stateswould understand their cause. The RioTreaty, then already under ideologicalattack, appeared scrapped by U.S. loy-alty to NATO.

In Latin America as a whole, theabandonment of Cold War rationalesturned the clock back to historic na-tional rivalries, arms transfers, long-standing boundary disputes, and mu-tual distaste derived from writing one’shistory as an anti-history of neighbors.In Central and South America, theseexternal issues were compounded byuncertainties over civil-military rela-tions, mechanisms of command andcontrol, or internal distribution of po-lice and intelligence functions.

There is also a panoply of problemsassociated with the United States. Thedisproportion of power between theUnited States and its neighbors, turnedinto fear by the historic use of thatpower to intervene militarily, hasblocked clear subordination of the mili-tary instrument—the Inter-AmericanDefense Board (IADB)—to the politicalbody (OAS). The reasoning is that, if thelatter is authorized a military arm, the

United States (with its disproportionatepower and the votes it will control) canjustify military intervention in LatinAmerica or the Caribbean under in-ternational law. One extreme formula-

tion of this anxietyis that, using democ-racy and humanrights as excuses, the

United States seeks to use OAS and IADBas mechanisms to place armed forces inLatin America under its command as en-forcers of U.S. intervention.

Two other hypotheses about U.S.policy circulating within Latin Ameri-can military circles are that with theCold War over the United States wantsto abolish all national military forcesin the region because it considersthem obstacles to democratic enlarge-ment and commercial expansion, andthat the United States seeks to cooptLatin American militaries as police tofight the drug war outside its borders.There are two major flaws in theseconspiratorial depictions of U.S. policy.The first is that these are “big lies,” in-corporating enough from authenticconcerns emanating from Washingtonto give them an air of plausibility. Thesecond is that such misunderstandingsin the past prevented effective regionalcooperation that could have forestalledthe use of force.

In Panama OAS took on Noriegawithout success for several months in1989 before events led to U.S. action.In Haiti OAS and IADB had an oppor-tunity to provide military training dur-ing 1991-92 under conditions thatmight have contributed to a politicalsolution. But anti-military and anti-in-terventionist attitudes precluded OASfrom acting. When the United Statesinitiated another effort a year later,this time under the United Nations,Haitian paramilitary goon squads hadbeen reinforced and conditions hadpolarized and deteriorated even fur-ther. The opportunity to reverse thecoup and reduce the suffering of theHaitian people had been lost.

With the Rio Treaty in disuse andno provisions in the OAS charter forthe use of force, armed peacekeepingactivities will be left either to theUnited Nations or to unilateral action

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by the United States. Neither is a satis-factory embodiment of collective re-gional will.

Mission ExpansionThe end of the Cold War prompted

a search for new military missions andrationales—even as downsizing was un-derway. One of the most important ispeacekeeping, a mission spurred by theGulf War reminder that danger stillabounds despite the “new world order.”While Canada has a peacekeeping tradi-tion, out-of-area activities by Latin Amer-ican militaries have been infrequent.Brazil and Mexico fought in World War IIand Colombia took part in Korea. Suchcontributions are multiplying as coun-tries of the region participate in peace op-erations—Argentina in Croatia, Cyprus,Mozambique, and the Persian Gulf;Brazil in Angola, Mozambique, and for-mer Yugoslav republics, as well as on theRwanda-Uganda border; Chile in Cam-bodia, Kashmir, and Kuwait; andUruguay in Cambodia, Mozambique, thePersian Gulf, and the Sinai.

Within the hemisphere, Brazilcontributed officers to the OAS mis-sion in Suriname and the U.N. effort inEl Salvador, Venezuelans served withthe United Nations in Nicaragua, andan OAS-authorized, IADB-planned de-mining effort in Nicaragua was

manned by Argentina, Brazil, Chile,Colombia, Paraguay, Peru, and Uru-guay. Argentina, Canada, CaribbeanCommunity and Common Market(CARICOM) states, Guatemala, Hon-duras, and Suriname participated inHaiti in an effort which drew less mili-tary than political support from thehemisphere.

These efforts should not be mis-taken for a new equilibrium. Interna-tional organizations are by definitionmendicants, and it is hard to think of afaster way to financially bankrupt

them than to ask them to undertakemissions. Even more importantly, par-ticipation in peacekeeping operationswill not replace the process of redefin-ing the role of the military. Moreover,we should not have needed Somalia toremind us to greet changing missions

with skepticism. History isreplete with situations inwhich new missions anddoctrines can lead to trou-ble. Their adoption without

careful preparation can create politicalinstability and bring discredit to mili-tary institutions. In the 1960s, coun-terinsurgency and civic action mis-sions in Latin America contributed todisplacement of civil authority and ul-timately to military coups. In the1980s, assigning increased military as-sets to the drug war resulted in politi-cal controversies but fortunately not incoups. As the 1990s progress, redefin-ing the role of the military will requirecareful and unprecedented consulta-tion with civilian authorities. Most is-sues are much more difficult than

E i n a u d i


Haiti drew less military than politicalsupport from the hemisphere

The

Whi

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ouse

peacekeeping, which, though expen-sive, has obvious benefits for militarymodernization and international order.

Some difficulties are economic inform but political in content. Whatmateriel acquisitions are necessary inan environment of reduced tensions?What will be the budgetary balance be-tween military and social spending? Inan era of government downsizing, nosector will get all it wants. Other ques-tions are quintessentially political.How much downsizing is enough?How can civilian demands for trans-parency be reconciled with security?

What happens in rural areas wheremilitary units are virtually the sole rep-resentatives of authority? What hap-pens when criminals have more fire-power and mobility than police? Thetraditional authoritarian answer is toorder the military into action. The de-mocratic answer is slower but maybemore stable in the long run—to bringmilitary and civil authorities togetherto decide what to do.

Finally, there are voices for mili-tary intervention against domestic cor-ruption, inefficiency, and crime. Suchcalls are typically softened by populistappeals and promises; but interferenceby the military in the prevailing legalorder offers little hope for the disad-vantaged. It would be hard to imaginea quicker end to the promise NAFTAholds for the hemisphere than a returnto the false solutions of authoritarian-ism embodied in even the most appar-ently “justified” coup.

Future DirectionsThe border conflict between

Ecuador and Peru in 1995 brought intofocus several issues with major impli-cations for hemispheric security. Per-haps the most crucial have to do withmilitary missions and how to organizecooperation.

First, traditional concerns such asdefending national frontiers remain le-gitimate missions for the military. Set-tling such disputes is key to stability,

economic progress, and moderniza-tion. But until these conflicts are re-solved, governments will have to fac-tor territorial concerns into theirdefense plans. Military modernizationand arms transfers will thus stay onthe hemispheric agenda for the fore-seeable future. Much of the Cold Warsecurity system was built on U.S. ex-cess stocks from World War II andKorea which have not been availablefor some time. Moreover, even withbargains the cost of weapons from thedeveloped world are close to prohibi-tive. Worse, minimal acquisitions may

be perceived as threateningby other countries. The pur-chase by Ecuador in 1995 offour Kfir fighters wasenough to raise fears of a

South American arms race. Yet theseaircraft were one-for-one replacementsthat introduced no new technology.

A logical approach would be anarms transfer regime responsive to thetwin imperatives of defense and re-straint, and respected both regionallyand internationally. It should providefor prior consultation and confidencebuilding measures among and withincountries and be flexible enough to en-sure weapons for national defense yetrestrained enough to preclude destabi-lizing and wasteful transfers. For exam-ple, restraint on one system could be ac-cepted in return for assured supplies ofanother. No transfers would be consum-mated without involving both militaryand civilian leaders. Conditions for asupply/restraint regime are coming intobeing. Weapons of mass destructionhave been banned. Constitutionallyelected democratic governments aredominant. But levels of civil-militarycommunication required to define aregime with confidence and verificationare still weak.

Second, the Ecuador-Peru clashshowed that multilateral cooperationon sensitive security issues is possible.Close coordination between civilianand military officials in guarantor na-tions, among guarantors, and betweenguarantors and both parties was criti-cal. That required patience, discretion,respect for sovereignty, and intelligibleprocedures. The Rio Protocol, the Dec-laration of Peace of Itamaraty, and themission terms of reference covered

every step and enabled MOMEP tomaintain independent communica-tions and transport. Another secret ofits success was that the mission fo-cused on military concerns it could ad-dress professionally; it was explicitlyprecluded from political matters. Forexample, while MOMEP had responsi-bility for separating forces and defin-ing a demilitarized zone, resolving theunderlying conflict was left to thediplomats. MOMEP actions were dis-tinctly identified as not bearing onwhere the border was or should be.

Finally, experience has shown that,despite political convergence, inter-American security cooperation still mustbe approached with caution. Nationalsovereignty and security are in many re-spects different sides of the same coin.Despite common rhetoric, working prin-ciples emphasize limits and separatespheres of action and interest.

The 1995 Defense Ministerial ofthe Americas gathered together defenseofficials regardless of whether theywere civilian or military. The meetingwas pivotal to using political conver-gence in fostering not only better inter-American communication but alsocivil-military dialogue within a consti-tutional context. Future conferencescould develop common guidelines fortraining exercises and arms transfers(including reliable supplies and con-trols). But in the immediate future, thebest way to further communicationmay be through informal dialogue, ed-ucation, and study rather than any or-ganized action. Civilian and militaryleaders still tend to inhabit separateuniverses with no general agreementon their respective roles. More shouldbe done by training civilians in securitymatters, military officers in humanrights, and both in public administra-tion and regional comity. In a similarvein, OAS has emphasized confidence-building measures.

The United States should avoid act-ing alone in hemispheric security mat-ters. Working with other nations willsometimes fall short, but consultationwill uncover allies. And if Washingtondevelops solutions with others ratherthan unilaterally by the sheer weight ofits power, it will help consolidate secu-rity and democracy to the benefit of allthe peoples of the Americas. JFQ

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national sovereignty and security aredifferent sides of the same coin

Defense of theHemisphere: An Historical PostscriptBy J O S E F. M A T A

In times of major crisis, the nationsof the Western Hemisphere havetraditionally put aside their differ-ences and united in a common

cause. Such was the case during WorldWar II when the Americas came to-gether in collective defense well beforebecoming actively involved in that ter-rible conflict. The defense of the hemi-sphere was a top priority then as it istoday. Historically, the Monroe Doc-trine has been the cornerstone of U.S.security policy in the region. An out-side threat to one country was viewedas a threat by all its neighbors. Thus,when aggression in Europe and Asiabegan to spread across the Atlantic andPacific Oceans between 1939 and1941, Washington, in partnership withmany nations in Latin America, tooksteps to deal with what was becominga world-wide conflict.

In April 1939, the Joint Army-Navy Board determined that the onlyway in which the hemisphere could beassailed was from a base of operationon the coast of West Africa. The board

estimated that subsequent operationscould project combat power to Brazil.The fall of France in 1940, the anom-alous status of French colonies inAfrica during 1940–41, and Germansuccesses in North Africa in 1941–1942gave substance to this view. As the cri-sis intensified continental security be-came more critical for the Americas. InMarch 1942, General George Marshall,chief of staff of the U.S. Army, ex-pressed his concern to the Inter-Ameri-can Defense Board (IADB) and re-quested a quick response to the threat:

Without delay, we soldiers must show theway to our countries, not only how to de-fend our nations and the heritage of ourAmerican tradition, but also to make surethere will be no challenge to our strong po-sition and united strength.

Defensive ArcsBefore World War II, Washington

adopted the so-called “good neighbor”policy to promote a spirit of coopera-tion throughout the region and facili-tate a series of conferences addressing

the defense of thehemisphere. At theBuenos Aires con-ference in 1936,President FranklinRoosevelt articu-

lated the need for the new world tounite against threats from the oldworld to avert war. The Declaration ofLima in 1938 reaffirmed that Americanrepublics would help each other if at-tacked. Subsequent meetings tookplace in Panama in 1939 and Havanain 1940. The former resulted in the De-claration of Panama that promulgateda neutral zone of 300 miles into thePacific and Atlantic for belligerent war-ships. The latter, prompted by the de-feat of France, Belgium, and theNetherlands, discussed administrationof French and Dutch possessions inthis hemisphere, especially regardingpotential Axis interference. Finally, theRio de Janeiro conference of foreignministers in 1942 established IABD tocoordinate and plan defense measures.It was comprised of military, naval,and air attachés from most nations ofthe hemisphere who met regularly toconsider improvements in regional de-fense. The Rio conference also recom-mended an immediate meeting of mil-itary and naval technicians from eachnation be convened in Washington tosuggest defensive measures. This con-ference was significant because it wasthe first time military representativesof each nation discussed hemispheric


Colonel Jose F. Mata, USA, is director of the Inter-Americanprogram at the U.S. Army Center of Military History whichfosters historical contacts with Latin American armies.

PB4Y–1 on patrol, 1943.

Nat

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South Atlantic Air Routes, 1941–43

Source: Barry W. Fowle, editor, Builders and Fighters: U.S. Army Engineers in World War II (Fort Belvoir, Virginia: U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, Office of History, 1992).

security. A common threat unified theAmericas as the “good neighbor” pol-icy gradually evolved into a more co-hesive strategy that promoted both co-

operation and the interests of everyAmerican state.

In the Atlantic, hemispheric secu-rity revolved around a defensive arc ofland, naval, and air bases from New-foundland and Bermuda to Puerto Ricoand the Windward Islands. In the Pa-cific, a similar security perimeterstretched from the Aleutians throughthe Hawaiian Islands to Panama withoutposts in the Philippines and is-lands. While all Rainbow war plans in-corporated defensive arcs or perime-ters, they relied on participation by allnations in the Western Hemispherethrough bilateral or multilateral agree-ments and provision of support basesand forces. The United States thereforepursued basing rights in the hemi-sphere for defensive perimeters. TheDestroyer-Base Agreement betweenWashington and London in 1940 se-cured bases in Bermuda, the Bahamas,Jamaica, St. Lucia, Antigua, Trinidad,and British Guiana in exchange for 50vintage destroyers. At the same timethe formation of the U.S. ArmyCaribbean Defense Command pro-vided for multinational defense of theCaribbean, Panama Canal, and the cor-responding sealanes.

The U.S. Army Caribbean DefenseCommand formed part of a largerContinental Defense Organizationwhich included Eastern, Central,Southern, and Western Defense Com-mands. Of the 379,000 soldiers as-signed to continental defense, 185,000were combat troops including 140,000who served in antiaircraft and coast ar-tillery units. The Navy created Eastern,Western, Gulf Sea, Caribbean, andPanama sea frontiers to defendsealanes. The Army had responsibilityfor land-based air defenses while the

Navy protected the sea approaches.The former had to safeguard the trans-Atlantic routes and convoys of mer-chant ships with troops and criticalsupplies bound for allied nations. Onlywhen the threat of invasion subsidedwere the theaters reduced and eventu-ally inactivated. In practice, the Alliedoffensives in Europe, Axis inability toproject power overseas, and Germanintelligence ineptitude limited Axis ef-fectiveness in the Western Hemisphereto the U-boat campaign.

Since a critical portion of the de-fensive perimeter consisted of land for-tifications, the Army upgraded coastaldefenses with the latest artillery piecesand target detecting radars. These mea-sures significantly improved the rangeand effectiveness of ground defenses,enabling them to engage targets atlonger range. Washington also offereddisplaced guns to its Western Hemi-sphere allies under provisions of Lend-Lease legislation to improve theircoastal defenses, thereby helping themto establish a more coherent defenseagainst invasion.1

Following the attack on the U.S.Pacific Fleet and Hawaiian Islands inDecember 1941, the Western Com-mand received a higher priority. Thetheater was reinforced by antiaircraftunits and 250,000 soldiers to defendthe west coast. The Navy had initiallygiven top priority to the Pacific theater.At the time the Japanese posed thegreatest sea threat while the Britishnavy was strong enough to control theAtlantic and contiguous waters. But asvictories at the Coral Sea and Midwayreduced the Japanese threat in the Pa-cific, the havoc caused by German sub-marines in the Atlantic became a press-ing problem. During the first sixmonths of 1942 Allied losses to U-boatsrose from about 200,000 tons to700,000 tons monthly, mostly frommerchant ships sunk off the coast ofBrazil and in the Caribbean.2

The sinking of merchant shipsprobably posed the most significantthreat to the hemisphere and war effortsince it could interdict the flow oftroops and materiel. The situation soconcerned Marshall that on June 19,1942 he told Admiral Ernest J. King,chief of naval operations, that “lossesby submarines off our Atlantic seaboard

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MORRISON

HOMESTEADMiami

Vernam (JAMAICA)

BERMUDA

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Antigua

Saint Lucia

ATKINSON

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BORINQUEN (PUERTO RICO)

Amapa

Sao LulzFortaleza

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Statute MilesO 500 1000

Principal Airfields

hemispheric security revolved around a defensivearc of bases from Newfoundland to the Windward Islands

and in the Caribbean now threaten ourentire war effort. . . .” At that time theNavy was still preoccupied with haltingthe Japanese advance in the Pacific andalso lacked the forces to conduct acomprehensive anti-submarine cam-paign in the western Atlantic.

Cooperation and ForesightThe Atlantic crisis was overcome

only by innovation, cooperation, dedi-cation, sacrifice, and support of eachservice throughout the hemisphere.One initial response to U-boat attackswas the conversion of commercialyachts to patrol ships for the northernship lane patrol. These vessels policedcoastal waters and provided advancewarning to convoys. Similar unarmedships, the so-called “hooligan navy,”were used, with yachtsmen forming acoastal picket patrol by May 1942.Moreover, civilian pilots disqualifiedfrom military service because of med-ical or age restrictions volunteeredwithout pay to establish the Civil AirPatrol, which ultimately reported 173enemy submarine sightings. The Armyagreed to allocate bombers to the Navyfor long range anti-submarine pa-trolling. An anti-submarine warfareschool opened in 1942 which trained1,374 men from 14 nations. Produc-tion of submarine chasers was a na-tional priority that resulted in hun-dreds of ships being available forconvoy escort duty by 1942. Thecoastal convoy system, also organizedin 1942, ran the length of the U.S. eastcoast and interconnected with othermajor shipping points in the Gulf ofMexico and Caribbean as well as offBrazil and West Africa.

Each nation in the hemisphereplayed a defensive role by patrolling itscoasts and waters. This was especiallythe case in the Caribbean where criti-cal shipping lanes to Europe and Africaas well as traffic passing through thePanama Canal had to be protected.Many nations agreed to base U.S.forces to reinforce the defensive perim-eter. The United States augmented thiscoalition under bilateral agreementsand security assistance, and the Navystationed vessels and aircraft in theCaribbean and South America to facili-tate patrol and escort missions.

Mexico, for example, allowed theforward basing of U.S. aircraft to sup-port Panama. In the process, theUnited States and Mexico drafted plansfor defending the Mexican northwestand U.S. southwest. Farther south,Brazil was critical because of its prox-imity to north Africa. Thus, the UnitedStates sought bases in the ports of Re-cife, Natal, and Salvador, and on Fer-nando de Noronha Island. Marinesguarded Brazilian airfields at Belem,Natal, and Recife. The Army built amajor airfield in Puerto Rico. Trinidadand Aruba contributed minesweepers,cutters, and bases, while Cuba fur-nished small gunboats to escortFlorida-Havana seatrains, and one sanka German U–176. Moreover, a reactionforce of 50,000 troops was available to

defend against enemy landings. Conti-nental security was a joint and coali-tion effort.

Although the western theater sawextremely limited combat compared toothers, the security of the Americaswas critical to establishing bases forlaunching offensive operations. Thissecure environment facilitated produc-tion of equipment and resupply ofglobal forces. The cooperation andforesight of key leaders throughout thehemisphere regarding basing agree-ments and security assistance madecollective defense possible. Bilateralagreements also served to anchor secu-rity in the hemisphere. The UnitedStates and Mexico, for example, agreedto allow their forces to cross eachother’s border if warranted. Some na-tions also provided offensive forces.Mexico deployed a fighter squadron toLuzon in the Pacific while Brazil mar-shaled an infantry division and sup-port troops which fought with the U.S.Fifth Army in Italy. Brazil also sent afighter squadron to the European the-ater and its navy helped to escort con-voys across the Atlantic. Moreover,

Brazil had planned to deploy a largerexpeditionary force—comprised ofthree infantry divisions, an armoreddivision, and aviation squadrons withsupport units—but encountered diffi-culties in organizing and transportingit. Nevertheless, such contributions in-creased the strength and effectivenessof Allied combat forces and solidifiedthe war effort by providing access toraw materials. Additionally, the de-ployment of combat forces by LatinAmerican nations underscored theircommitment to the war.3

Allied landings in North Africafurther reduced the threat to the West-ern Hemisphere, and the defeat of theAfrika Korps in 1943 removed theprospect of an invasion of Brazil. Inaddition, the enemy submarine fleet

had been greatly reduced togetherwith any threat to the continentfrom the Pacific. However, the de-fense structure of the hemisphereremained intact until the end ofWorld War II and ultimately pro-vided the foundation for postwarcooperation.

World War II united a hemi-sphere and in the process brought to-gether the peoples of many nations.The timely commitment by the UnitedStates to the “good neighbor” policy fa-cilitated this climate of cooperation.Genuine unity of effort led to both sta-bility and security in the hemispheredespite a grave outside threat. JFQ

N O T E S

1 Stetson Conn and Byron Fairchild, TheFramework of Hemisphere Defense: U.S. Armyin World War II (Washington: Office of theChief of Military History, 1960); and Stetson Conn, Byron Fairchild, and Rose C.Engelman, Guarding the United States and ItsOutposts: U.S. Army in World War II (Wash-ington: Office of the Chief of Military His-tory, 1964).

2 For shipping losses to U-boats and de-tails on other events, see Barrie Pitt, TheBattle of the Atlantic: World War II (Alexan-dria, Va.: Time-Life Books, 1977).

3 Charles E. Kirkpatrick, Defense of theAmericas: The U.S. Army Campaigns of WorldWar II, World War II commemorative series(Washington: U.S. Army Center of MilitaryHistory, 1991).

M a t a


the security of the Americaswas critical to establishingbases for launching offensiveoperations

Hohenfels is a household name to manyAmerican soldiers. For decades, 7th Armytrained in this part of Germany for largescale mechanized combat on the plains

of Central Europe. While the old Warsaw Pactthat provided the focus of that training has disap-peared, our soldiers still hone their combatskills—from tank gunnery to small unit maneu-vers—there and at nearby Grafenwohr. Eventhough tank main gun rounds are still crackingdown range, profound changes are underway atthe 7th Army training center: former Cold Warwarriors of the 1960s, 1970s, and 1980s would bestruck by its transformation. Hohenfels remainscapable of accommodating thousands of troopsin a combat maneuver setting. But of equal im-portance, it is also now a proving ground for thenew NATO non-article V missions that extend be-yond collective defense.

This capability was illustrated vividly whenSecretary of Defense William Perry toured Hohen-fels and Grafenwohr in November 1995 to ob-serve the 1st Armored Division preparing for theBosnia operation. First he visited a range whereM1A1 crews were firing qualification tables fortank gunnery. Less than an hour later, he encoun-tered American soldiers at mock villages in peas-ant costumes and assorted uniforms playingBosnians, Croats, and Serbs. Hohenfels proved tobe ideal as a setting in which to prepare troopsfor the Implementation Force (IFOR), just as ithad prepared troops for armored mobile warfarein past years.

There is tremendous symbolism in the Ho-henfels of the mid-1990s. While tank gunnery isthe traditional NATO article V mission of collec-tive defense, mock villages and role playing repre-sent the new NATO role in operations other thanwar. This highlights an essential truth: the militaryfuture of NATO depends on achieving a balancebetween continuity and change. For the UnitedStates in particular, this means balancing readinessand training for high intensity combat with prepa-ration for non-article V operations such as those inthe former Yugoslavia. European militaries, on theother hand, must maintain their combat compe-tencies in the rush to adopt new missions. Strikingan appropriate balance is not easy, especially in aperiod of sharply constrained resources.

ContinuityAny discussion of NATO’s military future

should begin with the theme of continuity sincethat is the foundation for NATO adaptation. Asadaptation proceeds, it is crucial that the Alliancenot divest itself of the fundamentals that have

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NATO’sMilitary FutureBy D A N I E L W. C H R I S T M A N

Lieutenant General Daniel W. Christman, USA, is assistant to the Chairman and has served as U.S. military representative to NATO.

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served it so well in the past. Rather than remak-ing NATO, we must build on the qualities and at-tributes that have made it a success.

It is useful to recall the agreed Alliance ap-proach to security, one only recently recon-firmed. In the 1991 strategic concept NATO rec-ognized that “The military dimension remainsessential. Maintaining an adequate military capa-bility and clear preparedness to act collectively inthe common defense remain central to the Al-liance’s security objectives.” 1 This mission re-quires a capability to guarantee the territorial in-tegrity and fundamental security interests of allAlliance members as well as politico-military deci-sionmaking structures and procedures needed toeffectively employ forces.

NATO military authorities have normallyachieved this mission with capable conventionalforces, integrated military command structure, andworkable standardization agreements. The benefits

of such capabilities were ob-vious to the world duringDesert Storm. The seamlessintegration of NATO groundand air assets by the coali-tion contributed signifi-cantly to the defeat of a re-

gional hegemon whose antics threatened not justregional stability but the interests of Alliance mem-bers thousands of miles from the Persian Gulf.

But core military capabilities are not only de-cisive for a contingency like the Persian Gulf.They are also important for reasons closer tohome in Brussels. First, an adequate conventionalforce structure offers a rotation and training basefor non-article V missions such as the Balkans.Regrettably, some NATO land component forcestructures have been cut so severely that manycountries find it difficult to sustain more than abattalion-sized deployment for an extended pe-riod. This reality will hopefully provide a floorunder existing structures and lead to a review ofthe adequacy of conventional capabilities for arange of NATO missions. As an aside, the French,though not currently fully integrated, are the firstof our major European partners to recognize theneed to fundamentally restructure their forces tomake them deployable and sustainable in suffi-cient numbers to deal with likely challenges.

Second, the great increase in military-to-mil-itary contact programs with Central and EasternEuropean nations highlights the importance ofan adequate structure with which forces can in-teract and train. For North America, this meansstaying engaged on the continent. For Europe, itmeans retaining sufficient structure for Central

and Eastern European nations to realize their ex-pectations with regard to contact with the West.

The final reason relates to reconstitutingconventional defense capabilities by the Allianceshould a major threat materialize in the future.Leadership development is widely recognized asthe long pole in the tent in this reconstitution ef-fort. Force reductions—clearly necessary in thewake of the Warsaw Pact’s dissolution—must notleave the Alliance with an inadequate basis forleadership development; that is, too few unitsinto which developing leaders can be integrated.Nations must ensure that new generations of mil-itary leaders can both learn and practice militaryfundamentals. If we forget this important point,we dangerously mortgage the Alliance’s future.

We need, in short, to ensure we do not loseour core combat competencies and structures aswe embrace new missions. Collective defense re-mains the fundamental purpose of NATO andshould be the basis for a rational transformationof the Alliance to respond to new demands. Non-article V capabilities are derivative from article Vrequirements—not the reverse.

We also need to preserve and build on struc-tures and procedures that enable 16 sovereign na-tions to discuss and agree to political objectives,then transform the objectives into guidance forNATO military authorities. This is a uniquestrength of NATO which must be preserved.

ChangeHowever profound the changes over the past

six years have been for the Alliance, the next sixyears are likely to create an even greater transfor-mation of European security space. As one analystnoted, NATO is being reinvigorated in unantici-pated ways, not simply by its participation in IFOR,but also as a result of the prospect of enlargement.2

In this light, three challenges are likely to arise forthose serving the Alliance in uniform.

Operations. We must ensure that our concep-tual differences over reorganizing NATO do notstand in the way of undertaking new tasks, evenif that means an ad hoc organizational response toget the operation off the ground. NATO simplycannot be paralyzed by debates on theory. The Al-liance deployment to the Balkans is a reassuringcase in point. Currently 60,000 NATO troops aredeployed there, and earlier deployments underSharp Guard and Deny Flight reflect ministerialand head of state decisions in London, Rome,and Oslo that endorsed NATO peacekeeping ac-tivities. Participants at the meetings may nothave envisioned the scope of these deployments;but they did recognize the need to broaden thetraditional NATO approach to military involve-ment as well as to alter structures and proceduresto facilitate new operations.

some NATO countries find itdifficult to sustain more thana battalion-sized deployment

Unfortunately, the deliberate pace of restruc-turing the Alliance internally was overtaken bythe more dramatic and more rapid pace of exter-nal events. As a result, NATO has been forced toadapt on the fly. Although it has been a difficultand at times frustrating path to get to this point,operations on the military side are proceeding su-perbly. This is largely true because NATO mem-bers have not waited to get the theory right be-fore acting. As some observers have said, we areliterally reconstructing the Alliance “brick bybrick, from the ground up; it’s not the theory thatis going to drive the practice but the practice thatwill drive the theory.”3

Secretary Perry placed this point in contextwhen he addressed the Wehrkunde conference inMunich on February 4, 1996. “It is in Bosnia,where future NATO members are showing them-selves ready and able to shoulder the bur-dens. . . ,” he stated. “It is in Bosnia where we areshowing that we can work as partners with Russ-ian forces. Bosnia is not a peacekeeping exercise;it is the real thing.” The members of the Partner-ship for Peace (PFP), including Russia, are likelyto learn more about us from this year of practical

interoperability experience, and we about them,than could be learned in a decade of seminarsand classroom instruction.

Nothing could be more illustrative than theoperational integration of Russian and Frenchforces in IFOR. Their incorporation on the practi-cal level is proceeding extremely efficiently. OnRussian integration, a significant effort was madelast autumn by Generals Joulwan and Shevstov,endorsed by their respective defense ministers, toget the military playbook for Bosnia right. Andthey succeeded. The effectiveness of this coordi-nation in Mons and Brussels has been evident onthe ground with the remarkably smooth inclu-sion of the Russians in the U.S. sector. The Russ-ian brigade serves under the tactical control ofGeneral Nash, commander of the 1st Armored Di-vision, and receives operational instructions fromGeneral Joulwan through General Shevstov. Onewill not find this command arrangement in anyfield manual, but it works. As one senior officerin theater remarked, the relationship betweenGeneral Nash and his counterpart is “as good asyou can get.”

Further, the Russian troops, operating in aparticularly delicate and difficult area of Bosnia,have shown great professionalism and seriouscommitment to the mission. All indications arethat interoperability between the Russian Federa-tion and NATO is both feasible and practical.Clearly, there is potential for combined operationson a larger scale. As Secretary Perry has stressed in

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Unloading C–130 inSarajevo for Joint Endeavor.

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this regard, Russia and NATO do have a special re-lationship in Bosnia; every day that the Russianbrigade commander, Colonel Lenstov, engageswith General Nash displays Russia’s commitmentto participate in the future security architecture ofEurope. It is a perfect example of building the newNATO architecture from the ground up, brick bybrick.4 These are important bricks.

Similarly, French integration has not been anissue during the IFOR deployment. As any Ameri-can officer with NATO experience can attest, on

the practical military level,U.S. forces have alwaysworked superbly with theirFrench counterparts. DesertStorm and Bosnia highlightthat fundamental point.Differences do exist at thepolicy level about the the-

ory behind non-article V operations. However,theoretical differences expressed in Brussels orelsewhere have not blocked progress on theground. As with NATO’s Russian experience, thechallenge will be to take the practical lessonslearned in standing up IFOR and use them in fi-nalizing the architectural drawings of the new Eu-ropean security structure.

Notwithstanding the success in interoperabil-ity and coordination demonstrated in Bosnia, atsome point we must draw on these experiencesand implement the restructuring that has beenlong studied. When this is done, we must ensurethat a coherent and integrated alliance remains,one that can carry out military operations across aspectrum of missions it may be called on to per-form. NATO must be careful not to establish mili-tary, crisis management, or military planningcommittees which function uniquely for non-arti-cle V missions. In the short term, we simply can-not afford two alliances. And, in the long term, bi-furcation in the approach to non-article V andarticle V missions is a certain way to disengagethis hemisphere from the European continent.

Internal Adaptation. The second issue has al-ready been suggested: the Alliance must ensurethat it does in fact adapt itself internally to re-spond even more efficiently to new missions andpolitical requirements down the road. The needfor such adaptation was recognized at least twoyears ago. At that time, military authorities wereadvised that expenditures on NATO overheadwould soon crowd out nearly all operational anddiscretionary funding for key programs such asPFP. The NATO Senior Resource Board concludedthat the Alliance could no longer accept salamitactics in budgetary and structural cuts. This real-ization prompted the NATO chiefs of defense tocommission a long-term study (LTS) to streamline

the NATO command structure. LTS is a crucial ele-ment in the process of examining and transform-ing the Alliance.

Besides resource priorities, however, other is-sues are impacting the outcome of the study. Firstis the realization that we must move from an es-sentially static, defense-oriented structure to onethat is more flexible, mobile, and responsive in acrisis—that is, to one more reflective of the Al-liance’s new strategic concept. The recent an-nouncement by France that it intends to partic-ipate more actively in the military activities ofthe Alliance has also impacted on the study. Thedecision reveals, in part, a growing realization inParis that the so-called European pillar must begrounded within the Alliance, not separate fromit. In fact, France has, for all practical purposes,abandoned the notion of a two-pillar alliance infavor of an enhanced European role in NATO.

The overall goal of this internal examinationmust be to strengthen the ability of the Allianceto respond to a variety of crises while maintain-ing its core mission of collective defense—and todo so while cutting overhead in a manner whichrespects regional sensitivities. This will not beeasy, but NATO military authorities are alreadysome distance toward this goal.

One element of this organizational evolutionmerits special mention: the combined joint taskforce (CJTF). This is a concept that would extendthe strength of the integrated military structureinto new mission areas and more easily accom-modate operations outside the territorial limits ofthe 16 NATO members. CJTF also facilitates theinclusion of PFP nations in non-article V opera-tions such as Joint Endeavor in Bosnia.

The NATO Military Committee agreed on sixprinciples for CJTF development to guide the Alliance as it comes to closure on this importantinternal adaptation:

■ preserve the integrated military structure■ provide for separable but not separate forces in

support of European Security and Defense Identity(ESDI)

■ maintain a single command structure for articleV and non-article V missions

■ retain the role of the Military Committee in advis-ing and transmitting strategic guidance from the NorthAtlantic Council (NAC) to NATO Military Authorities5

■ avoid ad hoc participation in NATO bodies■ preserve the ability of Major NATO Commands

to do timely contingency planning.

NATO member countries are close to agree-ment on this concept. Although we have cutthrough theological arguments in the field to es-tablish several CJTFs (for example, Sharp Guard,

on the practical military level, U.S. forces have always worked superbly with their French counterparts

Deny Flight, and Joint Endeavor), it is time tostop doing things on an ad hoc basis and imple-ment a badly needed structural reform.

More broadly, it is imperative that we get onwith a more sweeping structural adaptation of theAlliance for future operations and implementquickly those aspects most important to meetingthe new security challenges to European stability.We cannot afford to continually study the issue.Instead, we must take the lessons learned from theongoing IFOR deployment and institutionalizethe 90 percent solution. Structures and procedurescan be further refined as the Alliance grows.

NATO and PFP. Internal change will not beenough. For long-term viability, NATO mustadapt externally. Initiatives such as NATO en-largement, a formalized NATO-Russia relation-ship, and PFP represent important measures thatproject stability and security to the East. Becauseof the central role which NATO’s military is play-ing and must continue to play in PFP, however,this program will be the focus of the third andfinal challenge.

Few understand what the projection of sta-bility means in practice. Consider two examplesdrawn from recent NATO experience with PFP.The first took place in the midst of the euphoriathat accompanied the launching of PFP, prior tothe Budapest summit conference on Security andCooperation in Europe in December 1994. At thetime Hungary and Romania were resisting practi-cal steps toward military cooperation partly be-cause of the traditional ethnic tension. Yet, prod-ded by the West and the realization that thesedifferences were impeding integration in Euro-pean security institutions, the two countriesscheduled unprecedented combined ground andair maneuvers on and over each other’s territory.This small but significant step added a measure ofstability to an historically unsettled part of thecontinent.

Perhaps a more timely example is the 1995naval exercise sponsored by Bulgaria under PFP.

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Bulgaria served as the bridge between Turkey andGreece to reduce tension in the Eastern Mediter-ranean. Despite being members of NATO, both

nations have tradi-tionally found it dif-ficult to exercise side-by-side; but for atleast one month, PFPhelped to lower a sig-nificant barrier to

stability in the Alliance by bringing them to-gether in a military training setting.

This partnership is one of the most importantsecurity investments the Alliance can make. PFPenables nations in Central and Eastern Europe toestablish true interoperability with Alliance forcesand, perhaps more significantly, to evolve towardthe political-military structures and habits of co-operation common to the Alliance.

A quick review of PFP activities shows justhow far we have come in the past two years in re-ducing the barriers that for so long artificially di-vided Europe:

■ 27 nations have joined the partnership.■ Partnership coordination cells have been estab-

lished in Mons at Supreme Headquarters Allied PowersEurope to conduct the military planning needed to im-plement partnership programs; there is also representa-tion at NATO headquarters in Brussels.

■ Partner nations have conducted nearly 50 exer-cises throughout both Central and Eastern Europe andon NATO allied territory, including at the Joint Readi-ness Training Center (JRTC) at Fort Polk, Louisiana.

■ Partnership programs have moved beyond sim-ple tactical skills, incorporating a range of military aswell as political-military elements.

■ Most noteworthy is participation by 13 partnernations in the NATO-led IFOR mission in Bosnia, withtheir forces working side-by-side with the Alliance in apeacekeeping operation.

Despite tangible accomplishments, much re-mains to be done. NATO is postured to take thepartnership to an essential second stage of matu-ration. In this regard, we must strengthen the de-fense planning element of the partnership to ac-celerate the movement of partner nations towardhigher levels of interoperability. This planningprocess, which has existed within the Alliance fordecades, has provided a remarkable mechanismfor integrating national forces into an interopera-ble whole. In fact, defense planning is the foun-dation on which the highly effective NATO mili-tary structure is built. It is now time to extend aversion of that mechanism into the partnership.This will reap enormous benefits for NATO, pro-foundly deepening cooperation and also prepar-ing the willing and able for eventual membershipin the Alliance.

Further, the Alliance must transform PFP ex-ercises into a robust, integrated program, built on

unglamorous but essential training events. Thiswould eventually lead to conducting complex,large, free-play exercises that extend partner capa-bilities in agreed mission areas of peacekeeping,humanitarian assistance, and search and rescue.Partners must, in turn, expand their representa-tion at Mons and Brussels; they must also ensurethat representatives are properly qualified, sothey can conduct detailed accession negotiationswhich, for some, surely lie ahead.

Perhaps most importantly, the Alliance mustensure that PFP has the resources to meet itsgoals. U.S. contributions totaled $130 million for1995–96 which reflects the importance attachedto the program and our leadership. We must en-sure that this critical program is similarly re-sourced by our allies in the out years. Funding isliterally the lifeblood of the partnership.

During the summit in Brussels in January 1994the North Atlantic Council reaffirmed that NATOremains the core security institution in Europe aswell as the forum for U.S. engagement there. As theparticipants agreed: “We confirm the enduring va-lidity and indispensability of our Alliance. It isbased on a transatlantic link, the expression of ashared destiny. It is reaching out to establish newpatterns of cooperation throughout Europe.”6

The United States sees, and must continue tosee, an important role in this shared destiny. Thisis reflected in our national military strategy bythe central role accorded engagement. We havelearned at great cost, in two world wars in thiscentury, the significance of both engagement onthe continent and continued U.S. leadership. Thesomber and majestic American cemeteries whichdot the European landscape speak clearly of thatcommitment to Europe and of the role of institu-tions such as NATO in maintaining this vital link-age during a time of unprecedented change. JFQ

N O T E S

1 “The Alliance’s Strategic Concept,” NATO Handbook(Brussels: NATO Office of Information and Press, 1995),p. 241.

2 Elizabeth Pond, “Europe Welcomes American Mili-tary Leadership,” The Wall Street Journal (European Edi-tion), December 6, 1995.

3 Ibid.4 Ibid.5 The three NATO Military Authorities are the Chair-

man of the NATO Military Committee, the Supreme Al-lied Commder Europe, and the Supreme Allied Com-mander Atlantic.

6 NATO Handbook, p. 242.

PFP enables nations to evolve toward the political-military structures common to the Alliance

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During the summer of 1994 the world watched in horror asRwandan government forces composed of members of the Hututribe killed their rival Tutsi countrymen in a ghastly civil war.That campaign of terror was intended to methodically destroythe Tutsi minority while isolating the outside world from theconflict. Hutu forces seized Rwanda’s only major airport, openlystating that their goal was to block the West from sending air-land relief forces and supplies to surviving Tutsi men, women,and children. The Hutu victory was total. While stark, brutal im-ages of this tragedy remain, the strategically relevant issue isthat the Hutus knew how to hinder intervention. The Rwandan

civil war will go down in his-tory for its savagery, yet it is amodel that can shape futurecontingency plans and forces.

Lieutenant Colonel Anthony J. Tata, USA, is special assistant to commander in chief, U.S. Army Europe; he formerly served as executiveofficer, 3d Battalion, 504th Parachute Infantry Regiment.

A Fight for Lodgement:

Future Joint Contingency OperationsBy A N T H O N Y J. T A T A

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Simply put, in an era of sovereign bordersand nationalistic forces, dissidents simply need todeny a strategic lodgement to their adversaries.There will not always be seaports like Dhahran orfacilities like Howard Air Force Base throughwhich to build up combat power. Contingencyoperations will most likely require forcibly open-ing lodgement. Only by exploiting the capabili-ties of the Armed Forces under joint task forces(JTFs) can the Nation conduct strategic powerprojection to seize lodgements and also achievequick, decisive victory with minimal casualties.

The TheoryTo establish a theater of operations a joint

force must translate a few concepts into reality.Because the United States no longer enjoysprominent forward basing, a joint force must pos-sess, first and foremost, a base of operations tobuild and further project combat power. Onlythen can it establish lines of communicationsthrough which a tactical plan is executed.

Naturally, the base of operations and support-ing lines of communications are predicated on theenemy disposition. Therefore, the joint force mustalso identify decisive points at which it may directits combat power. Frequently these decisive pointsmay also be the enemy center of gravity or moreindirect targets aimed at weakening the enemy’sstrength prior to engaging it directly.

Concepts such as bases of operations, lines ofcommunication, decisive points, and centers of

gravity translate into forcible entryplans for JTFs that focus on lodge-ments and simultaneously seizingother objectives. Even an unsophis-ticated enemy understands that in-tervening forces must have bases ofoperations. To refuse a base is toforestall intervention. Conflicts will

accordingly boil down to initial struggles to es-tablish lodgement, without which little else ispossible.

Power projection means getting therequickly with something that can make a differ-ence. Whether a base of operations exists in per-missive or nonpermissive entry environments islargely irrelevant. To be effective, joint forcesmust plan for the worst case scenario whenthreats arise: nonpermissive entries require rapidprojection of overwhelming combat power. U.S.Army Field Manual 100–5 provides succinct guid-ance on this point:

An important strategic consideration for planningcontingency operations that involve the potential forcombat is to introduce credible lethal forces early.Commanders should be prepared to deploy sufficientcombat power to resolve a crisis on favorable terms.1

Campaign plans must call for joint forces capableof seizing and establishing bases of operationsthat will support construction of a theater of op-erations and facilitate the concept of operation.

Courses of ActionSince the nonpermissive solution is some-

what simpler to predict, the following discussionmakes the assumption that forcible entry is re-quired to establish the base of operations. JFCshave an array of forces to choose from whenplanning a contingency operation. They may se-lect Marine amphibious or air assault forces,Army light, air assault, or airborne forces, or spe-cial operations forces. Indeed, they may decide toemploy a combination to maximize the strengthsof each.

In considering all types of forces, power pro-jection methods may be categorized as strictly air-land or sealand, a combination of airland orsealand and airborne assault, or strictly airborneassault. As in the case of Somalia, using a strictlyairland and/or sealand approach for lodgementdrives the joint force to sequentially apply com-bat power. Regardless of the service component,all airland and sealand techniques require ferry-ing back and forth or economizing the force tothe point that the risk may become unacceptable.It also takes longer to secure a lodgement, getonto lines of communication, and begin seizingdecisive points.

The airland and sealand options depend onthe availability of open airfields, usable ports, oraccommodating beaches. Even if airfields andports are available and are not blocked by enemyforces, sequential combat power build-up is slow.With multiple permissive entry ports as well asairfields, Desert Shield required five months tobuild sufficient combat power for Desert Storm.

As a force begins to project from a lodgement,airspace becomes congested with helicopters andplanes competing for air corridors, increasing therisk to an operation. But most dangerous to thejoint force is that it is tied to one location, whichmay become easy for an enemy to interdict. InRwanda government troops preemptively seizedthe airport before any outside forces could airland.Sealand or air assault from naval platforms werenot an option in the landlocked nation.

Using the abstract model a strictly airland/sealand course drives JFCs to seize a lodgement,build sufficient combat power, then executeground tactical plans. The period between theseizure of lodgement and executing the groundtactical phases allows an enemy time to seize the

nonpermissive entries require rapid projectionof overwhelming combat power

initiative in areas not proximate to chosen lodge-ments, and perhaps even to increase defensive pos-tures, take hostages, or attack friendly vulnerabili-ties. Adversaries could also exploit this time lag toinfluence international media to undermine na-tional will and distort perceptions by the public.

In a generic theater with one airfield, oneport, and three groups of 40 targets, wargamingconfirmed that a force of eight combat battalionscould airland or sealand, build combat power,and then seize objectives in 48 to 72 hours. It fur-ther revealed that cratering airfields or demolish-ing ships in port could exponentially delay clo-sure and contribute to a piecemeal commitmentof force.

Airland /Sealand and Airborne AssaultsAugmenting joint forces with airborne assets

creates a course of action that utilizes a mix ofairborne and air/sealand forces. Airborne forcesseize airfields and decrease the risk of airlandingonce assault objectives are seized. These forcescan also airdrop airfield repair packages, vehicles,and tanks to give JFCs capabilities to repair air-field damage and simultaneously seize lodge-ment. Capturing a second drop zone away fromairfields affords JFCs with flexibility in initiatingground tactical plans immediately or reinforcingthe fight for lodgement.

Airland forces then arrive when the airfieldwas estimated to be opened by airborne assaultforces. However, an enemy can extensively dam-age airfields, thereby increasing repair time andpotentially disrupting subsequent time phasedforce deployment lists. Yet if airland forces are alsorigged for parachute assaults, runway conditionsbecome immaterial. Forces may be dropped onto

airfields or alternate drop zones. If airland forcescannot conduct parachute drops, closure will de-pend on the availability of operational airfields.

Wargaming revealed that the essential ad-vantage of combining airland/sealand and air-borne forces is an accelerated build-up of combatpower. Sixty C–130s can drop four fully equippedbattalions in thirty minutes compared to thirty-six hours to airland the same size force. Thiscourse of action also allows commanders to placecombat forces away from lodgement so that jointforces can seize critical objectives at the outset.More aircraft can drop added battalions andenough heavy equipment to give a force tacticalmobility. The airland force could be rigged for air-drop to provide flexibility.

Analysis based on wargaming shows that thekey disadvantage in this course of action is thatthe airland force may be tasked with critical mis-sions, while its closure is dependent on airfieldavailability. An enemy would still have time toreact to the objectives of airland forces. Moreover,although decreased, the time for combat powerbuild-up still suffers at the hands of a sequentialair flow determined by the maximum operatingon ground capacity of airfields. Typical airfieldscan handle four C–141s or eight C–130s everyhour, which equates to nearly a battalion. Thatground capacity is calculated to include the time ittakes an aircraft to land, taxi to an offload point,offload, back taxi, and take off. Under analysis,these calculations resulted in the combinationforce seizing all 40 objectives in 24 to 48 hours.

Airborne AssaultJFCs may employ a strictly airborne assault

force to seize lodgements and execute portions ofa ground tactical plan which offers the mostrapid closure. The Air Force can provide adequateC–130s and C–141s to airdrop assault echelons ofnine combat battalions with enough equipment,supplies, and support personnel to seize a lodge-ment and other objectives simultaneously.2

As one assessment of the difference betweenairborne and airland forces in the planning forOperation Just Cause pointed out: “The fact is, wecould get an airborne division on the ground inten minutes or we could get an airlanded brigadein a day and a half.”3 That comment emphasizesthe fact that an airborne unit requires only thepass time over a drop zone and assembly time tobe a cohesive combat force, while an airland forcebuilds combat power sequentially and slowly.With simultaneity as a linchpin for quick, deci-sive victories with minimal casualties, the air-borne assault option appears the best suited tomeet the Nation’s high expectations.

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Wargaming demonstrates that airborne as-saults quickly assimilate combat power and denyan enemy influence over operations. Other ad-vantages are that when airfields are heavily de-fended or damaged, forces could simply use alter-

nate drop zones, thenattack airfields. This con-firms that the airborneassault option is a soundmethod for establishingbases of operations whileseizing the initiative atoutlying objectives. Forcebuild-up and objective

seizure rates are linked and prove that simultane-ity in forcible entry operations is best achieved bymaximizing airborne capabilities.

The Army RoleThe Army can exploit all means of employ-

ment—airland, sealand, air assault, and airborneassault—to seize lodgement and establish lines ofcommunication necessary to enable JTFs to carrythe fight to an enemy. Accordingly, the Army has avital role in fulfilling joint power projection re-quirements of national military strategy. Whilecombatant commanders attempt to resolve crisesin their AORs with available forces and flexible de-terrent options, force projection may be needed.

The Army offers the unique capability to acombatant commander to put trained and readyforces on the ground anywhere in the world onshort notice—a rapidly deployable force to seize,hold, and control territory, with staying powerthat complements other forces in achieving tacti-cal through strategic objectives. Army divisionsare the basic contingency force fighting unit andthey are instructed to prepare for such instances:“The first rule of anticipation in a force projec-tion era is to expect to be alerted and deployed.Commanders everywhere in the Army must holdthat view.”4

Operation Uphold Democracy, the plannedinvasion of Haiti, validates the model describedabove. Analysis of the invasion plan provides accu-rate and timely visibility on the Army’s ability tocontribute in a forcible entry joint contingency op-eration where no friendly lodgements existed incountry and those available for seizure were scarce.

The charter of all Army divisions is to con-tribute to joint forces by being trained and readyfor H-hour. Indeed, when President Clinton re-called the 82d Airborne Division, the 10th Moun-tain Division executed a permissive entry as JTF–190. Uphold Democracy showed that divisionlevel contingency operations from the continentalUnited States (CONUS) are possible in the future.

A division must focus its efforts by identify-ing the likely war plan. Then the staff should co-ordinate with higher headquarters as well asother services to develop detailed planning. A di-vision can then derive its mission essential tasklist (METL) and develop its emergency deploy-ment readiness exercise (EDRE) program that in-tegrates contributions by the other services. Atraining management cycle should definewartime missions and develop plans, establishMETLs, then plan, execute, assess training, mod-ify plans, and finally retrain.

PlanningThe impetus to train and be ready for H-

hour is dominated by the planning process.While tactical decisionmaking produces a con-cept that can drive training, other steps are re-quired to create a well synchronized, successfulplan. One proven technique for contingencyplanning is to employ the four phases of air-borne operations: ground tactical, landing, airmovement, and marshaling.

A division must first develop a ground tacti-cal plan based on the course of action conceivedduring tactical decisionmaking. The staff developsa template of the threat and directed objectives,then groups them by proximity or similarity, fi-nally matching friendly resources against all areaswhich call for force. Uphold Democracy requiredthe 82d Airborne Division to seize 40 objectives in12 hours over an urban center with the popula-tion of Denver and geographic area of Boston. Ac-cordingly, a requirement was stipulated to closemaximum force as quickly as possible.

Resolving a ground tactical plan leads to de-veloping a landing plan to include selection ofdrop zones, beach landing areas, or landing zoneswhich best facilitate mission accomplishment. Alanding plan facilitates executing a ground tacti-cal plan, including seizure of lodgement. For theHaiti mission, 82d Airborne chose two drop zonesthat afforded flexibility as well as rapid seizure ofseveral primary objectives.

After designating a landing plan, air and seamovement plans must be developed to close theforce into country. Initially, staffs must avoidmaking a ground tactical plan conform to statedairlift and sealift constraints. Efforts must bemade to provide resources for ground tacticalplans. The 82d Airborne Division had 60 C–130sfor drops over Port au Prince International Air-port and 45 C–141s for drops over Pegasus dropzone. Another eight C–141s carrying 864 person-nel were rigged for an airdrop but slated to air-land at H+4 hours, providing the airport wasopen for airland operations. Also, three shipswere scheduled to off-load at the port within thefirst 48 hours.

the Army can exploit all meansof employment to seize lodge-ment and establish lines ofcommunication

Finally, marshalling plans are perhaps themost difficult for a division-level contingency op-eration. The 82d Airborne Division plan accom-modated 113 aircraft involved in the assault forceair movement plan and three ships available inthe sea movement plan, as well as follow-on air-land by using multiple air and sea ports of em-barkation in CONUS.

While the four phases of airborne operationsprovide an excellent framework for planning con-tingency operations, detailed synchronization isrequired to account for the overlap and myriad ac-tions of all phases. Wargaming and synchroniza-tion of battlefield operating systems are the bestmeans of integrating contingency operations fromthe marshaling through ground tactical phases.

TrainingA contingency division can extract METL

from the newly developed “most likely war plan”with an eye on fitting into JTFs. Tasks such as“maintain division readiness to deploy world-wide within 18 hours notice directly into com-bat,” “alert, marshal, and deploy the division,”and also “conduct an (airland, sealand, or air-borne) assault to seize an (airfield, landing zone,beachhead, or port) and/or establish a lodge-ment” become obvious METL items in a powerprojection world.5

Determining related battle tasks allows divi-sion commanders to isolate key components oflikely war plans and establish aggressive jointforce oriented EDRE programs. By challengingreadiness each month, commanders can increasereadiness and shape contributions to joint forces.In time EDREs should be more complex and diffi-cult in order to exercise the maximum number offorces. For example, the 82d Airborne Divisionwith the Air Force conducted a battalion airfieldseizure and noncombatant evacuation on an un-familiar runway in South Carolina in late 1993.The heavy drop included two bladders of fuel tosustain aviation operations during the exercise.

In July 1994, by contrast, the entire division,several Air Force wings, Marine and Navy air-naval gunfire liaison company teams, and specialoperations forces participated in “Big Drop,” anEDRE in which fifty C–141 equivalents andtwenty C–130s dropped eight battalions, a secu-rity element, and 28,000 gallons of aviation fuel.The aviation brigade used strategic self-deploy-ment, concluding with a four-hour flight overocean at night, refueling at a new aviation assem-bly area, and mounting an air assault of three bat-talions on multiple objectives within an hour of aparachute assault. Establishing a lodgement andexecuting a ground tactical plan require extensivebattlefield operating system synchronizationwhich can be trained steadily while not deployed.

The intelligence community must focus onutilizing national assets and translating a wealthof information into exploitable intelligence atbattalion level. Thorough intelligence preparationof the battlefield is a requisite. Accurate worstcase analyses that does not underestimate anenemy must be provided. Timely en route intelli-gence is essential to contingency operations. A di-vision probably cannot insert its long range sur-veillance detachment prior to H-hour. Othermethods exist to attain early entry intelligence.Timely imagery is the prime source of intelligencein contingency operations requiring forcibleentry. G–2 staffs must practice these tasks duringEDREs to develop the skills to operate in a contin-gency environment.

The maneuver community is responsible forsynchronizing all battlefield operating systemsand other services in its tactical plans. Whentraining is planned, a division staff should recallthat an assault force ground tactical plan drives ajoint force plan. Airland and sealand start onlywhen lodgements are secure. As such, to trainand be ready for H-hour, a division must continu-ously plan and execute complex joint trainingthat tests actual force levels and timelines.



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The primary fire support tasks in a contin-gency operation are to provide and/or controlfires across a division zone as well as to integratepsychological operations and nonlethal fires intothe scheme of maneuver. A division should re-hearse counterfire techniques in training withAC–130s. While JTFs are responsible for preas-sault fires, a contingency division should rou-tinely practice employing them in support of as-sault forces.

Engineers play a vital role in providing mobil-ity support to ensure a lodgement can receive the

follow-on flow of forcesand equipment. Lightairfield repair packages,port opening teams,tanks to push containersoff runways, andhotwire teams to startand move vehicles

which serve as obstacles are the kinds of tools usedby engineers and assault forces in response to rudi-mentary but effective capabilities of adversaries.

Air defenders have a critical role in protect-ing lodgement and staging bases from air attack,particularly during vulnerable periods before sig-nificant assets are airlanded. Both Stinger missilegunners and Avengers can be airdropped with as-sault forces for immediate protection. When air

threats are minimal, air defense forces shouldpractice using “weapons safe” controls wherebygrip stocks and rounds are connected only byorder of the commander.

Training combat service support for contin-gency operations requires a division to work thefull marshaling phase of its EDRE program, thenexecute CDS resupply and medical evacuationplanning. Combat lifesavers, tactical mobility, andadvanced trauma life support packages droppedwith assault forces provide initial medical coverageuntil sophisticated equipment can be airlanded.Assault forces should train taking three days ofsupplies into theater without overloading soldiers.In reality, combat service support planners shouldlighten individual loads, deliver rucksacks, andpush package resupply by combat direction systemdrop, slingload, or airland.

Command and control of forcible entry op-erations requires that key leaders communicateen route and on the ground. JTF and divisionstaffs should practice using airborne commandposts such as EC–135s, airborne command andcontrol centers, and joint airborne command andcontrol command posts. Also, EDREs and otherexercises should use secure en route communica-tions and hatchmount satellite communicationson aircraft with key leaders. Forces then shouldpractice the evolution of communications in the-ater, moving from rucksack radios to vehicle ra-dios, then to retrain directed communications,

command and control of forcibleentry operations requires thatkey leaders communicate enroute and on the ground

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and finally ending with theater-wide mobile sub-scriber equipment communications supported bycontingency communications packages.

Soldiers and EquipmentBeing ready for H-hour means recruiting and

retaining quality soldiers who are prepared fordifficult training and missions. Joint forces are re-sponsible for accomplishing missions while car-ing for both soldiers and their families. Aggressivefamily support group programs, including suit-able facilities and instruction, allow the individ-ual soldier to concentrate on the task at hand.

Today’s high quality soldiers are affordedleadership opportunities that increase readinessto meet the demands of lodgement and contin-gency operations. NCO courses produce team andsquad leaders who can take charge in the absenceof orders. Historically, lodgement battles haveoften rested on actions by small bands of para-troopers executing a mission in a decentralizedway. The battle staff NCO course provides divi-sions additional expertise in tactical operationscenters. Airborne, air assault, and Ranger traininginstill confidence in junior leaders. Officers at-tend basic and advanced courses to increase tacti-cal proficiency while the U.S. Army Commandand General Staff Officer College teaches fieldgrade officers about employing forces on the op-erational level to achieve strategic goals. Profes-sional development programs and individualreading programs must also reinforce lessonstaught in the classroom. Although smaller, theForce XXI Army consists of well trained leadersand soldiers capable of training and executingforcible entry operations.

Modern equipment is key to outfitting sol-diers for seizing lodgements and force projection.The Army continues to exploit the mismatch incapabilities of its adversaries. For example, nightvision goggles and OH–58s provide contingencyforces with the ability to exploit the darkness andachieve tactical surprise. Other technological ad-vances critical to contingency operations areQ–36 counterfire radars, Avengers, and all sourceanalysis systems.

Developing a plan, training to it, and em-ploying state of the art technology enablestoday’s Army division to be a credible asset forJTFs. The unique ability to seize a base of opera-tions and rapidly stifle an enemy makes it partic-ularly suited as the force of choice for power pro-jection. As enemy forces realize that an opposingforce cannot effectively intervene without alodgement, and that airpower alone is insuffi-cient as demonstrated in the Balkans, the firstorder of business for JFCs will be to open the doorto a theater of operations.

Uphold DemocracyWith no friendly lodgement or forces in

country, the concept for Haiti called for a genuineforcible entry plan. The mission statement of the82d Airborne Division indicated that the opera-tion would involve an attack by conducting mul-tiple airborne assaults with follow-on airdrop/air-land as the situation dictated. The essential taskswere to establish three JTF lodgements, protectAmerican citizens and property as well as desig-nated foreign nationals, and neutralize the Hait-ian military and police to create the conditionsfor restoring democracy in Haiti.

With 40 D-day objectives, the 82d AirborneDivision required an airborne assault force of 3,848paratroopers using two drop zones and 113 air-craft. The 504th Parachute Infantry Regimentwould seize the primary drop zone, Port au PrinceInternational Airport, and follow-on objectives, in-cluding facilities that served as the seaport forlodgement. The 325th Airborne Infantry Regimentwould relieve the 504th and expand the lodgement.The 505th Parachute Infantry Regiment would seizea second drop zone, Pegasus, a large division sup-port command element, the aviation brigade as-sault command post, fuel/ammunition handlers,and a security element. Notably, this drop zonewas designed for the 82d Aviation Brigade to arrivefrom an infiltration site, drop its external store fueltanks, and pick up the air assault task force. Some71 heavy equipment platforms would be droppedinto Pegasus, providing 28,000 gallons of aviationgas airdropped with refueling pumps, six M551Sheridan tanks, enough mobility to move a riflecompany, the better part of an antitank company,and back-up engineer equipment.

Operationally, Pegasus drop zone was an ex-tension of the division’s base of operations andan alternate drop zone in the event an airborneassault at the airport was untenable. Tactically,the drop zone was a consolidation point for mostof the division’s mobile assets, providing a forcethat could swing around the exterior of Port auPrince to seize outlying objectives and block theingress and egress of enemy forces to and fromthe lodgement.

Division artillery would provide indirect firesfrom the airfield and command and control ofjoint fire support assets. The division supportcommand would consolidate containerized deliv-ery system bundles at Pegasus and help to run theairfield once the airland began. Since the divisionwould fight primarily at night, every soldier inthe airfield assault force had night vision goggles.

The ScenarioLight rain fell on the assault force at Pope Air

Force Base as its paratroopers rigged their equip-ment beneath the wings of C–130 Hercules and



T a t a


C–141 Starlifter transports in preparation for acombat airborne assault on two drop zones inHaiti. Another 4,500 paratroopers were processingthrough marshaling areas for airland operations toexecute follow on missions and link up with 810pieces of equipment the division sent by fast sealiftand another 323 to be brought in by airland.

As directed by President Clinton, 32 C–130sleft Pope and conducted an aerial link-up with 28C–130 heavy equipment drop aircraft fromMcDill Air Force Base. In addition, 53 C–141s atthree different ports of embarkation taxied intoposition for subsequent airdrops.

Meanwhile, the division exchanged 24 liai-son teams with higher, adjacent, and subordinateunits. The 82d Aviation Brigade strategically self-deployed and infiltrated 33 UH–60s, 17 CH–47s,

and eight OH–58s toGreat Inagua, a remoteisland in the Bahamasoff the northwest tip ofHaiti, where crews wereexchanged and the air-craft refueled. They werebeing preparing to travel

the last 200 miles to a selected pick-up zone andto execute three battalion level air assaults in thefirst eight hours of the operation. JTF–180, withthe 82d Airborne Division en route, was trainedand ready to seize lodgements and execute thetactical plan.

The President had put in motion the largestairborne invasion since Market Garden duringWorld War II and one day prior to Uphold De-mocracy. That a JTF was capable of placing eightinfantry battalions, one armor battalion, an as-sault helicopter battalion, a cavalry squadron,and three days of combat service support assets intheater in four hours in a tactically coherent fash-ion demonstrates that the Army and its sister ser-vices can meet the joint force commander’s needsin establishing a lodgement while simultaneouslyexecuting a ground tactical plan.

Force ProjectionThe preparations by the 82d Airborne Divi-

sion for Uphold Democracy offer considerationsfor joint contingency forces. They indicate whatmust be done in order to depart CONUS in goodrepair and deploy directly into combat.

■ Be trained and ready not only to fight but tomarshal and move on short notice.

■ Focus training on the most likely war plan—bat-tle focused training.

■ Develop a plan which exploits and maximizesthe capabilities of all components.

■ Identify an enemy’s center of gravity and attackit directly or through decisive points with overwhelm-ing force using simultaneous operations.

■ Conduct emergency deployment readiness exer-cises that rehearse key components of the plan, particu-larly with joint forces.

■ Plan marshaling, air movement, landing, andground tactical phases in detail.

■ Be innovative in planning—where particulartypes of forces are not required employ them in versa-tile ways as force multipliers.

■ Emphasize troop-leading procedures at divisionlevel—enforce the one-third/two-thirds rule, executerest plans, and conduct rehearsals.

■ Never underestimate an enemy—study thecourses of action open to each adversary.

■ Rehearse mobilization plans because they al-ways require support from other units.

By adhering to these guidelines, a divisionstaff can provide major subordinate commandswith planning and training necessary for combatsuccess. Uphold Democracy involved all types offorces. This discussion has focused on how one di-vision fit into the establishment of a theater of op-erations, prepared for that role, and executed twophases of its assigned portion of the operation.

Joint forces will demand more resources andgreater integration to keep pace in the future.First, we should replace aging C–141s with suffi-cient C–17s to project power and conduct forcibleentries around the world. Without strategic lift forairdrop, the Armed Forces will be hamstrung inconducting strategic forcible entries. Second, weshould procure fast sealift to move forces quicklyto regional hotspots. Without adequate forwardbasing, fast sealift becomes paramount to follow-ing airborne or airlanded forces with sustainmentfor continuous operations. Finally, CINCs shouldcontinue to hold annual joint training exercisesand focus them on power projection, forcibleentry scenarios. No service can conduct forcibleentries independently of JTFs. CINCs must con-tinue to practice establishing JTF headquarters,and staffs should be tested on command and con-trol of the myriad forces involved in JTFs. JFQ

N O T E S

1 Department of the Army, FM 100–5, Operations(Washington: Government Printing Office, 1986), p. 2–1.

2 82d Airborne Division, “Uphold Democracy: Mili-tary Operations in the Republic of Haiti,” OperationPlan, annex C: Air Movement Plan (September 9, 1994).

3 Thomas Donnelly, Margaret Roth, and Caleb Baker,Operation Just Cause: The Storming of Panama (New York:Lexington Books, 1991), p. 89.

4 Department of the Army, FM 100–5, p. 1–1.5 82d Airborne Division mission essential task list

(May 1994).

the President had put in motionthe largest airborne invasionsince Market Garden duringWorld War II

Medical Dimensions of Joint Humanitarian Relief Operations

By L E O N A R D M. R A N D O L P H, J R., andM A T T H E W W. C O G D E L L

U.S. Air Force (James Mossman)

As missions shift from major war to regional conflict, the med-ical structure is also adopting jointness and a different posturein support. A significant humanitarian focus has been given toregional affairs, and health care plays an important part in it.This analysis examines joint medical operations during ProvideRelief, Restore Hope, and support for UNOSOM II.1

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Provide ReliefThe effort to feed the starving masses in

southern Somalia began in August 1992 with thearrival of a U.S. Central Command (CENTCOM)humanitarian assistance survey team (HAST) inMombasa, Kenya. Its role was to determine thecommand and control and the logistical supportnecessary for the joint task force (JTF) to conductrelief operations. The team’s medical members as-sessed the medical infrastructure in Mombasa andNairobi. Based on the relatively small number ofpersonnel who were to deploy in support of Pro-vide Relief—about 700—and the suitability ofhost nation facilities, arrangements were made touse hospitals in Mombasa for patient stabilization

and temporary holding. Onehospital stored U.S. bloodproducts in the event theywere needed for Americanpersonnel. Further special-ized care was available fromhost nation facilities in

Nairobi. Definitive care was available within U.S.European Command (EUCOM) or the continen-tal United States (CONUS). Organic assets of de-ploying units provided initial medical care andtreatment.

Aeromedical evacuation (AE) flights were ei-ther scheduled or diverted from Dhahran in SaudiArabia with assets supporting Operation SouthernWatch (the no-fly zone in southern Iraq). A cost-lier alternative was to request a dedicated AE mis-sion from Ramstein, Germany. Because of the ar-duous ten-hour flight from Kenya to Germany,refueling would take place in Djibouti where aFrench military hospital was available for patientswhose conditions had deteriorated and requiredcare that the AE crew could not provide.

Throughout the operation, food was airliftedto relief centers in southern Somalia as well asnorthern Kenya near the Somalia border. For fourmonths Provide Relief ran coincident with RestoreHope and concluded at the end of February 1993.

Restore HopeDespite providing the equivalent of 112 mil-

lion meals, the magnitude of the famine and thebreakdown of government meant that the Pro-vide Relief airlift could not ameliorate the starva-tion in Somalia.2 Consequently, Restore Hopecommenced on December 9, 1992, the result of adecision to step up relief with a command andcontrol element known as Unified Task Force(UNITAF).

A surgeon’s office was established as part ofUNITAF. The JTF surgeon, a Navy captain, was amedical officer with a staff of three medical ser-vice corps officers from the Army, Navy, and AirForce. Later the functions of JTF surgeon were as-sumed by dual- and ultimately triple-hatted med-ical commanders. Preventive medicine assets,which included an Army problem definition andassessment (PDA) team and a Navy rapid diagnos-tic forward laboratory, augmented the staff. Theearly deployment of these teams was a lessonlearned in the Gulf War.

From a medical outlook, Restore Hope wasmore logistically intense than Provide Relief andrequired expanded resources. Because its scope hadchanged, a new medical mission was developed toaccommodate joint and combined operations inSomalia. It would involve a range of medical ser-vices for disease and for both noncombat andcombat injuries. Theater medical services wouldinclude evacuation, hospitalization, logistics, labo-ratory, blood management, veterinary, preventivemedicine, dental care, and unit command, control,and communications. Planning was to includeroutine care of U.N. forces and humanitarian med-ical care of local citizens though these were notspecified tasks. The following assumptions guidedmedical planning for Restore Hope:

■ casualties were to be expected, as were illnessand injuries

■ host nation medical infrastructure would be in-adequate or nonexistent

■ medical capabilities of troop contributing na-tions would not meet U.S. standards

■ U.S. medical forces would be required to treatSomalis

■ hospital capabilities would be afloat (on Navyships) for the first 30 days

■ shore-based capabilities would be most vulnera-ble to Somali requests for assistance (not a significantfactor)

■ some continued hospital capability afloat wouldbe a haven for U.S.-only casualties (also not a factor)

■ hospital beds would be manipulated by type ofspecialty

■ a public assumption that we would treat Soma-lis was not assessed

■ afloat hospital capability would require alterna-tive capability ashore

■ too much medical support would be recover-able, but too little would not.

The deployment of a hospital ship was con-sidered in the planning stage of Restore Hope.The chief advantages of deploying a hospital shipwere to reduce the possibility of being inundatedby host-nation patients like shore-based facilities,providing a more secure environment for medicalresources, and reducing requirements for shore-based logistical support. In lieu of a hospital ship,Brigadier General Leonard M. Randolph, Jr., USAF, currently commands

60th Medical Group, and Lieutenant Colonel Matthew W. Cogdell, USAF, is assigned to Medical Readiness Division (J–4), Joint Staff.

Restore Hope was more logistically intense and required expanded resources

JFQ Randolph P90-97 8/29/96 10:36 AM Page 91

a shore-based deployed hospital was chosen afterconsulting with the Joint Staff.

Medical capability in the area of operations(AO) was austere and limited to treating patientswith illnesses or injury of short duration. Thiswas done to expedite their return to duty or stabi-lize wounds before evacuation from theater. Dur-ing phase I of Restore Hope (approximately the

first 25 days), Marine collecting and clearingcompanies offered limited medical care ashore.Enhanced medical care was provided afloat. Host

nation hospitalizationin Somalia was notconsidered for use byU.S. personnel.

USS Tripoli, anamphibious assaultship, provided sup-

port until a shore-based hospital became opera-tional in mid-January 1993. Medical facilitiesaboard USS Tripoli consisted of two operating

rooms, two intensive care unit beds, 29 ward beds,and 144 overflow beds which had been Marinebunks prior to disembarking. With appropriatestaffing, medical care was provided to casualtieswith minimal injuries using these bunks.

Early in the operation two surgical teams(with a total of 23 medical personnel) augmentedthe ship’s company of one medical officer and tencorpsmen. Among the members of these teamswere an orthopedic surgeon, three medical offi-cers, an anesthesiologist, and a nurse anesthetist.

During phase II (days 25 to 91), organicmedical support accompanied forces deploying toBaidoa and other major interior relief centers.

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American personnel were to treatcoalition and Somali casualties on an emergency basis only

Medical civic action instreets of Mogadishu.

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Make-shift pharmacyin Somalia.

Joint Combat Camera Center (Terry Mitchell)

Loading patients on board C–141.

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Personnel assigned to an Army evacuation hospi-tal established shore-based hospitalization capa-bility using deployable medical systems(DEPMEDS) equipment ashore at Mogadishu In-ternational Airport. The equipment for the land-based hospital was initially to come from a pre-positioned ship, Green Valley. Difficulties inoff-loading because of inadequate berthing facili-ties resulted in transporting equipment from theUnited States by air. The evacuation hospital’s ca-pabilities included orthopedic, thoracic, neuro,and general surgery.

An Army medical group provided commandand control for the evacuation hospital as well astwo veterinary and four preventive medicine de-tachments, a medical clearing company, a dentaldetachment, a medical logistics battalion, a surgi-cal detachment, a mental health detachment,and both an air ambulance company and groundambulance company. The medical group com-mander also assumed the duties of JTF surgeon.Three battalion aid stations and three medicalcompanies were also located ashore.

In addition, an aeromedical evacuation sys-tem composed of active and Reserve personnelwas established early in the AO during phase I. Itsmajor components consisted of an aeromedicalevacuation control center (AECC), a mobile aero-medical staging facility (MASF), an aeromedicalevacuation liaison team (AELT), and aeromedicalevacuation crews. AECC provided the commandand control for the deployed AE system. MASFprovided a holding and treatment facility for upto 50 stabilized patients for 4–6 hours beforeevacuation. AELT provided a communicationlink, and aeromedical evacuation crews consistedof flight nurses and technicians. Because of thedistances, an aeromedical evacuation operationsteam (AEOT) and six AE crews deployed to CairoWest Air Base to provide mission support andstrategic crew staging for transiting AE missions.

Aeromedical evacuation personnel and flightsurgeons primarily used C–130 aircraft within So-malia to evacuate patients to Mogadishu. Retro-grade C–141 aircraft were used for patients whoneeded further medical care in EUCOM orCONUS. Flight surgeons deployed to provide clin-ical assessments of the suitability of casualties foraeromedical evacuation.

On March 10, to conserve the systemstrength of aeromedical evacuation, AECC func-tions at Mogadishu transferred to AEOT at CairoWest. One AELT and two modified AE crews (eachwith a flight nurse and two technicians) re-mained in Somalia. Aeromedical evacuation per-sonnel, based at Cairo West, rotated in and out ofSomalia as mission requirements dictated.3

An air transportable hospital deployed toCairo West provided resuscitation, basic surgery,and emergency dental capability at the interme-diate staging base level. The function of the hos-pital, like the French military hospital in Dji-bouti, was to attend to patients requiring medicalcare beyond the capability of the aeromedicalevacuation crew at the refueling stop.

A field hospital replaced the evacuation hos-pital on April 23, shortly before operations insupport of UNOSOM II began. It was situated inthe American embassy compound because of thecrowded conditions at the airfield and was re-placed by a combat support hospital on August14. The medical group rotated without replace-ment. A newly established medical task force(MTF) absorbed its functions. MTF was controlledby a field hospital commander who was dual-hat-ted, having assumed the responsibilities of JTFsurgeon.

UNOSOM IIWhen U.S. Forces Somalia Command was es-

tablished as part of UNOSOM II to support thetransition of humanitarian relief operations toU.N. control, which began on May 4, the MTFcommander became the U.S. Forces Somalia sur-geon, a third hat. Terms of reference developedby CENTCOM stipulated that medical assets wereprovided specifically for U.S. forces. Americanpersonnel were to treat coalition and Somali casu-alties on an emergency and exception basis only.UNOSOM coalition hospitals from Sweden, Pak-istan, and Romania cared for all other personneland treated a small number of Americans duringmass casualty situations. When Pakistani troopswere ambushed on June 5, the U.S. MTF sup-ported U.N. medical facilities. This mass casualtyincident was a turning point for the forces sup-porting UNOSOM II.

On October 3, three UH–60 helicopters weredowned in an unsuccessful effort to capture Mo-hammed Aideed. Eighteen Americans were killedin this action and in the ensuing combat and res-cue operations. MTF treated 73 patients duringmass casualty operations that day. A few dayslater, a second mass casualty operation was initi-ated after a mortar attack on Mogadishu’s airfield.Thirteen patients were treated by MTF. From Oc-tober 3 to 9, the workload included 96 hospitaladmissions, 70 evacuations, and 45 surgical pro-cedures, with five deaths.4 This week representedthe highest U.S. combat casualty load during theoperation.

As the situation turned hostile, transportingcasualties from the medical task force hospital toMogadishu airport became unsafe, and Armymedical evacuation (Medevac) assets were used tocomplete safe and timely transfers of evacuees.

Figure 1. Restore Hope: Disease/Non-Battle Injuries.*

Preventive MedicineLike the Desert Storm/Desert Shield theater

in its initial stages, current and specific diseaseprevalence information concerning Somalia wasnot available from medical intelligence sources oreven international health organizations. Com-pounding this deficiency was the virtually com-plete degradation of health care infrastructure inSomalia. This necessitated a preventive medicineeffort to not only support U.S. forces but assist inproviding limited support for other U.N. troopsand those civilians who are invariably involvedduring such operations.

Since health care providers were not familiarwith diseases in Somalia, diagnostic problems

were anticipated. More-over, most U.S. troopswere immunologicallynaive to endemic diseasesand hence more suscepti-ble to increased morbidityand mortality than the in-

digenous population. Drug resistances were aknown and expected treatment problem. Tocounter the infectious disease threat, somepreparatory measures were taken. Information wasdistributed to heighten awareness of disease po-tential, immunizations and chemoprophylaxeswere addressed, an in-country disease surveillanceprogram was readied, and redeployment diseaseprecautions were planned.

Two publications that addressed the diseasethreat were widely distributed at the start of thedeployment. One was aimed at medical and pre-ventive medicine personnel as well as comman-ders and troops. It assessed both infectious dis-eases and environmental health factors with

operational import, disease vector ecology infor-mation, personal protective measures, and pre-ventive medicine countermeasures. The otherpublication dealt with anticipated diagnostic dif-ficulties. It reiterated clinical aspects of significantdiseases, including clinical presentation, labora-tory test interpretation, treatment, prognosis, andprevention of infectious diseases. It also ad-dressed malnutrition, stress, and neuropsychiatricproblems.

The first line of defense against some dis-eases is immunization. Administering a range ofimmunizations in a compressed period of timeprior to deployment was a challenge that contin-ued in-theater in the form of administering im-munizations missed during the rush of deploying.Drugs for malaria chemoprophylaxis were chosenbased on scant geographical distribution data. InMay 1993, a number of soldiers and marines whohad served in Somalia surfaced at medical clinicsin CONUS with malaria. Noncompliance withchemoprophylaxis and poor protective measureswere the most notable causes. But prophylaxisbreakthrough noted in several patients was con-sistent with similar findings in other malariousareas of the world.

Predeployment tuberculin skin testing wasalso required. The extreme flurry of activity dueto the immediacy of deployment resulted in a no-table loss-to-follow-up in reading many tuber-culin skin tests. Early 1992 tuberculosis (Tb) mor-tality rates among Somali refugees were reportedto be extremely high. Even prior to the civil un-rest the disease was a major health problem,moderately to highly endemic, and known to beresistant to multiple drugs. In addition, someU.N. personnel came from countries in which Tbis a major health problem. Thus importing drug-resistant Tb into the United States was a seriousconcern.

Redeployment screening procedures for Tband other health hazards were implemented forall personnel. Some units reported minimal tohigh (about 5 percent) rates of skin test conver-sions because of Somalia exposure, althoughmany cases were ambiguous with regard to prede-ployment tuberculin-reactive status. Documenta-tion on measurements (or even positive/negativereadings) of tuberculin tests was traceable toflawed immunization records that could have ledto over-estimating exposure. Also, various unitswhich were retested three months after redeploy-ment from Somalia showed an unexplainable lossof reactivity.

Obtaining immediate disease surveillancedata was key to establishing disease prevalence inSomalia and early identification of disease/injury



the Somalia experience resulted in significant progressin conserving mission strength

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Figure 2. Restore Hope: Heat Injuries.



trends. The PDA team, augmented with a rapid di-agnostic lab-capability (joint forward laboratory),deployed with the initial JTF directly under thecontrol of the theater surgeon. Through their en-ergetic efforts, a disease surveillance network thatreached all service medical treatment facilities wasestablished immediately and continued until themajor withdrawals ended in March 1994. As a re-sult, timely outbreak information was obtainedfor trend analysis and disease investigation thatalso was performed by the PDA team in its firstnon-exercise utilization. Its merits were conclu-sively proven by remarkably low disease/non-bat-tle injury (DNBI) rates throughout the operation.

The level of activity associated with rapid de-ployment as well as the mental stress which ac-companied Restore Hope and operations in sup-port of UNOSOM II were predictable problems.The factors that increased health risks included:time zone adjustment, heat acclimatization, di-etary change, increased accident rates from mov-ing/packing/unloading and the high tempo of ac-tivity in new surroundings, and the psychologicalstrain from family separation, culture shock, geo-graphic disorientation, uncertainty about missionduration, threat of bodily harm, et al. A combina-tion of chaplains, combat stress teams, briefings,and publications for commanders, servicemem-bers, and health-care workers addressed thesechallenges. Although many factors were difficultto measure, DNBI surveillance data was far lowerthan predicted (see figure 1). Specifically, ortho-pedic/minor injury, gastrointestinal disease, andpsychological complaints were very low. Thoughheat injuries were high during initial deploymentwhen compared to the balance of the operation,

this number was still extremely low, given therisk in the AO (figure 2).

Because of the temporary nature of the oper-ation, redeployment was considered early in thegame and potential problems were addressed:general health during deployment by means ofhealth questionnaires (filed in health records);messages alerting health care workers to potentialdisease considerations (also recorded); briefings toalert troops of disease manifestations; implemen-tation of terminal malaria chemoprophylaxis;and repeat tuberculin skin testing 10–12 weekspost-return. Moreover, servicemembers, comman-ders, chaplains, social workers, and families werealerted to the psychological adjustment problemsof returning to normalcy.

Preventive medicine influences are typicallyeasy to measure only when ineffective. Given nu-merous adverse factors in theater (for example,the austere environment and logistical characterof the area, difficult climate, unknown threatsfrom a range of diseases, and unpredictable na-ture of the operation), preventive medicine ef-forts reflected by low DNBI rates must be re-garded as unprecedented. While this triumph waspartly due to lessons learned during DesertShield/Desert Storm, the Somalia experience re-sulted in significant progress in conserving mis-sion strength, which must be remembered.

Medical LogisticsThe Gulf War was a starting point for plan-

ning medical logistics support. Marines initiallyprovided class VIII (medical supply) support. Afterthirty days of Restore Hope, the Army picked upthe mission as single integrated medical logisticsmanager (SIMLM) for class VIII support to all unitsin theater. Just as in Desert Shield/Desert Storm,coordination was effected with EUCOM to utilizethe U.S. Army Medical Material Center, Europe(USAMMCE), as the source of class VIII material tosustain medical logistics battalions (MLBs) in So-malia as well as the air transportable hospital inEgypt. Class VIII support for emergency requisi-tions and routine items that were not stocked byUSAMMCE also were provided by the Defense Per-sonnel Support Center.

Overall, medical supply support was deemeda great success, with the single item manager con-cept proving more effective than in Desert Storm/Desert Shield mainly because medical units de-ployed with the appropriate initial support sup-plies plus resupply packages of 15–30 days. Thisallowed MLBs to more easily sustain the forcewithout outfitting units with class VIII at the out-set of the operation. In addition, MLBs not onlydeployed early but carried their initial inventories.

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In the deployment phase of Restore Hope,communications in the tactical AO were austere,a characteristic of modern contingency/humani-tarian operations. Communications thus tookplace over tactical single channel ultra high fre-quency satellite communications (SATCOM),commercial SATCOM-international maritimesatellite, single channel radio (SCR), high fre-quency radio, and limited super high frequencySATCOM links. Units communicated in the AOpredominantly over voice links. Limited datacommunication was available via facsimile ordata transfers over tactical satellite or SCR, a con-straint which medical logistics units overcame.MLBs utilized a prototype system, known as thequad-service satellite transmission and receivingsystem for medical supply support, without

which logistics would have been ineffective. Itcombines government proprietary message han-dling software and off-the-shelf hardware forsatellite communications and message prepara-tion. This system can send and receive requisi-tions, supply status, and various transactions overlandlines or satellites under the defense auto-matic addressing system (DAAS). It operated viasatellite communications offered by the IN-MARSAT commercial system that is linked byportable, collapsible terminal with telephone anddata transmission service.

Some LessonsThe creation of a JTF surgeon element during

the initial days of Restore Hope was critical. Thesurgeon’s staff expedited coordination of jointmedical support and requirements. During a lullin activity, the functions of the surgeon werepassed to the medical group commander, andlater to MTF commanders. When the level of un-friendly activity in Somalia increased, it was diffi-cult to augment the staff. The surgeon was facedwith a herculean task of acting as hospital com-mander, U.S. Forces Somalia surgeon, and JTF So-malia surgeon. The retention of a dedicated skele-ton surgeon’s office would have constituted asignificant asset in the coordination of medicalactivities as the operational tempo increased.

Relying on USS Tripoli for emergency hospi-talization was crucial during the first month ofRestore Hope. Lacking medical infrastructure inSomalia, the capability aboard USS Tripoli was theonly source of hospitalization prior to land-basedsupport. Because the weather, darkness, and otherconditions could have compromised evacuations,a rapidly deployable land-based facility wasneeded. Establishing a pre-positioned hospitalaboard Green Valley was problematic. High seasand shallow harbors prevented unloading.DEPMEDS equipment from CONUS provided analternate land-based hospital to be deployed andset up in the 30-day planning window.

Predeployment preparations must includepreventive medicine assets during the early stagesof planning. Education was a cornerstone in pre-deployment preparations for Somalia. It involvedreacquainting health care workers with diagnos-ing diseases endemic to the region and educationin local medical threats/countermeasures. Immu-nizations, Tb testing, and chemoprophylaxes arehigh priority measures that must be emphasized.The illusion that chemoprophylaxis offers totalsafety must be replaced by awareness that protec-tive measures are vital in preventing many vec-tor-borne diseases. Units targeted to specific re-gions should be maintained at 100 percent



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medical readiness for deployment. While this isthe best tactic to counter a failure to completemedical predeployment processing, units do notalways enjoy the prior knowledge of their targetdestinations.

There appears to be a shortfall in medical in-telligence which is probably a problem inherentin any intervention. PDA teams provide dynamicdisease data on which constant adjustments inmedical tactics can be made. Deploying a teamearly with initial forces, forming a comprehensivedisease surveillance program, immediate diseaseoutbreak investigations, and command level ofrecognition (directly under the theater surgeon)were factors that contributed immensely to suc-cess. Similar use and control of PDA teams shouldbe the standard in future military deployments.

Finally, the most important factor in all mili-tary preventive medicine endeavors, commandsupport, must be secured. It ensures timely andregular reporting of disease surveillance data andenforces recommended countermeasures as prob-lems are identified. Command support is the onlyeffective means of ensuring implementation ofpreventive measures. But it can be optimized onlyby educating commanders, a developmentalprocess in which health care workers must ensurethat commanders understand the priority of pre-vention over treatment.

Dedicated Medevac helicopters were indis-pensable not only for evacuating casualties fromthe interior to Mogadishu, but within the capitalitself. They were not available in the early days ofthe deployment, and such support was providedby general support helicopters whenever possible.Competing requirements would have seriouslydetracted from the medical mission if combat hadincreased. The Medevac helicopters came by seafrom Europe necessitating ship deck qualificationtraining for Army Medevac pilots.

Aeromedical evacuation was another criticalelement that performed well during this effort.Air Force medical personnel at Cairo West andMogadishu airport, in concert with other medicaltask forces and ships, provided timely support toevacuees. The establishment of staging bases atDjibouti and Cairo West was an important factorin safe and successful aeromedical evacuation.

Communications austerity in the early stagesof force projection is a characteristic of rapid tac-tical military operations today. It is essential thatmedical communications contingency planningbe closely integrated with the total contingencycommunications planning process. In addition, itis crucial for the medical communications per-sonnel, supported command J-6, and JTF J-6 towork closely during the deployment and execu-tion phases to ensure that suitable communica-tion assets are allocated to the medical mission.

Medical support for forces engaged in hu-manitarian relief operations in Somalia washighly successful because of forward thinkingand flexibility in the planning and delivery ofhealth service support on all levels. Joint medicalplanning expertise and activities were crucial inmeeting health requirements. As the ArmedForces evolve in the post-Cold War era, the med-ical lessons drawn from Somalia may prove to betypical and thus should be carefully evaluated forfuture application. JFQ

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1 The authors collaborated with CAPT Sterling E.Garnto, USN; LTC John T. Harris, USA (Ret.); MAJ Dou-glas S. Phelps, USA; and LTC Steven J. Yevich, USA, inthe preparation of an earlier version of this article andgratefully acknowledge their support and comments.

2 Joseph P. Hoar, “A CINC’s Perspective,” Joint ForceQuarterly, no. 2 (Autumn 1993), p. 58.

3 See 1st Aeromedical Evacuation Squadron, “Opera-tion Restore Hope After Action Report,” June 15, 1993,and 32d Aeromedical Evacuation Group, “Medical After-Action Report for AEOT: Operation Restore Hope,”March 18, 1993.

4 Headquarters, Medical Task Force 46, “Situation Report for Operation Continue Hope, October 4–10,”October 11, 1993.

James MacGregor Burns has stated that “Leadership over humanbeings is exercised when persons with certain motives and pur-poses mobilize . . . institutional, political, psychological, andother resources so as to arouse, engage, and satisfy the motivesof followers.”1 Although he is an acclaimed scholar, this propo-sition, though not erroneous, seems somehow incomplete, color-less, and impotent. But if Burns’s grasp of leadership is inade-quate, one can peruse hundreds of works in search of adefinition of leadership without finding a wholly satisfying ex-planation. Augustine of Hippo, the fifth century philosopherand Father of the Church, noted that one knows what time is

until asked to define it. Leader-ship may resist definition inthe same way.

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James H. Toner teaches international relations and military ethics at the Air War College and is the author of The Sword and the Cross: Reflections on Command and Conscience.

Leadership,Community,and VirtueBy J A M E S H. T O N E R

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Terms which have the greatest meaning forus—love, faith, honor, and justice—invariablywithstand simple (or even complex) definition.But can one really comprehend something with-out being able to define it? Thus I offer this suc-cinct definition: leadership is the ability to inspireappropriate action beyond the expectable.2 Whilethis denotation is unlikely to find its way into theacademic literature on the subject, it serves as apoint of departure for looking at leadership.

If some action or conduct is routine, ordi-nary, and predictable—that is, expectable in every

sense—leadership is verylikely unnecessary. It isin the nature of leader-ship to offer somethingbeyond the expectable. If agroup of people may be

expected, for instance, to achieve a desirable out-come regardless of leadership, one might fairly as-sume that, with effective leadership, the samegroup might be able to achieve even greaterthings. Thus, leadership contributes to success onthe margins—it is value added. One might thinkof it as yeast that has a positive catalytic effect.

For example, the motto of the U.S. Army In-fantry School at Fort Benning is “Follow Me!” It isan effective credo, capturing in two words theessence of leadership: the infantry leader, exert-ing the power of his own will and influence, en-ables a squad or platoon to do things that theywould be unlikely to do absent his direction. Butmost of this is pretty self evident. If leaders are ef-fective, they get results not otherwise calculatedin and from people.

Most definitions of leadership contain syn-onyms. One thesaurus gives direction, guidance,instruction, administration, authority, command,control, domination, superiority, and supremacy,which are all very useful terms. But nouns dodge avery critical adjectival question: How do we sepa-rate good leadership from bad? Returning to theanalysis offered by Burns, one finds that his dissec-tion of the subject (at least in the brief quotationcited above) is value-neutral. My definition sug-gests that leadership inspires: a positive, produc-tive influence. Another denotation, “to guide orcontrol by divine influence,” reveals that the in-finitive is intended almost exclusively to conveysomething affirmative and beneficial. While onemight refer to Hitler as having inspired Germans inthe 1930s, as having been charismatic (which origi-nally meant a spiritual or divine gift), using suchterms in the context of Nazi Germany is wrong.Bennis and Nanus correctly point out that “Man-agers are people who do things right and leadersare people who do the right thing.”3 Use of the ad-jective right is of paramount importance.

The definition proposed herein emphasizesthat leaders inspire appropriate (correct, fitting,suitable, rightful) conduct. Leadership that pro-motes inappropriate (incorrect or wrongful) con-duct may be tyranny, despotism, or dictatorship,but it is not genuine leadership, which one takesto be a positive influence. The dictionary statesthat to lead is “to go before or with to show theway.” One must again acknowledge that “theway” can be harmful—such as when gang leadersincite followers to violence and crime—though afair reading seems to suggest something construc-tive as well as hopeful. Therefore leadership in-spires appropriate conduct beyond the expectable.That is, I contend, what leadership does. But ifthat is what leadership does, how does it do it?

How Leadership WorksOver the course of decades, military profes-

sionals have rightly insisted that leaders inspire ap-propriate conduct beyond the expectable by ap-pealing to duty, honor, and country—and refusingto lie, cheat, and steal. Yet these venerable con-cepts, which have encouraged thousands of leadersto do what they ought to even in times of peril andcrisis, are vague. Strong adjurations to virtue andadmonitions against vice are necessarily indistinct.The ancient Greeks told us that exceptions tobroad rules might sometimes have to be granted.Equity means fairness. Aristotle taught that equitycould mean the rectification (correction) of the lawwhen law was deficient by reason of its universal-ity. That is, if rules and regulations apply to every-one, a law might well be wrong when it applies tosomeone under certain circumstances. It is wrongto steal. But what of taking a loaf of bread to feed astarving family? Can there be mitigating or extenu-ating circumstances? Can the injunctions of duty,honor, and country always teach what we wantthem to? If soldiers, sailors, airmen, or marines in-scribe duty, honor, country on their hearts, will theylead appropriately?

We know how critical the notion of dutymust be to soldiers who exist—and leaders wholead—in order to accomplish the mission. Sol-diers go into harm’s way—they risk life andlimb—to get the job done. They are, properly,taught to say “yes sir” or “yes ma’am” whengiven an order—and to execute that orderpromptly and efficiently. At the U.S. MilitaryAcademy, cadets are taught to say “No excuse,sir” when confronted with their shortcomings.Results matter, and complaints are impermissibleabout why the orders or magnitude of the jobprecluded success in the assignment. “Duty,” saidRobert E. Lee, “is the sublimest word in the Eng-lish language.”

leadership inspires appropriateconduct beyond the expectable

But we also know, since the post-World War IIwar crimes tribunals, that devotion to duty is notenough. Orders occasionally must be questioned.The notion that only the superior officer respondsto questions of propriety is gone, as it should be.Every soldier is responsible for the orders that heor she issues—or follows. Blind obedience iswrong. There may well be a duty not to be dutiful.Duty is not the highest good of the soldier.

Honor sometimes seems so rare that I shrinkfrom writing that honor itself is not enough, forwhat is meant can be terribly mistaken. In thefilm A Few Good Men, a young Marine NCO re-gards unit, Corps, God, and country—one pre-sumes in that order—as his source of honor. Thestory presents two twisted, grotesque leaders, alieutenant and a colonel, with a sense of “honor”that is warped beyond recognition. A twistedsense of honor may be worse than no honor at all.At the Naval Academy, midshipmen recently

cheated on an exam andsubsequently covered upfor one another, contend-ing that loyalty to one’sbuddies was higher thanloyalty to the honor con-cept at Annapolis. That no-

tion may hold sway among members of a streetgang but cannot be allowed to take root in an in-stitution educating commissioned officers. Honorof this sort is not the highest good of the soldier.

Country—a short term for patriotism—is adesirable quality to most Americans. We reactwith sorrow and anger to a traitor who sells outhis homeland for greed and personal debauchery.We expect the Armed Forces to represent ourcountry well. Every day soldiers don the uniformof the United States, and they should understandthat wearing it is a privilege and responsibility.But patriotism can be carried to extremes, andhistory is replete with cases of those whose firstloyalty to their homeland resulted in evil. Reli-gious people, for example, cannot value loyalty tocountry ahead of faithfulness to God. Patriotismis a valuable sentiment and a worthy conviction,but it is not the highest good of the soldier.

But if the watchwords and creed of “duty,honor, country” are not enough to tell us how tobe leaders—and which values to exalt—who dowe consult? This is not to offer a new formula toWest Point but to suggest, for purposes of instruc-tion, a new ordering of “duty, honor, country.”

Taken properly, the highest virtue of a soldier,and hence his leader, is honor—authentic, notwarped. Things done in the line of duty that vio-late a proper awareness of honor tarnish the shieldand disgrace the uniform. Genuine honor is basedon integrity. As a former service chief put it, “Anyorder to compromise integrity is not a lawful

order. Integrity is the most important responsibil-ity of command.” 4 Legal orders must be obeyed.Leaders inspire appropriate conduct.

We try in so many ways to soften the lan-guage, but the soldier’s job is to kill and prepareto kill, to die and prepare to die. The Code ofConduct is very clear about the ultimate obliga-tion of the soldier, whose very life may be put indanger to accomplish the mission. Officers arenever to endanger the lives of their soldiers forlight reasons; but never must they shrink fromthe terrible responsibility of accepting risks, evenmortal danger, for their troops and themselves ifnecessary. The military may well be involved inoperations other than war, but the first responsi-bility of the Armed Forces is to win the Nation’swars. When a choice must be made betweentroop safety and mission accomplishment, theduty of the soldier must be mission first.

The infantry lieutenant forever has the re-sponsibility of pointing at one soldier and saying,“Smith, point man!” None but the cavalier, how-ever, would say such things carelessly. There mustbe no question that genuine concern for the wel-fare of soldiers (or patients, pupils, clients, or cus-tomers) is key to leadership. What the leader givesto followers is very likely to be returned. But forthe military leader, concern for troops cannot re-place devotion to duty; and devotion to duty can-not replace fidelity to a high sense of honor. Thetrinity of principle, purpose, and people thus comple-ments the idea of honor, duty, country(men).5 Thehighest obligation of a soldier must be to honor,and then to duty, and then to countrymen. If anyleader mistakes the proper order—putting, say,people ahead of principle and thus implicitly con-doning cheating at the Naval Academy—he or shecannot inspire appropriate conduct. The leader-ship offered will be defective and dangerous.

But we have said that principle can be mis-understood. How can leaders be educated to un-derstand the proper order of principle (honor),purpose (duty), and people (countrymen)? Sincethe ancient Greeks, educators have sought to in-culcate wisdom and virtue into students, fre-quently without success. Indeed, in many if notmost universities and colleges today, even discus-sion of trying to teach “wisdom and virtue” willterrify professors and, in particular, administra-tors. “You shall know the truth, and the truthshall make you free” has been transmuted into“You shall know the truth, and the truth shallmake you flee.” Whose version of “wisdom” shallwe teach? Whose notions of “virtue” shall we in-culcate? In a multicultural society, does any pub-lic university have the right to teach “wisdomand virtue?”

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the highest obligation must be to honor, and then to duty,and then to countrymen

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Specific questions of campus politics can beleft to faculties in Tuscaloosa, Ann Arbor, andTempe—until graduates of those institutions pinon the gold bars of second lieutenant or ensign.Once commissioned, those young leaders mustknow how to order principle, purpose, and peo-ple, for there is the fountain of leadership. Per-sonal background, even educational experience,may be at odds with the views, values, and veri-ties which have sustained the Armed Forces formore than two hundred years. How are young of-ficers to learn the time-tested truths of militaryleadership? How are they to master what “princi-ple” and “honor” are about? How are they to dis-cover what “purpose” and “duty” really mean?How are they to grasp what taking care of peopledemands? Experience in the workplace or thestreets is hardly enough. An education—at Al-abama, William and Mary, Holy Cross, even An-napolis, it seems—is not enough. This is certainlynot to impugn any institution; nor is it anti-intel-lectual, intended to denigrate higher education.Rather, the point is that leaders today need a so-cialization, maturation, and seasoning beyondthe academic expertise represented by degrees.That socialization process is the responsibility ofeach service.

The Source of Integrity To lead well—to inspire appropriate action

beyond the expectable—leaders must have bothwisdom and virtue, customary products of longexperience and worthwhile education. As obvious

as it is, one can forget that the colonels of the fu-ture are the lieutenants of today. If the lieutenantsare poorly educated, we must expect misfits andmalcontents among colonels within a generation.Leaders educated by Federal service academies,ROTC, and OCS/OTS are likely to have the raw in-telligence to become—I do not say to be—goodleaders. But they will require the seasoning, expe-rience, conditioning, and mentoring of their pro-fession in order to mature into the kinds of leadersthe Nation wants and very much needs.

In one word, leaders will learn virtue (andthus be able to inspire appropriate conduct) bybeing responsable. I have not misspelled the wordresponsible; I mean “responsable”—being able torespond. Leaders must know what to respond to.If they respond first to opportunities for successand advancement, they will be careerists but notprofessionals. If they misunderstand the order ofprinciple, purpose, and people, they will makethe kinds of mistakes referred to earlier. Leadersmust be able to respond to the chief challenge ofleadership: being technically and tactically and ethi-cally proficient.

It is obvious that good leaders must knowtheir profession. Competence in soldierly skill isfundamental. But competence without characteris an invitation only to masterful despotism. Andcharacter consists in “responsability”—that is,being able to respond to challenge and crisis in amanner based on integrity. Here we have at lastcome to the chief difficulty in almost all writing

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on the ethics of leadership. It requires little study,after all, to say that good leaders are men andwomen of integrity. But what is integrity? I offerthe simple definition that it is “responsability.”Those with integrity respond to crisis and chal-lenge as their profession would urge. In moments

of indecision, leaders with in-tegrity respond to the silentpromptings and the unspokenguidance of those who havegone before; in moral andmilitary emergency, leadersfind unvoiced counsel in the

history of their services and biographies of thechampions of yesteryear.

Leaders are never alone. They walk in theshadow of great lieutenants. Each service has ritesand rituals, trappings and traditions, customs andconventions, that disclose volumes on what isdone and must be done, what is not done and mustnever be done. Leaders soon perpetuate a commu-nity of service. Those who went before—andserved well and nobly—admonish, instruct, andcounsel young leaders who are prudent enough tolisten. Heroic murals and statues, customs, uni-forms, and reveille and taps—all these things faith-fully teach new leaders that they have entered a

profession. In making decisions, leaders are re-sponding not just to present circumstances but tostandards set in the past, and aspirations and op-portunities of the future. As professionals, leadersprofess faith in comrades. They are responsable—that is, able to respond—to those comrades.

Alasdair MacIntyre of Notre Dame, perhapsour foremost moral philosopher, observed that “Iinherit from the past of my family, my city, mytribe, my nation, a variety of debts, inheritances,rightful expectations, and obligations. These con-stitute the given of my life, my moral startingpoint. This is in part what gives my life its ownmoral particularity.” 6 It is this inheritance, thissense of community, from which we derive asense of purpose and ethical orientation. It is tothis feeling of oneness, bonding, and confrater-nity that we are responsable. This brotherhood isfound in Paul’s letter to the Romans: “What Iwish is that we may be mutually encouraged byour common faith.” That feeling was described byWalter Lippmann when he wrote that there is asense of community which, “though so insub-stantial to our senses binds, in Burke’s words, aman to his country with ‘ties which though lightas air, are as strong as links of iron.’ That is whyyoung men die in battle for their country’s sakeand why old men plant trees they will never situnder.” 7 In his farewell at West Point, DouglasMacArthur made much the same point: “Thelong, gray line has never failed us. Were you to doso, a million ghosts in olive drab, in brown khaki,in blue and gray would rise from their whitecrosses. . . .” 8

A simple definition of integrity tells us that itmeans “the quality or state of being complete;unbroken condition; wholeness; entirety.” In thesense that an integer is a whole number and not afraction, integrity suggests community. Youngleaders who absorb the sense of wholeness and oftradition and of common faith which writersfrom Paul of Tarsus to Lippmann and MacArthurhave believed and taught thus ground their moraleducations in virtue; they begin to know how toorder appropriate conduct and how to conductthemselves wisely.

As vital as honor is, another concept of com-pelling importance is shame, the feeling that byinappropriate words and actions, one has disap-pointed the best of his community. Shame is thebelief that, by failure of moral or physicalcourage, one has proven unworthy of the tradi-tion he or she is expected to uphold and exalt.The shamed one is thus unable to look profes-sional colleagues squarely in the eye and implic-itly say, “I took this action because, in my best

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as vital as honor is, anotherconcept of compelling importance is shame

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judgment, it was right.” Actions and words thatproduce shame are ordinarily wrong. They de-stroy the wholeness (past, present, future) of aprofession and devastate the bonding, commu-nity, and sense of unity of those whose deedsbuilt the integrity of that profession.

Integrity, then, is about wholeness and com-munity and having sufficient piety and decencyto know when one ought to be ashamed of be-traying it. Every leadership decision but the mostmundane involves ethical judgment. Therefore,every significant leadership decision is potentially“transforming,” leadership that occurs when we“engage with others in such a way that leadersand followers raise one another to higher levels ofmotivation and morality.”9 Good leaders do notsimply want their followers to do something; goodleaders want their followers to be somebody. Therepetition of appropriate action develops thekinds of habits which help us act as we should. Indoing the right thing, leaders set examples, buildpurposeful organizations, create and enhancecommunity, inculcate virtue because they arewise, and are wise because they are virtuous.“Good leaders,” Malham Wakin observed, “aregood teachers.”10 Teachers do more than transmitideas; they practice a kind of transforming leader-ship, educating students, soldiers, and patients.Good leaders show their subordinates “the way.”

James Bond Stockdale, a prisoner of war inVietnam for eight years, contends that good lead-ers “need to be moralists—not just poseurs who . . .exhort men to be good, but thinkers who elucidatewhat the good is. This requires first and foremost aclear idea of right and wrong and the integrity tostand behind your assessment of any situation.” 11

Good ethics must be taught by good leaders; andgood ethics is caught from good leaders who inspireappropriate conduct beyond the expectable. Lead-ers learn from the past, are responsible in the pre-sent, and plan for the future. They know their prin-ciples, purposes, and people; and their sense ofcommunity and their pride of profession endowtheir actions and orders with mature judgment. Insuch mature, settled judgment will be found theunion of leadership and virtue, of effective com-mand and wise conscience. JFQ

N O T E S

1 In a book by the same name (New York: Harper Col-ophon, 1978), Burns defines leadership as “inducing fol-lowers to act for certain goals that represent the values andthe motivations . . . of both leaders and followers” (p. 19).

2 James H. Toner, The Sword and the Cross (New York:Praeger, 1992), p. 49; and The American Military Ethic(New York: Praeger, 1992), p. 54.

3 Warren Bennis and Burt Nanus, Leaders: The Strate-gists for Taking Charge (New York: Harper and Row, 1985),p. 21. But their next sentence totally misses the point:“The difference may be summarized as activities of vi-sion and judgment—effectiveness versus . . . efficiency.”

4 John D. Ryan, quoted in War, Morality, and the Mil-itary Profession, 2d ed., edited by Malham Wakin (Boul-der, Colo.: Westview Press, 1986), p. 180.

5 See my book True Faith and Allegiance: The Burdenof Military Ethics (Lexington: The University Press ofKentucky, 1995), chapter 4, for more detail.

6 Alasdair MacIntyre, After Virtue, 2d ed. (Notre Dame,Ind.: University of Notre Dame Press, 1982), p. 220.

7 Walter Lippmann, Essays in the Public Philosophy(Boston: Little, Brown, 1955), p. 36.

8 “Duty, Honor, and Country,” Vital Speeches of theDay, vol. 28, no. 17 (June 15, 1962), p. 520. The powerof this valedictory is not denied; but “duty, honor,country,” though valuable and venerable as rhetoric, isnot an amulet that guarantees good leadership.

9 Burns, Leadership, p. 20. His other type of leader-ship is “transactional,” which means “one persontak[ing] the initiative in making contact with others forthe purpose of an exchange of valued things.”

10 Malham W. Wakin, “Foreword,” in Military Leader-ship: In Pursuit of Excellence, edited by R. L. Taylor and W. E.Rosenbach (Boulder, Colo.: Westview Press, 1984), p. xiv.

11 See James Bond Stockdale, “Educating Leaders,” inMilitary Leadership: In Pursuit of Excellence, edited by R.L. Taylor and W. E. Rosenbach (Boulder, Colo.: West-view Press, 1984), p. 67. See also Roger H. Nye, TheChallenge of Command (Wayne, N.J.: Avery, 1986).

Training and EducationMilitary training and PME do not aim at pro-

viding jobs or adventures. They are necessary forsuccess in warfare. Training creates competencein using machines or tools required for tasks. It isabout teaching things that are known and usingthings that operate mechanically, electrically, orsomewhat predictably. Education, on the otherhand, aims at teaching intellectual constructs andappropriate principles so that the right tools areavailable and can be selected to achieve a desiredeffect. It is about learning whatever we do notknow but envision we must know to survive andsucceed. Said another way, training teaches thearcher how to use the bow and arrow—how toaim the right arrow at the right bull’s-eye. Educa-tion ensures that the archer also sees the value ofgunpowder as an improvement over archery. Thetest of training is competence in environmentsthat exist now and are understood. The test of ed-ucation is success in different environments thatare perhaps not fully understood.

Over the last several years, Air University hasengaged in studies of the future. Spacecast 2020 isbeing followed by Air Force 2025, which is beingconducted at the direction of the chief of staff,

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Lieutenant General Jay W. Kelley, USAF, is commander of Air Universityand previously served as vice commander of Air Force Space Command.

B R I L L I A N TWarriorsBy J A Y W. K E L L E Y

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There is little doubt that military educationis an important complement to militarytraining. But while everyone would agreeon the value of both training and educationto the Armed Forces, just how much profes-sional military education (PME) a warriorneeds, its form and timing, and the impactof information technology on what istaught is open to debate. This article seeksto animate and encourage that exchange.

One thing is certainly undebatable: peopleare the most critical element in the military. Theymust fight our wars. Technology provides thetools to fight, and training enables a warrior to

use them to his best advantage. Andthe purpose of PME is to leveragethe most powerful factor in thewarfighting equation: the humanmind. Our training institutions andtheir capabilities are superior. Train-ing has repeatedly reengineered it-self to take account of advances ininformation technology, simula-tion, and discoveries about howmature students learn best. It is

challenging, experiential, and sometimes fun. ButPME has not even kept abreast of improvementsin training, let alone with needs of national mili-tary strategy.

Unless PME better prepares warriors, our besttraining may be wasted. To understand thechanges that must be made in PME, we must dif-ferentiate between training and education.

If we should have to fight,we should be prepared to do so from the neck up, instead of from the neckdown.

—Jimmy Doolittle

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U.S. Air Force. The latter study examines the airand space capabilities that the Nation will need,systems and technologies that might contribute

to them, and con-cepts of operationsfor best utilizingnew capabilities.Closely related areDOD studies and

seminar wargames that explore the revolution inmilitary affairs (RMA). Each service and the JointStaff are looking into the future to understandthe operating environments that the ArmedForces might face.

Alternate FuturesMoving into the future, Carl Builder has re-

minded us, is like driving into fog.1 Turning on thehigh beams to see specific objects only illuminatesthe fog more brightly. To make out shapes requireslower beams, peripheral vision, and the ability toobserve relationships between shapes, the roadahead, and the means of illumination. It also re-quires making implicit assumptions about what isperceived explicit and then challenging them. Thefirst thing one sees, to pursue Builder’s analogy, isthat there is more than one future visible in thefog. Each alternate future is internally consistent,often equally plausible, and could actually be thefuture. Some are benign while others are arduous.Combined, they delimit strategic planning, iden-tify risks, and suggest challenges and opportuni-ties that may lie ahead. Alternate futures are de-scriptive, and not predictive or normative. Theyare planning stories or scenarios. Aware of these al-ternatives, planners can ignore any or all. The ob-jective is to clarify the shapes in the fog to reducesurprise and risk for decisionmakers.

Alternate futures need not be precisely right,just plausible and approximately right. This ispreferable to stumbling along in the dark orclinging to the present and ultimately being ill-prepared for the unexpected. While a creativeprocess, generating alternate futures is rigorousand exacting. Just as we know the past by infer-ence, we can gain similar insight into futures.Businesses spawn alternate futures at great ex-pense because they pay off. Failing to look aheadmight lead to missing new customers or losingtheir market share. Militaries that do not lookahead may lose nations.

There are other methods for looking aheadbesides alternate futures, some better than others.But all have a common objective: to provide in-sights into tomorrow so that our present actionscan prepare us. Thus, the task is to look ahead,describe the operating environment, delineatethe skills it may demand, and postulate actionslikely to produce the desired results.2

Some things are common to all futures. Sim-ply put, soldiers, sailors, marines, and airmen of2020 must become as “brilliant” as their tools. Forexample, the Army mobile digitized Force XXI andthe Marine Corps initiative Sea Dragon—or what-ever they become on the way to the far future—can only be understood or prosecuted by thor-oughly trained and superbly educated forces.Given the distinct possibility that nontraditionalmissions will increase, and that the Armed Forcesare not likely to grow in size, the education andtraining hurdles that we face are immense.

What should planners study to enable themto devise simultaneous strikes on 5,000 targetswith precision-guided munitions? What sort ofeducation will prepare combatants to deployfrom CONUS to link up with coalition forces tofight within twelve hours? How does one trainmarines to fight brush fires in California oneweek and survive firefights in combat the next?

The EnvironmentStudies indicate that the operating environ-

ment of the far future probably will include fiveattributes important to those who are planningmilitary training and PME today.

Humans will still fight. Combat can occur any-where from the earth’s surface to cislunar space. Itcan break out in environments ranging from jun-gle to polar ice, from cities to orbital heights. It caninvolve national armies, irregular forces, terroristgroups, or organized crime. And even though na-tion-states will not wither away, they may havemore powerful competitors in the future.

The military will be smaller. Capabilities will bemore tightly integrated: speed, precision, and theexpertise to operate in ambiguous circumstanceswill become treasured operational values. Cost willbe as important as capability in organizing, train-ing, and equipping this force.3 A cadre of nearlytranscendent professionals—but not six-milliondollar men or robocops—will constitute the force.The services probably will not be merged, and nei-ther a space nor information corps is likely to becreated. We will still need the means to developexperts in land, sea, and air and space warfare—in-cluding information operations that cut across allcombat media. This force will work together withmany members of the interagency community aswell as contractors. All elements of this futureforce must understand their contributions andhow other contributors are integrated to meet theobjective. Knowing how one’s own part of thisforce functions will not be good enough; one mustknow how others work too.

the test of education is success inenvironments that are perhaps notfully understood

The standard for thisforce will be its ability tomake rapid precisionstrikes, both physical andelectronic-photonic, andoperate in situations of

high ambiguity. Precision and engagement speed(strikes and restrikes) will compensate for smallerforces. Events will unfold so rapidly that time andtiming become critical. The ability to act rapidlyover great distances with a minimum of casualtiesor damage (including harm to the ecosystem),then withdraw or terminate quickly, may deterpotential adversaries.

There will be myriad interactive smart machines.The explosion in information technology, accord-ing to Carl Builder, is the key disturber of our time. “Brilliant”systems—many small—are in-escapable consequences of aneruption in computing power aswell as information technologies.Microchips could turn up in al-most anything by the middle ofthe next century, which would make “dumb”things smarter. Microchips communicating with acentral processing unit will constitute a smart net-work. And when smart networks communicate,almost brain-like systems will emerge. AdmiralWilliam Owens and others have referred to suchan occurrence as a coming “system of systems.” Inthirty years intelligence will be embedded in mostthings, many interacting with humans. Thus it islikely that the Armed Forces could ultimately be-come an “organism of organisms.”

Coalitions will be the norm. Technology and acommon dedication to improving quality of lifewill combine to shrink the planet and harmonize

interests without a loss of cultural or nationalidentity. Electronic linkages among economies,increased leisure and business travel, and ease ofinterpersonal contacts will facilitate greater coop-eration. Threats to one global partner will imperilothers more than today. Yet military-to-militaryexchanges, coalition training exercises, and actualoperations will link allied warriors and promote akindred spirit among them. We should preservethe capability to act unilaterally, but—like it ornot—coalition operations will be the norm.

Tomorrow’s subordinates and leaders will be dif-ferent. The same genetic material will be influ-enced by a vastly different environment. By earlyin the next century both leaders and the led mayappear as different from our perspective as those

of 1965 appear to us now.By 2025 we will have been

joint for nearly fifty years, andthe speed bumps of today willhave been flattened. The demo-graphic composition of Con-gress will be different. Whereasless than 40 percent of current

members have served in the Armed Forces, thepercentage may be much smaller over next thirtyyears. A significant aspect of continuity is thatthe military will obey the President, respect theConstitution, and operate under the control ofcivilian authority.

Determining the OutputGiven the likely attributes of the future envi-

ronment, we must examine the desired output asa prelude to describing the input and the contri-bution of training and education. What skills and

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If you tell me, I’ll listen.If you show me, I’ll see.If I experience it, I’ll learn.

—Lao Tze

K e l l e y


actions are needed in a world with these attrib-utes? In the most compressed terms possible, edu-cation must help military professionals acquire avariety of knowledge, skills, and attitudes.

A constantly improving understanding of humanmotives and interpersonal skills necessary to achievecooperation. In other words, the essence of leader-ship may be perceiving what makes people tick.Understanding how human beings of different

backgrounds and cul-tures (or services) act indifferent circumstancesis integral to under-standing the sourcesand nature of coopera-tion, friction, and con-

flict among people. Military professionals in thefar future must learn more about leadership andhuman behavior—their own as well as that oftheir subordinates and adversaries.

A strong commitment to right conduct that al-most invariably results in right behavior. Note thequalifier “almost.” Because human nature will notchange, and freedom to choose is important, therewill be misconduct and mistakes in spite of ourbest efforts. In thirty years democracy will evolve,but it will remain based on a passion for individualliberty and the belief that people ought to respectthe rule of law. As public servants in a society thatcherishes a free press, we will come under closerscrutiny than today. Erosion of public supportmay be worse than defeat in battle. Education canprovide confident assurance of virtue, right con-duct, and fidelity to core values.

The eagerness to discover new tools, the ability tofind inventive uses for existing tools, the initiative to in-novate, and the ability to know—as well as the willing-ness to take—acceptable risks. The tools and ma-chines available for everything, including fighting,may be as numerous in the far future as they aremarvelous. Comparing technologies of 1965 withthose of today, space systems (except for spacelift),stealth, and sensor improvements stand out as ini-tially military innovations. Strong advances in in-formation, biochemistry, and medicine were devel-oped by the private sector. Yet warriors of 1996–2025 must have the knowledge and incentive toidentify and select emerging developments thatcan enable dominant military capability: basic sci-ence (chemistry and physics), pharmaceuticals,electronics, air and space, and information tech-nology. We need to know more about space opera-tions since our quality of life and success in battlewill increasingly rely on them.

Certainly areas of technical competence thattraining must provide will be more numerous, but

education aims at big constructs acquired in com-plicated ways. Knowing the environment and thedesired output, what then is the input? The Presi-dent of 2025 may be attending high school at pre-sent. The Chairman and service chiefs of the farfuture are cadets or midshipmen, lieutenants orcaptains today. The environment and experienceswhich form them will be significantly different.We thus begin with a different input: differentpeople with a different orientation.

The 13th GenerationDifferences in this generation are marked.4

They are the first to grow up with television andmature with computers, video games, andportable communications devices. They are fitterand healthier and destined to live longer. Theycare for the planet and the environment. Theyhave experienced more (earlier) than previousgenerations. They demand stimulation, excite-ment, and fast paces in their lives. They seek di-versity. They will enter the Armed Forces for chal-lenges and responsibilities unavailable elsewhere.What should PME offer these leaders of the nextcentury?

One answer is to ignore their differences andforce them into the mold of traditional PME; anenvironment, John Warden once said, in which“Socrates would be comfortable.” However, theywill come to our hallowed halls already trainedand will expect no less challenge in education.The traditional approach is not likely to work.Rather, PME must come at the right time, offerthe right experience, point to the right informa-tion, provide a nearly risk-free laboratory to inno-vate, apply technology to unusual conditions,make connections, and reach conclusions thatcan be tested. If we can envision alternate futures,we can employ technology to create them as vir-tual realities. If we can use technology to teachstudents to operate in them, we can prepare themto cope with the real future. The role of tomor-row’s professional military educator is thus moreimportant, not less. Those responsible must, inshort, prepare each of their charges to be a “bril-liant warrior.”

Brilliant means training and educating peo-ple committed to the warrior ethic in such a waythat by 2025, compared to today, they will besmart, adept, agile, savvy—professional warriors.They should have the attributes to survive, suc-ceed, and lead others in whatever future presentsitself. They must be lifelong learners, thinkers, andprudent risk-takers. Our gift to them will be a PMEsystem that forces them to think, encourages themto learn how to learn, and gives them the confi-dence to perform in new operating environments.

Remember that there will be fewer warriorsin the future and that cost will rival capability as

military professionals in the farfuture must learn more aboutleadership and human behavior

a criterion for organizing, training, and equippingthem. Two standards for evaluating PME are effec-tiveness—when the desired knowledge is achievedand right actions result—and cost—when thehighest value is acquired and best return on aninvestment occurs. Both must be applied with anawareness of the changes that will unfold natu-rally between now and the far future. The debatehas begun, now it must be enlivened.

Forming Brilliant WarriorsAlternatives for meeting specific knowledge

and behavioral objectives are many. Choosingwill define their characteristics; but a PME systemmust also choose its general characteristics. Theprocess of choosing is difficult: there are publiclaws to be satisfied; the Joint Staff is involved;and services, training commands, and using com-mands participate. Strategy reviews, force struc-ture, roles and missions commissions, and newlegislation will also affect choices.

As the Armed Forces integrate and the de-fense establishment shrinks, there will be effortsto reduce infrastructure costs and investment.Today, each service has both a command andstaff and a war college. Tomorrow, service compe-tencies may be taught by robust departments onone campus—a move that the British are making.

Another alternative isto combine all the in-termediate and seniorcolleges into one schoolfor each service andtransform the NationalDefense University into

a PME institution for general/flag officers. Cur-rently, warriors are likely to attend both staff andwar college, spending twenty or more months inresidence. Tomorrow, resident study may bemuch briefer. Today, selection for resident PME isthe responsibility of the services. Tomorrow, jointselection boards may identify officers for school-ing.

At present PME is technology-poor. In the fu-ture, and if the private sector is encouraged, itcould have powerful technologies which couldcreate different virtual realities and use residentPME as the crucible for learning experiences thatmay not be duplicated in or provided to the field.5

For example, we might want a warrior to experi-ence operating in a known environment such asSomalia or Bosnia. But we may also want to createa less certain or future environment.

PME is discontinuous and episodic. Residentand non-resident programs in the future may findwarriors engaged in a deliberate life-long learning

process. Whereas today many civilians at PME in-stitutions may have tenure, tomorrow they maybe contract employees, visiting scholars, and for-mer warriors. Today, curricula are built aroundClausewitz, Mahan, and the great captains. To-morrow, curricula may provide stressful experi-ences in virtually real leadership situations and usejoint doctrine and combined arms in coalitionwargames, along with instruction on ethics andarea studies. Envisioning, creating, and teachingsuch curricula requires competent educators.

These and other challenges await us all: Con-gress, special commissions, the Office of the Sec-retary of Defense, Joint Staff, unified commands,services, training and education commands, andtroops. Those with responsibility for PME shouldremember Ervin Rokke’s tongue-in-cheek chal-lenge: “As academies, we will advise others tochange but will likely ensure that revolutionarychange takes place most slowly within our ownorganization.”6 This will not suffice. If we fail toadapt and innovate, we are not fit to be leaders,let alone educators.

Characteristics of PMEEven as general characteristics of a system to

produce brilliant warriors are being chosen, spe-cific choices must be made. These elements, likethe general ones, must satisfy certain criteria. Iproposed effectiveness and cost. The aim is tobring the powerful learning experiences of life,leadership, and warfare to PME. Experience mayremain the best teacher. Given such objectives,what are the alternatives? The answers are hy-potheses which should be tested and debated.

A constantly improving understanding of humanmotivation and interpersonal skills is necessary toachieve cooperation to attain the desired objective oreffect.

■ more psychology, anthropology, or social science?■ interactive learning with artificial intelligence as

a tutor or more classroom teachers?■ virtual reality systems that allow the student to

live in future environments?■ more role-playing, case studies, biography?■ increased international officer and civilian en-

rollment? ■ more theoretical models to study and evaluate?■ more virtual travel or military-to-military ex-

changes?■ studies of mathematics and chaos theory?■ multidisciplinary teaching teams? ■ more history or less?

Educating brilliant warriors requires that dis-tance learning expose the leaders to continuousPME. Yet even distance learning must be tiered sothat everyone receives a customized curriculum



if we fail to adapt and innovate,we are not fit to be leaders, letalone educators

K e l l e y


with more eager students receiving a more chal-lenging course of studies. Some warriors, al-though in PME, may remain at the “mainte-nance” level for their entire careers. Only thosedemonstrating command potential will attendresident PME. It need not last a year or occur attraditional sites. It could be a series of short resi-dent learning opportunities. These would aim toprovide experiences that distance learning can-not. Foremost among them is performing instressful circumstances of alternate futures. Thus,resident PME must begin to offer a more experi-ential curriculum that bears on conflict, humanrelations, and military leadership. Knowledge isabout making connections and choices, so theapproach must be multidisciplinary and multicul-tural. More international officers and civiliansmust participate. One sort of learning opportu-nity in residence for air officers might focus onjoint and coalition air and space operations in analternate future environment. A different type fornaval officers would allow them to experiencethat operational environment. These PME learn-ing opportunities might occur several times ayear between the 10- and 15-year point in their

careers—some intentionally on short notice—toprepare the warrior for senior command and staffresponsibilities. Exceptionally well qualified offi-cers, as indicated by their selection for general orflag rank, would go on to a National Defense Uni-versity of the future just past the 20-year point.

A strong commitment to right conduct that al-most invariably results in right behavior.

■ more ethics education or less?■ deeper study into the American system of gov-

ernment?■ a curriculum requiring difficult personal resource

allocation choices?■ placing students in alternate future environ-

ments with high ambiguity and uncertainty?■ more health and fitness activities or less?■ more, fewer, or no seminars?■ more or less reading and writing? ■ more personal mentoring or less?

Richard Kohn of the University of NorthCarolina and others have expressed concern overthe current state of civil-military relations in thiscountry.7 For America to maintain its position inthe world, our leaders must appreciate nationalideals, how government and decisionmakingwork, and the Constitution. Moreover, they mustbe educated in the core values of their services as

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well as professional ethics. It is on these founda-tions that distance learning in the next 5 to 10years ought to be built, since civilian institutionsmay not sufficiently emphasize them for warriors.In any event, education must broaden awarenessof possible future challenges, and technologycould allow warriors to experience them by per-forming in virtually real futuristic environments.

The eagerness to discover new tools, the abilityto think creatively of new uses for existing tools, theinitiative to innovate, and the ability to know—andwillingness to take—acceptable risks.

■ a wargame, research, or book-centered curricu-lum?

■ more studies on the relationships between tech-nology and war or less?

■ formal education and experience in creativethinking?

■ formal education in logic, rhetoric, and criticalthinking?

■ a mandated or self-selected curriculum?■ opportunities to experiment with and fight dif-

ferent force structures?■ formal education in operations research and op-

erations analysis?■ more emphasis on the sources of conflict and

change or less?

Brilliant warriors must be critical thinkers.I.B. Holley of Duke University has identified thelack of education in critical thinking as a seriousshortfall in today’s PME curricula. Such skills areenhanced by a curriculum that emphasizes re-search. The French use a research-centered modelin senior joint PME. Research into the past may beless germane to brilliant warriors than creativeand disciplined thinking about the future, al-though studying the past warns us against repeat-ing its mistakes. More and better wargames (in-cluding analytical ones) are needed to bolstercurricula to improve critical and creative thinking.The study of joint matters—of the JOPES variety—which is not educational, does not require criticalthinking, and clutters senior PME curricula today,would fill the 10- to 15-year interval of continu-ous distance learning. Readings and interactivediscourse in strategy and history, making use ofadvanced distance learning, would offer basic dis-cernment for warriors who lead warriors. Perfor-mance in distance learning programs should be afactor in selection for resident PME.

As critical components of national securitystrategy, military training and PME intersect the in-terests of three of our most conservative institu-tions: the military, academe, and the bureaucracy.These institutions are not so much adverse tochange as they are slow to change and quick to re-sist unnecessary change. We have the brilliant edu-cators to help produce brilliant warriors, but welack a vision of where we want PME to go and whatwe want it to be. While classrooms may be wiredand students may be issued laptops, these develop-ments could be little more than natural, althoughunimaginative, improvements without vision.

There is no time like the present to beginthinking and debating changes necessary to keepPME relevant and valuable. The future, whateverit proves to be, will be our measure. Unless we actnow, thinking about the future will become somuch intellectual arm-waving. We will not havebrilliant warriors to face tomorrow unless we pre-pare today. This discussion suggests some ways,but they are not the only ones. We cannot dodgethe obligation to choose: PME will change. Thatbeing the case, we must choose wisely. JFQ

N O T E S

1 Carl Builder, “Guns or Butter: The Twilight of aTradeoff?” paper presented to the Air University NationalSecurity Forum, Maxwell Air Force Base, May 1995.

2 Richard C. Chilcoat, “The ‘Fourth’ Army War Col-lege: Preparing Strategic Leaders for the Next Century,”Parameters, vol. 25, no. 4 (Winter 1995–96), pp. 3–17.

3 Gene McCall et al., New World Vistas: Air and SpacePower for the 21st Century, summary volume (Washington:U.S. Air Force Scientific Advisory Board, 1995), pp. 4–5.

4 Neil Howe and William Strauss, “The New Genera-tion Gap,” The Atlantic, vol. 270, no. 6 (December1992), pp. 67–89.

5 Nicholas Negroponte, Being Digital (New York: Vin-tage Books, 1995), pp. 116–28.

6 Conference Report: Professional Military Education andthe Emerging Revolution in Military Affairs, SAIC docu-ment 95–6956, May 22–23, 1995.

7 Richard H. Kohn, “Out of Control: The Crisis inCivil-Military Relations,” The National Interest, no. 35(Spring 1994), pp. 3–17.



I s the pen truly mightier than thesword, or are these timeless wordsmere hyperbole? The pen and thesword are literal instruments for

dealing with the world around us. Butthey also are metaphors for shaping ouractions by brain or brawn, wit or muscle.

Whether one chooses pen or swordmay depend on whether one believesknowledge is power. That belief, in turn,may hinge on how knowledge is de-fined and power understood. Can theexpression of ideas move others asswiftly, as effectively, as permanently asthe use of force or the lure of riches?Does truth—or simply the command ofideas—provide leverage over others? Areideas weapons? Conversely, can forceinspire and persuade or only coerce?

If strategy is ultimately about ef-fectively exercising power, the answersto these questions may convey a gooddeal about our faculty to think strategi-cally; and that ability, especially amongmilitary officers, may reveal even moreabout the future of the U.S. militaryand America’s place in the world. Basedon recent events, there is ample groundto conclude that our ability simply to

cope with—much less shape—a futureof pronounced complexity, uncer-tainty, and turbulence will depend inlarge measure on the prevalence ofstrategic thinkers in our midst.

Ideas and the ability to generatethem seem increasingly likely, in fact,to be more important than weapons,economic potential, diplomatic acu-men, or technological advantage in de-termining who exercises global leader-ship and enjoys superpower status.Thus it is imperative to develop, nur-ture, and engage strategic thinkers atall levels—critical, creative, broad-gauged visionaries with the intellect to

dissect the status quo, grasp the bigpicture, discern important relation-ships among events, generate imagina-tive possibilities for action, and oper-ate easily in the conceptual realm.

Almost by definition, strategicthinkers are broadly educated, notnarrowly trained. They seek not sim-ply direction but to grapple with the

underlying ques-tions of whether,why, and what if.

A broad-based education expands—and fuels the self-guided growth of—one’s horizons. It develops the intel-lect and inculcates the spirit of in-quiry for a lifelong pursuit of learning.The measure of education, far from

being the level or even the sumof formal schooling, rests morein the degree of open-minded-ness and active mental engage-ment it engenders.

Any institution that relieson professionals for success andseeks to maintain an authenticlearning climate for individualgrowth must require its membersto read (to gain knowledge andinsight), discuss (to appreciateopposing views and subject theirown to rigorous debate), investi-gate (to learn how to ask goodquestions and find defensible an-swers), and write (to structurethoughts and articulate them

clearly and coherently).The only military enterprise actu-

ally designed with education in mind isthe senior level of professional militaryeducation (PME). Since PME is primar-ily oriented to training, and since thepressure to dilute education with prac-tical training is always present, thereare several things worth noting aboutofficers who attend war colleges. First,they are successful and able profession-als by military standards. Their fifteenor more years of service have demon-strated that they are mission-orientedand get things done. Most arrive pre-pared to engage in discussion, even

though they may find themselvesimmersed in a climate of candorlargely alien to them. Many comeprepared to read, something theymay have regarded as a luxury in

past assignments. Some arrive ready towrite. But few are really equipped to doresearch, which they see as too acade-mic. They have succeeded thus farwithout it and don’t expect to do it inthe future, especially as they attainhigher rank. Finally, they see them-selves as real-world decisionmakerswho act, not scholars who ponder.


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Research, Writing, and the Mind of the StrategistBy G R E G O R Y D. F O S T E R

Gregory D. Foster teaches political science and sociology atthe Industrial College of the Armed Forces where he has heldthe J. Carlton Ward distinguished professorship.

strategic thinkers are broadlyeducated, not narrowly trained

Beneath the rule of men entirely greatthe pen is mightier than the sword.

—Lord Lytton

What do these observations sug-gest about the military as an institu-tion? On the one hand war college stu-dents, although a special and relativelysmall segment of the officer corps, areentirely representative of their profes-sion. They have attitudes and beliefsthat mirror prevailing military culture.They also form the pool from whichtomorrow’s generals and admirals willbe selected. As such, their views willhave a major impact on the dominantmilitary ethos. What is important tothem is what will be important to themilitary as an institution. What theythink led to their success is what theinstitution will emphasize in preparingtheir successors.

War college students provide clearevidence that the military places littlestock in serious, expository writing—much less in research. These officersare the cream of the crop. Some writewell; most do not—although theythink they do. Some show an affinityfor research; most do not and generallysee no reason they should. They arevictims of a system that prizes decid-edly non-objective advocacy, adheresto stultifyingly routine staff proce-dures, and relies on rigid protocols fortransmitting the written word. Takenin combination and over time, suchpractices breed habits that are largelyantithetical to sound research andgood writing.

Even conceding such conditions,the question remains: Should the mili-tary be producing academic eggheads?Certainly not. But it should be produc-ing strategic decisionmakers, planners,and advisers whose expertise is definedless by narrow knowledge and arcanetechnical and operational detail, lessby dutiful obedience to authority, thanby a sophisticated grasp of complex is-sues and a capacity to influence majorevents. That is where research andwriting—and the requisite intellectualdisposition and discipline to dothem—come into play.

Eyes and Ears of the MindWhat is research? The answer, less

obvious than one might suppose, is crit-ical to establishing the utility of the en-terprise. Is research navigating through

dusty archives or looking for obscuretexts? Is it conducting controlled exper-iments in a sterile laboratory? Is itmeticulously observing and document-ing human behavior? It could, ofcourse, be any or all of these things; butit need not be—and in fact, in the senseintended here, it generally isn’t.

In simple terms, research is sub-stantial inquiry into a question, prob-lem, or subject which requires theidentification, collection, and objec-tive treatment of evidence on all sidesof an issue to reach a well-reasoned,defensible conclusion. Research is anexploration in critical thinking, not apolemical exercise; an investigation,

not a crusade; a quest for truth, not avehicle for propaganda; evidence insearch of an answer, not an answer insearch of evidence.

What is the value of doing re-search? For one thing, it adds to ourknowledge. At least that should be itsintent. Only by looking beneath thesurface can we escape the wages of ig-norance. Ignorance is not bliss. It isthe height of irresponsibility—a breed-ing ground for incomprehension, in-competence, and intolerance. What wedon’t know will hurt us; even worse, itcan hurt others.

We are surrounded by a flood ofinformation—more than ever before.But information is just an input to thethought processes that supposedly pro-duce knowledge. More, or even better,information does not necessarily leadto more, or even any, knowledge. Infact, relative to the amount of informa-tion available, there now may be lessknowledge. Is that possible? Could weliterally know less than our forebears?The evidence must speak for itself. Itcertainly is true that the more we learn,the more we realize the extent of our ig-norance. It also is true that for everyquestion we answer, new ones arise thatbeg for yet more answers.

Just as we are inundated with in-formation, so too are we deluged byopinion—on every conceivable topic.

Like information, opinions are notknowledge. Rather they validate thetruism that a little knowledge is a dan-gerous thing. Opinions often derivefrom nothing more substantial thanimpression, assumption, or specula-tion—things qualitatively quite distinctfrom reasoned judgment born of con-crete fact. Where there is a foundationof knowledge, it is typically only partialknowledge that obscures its own in-completeness and feeds the sort of falseconviction that can so easily mutateinto zealotry or bigotry.

It is knowledge—not preconcep-tion, predisposition, or conventionalwisdom—that we ought to strive for.

That is what research helps us ac-quire. Moreover, doing research is awindow to the process of reasoning.It is one thing to hold attitudes orbeliefs. It is another to understandhow we arrived at such imperfectconceptions of reality—whether by

way of gut or brain. Experience armsus almost always with conviction,hardly ever with wisdom—yieldingwhat is, to our minds, unassailable re-ceived truth. These convictions oftenblind us to real truth and, in theprocess, lead us to deny the validityand even the legitimacy of alternatepoints of view.

As an institution, the militarylargely discourages independentthought and critical inquiry. This is anunfortunate, self-defeating contradic-tion for a profession whose raison d’etreis closely tied to outwitting adversariesand grappling with uncertainty. Undueemphasis on obedience and loyalty tothe chain of command stifles dissentand erodes the spirit of inquiry so criti-cal to institutional vitality. Pervasivedoctrine, regulations, and operatingprocedures breed an orthodoxy thatdrives out any felt need for originality.Even the deeply ingrained sense of in-dividual duty so central to the institu-tional ethos tends to be subverted intoa mind-numbing workaholism thatleaves many dedicated military profes-sionals drained of sufficient energy tosystematically develop their powers ofreflection and contemplation. More-over, there are few rewards for such“unproductive” intellectual pursuits.

■ M I N D O F T H E S T R A T E G I S T


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the military largely discourages independent thought and critical inquiry

By the time officers reach senior rank,they have been thoroughly schooledin what to think, yet poorly preparedin how to think. And if they have spentthe staff time expected of most officersby this stage in their career, they willhave fully internalized distinctly anti-rational thought processes of success-ful bureaucratic and political advocacy.

Aside from yielding knowledge,research releases its practitioners fromthe grip of certitude that characterizesapparatchiks or true believers. Unlikethe latter—who are content to let au-thority figures tell them what tothink—those who follow the rigors ofinquiry learn firsthand how elusive an-swers can be, how much effort goesinto the search for them, and how de-pendent for success any such search ison the questions that precede it.

While research is basically aboutsearching and re-searching for answers,it is the habit of inquiry growing outof such pursuits that is ultimately im-portant—to strategic thinkers no lessthan to intelligence analysts, detec-tives, or other investigators. When wedo research, we learn how to ask goodquestions, what constitutes good an-swers, and what it takes to find them.We discover where to look for evi-dence, how to weigh it, and how muchcredence to give its sources. We learnwhat is and isn’t defensible. Most criti-cally, we learn to identify shoddy orspecious reasoning. In the final analy-sis, the ability to see through mental

smoke and beyond rhetorical mirrors iswhat distinguishes the exceptional de-cisionmaker or strategist.

As strange as it may seem, would-be generals or admirals are potentiallymore vulnerable to manipulation byalleged experts than neophyte politicalappointees—at least when it comes tomajor policy issues. Officers spendtheir pre-executive careers in a rigidlyhierarchical system where they are ex-pected to defer to authority and attendto all-consuming details that free theirseniors to deal with weightier matters.This leaves little opportunity to lookup from the weeds. By the time theyare eligible for senior schooling, defer-ence—to rank and expertise—is in-grained in their character. Moreover,they are likely to be narrowly focusedspecialists who, if they have literary in-terests beyond doctrinal manuals andmilitary biographies, are more at-tracted to trade publications than tobroad-gauged policy journals.

When these officers are then ex-posed to larger issues and the dauntingvolume of opinion on the market, theirtendency is to defer to purported ex-perts who have found their way intoprint. At that point, realizing there islittle that hasn’t already been said orthought on any subject, they confirmAbraham Lincoln’s adage: “Books serveto show a man that those originalthoughts of his aren’t very new at all.”Once past this initial stage of intellec-tual subjugation, though, these officersquickly discover how much more detri-tus there is than quality. They then will

have begun the transformation fromunquestioning consumer to critical—perhaps even original—thinker.

Tongue of the MindWhen Cervantes referred to the

pen as “the tongue of the mind” hemay well have meant to distinguish themental relationship from the physicalone that connects mouth to brain. Afterall, many people speak at great lengthwithout prior thought. The mouthdoesn’t require high-octane fuel; it canrun on fumes. Writing is different. Itcan’t be supplemented by vocal inflec-tion, body language, or immediate clari-fication. It has to stand on its own.Thus Boswell characterized truly goodwriting as “disciplined talking.”

However, only in an elementarysense is writing merely a tool for com-municating. More importantly, it is acatalyst for ideas. Think of what hap-pens when one writes—even if it isonly a perfunctory memo. Is the pensimply a mechanical extension of thehand by which thoughts flow fromhead to paper? Or doesn’t the act ofwriting stimulate the mental juices andgive birth to new ideas? Doesn’t thestruggle to choose the right word orweave a seamless paragraph elicit no-tions that weren’t there before? Does-n’t this force us to be more exact?

Writing has two consequentialpurposes. First, it enhances our abilityto think. In fact, it could be called ahigh-stress performance test for themind. Second, it is a way to leave


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F o s t e r

Calvin and Hobbes by Bill Watterson

Reprinted with permission. All rights reserved.

something tangible to posterity. Few ofus think about legacies. But when all issaid and done, ideas, schools ofthought, and worldviews are thelifeblood of institutions, regimes, andsocieties. This is a point that shouldnot be lost on the military.

How does writing affect thinking?Studies indicate that writing activates apart of the brain that otherwise liesdormant. Only when hand and eyework in tandem to put words on paperdo some thoughts buried in our sub-conscious come to life. And when weseek clarity, coherence, and a convinc-ing counterpoise to anticipated criti-cisms, we exercise our minds more

strenuously than if we engaged inmore conversation or even debate.

Experienced bureaucrats mightargue that one need only draft read-able correspondence and generatecryptic point papers and vu-graphs tosucceed. Serious writing is neither re-quired nor appreciated. Bosses wantcompleted actions that signify produc-tivity—and that beget routinizationand standardization—and decision-makers insist that whatever impingeson their schedules be short and sweet.Being busy, they prefer to be briefedrather than to read. These managerial

imperatives engender a minimalist ap-proach to writing that sets its own di-minished standard of literacy.

One might ask what effect thestunted forms of normal bureaucraticcommunication have on the thinkingof decisionmakers and their staffs. Dostrategic failures reflect a dearth of stra-tegic thinking stemming from retardedthought processes? Might these proc-esses, in turn, be developed more fully—tapping unused regions of the brain—by more attention to good writing?

Good writing and good thinkingare not the same thing; but experiencesuggests that they are highly cor-related. The mere effort of trying to

write well almost assuredly im-proves thinking. By contrast,sloppy, convoluted, pedantic writ-ing reveals thinking of comparablequality. Good writing requirespractice and exposure to the good

writing of others. While writing moredoesn’t guarantee writing well, it im-proves the odds. But if one workswhere mediocrity is the norm, it maybe impossible to tell the difference. Ex-posure to truly good writing, then, isthe only remedy.

There are no universal standardsof good writing nor foolproof ways oflearning it. Substantive writing that isriddled with technical flaws may beconsidered every bit as good or bad astechnically flawless writing that is

banal. As with all aesthetic forms, thefinal arbiter is the eye of the beholder.But what if readers, immersed in bu-reaucratic discourse, are unable to dis-tinguish the good from the bad?

Most military writing tends to bedescriptive and reportorial. This iscomforting to a culture that values thefactual over the hypothetical, the lit-eral over the figurative, the authorita-tive over the speculative. But descrip-tive writing, far from being mind-expanding, can be mind-numbing. Itrequires little thought beyond the lin-ear, one-dimensional variety—onlyawareness and accuracy.

Good writing thrives on concep-tualization born of originality. Think-ing for oneself requires the higherorder intellectual skills of analysis (dis-secting and illuminating concepts),synthesis (combining concepts andgenerating new ones), and evaluation(establishing criteria and making judg-ments). Whereas employing thesehigher order skills focuses on mattersof substance, another feature of goodwriting—logical organization—con-cerns the structure and coherence ofan argument. It exposes the anatomyof one’s thinking by asking: Is there alogical flow of ideas from an introduc-tion, which states an author’s hypothe-sis, to the main body of the composi-tion, where he develops a centralthought and presents evidence, to aconclusion, where he brings his formu-lation to closure? If there is no such

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good writing and good thinkingare not the same thing; but theyare highly correlated

Reprinted with permission. All rights reserved.

Calvin and Hobbes by Bill Watterson

flow, if the elements of the argumentand their linkages are not clear, if read-ers are left confused, the author hasfailed. A meandering argument reflectshaphazard thinking, while merelystringing together the words of othersbetrays a lazy mind.

Style is the most telling indicatorof quality writing. It gives writing thepower to inspire. To the denizens ofany bureaucracy—including militaryprofessionals—style is basically anti-style: the turgid, stilted bureaucratesethat over time has infiltrated theirminds, subverted their language, andbecome their lingua franca. As anyoneexposed to it for a nanosecond knows,bureaucratese is a bastard tongue dis-tinguished by its reliance on passivevoice (the time-honored way of ob-scuring accountability), its often-in-scrutable circumlocutions to accom-modate the rules of formal English,and its blatant glorification of jargon.

Jargon has no purpose other thanto enable insiders to converse amongthemselves while excluding the unini-tiated. It reaches its zenith in the una-bridged correspondence and memo-randa that are bureaucracy’s lifeblood.Even material written for public con-sumption, which is subject to radicaleditorial surgery before release, canprovide a telling glimpse into just howdeep-seated the predisposition to “lan-guaginal mayhem” truly is.

The antithesis of—and antidoteto—jargonizing is, simply, plain Eng-lish. Writing clearly is the first rule ofstyle. The key to writing plain English,say its proponents, is to “write the wayyou talk.” This is indeed sound advicefor those with a firm command of theEnglish language. But since many ofus—senior officials included—don’t al-ways speak distinctly or cogently, moreappropriate advice would be to write aswe ought to talk.

Writing with clarity establishesonly a floor of stylistic acceptability orcompetence. True stylistic elegancecomes from the more sophisticated useof such techniques as allusion, irony,and the nonliteral figures of speechthat literary types call “tropes”: meta-phor, simile, hyperbole, and the like.Such devices enrich language and offerauthors higher levels of both concep-tualization and precision—if only to

ensure the appropriateness and credi-bility of their imagery.

Felicitous style can lift the mind toimpressive heights. Quite the oppositemight be said of the most elementalfeature of good writing—grammaticaland mechanical soundness—where theemphasis is on strict adherence to rec-ognized standards of correct languageusage. For many, such considerationsare too mechanistic and inconsequen-tial to warrant serious attention. Yet itwould be a mistake to conclude that

seemingly rote compliance with rulesof word form and placement, punctua-tion, and spelling is somehow unre-lated to the quality of one’s thinking.

There is much to be said for flout-ing linguistic conventions whose onlyjustification seems to be that they de-rive from grammarians of yore. But it isan altogether different matter to assaultliteracy through unclear, imprecise,inconsistent, even illogical thought:subject-verb disagreement, danglingmodifiers, mixed construction, vaguepronouns, or sentence fragments. Bythe same token, technical correctnessalone cannot compensate for or dis-guise the link between monotonousprose and monotone thinking—aswhen someone invariably uses declara-tive sentences punctuated only by com-mas and periods.

The elements of good writing—higher order intellectual skills, logicalorganization, stylistic elegance, andgrammatical and mechanical sound-ness—bear a demonstrable relation tothe powers of the mind. And thesepowers, more than arms, wealth, tech-nology, or diplomatic and political ma-neuvering, will determine how well westeer our way into the future.

Warriors as IntellectsTo be effective in the strategic

realm, the military must produce itsown strategic thinkers. This demands

an institutional commitment to educa-tion that includes serious and sus-tained attention to writing and re-search. The task is to convince themilitary that such a commitment, longabsent, is in its best interest.

It is ironic and disappointing thatvirtually all the reputed “experts” onstrategic and military affairs familiar tothe public are civilian academicians,consultants, and journalists. Where arethe great military minds of our day?Are there any? Or are they too busy to

care? Is that why we must suffer ex-perience-impaired analysts pontifi-cating on strategy after advancingstraight from graduate school tothink tanks, or journalists-cum-seersexpounding on the future of war-fare? Is that why disparaging refer-

ences to the so-called “military mind”endure?

These are questions we shouldask. The military, as the most action-oriented institution in a mind-numb-ingly action-oriented society, tends toeschew intellectual pursuits. Like oth-ers who subscribe to the work ethic,military professionals work extremelyhard and feel good about having ex-erted all that effort in the service of theNation. But the work many of us do isfar more consumptive than produc-tive; it burns calories and consumestime but leaves little more in its wakethan new work for others.

Actions are fleeting, but ideas en-dure—primarily through the writtenword. If men like Clausewitz, Mahan,and Liddell Hart are icons of strategicthought, it is because their ideas andthe wisdom contained in them havebeen transmitted through their writ-ings. Armed only with the pen, theyleft indelible marks that extended theirinfluence beyond that of their sword-wielding brothers in arms. There is noreason we should not be capable of de-veloping future generations of strate-gists of the same caliber who can leavean equally rich legacy. JFQ


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it is ironic that virtually all thereputed “experts” on strategicaffairs are civilian

Joint intelligence existed long before theGoldwater-Nichols Act and the Persian GulfWar. During World War II, joint intelligenceorganizations and operations were initiated

at national and theater level. These efforts in-creased collection, enhanced production, and ex-pedited dissemination of critical intelligence tocommanders as well as national policymakers.The emergence of joint intelligence between 1942and 1945 and its fate after the war provide valu-able lessons for today. The problems it con-fronted—conflicting intelligence reports, inaccu-rate battle damage assessment, and inadequate

dissemination—remain familiar to JTF comman-ders and J-2 staffs today. So too are problemsposed by bureaucratic infighting over roles and re-sources as well as reluctance on the part of someto fully support joint efforts.

Ultra and Magic are terms that frequentlycome to mind when military professionals andscholars discuss the role of intelligence duringWorld War II; but joint is a term that deserves in-clusion in such discussions. While lacking the im-pact of Ultra or Magic, joint intelligence effortscontributed to Allied operations in virtually everytheater. Joint intelligence operations enhancedcollection, improved production, and expediteddissemination of critical information. Nonethe-less, joint intelligence efforts during the war wereneither universally accepted nor appreciated.


Major James D. Marchio, USAF, is assigned to the Joint Exercise SupportDivision, Directorate for Intelligence (J-2), Joint Staff, and has taught atthe Joint Military Intelligence College.

Officer on board USS Hornet studyingreconnaissance photosof Hong Kong.

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Ample experience has demonstrated that neither Army intelligence nor Navalintelligence is complete without the other. On theatre and higher level, jointintelligence is necessary. Liaison and interchange of information is not enough to secure complete exploitation.

—Report issued by the Joint Intelligence Center Pacific Ocean Area (November 8, 1945)

Days ofFuture Past:Days ofFuture Past:Joint Intelligence inWorld War IIBy J A M E S D. M A R C H I O

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Origins of Joint IntelligenceSeveral forces played a role in shaping the

evolution of joint intelligence operations duringWorld War II. Intelligence failures in the firstyear—from Pearl Harbor to North Africa—werethe most important factors that pushed reformsand, in turn, joint intelligence. However, thechanging nature of the conflict, the British expe-rience, and bureaucratic battles over a nationalintelligence organization which predated the warall influenced how joint intelligence emerged.

Senior military leaders were aware of intelli-gence problems and were leading proponents of

joint solutions. GeneralGeorge C. Marshall and Ad-miral Ernest J. King recog-nized that national intelli-gence was fragmented.Multiple agencies were pro-ducing intelligence without

coordination. This led to duplication, incompleteanalysis, and inadequate dissemination. Ultimatelywhat was provided had little use to planners, deci-sionmakers, or operators. As Captain Ellis M. Zach-arias, USN, observed: “We found that very littletruly valuable information was produced whichhigher echelons could accept as absolutely reliableand useful for orientation and action.”

The conduct of the war in Europe and thePacific also played a large role in determining theextent of joint intelligence operations. In tryingto satisfy the requirements of large-scale offensiveoperations, intelligence personnel slowly discov-ered that the solution lay with joint efforts.

Joint intelligence bloomed during 1943 and1944 as U.S. forces transitioned from basically de-fensive to offensive operations requiring exten-sive interservice cooperation. The island hoppingcampaign in the Pacific and Allied operations inthe Mediterranean and in Europe emphasizedlarge-scale joint operations which, in turn, re-quired joint intelligence. As one senior naval in-telligence officer observed about the central Pa-cific: “As we move westward the Army part isbecoming more and more important. We needArmy men we can expose to Ultra and who [canprovide] . . . assistance in Army Order of Battle, inArmy Air Force Order of Battle, and if they havesuch a thing in Army traffic analysis.” Increasedland-based air operations and massive bombingin both theaters likewise generated requirementsfor target and flak intelligence and post-strikeanalysis.

The availability of new sources also increasedthe need for joint intelligence exploitation. Littleintelligence other than Ultra was initially avail-able in the autumn of 1942; but the volume ofcaptured documents, prisoners, and aerial pho-tographs increased greatly as operations began in

the Solomon Islands and North Africa. But prob-lems arose with added requirements. Duplicationof effort, competition over collection resources,delayed or unsuitable dissemination, and con-flicting assessments over enemy losses increas-ingly affected military and civilian intelligencesupport. For instance, in arguing for creation of aspecial joint body to weigh enemy casualties inMarch 1943, the secretary of the Joint Intelli-gence Committee (JIC) lamented that a joint esti-mate of casualties had not yet been made; more-over, estimates available in Washington varied byover 100 percent.

Other forces spurred joint initiatives. TheBritish experience during the first three years ofthe war provided a combat tested endorsement ofjoint operations. London had operated a joint in-telligence committee since 1940, using central-ized, coordinated intelligence to guide militaryand civilian intelligence operations. Congres-sional prompting and previous efforts by the JointBoard to encourage joint operations and greaterinterservice cooperation added pressure as well. Fi-nally, William J. Donovan’s push to establish a na-tional intelligence organization—embodied firstin the Coordinator of Information and later in theOffice of Strategic Services (OSS)—generated fur-ther interest in reform and joint solutions.

An Organization Emerges Joint intelligence operations during World

War II emerged in each phase of the intelligencecycle—collection, production, and dissemina-tion—and at both national and theater level.

Collection. One of the first areas to witness jointoperations was collection. The creation of joint in-telligence collection agencies (JICAs) in 1943 wasintended to ensure adequate support at both na-tional and theater levels. The Joint Chiefs and othernational-level organizations recognized early thattheater intelligence organizations had “neither thetrained personnel nor the time to collect and pre-pare the information needed in Washington forstrategic planning and training purposes.” In argu-ing for JICAs, proponents cited less duplication,more effective use of skilled personnel and re-sources, and reduced operational expenditures.

JICAs were operational in four theaters:North Africa (JICANA, later renamed JICAMED),Africa-Middle East (JICAME), China-India-Burma(JICACIB, which in 1945 became only India-Burma), and China (JICA/China). They were at-tached to their respective theater headquarters asseparate staff sections. Composed of Army andNavy officers together with civilians and enlistedsupport personnel, JICAs ranged from 27 person-nel in JICA/China to 77 in JICAME.

joint intelligence operationsemerged at both national andtheater levels

JICAs performed three primary tasks. First,they collected, screened, and transmitted toWashington “all information, exclusive of com-bat intelligence, within the theater” desired bythe War and Navy Departments. As theater collec-tion coordinators, JICAs provided logistical sup-port, tasking, and guidance to all human intelli-gence (HUMINT) sources, including OSS agents,in the JICA area of responsibility. Lastly, JICAs en-sured lateral dissemination of pertinent intelli-gence among various agencies, military and civil-ian, within each theater.

JICAs were assisted by the Joint IntelligenceAgency Reception Center (JIARC), created in Au-gust 1943 in Washington. JIARC managed admin-istrative instructions and support to JICAs. Impor-tantly, it coordinated War Department collectionrequirements and requests for information (RFIs)sent to theater JICAs. JIARC worked closely withtheater JICAs to ensure the appropriate agenciesor JICA assets were tasked to satisfy the collectionrequirement.

Production. At national and theater level,joint intelligence production accompanied jointcollections. JIC was formed in 1941 to preparedaily summaries and such special informationand intelligence studies as were needed by higherauthority or indicated by the situation. The J.I.C.Daily, and later the Weekly Summary, partially metthis requirement. JIC eliminated a host of largelyredundant intelligence publications by replacingthe OSS The War This Week, War Department Situ-ation and Capabilities of the Enemy, and Office ofNaval Intelligence (ONI) Fortnightly Summary ofCurrent National Situation.

Serving as the permanent JIC working com-mittee, the Joint Intelligence Staff (JIS) turned outintelligence estimates on enemy strength, capa-bilities, and intentions, and specialized technicalsubjects. Intelligence estimates drafted in 1942 re-ported on both German and Japanese economicand military status as well as studies on the “Fea-sibility of Supplying Russia via the Bering Strait”and “Axis Munitions Capabilities.” By 1943, JISwas working closely in producing intelligence es-timates in direct support of the Joint War PlansCommittee.

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Namur Island,Kwajalein Atoll, in January 1944, prior to pre-invasion bombardment.

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But efforts went beyond current and estima-tive intelligence support. The Joint IntelligenceStudy Publishing Board (JISPB), with representa-tives from the War Department G–2, ONI, OSS, A–2[Army Air Corps], and Office of Chief of Engineers,was created in May 1943 when it became clear thatthe activities of G–2, ONI, and OSS were duplica-tive, particularly in preparing foreign area studies.Consequently, JISPB commissioned a series of jointArmy-Navy intelligence studies (JANIS) that pro-vided basic topographical data on likely opera-tional areas. These studies included informationfrom 20 government agencies and ranged fromBulgaria to Japan and Indochina. Over 2,000 copiesof each JANIS study were disseminated.

Joint production also emerged in target, tech-nical, facilities, and battle damage assessment in-telligence. In late 1942, the Joint Army-Navy As-sessment Committee (JANAC) was convened atMarshall’s request to provide more accurate esti-mates of enemy naval strength and to eliminateservice disputes over enemy naval and merchantlosses. This committee functioned throughout thewar and produced reports with detailed informa-

tion on each sinking. Simi-larly, the Joint TargetGroup, Technical Air Intel-ligence Center, and JointAirfield Group brought to-gether officers from eachservice and often represen-

tatives from OSS, Foreign Economic Administra-tion, and Royal Air Force in the hope of avoidingredundant and conflicting production. Launchedbetween June and November 1944, these activitiesproved essential in identifying Japan’s strategic vul-nerabilities and guiding allied exploitation efforts.

Joint intelligence production extended totheater level as well. Each JICA, for instance, pro-duced limited theater intelligence, conductingstudies when other means were unavailable. Themost significant theater production effort, how-ever, occurred in the central Pacific, with theJoint Intelligence Center Pacific Ocean Area(JICPOA). This activity was established in Septem-ber 1943 to collect, collate, evaluate, and dissemi-nate strategic and tactical intelligence for thecommander in chief, Pacific Ocean Areas. Trulyjoint, it fully integrated representatives from allthe services. By 1945, it had 1,800 personnel as-signed to its facility in Hawaii as well as hundredsat its Advanced Intelligence Center (AIC) onGuam and at other locations. JICPOA became anintelligence factory, producing various area hand-books, maps, and intelligence summaries aimedat supporting theater combat operations. Theproducts were used by operational planners andcommanders in drafting plans for operationsfrom Galvanic (Tarawa) to Downfall (the invasion

of Japan). In fact, JICPOA weekly productioneventually reached 2,000,000 sheets of printed in-telligence and over 150,000 photographic prints.

Dissemination. Mirroring and facilitating col-lection and production were efforts in the area ofdissemination. Both JIARC and the Joint Electron-ics Information Agency (JEIA) had key roles inspeeding dissemination of critical intelligence.JIARC, for example, formed a joint selection panelfor prompt inspection, selection, and centralizeddistribution of all JICA reports. The panel helpedreduce the number of copies needed from thefield while providing a more efficient mechanismto disseminate information. JIARC also managedcourier service to ensure prompt, secure deliveryof JICA-collected intelligence that made weeklydistribution runs and provided direct contact andexchange of opinions between intelligence officersin Washington and those in the field.

The purpose of JEIA was to improve dissemi-nation of time sensitive technical intelligence. Es-tablished by the Joint Communications Board inOctober 1943, its efforts to speed disseminationof electronic information among and within theArmy, Navy, and the Office of Scientific Researchand Development were critical to maintainingour lead in radio communication, radar, and elec-tronic devices, and in developing effective coun-termeasures. As part of the JEIA effort, a jointpanel met daily to examine collected informa-tion. When necessary, critical technical intelli-gence reports were reproduced overnight and dis-seminated the next day. JEIA also preventedneedless duplication and unnecessary dissemina-tion by cross-checking incoming reports againstpreviously received ones. JEIA processed 10,000electronic documents during its two-year exis-tence, with nearly 80 percent on an expeditedbasis (16–24 hours).

Resistance and SuccessEstablishing and operating joint intelligence

organizations like JICA, JICPOA, JISPB, and JEIAwas anything but quick or easy. Initiatives to vestmore power in joint bodies met resistance at na-tional and theater level throughout 1942 and1943. Moreover, even when launched many jointintelligence efforts were not as broad or bindingas some had hoped. Ambivalent support resultedin ad hoc committee arrangements based moreon voluntary cooperation than structured agree-ments or procedures.

The failure to set up the Joint IntelligenceAgency (JIA) is the most poignant example ofsuch resistance. Although backed by King andMarshall in Autumn 1942, JIA was never estab-lished. The original proposal envisioned a strong,

initiatives to vest more powerin joint bodies met resistancethroughout 1942 and 1943

centralized agency that could unify disparate in-telligence collection, production, and dissemina-tion efforts by the services. After favorable reviewby the Joint Chiefs, the JIA proposal was returnedto both the War Department G–2 and ONI direc-tor for further study and development. Yet signifi-cant differences remained. Ultimately a compro-mise was forwarded to JCS in March 1943 whichreduced JIA authority and role. But the JointChiefs were reluctant to approve it. AdmiralWilliam D. Leahy told his colleagues that he sawno reason to establish the agency. He assertedthat JIC was performing all the necessary intelli-gence functions for JCS. He warned that “itwould be inadvisable for urgent information ofan intelligence nature to be delayed by beingpassed through an additional agency.” Respond-ing to Leahy’s concerns, King asserted that “thereshould be no delay whatever, but rather that amore valuable product should result.” GeneralHenry H. (“Hap”) Arnold suggested that the sub-ject deserved more study before approval; thusJCS directed the deputy chiefs of staff to reviewthe issue further.

More bureaucratic delay and reorganizationwithin G–2 and ONI eventually sealed the fate ofJIA. In late March, the Army deputy chief of staffrecommended against the G–2/ONI directive,proposing a vastly different structure based onjoint regional intelligence organizations. The firstsuch organization would control activities in theWestern Hemisphere south of the United Stateswith headquarters in Miami. G–2 concurred withthe regional proposal but expressed doubts aboutwhether this structure would work in combat the-aters. ONI, on the other hand, refused to committo the proposal until its internal reorganizationwas completed. The joint deputy chiefs advisedJCS in May that the case was in the hands of theNavy and that action was suspended. Six moremonths of inactivity prompted the joint deputychiefs to recommend that the proposal be re-moved from the JCS agenda and pursued as“practical.”

Even approved initiatives reflected such am-bivalence and constraints on joint organizations.For instance, the directive authorizing JICAs gen-erated considerable disagreement between G–2and ONI over both the breadth of their missionand the control of intelligence assets. The nar-rower G–2 interpretation won out. Nevertheless,JICAs were almost abolished shortly after stand-ing up. They were operated on a trial basis forthree months with a restriction “that no addi-tional JICAs be established until those [in opera-tion demonstrate] that the organization is sound;

that it can operate in harmony with the wishes ofthe theater commander, and that its product iscommensurate with the cost in personnel andmoney.”

Similar opposition arose at theater level. De-spite strong support from the Marine Corps aswell as Pacific Fleet for forming a joint intelli-gence center in Spring 1942, JICPOA did not be-come a reality for another 14 months. In re-sponse to CINCPAC, the vice chief of navaloperations noted that after looking at inherentdifficulties in directly initiating such a joint pro-ject, it was preferable to constitute the activity asprimarily a naval center.

Why were the initiatives opposed? Severalrelated explanations emerge. Foremost was thebelief that joint organizations did not fully appre-ciate service-unique requirements. Consequently,they could not meet individual service needs orthose of component commanders. Interservice aswell as intraservice friction also undermined sup-port. Despite many cooperative G–2/ONI projectsduring the war, each maintained its own separateintelligence structure and resisted any attempts torestrict its operations. Intraservice discord like-wise made joint efforts more difficult to conduct.How could consensus be reached among the ser-vices when the Signal Corps and G–2 were bat-tling over control of Ultra information within theWar Department?

Joint intelligence also faced difficulties be-cause it required new organizations, procedures,and thinking. Joint intelligence initiatives con-fronted bureaucratic inertia and a legacy thatviewed intelligence as a service prerogative. Col-lecting, producing, and disseminating intelli-gence jointly forced officers trained by individualservices to operate in very different ways. More-over, without a strong proponent or institutionalsponsor in the intelligence community, joint in-telligence initiatives encountered an uphill battle.

Ironically, progress in joint initiatives under-mined larger, more comprehensive efforts such asJIA. Opponents cited progress in operating JICAsand JIC in arguing against further measures. Simi-larly, wartime requirements were a dual-edgedsword, spurring joint initiatives while warningagainst excessive tinkering in the face of theenemy.

Finally, the personalities, viewpoints, and in-telligence requirements of theater commandersand their staffs were key to how joint intelligencewas received. Unlike the Pacific Ocean Area, theSouth West Pacific Area (SWPA) never developeda joint intelligence organization. According to theafter-action report, the reason was that the chiefof staff failed to recognize its importance and G–2lacked the power to accomplish it. One observerconfirmed this situation, noting that efforts to



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create a joint organization in SWPA were unlikelyto succeed: “I am fully aware of the fact that poli-tics and personalities make any such reorganiza-tion impossible.”

Ultimately the operational records of suchactivities were their best weapon in overcomingopposition and silencing criticism at national andtheater level. JICA, JANIS, JEIA, and JICPOA werelauded for their efforts and products. The chief ofstaff, Pacific Ocean Areas, praised JANIS studies,indicating that they were indispensable refer-ences for the shore-based planner. Similarly,JICPOA earned high marks for designing and pro-ducing a target-area map acceptable to all ground,naval, and air forces. And JEIA success in cuttingthe dissemination time for important intelligenceinformation from 60 days to 16 hours was muchappreciated by military and civilian organizationsand contributed considerably to advancing theelectronics and counter-measures program.

The process by which joint intelligence wasproduced also won praise because it yielded qual-ity results with limited resources and dissemi-nated it quickly and appropriately. In evaluatingits own accomplishments, JICA concluded thatthe coordination effected by its theater JICAs inthe collection of non-operational information

and intelligence eliminated much duplicationand resulted in a much greater proportion of in-telligence as distinguished from unevaluated in-formation reaching Washington. The JICA reportcited the agency’s “joint character . . . for an econ-omy of personnel and a reduction in unnecessaryduplication.” The JICPOA experience provided aneven stronger endorsement of joint intelligenceand the synergism of joint efforts. The end resultwas enhanced support to military commandersand policymakers.

War’s EndThe final months of the war and its after-

math are indicative of how far joint intelligencehad progressed in four years. Yet this period alsohighlights the reservations some still held regard-ing joint operations. Encouraged by success dur-ing the war and praise in various after-action re-ports, several joint organizations continued afterthe cessation of hostilities. JIC continued to servethe Joint Staff and government policymakers,providing current intelligence and other support.In discussing its future after Japan’s surrender, JIC

Nimitz visiting fleet airphoto squadron onGuam, May 1945.

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Joint Intelligence Command PacificOcean Area at PearlHarbor.

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observed: “It is axiomatic that joint strategy andplanning should be based upon joint intelligence[and] . . . this need is not limited to the period ofhostilities.” Similarly, JISPB remained operational,both completing JANIS on-going studies and be-ginning studies on potential operational areas.JEIA also continued operations; but its missionand authority were reduced when it became asubcommittee of the Joint CommunicationsBoard.

New joint intelligence efforts were evenbegun in the wake of Germany’s defeat. The JointIntelligence Objectives Agency (JIOA) was created

in June 1945 to con-tinue collection, pro-cessing, and dissemi-nation of technicalintelligence started ear-lier in the war. In addi-tion, JIOA was tasked

with identifying and transporting German andAustrian scientists to the United States for interimand long range exploitation, efforts codenamedProject Paperclip.

But most joint intelligence activities weredisbanded. Neither service approved a proposal tocontinue JICAs and JIARC. Consequently, JICAsin the Mediterranean, Africa-Middle East, India-Burma, and China theaters were deactivated be-tween August and December 1945. JICPOA waslikewise disbanded in October 1945 while JANACcontinued in operation until 1947.

Several factors explain the short lifespan ofjoint intelligence. Most importantly, conditionschanged. The end of the war greatly decreased

consumption at national and theater level. It alsodecreased the need for large volumes of intelli-gence and its rapid dissemination. Domestic polit-ical pressure to demobilize and cut military spend-ing also spurred efforts to dissolve wartimeoverhead. With established Army and Navy intelli-gence organizations in place, some saw joint intel-ligence agencies as redundant and expendable.Opponents cited the increased coordination andadditional bureaucratic layers required for jointoperations as justification for dissolution. Manyreservations about joint operations voiced early inthe war remained and were strengthened by thesearguments. In fact, as late as March 1945, joint in-telligence was not being fully accepted. In dis-cussing efforts to establish a joint air intelligencecell at the Advance Intelligence Center on Guam,an officer at JICPOA complained of “the heart-breaking road ahead,” with many giving only “lipservice” to the concept of joint intelligence,lamenting, “some days I feel we are makingprogress in that direction; some days I feel we areslipping backward.” While JICPOA eventually cre-ated the air intelligence cell, its experience sug-gests that jointness was not universally acceptedor appreciated. In fact, less than two months afterJapan’s surrender, Marshall was appealing yetagain for a better intelligence system, advocatingone with a joint agency as its centerpiece.

Lessons of the PastJoint intelligence in World War II faced many

of the same problems as today. The Persian GulfWar dramatically illustrated that conflicting battledamage assessments and inadequate or slow dis-semination did not disappear with the defeat ofGermany and Japan in 1945. The criticisms of in-telligence voiced during and after Desert Storm byGeneral Norman Schwarzkopf and others in manyrespects echoed King, Marshall, and Congress fiftyyears earlier. The problems of JICA in managingnational and theater collection assets and re-sponding to various RFIs in 1943 also have not di-minished over time—nor have more efficient usesof resources or impediments to doing so. Manywould agree that the claim by JISPB in 1945—that“few intelligence activities in Washington take thetrouble to find out what other people are doing intheir own lines” which caused “needless duplica-tion of work and conflicting information”—is stillan accurate criticism.

The solutions to many problems experiencedduring the war are also relevant. The creation oftheater JICAs and the national level JIARC pro-vide lessons that may assist the recently activatedDefense HUMINT Service (DHS). Similarly, thesuccesses as well as shortcomings of JICPOA offervaluable insights into refining theater-level JICsin combatant commands. The same is true of the



with Army and Navy intelligenceorganizations in place, some sawjoint intelligence as expendable

Powerful supporters ofjoint intelligence.

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wartime experience of JISPB and the new Com-bined Intelligence Publishing Service in DOD.

Beyond these lessons, the experience of jointintelligence during World War II reveals thatmany of the same forces prevail today. The impli-cations of intelligence requirements are foremostamong them. Just as the shift from defensive tomultiservice offensive operations drove the birthof joint intelligence in 1942–45, military, politi-cal, and fiscal realities in the post-Cold War pe-riod mandate a key role for joint intelligence. In-creasingly, complex and varied operations otherthan war (OOTW) and organizations—includingadaptive joint force packaging—demand that mil-itary and civilian as well as national and theaterlevel intelligence assets work closely together.

Finally, the history of joint intelligence re-veals many obstacles and sentiments that con-tinue to impede joint intelligence initiatives andoperations. Legitimate as well as exaggerated con-cerns over the ability of joint intelligence to ade-quately meet service and component needs firstsurfaced in World War II. So did parochial serviceinterests that limited the authority of joint orga-nizations, leading to loosely structured coopera-tion rather than required joint action. Current ef-forts to shield component intelligence assets andto ensure that joint doctrine is authoritativerather than directive suggest such sentimentshave not disappeared. Today, as in 1942, both op-erators and intelligence officers must overcomesuch reservations. Given new and more complexmissions, diminished resources, and the ever in-creasing importance of intelligence for smartweapons and future conflict, there is an evengreater need to operate jointly.

The current atmosphere is conducive tojointness. Both the Goldwater-Nichols Act and theDefense Intelligence Reorganization Act continueto spark joint initiatives. Bureaucratic as well ascongressional pressure to reorganize the intelli-gence community—symbolized by the Com-mission on the Roles and Capabilities of the U.S.Intelligence Community, efforts by the House Per-manent Select Committee on Intelligence under“Intelligence Community 21st Century,” and thedecision to consolidate eight agencies into the Na-tional Imagery and Mapping Agency—auger wellfor joint operations. Technological develop-ments—such as the joint deployable intelligencesupport system (JDISS) and joint worldwide intel-ligence communications system (JWICS)—and or-ganizational changes facilitate joint operations.The creation of the National Military Joint Intelli-gence Center and strengthening the Military Intel-ligence Board should also help overcome resis-tance to joint intelligence operations.

Yet such optimism must be tempered. Thejoint environment may quickly become less hos-pitable as controversies over service roles andmissions persist and related budget battles forlimited resources intensify.

The relevance of studying joint intelligenceoperations is apparent. Even this brief look at theintelligence operations during World War II indi-cates that many lessons—paid for in blood andtreasure—await rediscovery. History can assist theintelligence community in rapidly relearningthese costly but valuable lessons, guiding its reor-ganization now as well as in the future. JFQ

N O T E S

This article is based largely on materials in the Na-tional Archives, Naval Historical Center, U.S. Army Cen-ter of Military History, and Armed Forces Staff College.The bulk of formerly classified memoranda and reportscited are found in National Archives Record Groups(RG) 218 (CJCS Central Decimal File 1942–45), RG 319(Army Staff, Records of Assistant Chief of Staff Intelli-gence), and RG 457 (National Security Agency). Otherinformation was extracted from the Office of Naval In-telligence United States Naval Administration in WorldWar II, guide no. 26a, vols. 1–4, July 10, 1946, NavalHistorical Center; the Joint Intelligence Center PacificOcean Area (JICPOA) final report; U.S. Pacific Fleet andPacific Ocean Areas, “Report of Intelligence Activities inthe Pacific Ocean Areas,” October 15, 1945, ArmedForces Staff College; and the General Headquarters FarEast Command, Military Intelligence Section, GeneralStaff, Operations of the Military Intelligence Section GHO,SWPA/FEC/SCAP, vol. 3, Intelligence Series (I), 1951,U.S. Army Center of Military History.

A variety of memoirs and secondary sources were alsoconsulted. W.J. Holmes’ firsthand account of the cre-ation and operation of JICPOA, Double-Edged Secrets: U.S.Naval Intelligence Operations in the Pacific during WorldWar II (Annapolis: Naval Institute Press, 1979), andThomas F. Troy’s comprehensive discussion of the birthof national intelligence, Donovan and the CIA: A Historyof the Establishment of the Central Intelligence Agency (Fred-erick, Md.: Aletheia Books, University Publications ofAmerica, Inc., 1981), proved to be most valuable.


Admiral Arleigh Albert Burke(1901–1996)

Chief of Naval Operations

VITA

Born in Boulder, Colorado; graduated from Naval Academy (1923); USS Arizona (1923–28); USS Procyon (1928–29); postgraduate student, Naval Academy and University of Michigan (1929–31);naval gun factory, Washington Navy Yard (1931–32); USS Chester (1932–33); battle force cameraparty, U.S. Fleet (1933–35); Bureau of Ordnance (1935–37); USS Craven (1937–39); commanding

officer, USS Mugford (1939–40); naval gun factory(1940–43); commander, destroyer divisions forty-three,forty-four, twelve, and twenty-three (1943–44); chief ofstaff and aide, first carrier task force, Pacific (1944–45);research and development division, Navy Department(1945–46); chief of staff and aide, Atlantic Fleet (1946–47); General Board, Navy Department (1947–48); com-manding officer, USS Huntington (1948); office of thechief of naval operations (1948–50); chief of staff,Naval Forces, Far East; commander, cruiser divisionfive; military armistice delegation, Korea (1951); direc-tor, strategic plans, office of the chief of naval opera-tions (1951–54); commander, cruiser division six(1954–55); commander, destroyer force, Atlantic Fleet(1955); chief of naval operations (1955–61); died at Bethesda.

U.S

. N

avy

Portrait by Orlando Lagman.

We believe in command, not staff. We believe we have “real” things to do.The Navy believes in putting a man in a position with a job to do, and let himdo it—give him hell if he does not perform—but to be a man in his ownname. We decentralize and capitalize on the capabilities of our individualpeople rather than centralize and make automatons of them. This buildsthat essential pride of service and sense of accomplishment. If it results in acertain amount of cockiness, I am for it. But this is the direction in which weshould move.

—Letter from Arleigh A. Burke to RADM Walter G. Schindler,May 14, 1958

■ O F C H I E F S A N D C H A I R M E N


In the aftermath of the war, senior militaryleaders vigorously debated our strategic posture.The Air Force, recently separated from the Armyand with the support of President Truman, heldthat bombers had been the decisive factor in thewar and would be the best force to win the peace.

The Navy had other ideas. The keel had justbeen laid for USS United States, the first so-calledsuper carrier. The Navy thought that forward-de-ployed carrier battle groups were the best meansof projecting American power. A spirited debateensued over whether the Air Force with its doc-trine of strategic bombing or the Navy with itscarriers could do the job better.

“The Army Air Force is tired of being a subor-dinate outfit and is no longer going to be a subor-dinate outfit,” declared Brigadier General FrankArmstrong in 1947. “It was a predominant forceduring the war. It is going to be a predominantforce during the peace, and you may as well makeup your minds, whether you like it or not, thatwe do not care whether you like it or not: TheArmy Air Force is going to run the show.”

The Navy was no less gracious, calling AirForce doctrine on strategic bombing “childish”and labeling the B–36 a “billion dollar blunder.”Helping to make the case was Burke, who headedthe organizational research and policy division(OP–23) in the office of chief of naval operations.There he and his staff began to get the best of theAir Force with strategy papers that bolstered theargument for carrier forces. As a result, Burke’sstaff was put under veritable house arrest with thearrival of the inspector general and Marine secu-rity guards. But their views had the backing of se-nior admirals, many well-known, such as ErnestKing and Chester Nimitz. This fracas almost costBurke his career and was part of what becameknown as “the revolt of the admirals.”

Not long after the revolt began, North Ko-rean troops crossed the 38th parallel. U.S. forcesthen made their famous landing at Inchon, andthe debate over the utility of carriers was put torest. This brief account points out how the strate-gic issues facing the United States then were muchthe same as now, although the environment is to-tally different. In the late 1940s, the Armed Forceswere largely unchallenged in a world that had justwitnessed the end of a global conflict between theforces of good and evil. Then the Nation was

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Where are theArleigh Burkes Today?By M A R K Y O S T

Mark Yost is an editorial page writer who coversdefense issues for The Wall Street Journal Europe;he served in the Navy during the 1980s.

Arleigh Burke made a name for himself—“31-knot Burke”—as ahard-charging destroyer squadron commander in the Pacifictheater during World War II. He went on to be the only chief ofnaval operations to serve three terms, and along the way heoversaw the construction of nuclear carriers, ballistic missilesubmarines, and highly mobile amphibious forces. But it wasearlier, as a captain, that Burke showed his real mettle in a mili-tary culture quite different from today’s.

struggling to redefine its role—as well as that of itsmilitary—as the strategic landscape underwent arapid transformation. While the budget deficit ofthat day, twice the gross domestic product, hadbeen a small price to pay for defeating the Axis, itnonetheless resulted in a dramatic decline in de-fense spending and a struggle among the servicesover shrinking resources.

Today the strategic situation is much thesame. The United States is largely unchallenged.In the aftermath of the Cold War the Nation isstruggling to redefine its role as the only super-power and the role its military should play in theworld. And today, a budget deficit nowhere nearthe size of the one following World War II is pres-suring the services to do more with less.

But there is one significant difference be-tween the post-World War II era in which Burkeflourished and today: the absence of vigorous de-bate over national security and military strategy.Imagine an Air Force general speaking as candidlytoday as General Armstrong did in 1947. It is al-

most unheard of. Certainly pol-icy and strategic issues are hotlycontested behind closed doorsat the Pentagon, and servicestaffs are fully aware of thestakes in current budgetary ma-neuvers. But the military nolonger has intellectual debates

like those in the wake of World War II. Why?Based on discussions with military leaders,

service planners, defense analysts, and—most im-portantly—junior officers, a disturbing imageemerges. There is no vigorous debate because theemphasis today is on jointness. Strategy has be-come so politicized that making a strong case forthe capabilities of any one service—even whennot openly pillorying the others—is taboo.

“I would seriously think twice about publish-ing an article in, say, Proceedings or another pro-fessional journal that didn’t have a strong jointtheme or made a strong case for the tactics andstrategies of one service,” said a Navy officer whoasked not to be identified. “Even if I didn’t attackanother service, the clear rule is that if you’re notadvocating joint warfighting, you might as wellnot say anything. If you do, it’s going to irrepara-bly hurt or possibly end your career.”

Why have the Armed Forces strayed fromthe open, vigorous debates of Burke’s day to thestifling environment described above? JohnLehman, the outspoken former Secretary of theNavy, suggests that the basic attitude of “go alongto get along” is fostered in the minds of junior of-ficers. “When a young officer comes out of OCS

or one of the service academies, he quickly learnsthe rules of the game,” Lehman says. “Don’t rockthe boat. Don’t take a risk that may result in yougetting a ‘B’ on your evals, and spend as muchtime in Washington as you can, preferably in ajoint billet. . . . The net result of all this is that ju-nior officers aren’t learning to be warfighters any-more, they’re learning to be staff fighters.”

Tom Linn, a lieutenant colonel assigned toHeadquarters, U.S. Marine Corps, and one of thefew sources who would go on record, agrees withLehman. “We’re sending a terrible message to ju-nior officers today. When I was a junior officer,you were encouraged to go out on a limb, thinkout of the box. As a young lieutenant you weresupposed to make mistakes. And you were en-couraged to learn from them. Today, everyone’sso fearful of getting a ‘B’ on their evals that theydon’t take risks. I’m sorry to say that it has givenus an officers corps that avoids risks, is self-cen-tered and career oriented, and that possesses fewindependent thinking skills.”

Senator John McCain, a Naval Academygraduate who comes from a distinguished line ofsailors (to include a grandfather who served withBurke in the Pacific), concurs with Lehman thattoday’s atmosphere inhibits junior officers butpoints out it is nothing new. “I’m sorry to saythat this stifling of debate is heavily indoctri-nated into the officer corps and has been forsome time now. You can clearly see it from theJoint Chiefs and other senior Pentagon leadersright down through the ranks. The Joint Chiefstoday, I hate to say it, are very dedicated, veryhardworking, very unimaginative people. They’vegotten where they are because they learned theirlesson early on not to rock the boat and makewaves for the administration.”

■ W H E R E A R E T H E A R L E I G H B U R K E S ?


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making a strong case forthe capabilities of any oneservice is taboo

GEN John W. Vessey, Jr.

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A few maverick officers have succeededthrough a combination of skill and outspokenness.But they are the exception. One is General JohnVessey, USA, who served as the Chairman underPresident Reagan. Going into the 1980 presidentialcampaign, the White House put out the word thatthe Joint Chiefs and other senior officers were ex-pected to publicly support Salt II. Under no cir-cumstances would opposition to the agreement be

tolerated. “One of the fewholdouts was John Vessey,who was in Europe at thetime,” Lehman notes. “Heknew Salt II was a bad treatyfor us, and regardless of whatthe administration thought,

he wasn’t going to support it. When Reagan cameinto office he reviewed everyone’s record and sawthat Vessey was one of the few who hadn’t shilledfor the Carter administration. That was enough forReagan: he made Vessey the Chairman.”

Mavericks have not fared so well of late. Oneis General Merrill McPeak, former chief of staff ofthe Air Force. After the “Bottom-Up Review” ap-peared, McPeak testified before Congress that thereview was an “abstraction, the budget a reality.”And on plans to cut forces, he indicated that theywere “designed by someone who must be in a po-sition of not having to take responsibility for thecombat results.” Later, as the Commission on theRoles and Missions of the Armed Forces deliber-ated, he publicly defended the Air Force doctrineon strategic bombing and virtual presence. “TheJoint Chiefs are just caretakers,” McPeak recentlyconfided. “That’s who they look for now. Just likethe message that’s sent to the junior officers. It’sreally very stifling and none of the services dotoo much innovative thinking today because ofit. The Marines tend to think out of the box a lit-tle bit. . . . The others, especially the Army, are,well—unimaginative, to say the least.”

If even senior officers fall victim to prevail-ing culture, what is the solution? Perhaps moreimportantly, where did the spirit of the revolt ofthe admirals end and one of near total compli-ance with civilian leadership pick up? Certainlythe senior leadership of the Armed Forces mustaccept some blame. While military officers havealways been aware of their constitutional obliga-tion to defer to civilian control, they have anequal responsibility to safeguard the Nation.There must be ways of doing that without beinginsubordinate.

But in fairness, civilian leaders must also ac-cept some of the blame. Like every bureaucratwho gets a taste for power, their penchant hasbeen to consolidate it, often against the advice ofexperienced and knowledgeable senior militaryofficers. But it is more than just bureaucrats inthe Pentagon. Nearly every administration sinceTruman has tightened the grip on military leader-ship, which discourages debate. How did this sit-uation arise? Some maintain that a relative atti-tude of complacency started when MacArthurwas fired and others that it surfaced in Vietnamwhen senior officers fudged body counts to sat-isfy the objectives of decisionmakers. ObservesC.W. Watson, a retired Army officer: “Unfortu-nately, somewhere along the way military officershave lost that tradition of resigning rather thancarrying out orders that, while lawful, they fullyknow to be not in the best interest of our countryand its defense.”

“If we’re going to change this culture, it re-ally has to come from within the ranks,” musesTom Linn. “Senior officers who recognize the im-portance of innovative tactical and doctrinalthinking must encourage this in junior officersand, more importantly, protect them from thosewho might stifle them or sabotage their careersbecause of their outspoken views. That may leadto tensions among general officers, but it is a bat-tle—possibly bloody—that must be waged toachieve the level of strategic and tactical thinkingthat helped to win the Cold War and made us thefighting force we are today.”

Although this may sound like a call for an-other revolt of the admirals, the central questionremains: Where are the Arleigh Burkes to lead anintellectual debate today? JFQ

This essay is based on a series of interviews conductedby the author earlier this year.

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nearly every administrationhas tightened the grip onmilitary leadership

JFQ welcomes your letters andcomments. Write or FAX your

correspondence to (202) 685–4219/DSN 325–4219,

or over the Internet [email protected]

Organization

PACIFIC JTFU.S. Third Fleet—onboard USS Coro-

nado and home-ported in San Diego—isundergoing a major transformation. It isno longer enough to train forces in isola-tion for exclusively naval missions orconduct business from a traditional flag-ship. Today, Third Fleet focuses onpreparing its staff and assigned forces tocarry out a full range of joint and com-bined operations.

Under the PACOM two-tiered com-mand and control model (see “A Com-mander in Chief Looks at East Asia” inJFQ, Spring 95), three subordinate com-manders were designated potential JTFcommanders. But with a changing situa-tion in the largest theater, it became clearthat an added sea-based JTF commanderwas needed. Therefore in November 1994CINCPAC designated the commander ofThird Fleet as JTF commander for contin-gency operations in the Pacific.

With the support of the chief ofnaval operations and commander inchief of Pacific Fleet, the issue was howto bring Third Fleet up to this new task.CINCPAC specified that when certainOPLANs are activated, Third Fleet andUSS Coronado will move forward to themid and western Pacific. But USS Coron-ado is more than an amphibious shipturned flagship. The traditional role of aflagship was to provide fleet commanderswith a suitable ship from which they andtheir staffs can conduct business. Today,the need for a flagship has been replacedby demands for a capable command andcontrol platform. A ship required forjoint operations must provide advancedlevels of interoperability and connectiv-ity. For a start, it must quarter 25-persondeployable augmentation cells sent for-ward by CINCs to assist JTF commanders.Moreover, JTF spaces must be quicklyconfigured to house JFACC activities in-cluding 15 contingency theater air con-trol planning system work stations. Aflexible situation room with a plans mod-ule and JTF battle watch station is alsoneeded to allow commanders to bringtheir key staff members together to thinkand act as a unit.

Modification of USS Coronado willbe completed in time for deployment toRIMPAC ’96. Conducted every other year,this exercise takes training to a high levelof combined interoperability with forcesfrom up to five other nations. This year itwill involve 48 ships, over 200 aircraft,and 20,000 personnel representing all

warfare specialties. Other exercises, suchas PAC JTFEX, also provide a valuableframework for friendly cooperation andhave stabilizing effects across the entirePacific Basin. Where possible, combinedforces are fully integrated into the PACJFTEX lineup to provide additional train-ing for all participants. Most recently, Ca-nadian maritime forces and ships and adiesel submarine from the Chilean navycontributed to this training experience.

By Spring 1997 USS Coronado will befully fitted-out with C4I systems andother facilities needed for deploymentforward in the Pacific. JFQ

Doctrine

JOINT DOCTRINEWORKING PARTY

The 17th meeting of the Joint Doc-trine Working Party (JDWP) was held onApril 16 and 17, 1996, at the JointWarfighting Center. Sponsored by theJoint Doctrine Division, OperationalPlans and Interoperability Directorate (J-7), the meeting included representa-tives from service headquarters, combat-ant commands, Joint Staff, and doctrinedevelopment centers.

In opening remarks delivered on be-half of CJCS, the director of the JointStaff conveyed satisfaction with the ac-celerated pace of joint doctrinal develop-ment without any sacrifice in quality. Healso spoke about the next level of joint-ness and its three pillars: the linkage ofjoint doctrine to joint training and plan-ning, the linkage of service doctrine andjoint doctrine, and the incorporation oflessons learned from exercises and ongo-ing operations—as well as the assessmentof approved and emerging doctrine.

In addition to a number of newjoint doctrine proposals which werebriefed at the meeting, the following projects were approved:

■ Joint Pub 3–13, Joint Doctrine for Information Warfare

■ Joint Pub 2–01.3, Joint IntelligencePreparation of the Battlespace

■ Joint Pub 4–01.8, Joint Reception, Stag-ing, Onward Movement, and Integration (JRSOI)

■ Joint Pub 4–01.5, Reserve ComponentCall-up (RCC)

■ Joint Pub 1–06, Financial Managementfor Joint Operations.

Other significant decisions made byJDWP include:

■ inclusion of third party logistics■ rules of engagement (ROE) develop-

ment guidance■ joint doctrine for risk management in

joint operations■ a definition and discussion of com-

manders’ critical information requirements(CCIR)

■ a revision of Joint Pub 3–55.1, JointTactics, Techniques, and Procedures (JTTP) for Unmanned Aerial Vehicles, to be staffed prior toreformatting

■ a title change of Joint Pub 1–0, Doc-trine for Personnel and Administrative Support toJoint Operations to Doctrine for Personnel Supportto Joint Operations

Moreover, JDWP agreed to assessJoint Pub 3–05.3, Joint Special OperationsOperational Procedures; Joint Pub 3–05.5,Joint Special Operations Targeting and Mis-sion Planning Procedures; Joint Pub 3–07.4,Joint Counterdrug Operations; Joint Pub3–56.1, Command and Control of Joint AirOperations; Joint Pub 3–58, Doctrine forJoint Operational Deception; Joint Pub4–01.3, Joint Tactics, Techniques, and Proce-dures (JTTP) for Joint Movement Control.

■ T H E J O I N T W O R L D

128 JFQ / Winter 1995–96

Joint Doctrine on the World Wide WebIn an effort to enchance awareness of and increase access to joint doctrine, a World Wide Web site has been established at http://www.dtic.mil/doctrine. For more information, contact the Joint Doctrine Division (J-7), Joint Staff, at (703) 614-6469 /DSN 224-6469. JFQ

Of special interest were two infor-mation briefs:

■ “Joint Doctrine and the Internet”—all unclassified joint doctrine pubs are nowavailable on the internet via the World WideWeb (see the display advertisement on the facing page).

■ “Writing for Joint Force Quarterly”—theJFQ Forum in the Winter 1996–97 issue of thejournal will contain contributions on jointdoctrine by combatant commanders and service chiefs.

The next meeting is scheduled forAutumn 1996 at the Joint WarfightingCenter. JFQ

JOINT PUBS UPDATEThe following joint publications

have recently been approved:

■ Joint Pub 3–50.2, Doctrine for JointCombat Search and Rescue, consolidates jointand service doctrine into a single-source ofguidance and procedures for timely, measuredresponses for combat search and rescue (January 26, 1996).

■ Joint Pub 3–13.1, Joint Doctrine forCommand and Control Warfare, is focused—butis not intended to provide comprehensive doc-trine—on command and control warfare insupport of the broader concept of informationwarfare (February 7, 1996).

■ Joint Pub 3–12.1, Joint Theater NuclearOperations, contains guidance for nonstrategicnuclear force employment (February 9, 1996).

■ Joint Pub 3–12.3, Nuclear Weapons Em-ployment Data, volume 2, includes technicalprocedures and unclassified weapons effectsdata on nonstrategic nuclear weapons employ-ment (February 14, 1996).

■ Joint Pub 3–01.5, Joint Theater MissileDefense, furnishes doctrine to counter theatermissile threats, with particular emphasis onthe growing threat from developing nations—and the U.S. ability to protect vital national interests against such threats (February 22,1996). JFQ

Education

NEW PME POLICYThe Chairman has approved a new

professional military education (PME)policy document, Officer Professional Mili-tary Education Policy (OPMEP), to coordi-nate career JPME for officers. OPMEP isthe latest in a series of policy documents.The impact of the Goldwater-Nichols leg-islation on JPME was reinforced in hear-ings held by the Panel on Military Educa-tion of the House Armed ServicesCommittee between 1987 and 1989. Inresponse, the Joint Staff, services, and

National Defense University (NDU) de-veloped the Military Education PolicyDocument (MEPD) in 1990. That docu-ment, and a 1993 revision, specified edu-cational requirements for joint specialtyofficer (JSO) nomination.

Unlike previous policy, OPMEP doesnot focus exclusively on educational re-quirements for JSOs. OPMEP calls forJPME from the precommissioning level(in service academies, ROTC, and OCS/OTS) to the NDU Capstone Course fornew general and flag officers. ExtendingJPME to the precommissioning and pri-mary levels was a key suggestion in theCJCS JPME Panel Report (see letter fromBrig Gen Baker in JFQ, Summer 95). It isarguably the most significant educationpolicy change contained in OPMEP.Moreover, the Office of the Secretary ofDefense, Joint Staff, and services fullyagreed on the need for a “cradle-to-grave” career approach to JPME.

JPME, like service PME, is a sequen-tial and progressive system where eacheducation level builds on knowledge got-ten from the previous level. At the pre-commissioning level, students gain abasic awareness of joint matters. Thisknowledge is expanded to issues of forceapplication and integration on the tacti-cal, operational, and strategic levels inlater primary, intermediate, and seniorPME, respectively, while Capstone exam-ines key aspects of warfighting and strat-egy integration.

OPMEP capitalizes on this structureand has substantially more emphasis onjoint doctrine, multinational operations,technology, systems integration, and in-novative thinking for winning war in fu-ture battlespace. Moreover, these areas

and the changing nature of warfare havebeen captured in the new Joint Vision2010 which OPMEP fully supports.

Over the next several years, JPME ef-forts will continue to tackle the changingdemands of joint warfare. Updated policywill address how new, high-leverage con-cepts such as C4ISR and information war-fare compete with more traditional mili-tary operations within curricula.Education technology—computer based,interactive, deskside instruction; telesem-inars; advanced wargaming and simula-tion; increased access to research data-bases—will be exploited to bringenhanced JPME to wider audiences on atimely basis. Enlisted JPME policy willalso become a reality in the future. Jointcurricular development will provide ser-vice schools and colleges at every levelwith professional course material tailoredto their missions and requirements. JFQ

PME HISTORYThe U.S. Air Force Academy will

host a military history symposium enti-tled “Rites of Passage: Educating andTraining Junior Officers in the TwentiethCentury” on November 20–22, 1996. Forfurther information, contact: Major Kern,HQ USAFA/ DFH, 2354 Fairchild Drive(Suite 6F37), USAF Academy, Colorado80840–6246; telephone: (719) 472–4727/FAX: (719) 472–2970; or via Internet:[email protected]. JFQ

T H E J O I N T W O R L D ■

Winter 1995–96 / JFQ 129

Don’t Forget . . .

THE SECOND ANNUAL

Joint Force QuarterlyESSAY CONTEST ON THE

Revolutionin Military AffairsAll entries must be postmarked no later than

August 31, 1996.See page 8 for details.

MORAL OBLIGATIONVERSUS “BEEPERETHICS”A Review Essay by

WILLIAM G. O’NEILL

Two recent books on military ethicsapproach their theme from the stand-

point of providing both students ofethics and members of the Armed Forceswith a broader context of intellectual tra-dition, social mores, and educated values.Foundations of Moral Obligation: The Stock-dale Course by Joseph Gerard Brennan,emeritus professor of philosophy atBarnard College, consists of lectures pre-sented at the Naval War College. TrueFaith and Allegiance: The Burden of MilitaryEthics by James H. Toner, who teaches atthe Air War College, provides the viewsof a political theorist on the special situa-tion of soldiers, sailors, marines, and air-men as servicemembers and as citizens ofa wider society. While neither volume isa detailed ethics text nor an investigationof a category of particular problems inmilitary ethics, both instruct the inquirerinto military ethics and offer means ofrevalidating one’s ethical moorings.

Cynicism about the incompatibilityof a particular walk of life or professionwith ethics is hard to ward off. Militaryethics faces a similar challenge. At theoutset it must be understood that mili-tary ethics or other special ethics doesnot stand in isolation from the rest ofphilosophy and is not fundamentally suigeneris. Even moral philosophy itself doesnot stand in isolation from the rest ofphilosophy nor from the lofty concernswhich preoccupy moral theologians.

Conscience for an individual soldieris a dimension of mind and heart andcannot by nature be a dedicated instru-ment of duty or professional motives.Conscience is inherently a judgment notonly about a given action or policy, butalso about what kind of person one in-tends to be, about the quality of charac-ter one actually intends to possess. Ethicsin the last analysis serve that choice ofcharacter and, at their best, reinforce it inoutstanding and difficult cases as well asamidst what may be the everyday welterof conflicting demands.

Although neither book represents acourse in specific applied ethics, Toneroffers some brief illustrative cases; andwhile neither author details the intrica-cies of particularly pressing ethical prob-lems, Toner’s general theme is the ques-tion of the sometimes conflictingloyalties of the conscientious warrior andconscientious citizen. But an importantfactor is that both books provide an im-portant corrective to a growing trend inworks on ethics to circumscribe the dis-cussion of ethics to the management ofconduct or to the establishment of con-ventional rules within a profession orsector in terms of which its members canagree to interpret ethical questions.

This bias threatens to make rightand wrong, good and evil, and valuesthemselves simply artifacts of a propri-etary internal debate in varied profes-sions or fields of endeavor. In the mili-tary, the trend could be exemplified bysetting values in light of the debate overthe proximate causes of a war or conductof a campaign. The problem might beseen in a crude analogy: in order to be agood driver a mastery of traffic ordi-nances—such as speed limits, turning onred, etc.—is not adequate if one does notknow the route to a destination. Forphilosophers, who since the fourth cen-tury B.C. have taken the dominant rolein the ethical education of society fromthe poets and dramatists, questions of ul-timate ends or ultimate meaning cannotbe evaded.

Both Brennan and Toner addressethical education as an undertaking ofgreat importance. Education in ethics, ofcourse, is crucial wherever teaching takesplace. Any form of education communi-cates values for learners to either acceptor react against. Ethical education ofmembers of the Armed Forces is an espe-cially important concern in our society.

Such education is a matter of moralmeaning. Meaning is profoundly linkedwith context. Not only is it impossible tofind such meaning solely through spe-cialized courses in ethics—outside the

general context of moral thought—but itcannot be adequately approached be-yond broader contexts of the nature ofreality, the good, and truth and knowl-edge. This also includes large segments ofintellectual tradition. Without such well-rooted orientation, moral or ethical edu-cation may dwell primarily on the fail-ings and evils of contemporary society.That may create an attitude that overtime becomes an antithesis to secularideas and practice; in effect, a self-en-dowed sense of purity amid decline.

Footfalls of HistoryFoundations of Moral Obligation is a

survey of moral philosophy inspired bythe ordeal of Admiral James Stockdale as aPOW in Vietnam. Later, when president ofthe Naval War College, Stockdale collabo-rated with Brennan in developing a coursebased on that experience. The book’schapters are lessons, lectures, and majorthemes from the course. Of special note isthe manner in which biographical detailsare woven into the presentations. Intellec-tual history and philosophical theories areseen as derived from and inspired by thelives and times of great persons.

Initially, historical examples aregiven to show the profound effect ofprison isolation on individuals. In thesesituations, those capable of profound re-flection decide on fundamental optionsfor living. A transformation of soul canemerge providing ultimate meaning forone’s future. The conviction that it is bet-ter to suffer evil than to commit it be-comes essential. Brennan begins by ex-ploring the resolution that can emerge toforsake dark ignorance, as in the exampleof Plato’s cave.

Basic to the background of a moraleducation is the question: what does onesay or think about evil? Brennan thenposes the timeless problem of how to un-derstand the existence of an all-knowing,all-powerful, all-gracious God as creatorand Father of a world awash in hideousevils, including deliberate moral deprav-ity—which frequently victimizes themost innocent and helpless of mankind.One confronts a decision between thegnostic view that there is a dualism ofgood and evil powers governing reality,or the Augustinian view that evil is not apositive force but rather an absence of ordistance from the moral order and thegoodness of God. Ultimately the answerto this problem is seen to lie in signifi-cant measure in the extirpating of self asprimary in the world and in seeing theinterrelatedness of all of our sufferings.

What does one say or think of love?This is another fundamental question in



Foundations of Moral Obligation: The Stockdale Courseby Joseph Gerard Brennan

Novato, California: Presidio Press, 1994.269 pp. $14.95

[ISBN 0–89141–528–9]

True Faith and Allegiance: The Burden of Military Ethics

by James H. TonerLexington: University Press

of Kentucky, 1995.202 pp. $25.00

[ISBN 0–8131–1881–6]

William G. O’Neill teaches philosophy andis former department chair at Iona College.

the background of moral thought. Is loveto be eros, an attraction to beauty in theclassical Greek sense, or is it to be agape,the selfless love of Christ in his sufferingsand teachings? There is both a differenceand a tension between these two aspectsand ultimately, in the richness of me-dieval theology, religious traditions areshown to have presented the more pow-erful selfless love as the driving force ofthe universe.

Happiness is next explored as theend for which everything else is soughtor done. Aristotle’s formal teleologicalview is explored as the basis for his doc-trine of virtue and character formation.Character is a key to happiness, throughboth the moral and intellectual virtues.Thus understood it is the development ofthe soul, the full realization of a human.This profound sense of fulfillment is notmere self-actualization or feeling goodabout oneself, but the actualization ofthe fullness of human nature. Both prac-tical wisdom and intellect are introducedas the faculty of human moral knowingand development. Virtue in this way ispersonal and also social.

Moving to the philosophy of lm-manuel Kant, Brennan explores the cru-cial concept of duty. Kant, a man of theEnlightenment, saw freedom as theessence of the moral self. Therefore dutyfor its own sake, rather than simply forthe results achieved, is what is morallymeaningful. Acts of moral worth are theacts of a rational being with a motive ofduty. Moral decisions are made, moralacts are done, not because it is good pol-icy but simply because it is right. Moralworth arises directly from the will seek-ing good. Ethics is sovereign and self-jus-tifying because it is not an aspect of psy-chology or sociology. Ultimately, ethicaldecisions are made on categorically uni-versal principles such that one nevermakes an exception for oneself nor forthe case at hand and never treats oneselfor another person purely as a means in-stead of an end.

The principles of utilitarianism fol-low through a critique of the life of JohnStuart Mill. Brennan is remarkably effec-tive in presenting utilitarianism in regardto issues that matter the most. He offers arefreshingly humane and well-drawnview of this strain of philosophy whichstresses Mill’s focus on the social well-being of all. In addition to analyzing theconcepts of pleasure and pain, benefitand harm, he emphasizes the central im-portance of freedom and liberty and thegreat worth, value, and beauty of thecommon good.

Subsequent chapters in the courseexplore special dimensions of philosoph-ical insight into key issues relevant to amoral orientation. The existentialism ofJean Paul Sartre and Albert Camus withits emphasis on individualism and free-dom are examined. Sartre proclaims thefundamental irrationality of moralchoices because such choices are thosefor which no true determining right rea-son can be provided. There are—in thecase of the rugged and free individual—no excuses or extenuating circumstances.The most important thing is, as in Stock-dale’s imprisonment, what a man hasdone with what was done to him. LikeCamus’ absurd man, one “fights back”and in some sense succeeds by crammingas much living as possible into whateverlife one has.

Leninism and Soviet thought are ex-plored in their materialistic and dialecti-cal foundations and their strictly protec-tive anti-relativism. Evolutionary theoryis also seen to provide insights of a foun-dational nature, coming from CharlesDarwin, Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, theLeakeys, etc. One’s stance on evolutiondepends upon an ultimate belief eitherthat all is the result of mindless chancein a complicated physical set of systems,or that all is a process of directed teleo-logical change. Finally, the life and workof Ludwig Wittgenstein are reviewed byfocusing on the crucial silence underly-ing aspects of the intellectual roots ofmaking choices. Whereof one cannotspeak one must keep silent. Some things,in effect, cannot be said but only shown.

As these lectures unfold there arepoints where Brennan’s explanations(but not Stockdale’s inspiring ideas) aretoo tangential for an introduction tomoral philosophy. But Brennan’s style isreplete with anecdotes as well as literary,scientific, and historical allusions. There-fore some philosophical extravagance isexcusable. Also, one might regard thecourse as a scattered version of an intro-duction to moral philosophy rather thana closely ordered system. But his gener-ally historical order is still a palpablestructure overall. The cumulative effect,in any case, is a number of memorablehigh points. They inspire reflection andgive a sense of the depth to the study ofethics, especially for those beginning astudy of moral philosophy.

General and SpecificTrue Faith and Allegiance aims to link

an understanding of the military profes-sion with the general field of ethics.Toner proceeds from his conviction thatsoldiers can be moral and therefore mustbe moral. Hence, he seeks to presentfoundational ideas and a sourcebook onmilitary ethics. His approach is to chart acourse between two popularly if care-lessly subscribed extreme notions: thatthe military is not and cannot be ethicalby the very nature of its activity andcommitment, and that anything the mil-itary may do is always ethical because allis fair in war. Toner sees his work as a cor-rective to the skeptical aspect of modernethical texts which, in addition to their

O F F T H E S H E L F ■


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confusing language, fail to instill a sensethat there is such a thing as moral turpi-tude to be strictly avoided.

Military ethics rests upon a triad:evil indeed exists and should be resistedby force; there are such things as humanduty, obligation, and responsibility; andappreciation of virtue is vitally importantand must be inculcated by both wordand deed. Summarily, military ethics isthe study of what is honorable and whatis shameful conduct in military service.To undertake such a study one must at-tack the moral nihilism seen throughoutsociety and adhere to examples of goodindividuals who stand out. It is the clar-ion call of a crusade.

In the opening chapter Toner out-lines his approach to ethical study: ethicsis a standard of right and wrong conductfocusing on our behavior as well as thatof others. Ethics is not only descriptivebut prescriptive and so is not relativistic.He iterates a theme which is repeatedlater that contemporary American societyfails in many areas of values and accom-plishment: mores, art, education, popularculture, film, et al. However there aresources of ethics which can be tapped instudying what is right and wrong for themilitary: customs, rules, goals or out-comes (teleological sources), and circum-stances (situationism). The developmentof character involves the struggle to dowhat should be done. The reader is toconclude that truly right-thinking peoplewill do better at ethical understandingand character development than will so-ciety at large.

In the discussion of military subor-dination to constitutional sovereignty,the soldier is seen as accepting responsi-bility for the safety of the body politicwhereas the rest of society generally doesnot. The distinct and unique task of themilitary involves being trained to kill fora committed cause. This is correlated tothe requirement of being prepared to diefor that same cause. Hence, the safety ofthe lives of one’s troops or one’s own lifeis not a first priority in war. While thishas not been strictly observed in somecases, it remains a sacred measure of loy-alty in the military.

This is a fidelity beset by certaindilemmas. It involves obeying constitu-tional precepts. But whose interpreta-tion? Generally one is responsible to ahigher authority, though not always.Conscience dictates and duty demandsthat wrong orders, either illegal or clearlyimmoral, should not be followed. Respon-deat superior is not an absolutely univer-sal principle. Some things are too shame-ful for debate and should not be done

under a guise of obedience. Loyalty tothe Nation is crucial, but not to an indi-vidual concept of national interest. Loy-alty depends on a well formed con-science, not upon strength of will orconviction alone.

Military EducationIn this discussion, the distinction is

made between professional military edu-cation (PME), which is focused on valuesand deals with people, and military train-ing, which is about skills and concernedwith things. But training must never bedivorced from education on values.There is an obligation for the ArmedForces to provide rigorous training to thelevel of true competence—not only inwarfighting but, especially for officers, injudgment and intellectual acuity.

PME, as distinct from training, ap-propriately involves fidelity to purpose asits principal orientation to values. Thisspeaks to the tension between obeyinglegal orders without hesitation but notobeying illegal ones. Toner examines tencases, eight recorded instances and twofictional. They deal with conflicts center-ing on mistreatment of prisoners andkilling prisoners or hostages, atrocities inwar, and hazards to military trainees ortroops in actual combat. The cases allquestion whether to follow or not to fol-low orders.

The general schema is to see respon-sibility or loyalty arranged hierarchically:first, loyalty to principles; second, loyaltyto purpose (the mission, rationale, or ob-jective); and third, loyalty to persons, in-dividuals, groups, or masses. In this con-text one must realize that persons areoften the substance of the principlewhich governs or the purpose at hand.Clarity remains important.

Cautions are sounded about ex-tremes in military culture, the evils ofegoism—personal and professional—andthe entrepreneurial ethic. Moreover, sixtests of right and wrong are proposed:shame, community, legal, situation, con-sequences, and God. These tests pro-posed by Toner, however, usually areseen as elements of reflection, the mo-ment of ethical deliberation before thefact of decision. They raise red flags priorto a decision rather than acting as a lit-mus for rightness or wrongness, honor orshame. The text concludes with usefulrecommendations on teaching ethics inthe military.

Codes of EthicsThe primary challenge to contem-

porary ethics in America is said to be anexcessive desire for status and wealth.One is encouraged to deduce that oppos-ing cupidity succeeds programmaticallyin the world and gives the military anethical edge. In any case, the currentstate of values in this country reveals theneed for the traditional cardinal virtuesof prudence, temperance, fortitude, andjustice. This is important because muchevil is actually within the individual’sdisposition, not just in the externalworld of actions. Society is morally autis-tic, and its values are massively at vari-ance with those required by military cul-ture, an account that makes soldiersappear somewhat messianic.

In applying the thesis of faith andallegiance to issues affecting the military,Toner provides an ethical analysis of cer-tain key questions. Should women servein combat? The answer is yes, but not inthe infantry or on submarines. Shouldhomosexuals serve in the military? Theanswer is no to flagrant homosexuals be-cause the military exists in a societywhich generally disapproves of homosex-uality as a way of life. About fraterniza-tion, warnings are given in terms of gen-eral ethics and special military aspects.About resignation, the judgment is thatit should be exercised rarely and withcareful consideration.

Military education is a generaltheme in both books under review. Ethicsand morality are always essentially aboutthe good life, and they prompt us to con-template on what the good life is. Suchreflection is important for the thingswhich one fights to defend anyway.Moral education or values education isnot simply inculcation nor is it some sortof psychology of values. At its best andwhen most fitting, it is a rational founda-tion provided through an explorationand critique of values in the context of aphilosophical course.

The Reactive SchoolEthics is always about truth at the

level of the meaning of life. To propose,as is the vogue, that one can approachethics simply as a dimension of manage-ment, as setting out the rules whileclaiming little more than that certainthings work well in getting the job donewithout ignominy or complication, is in-sufficient. When examining any profes-sion or field of endeavor we can learn animportant point: if its ethics are simplyabout that activity, then it is not an au-tonomous study or concern and it makes



the sense of right and wrong an internalelement or creature of that group and en-terprise. Ethics of “[fill in the blank]” is afactitious conception. The study or disci-pline of such an ethics, among other dif-ficulties, would tend to develop largely inresponse to the characteristics of emerg-ing conflicts and have priorities deter-mined by the typical malefactor or viola-tor. Ethics, to be rational, must be in asignificant degree autonomouslygrounded.

Deficiencies in education on moralvalues leave us open to networks ofrationalizations on conscience. Some ofthe most bothersome of these come fromthe teleopathic (excessively devoted to acause or purpose) bent of mind which in-clines people to extremes in pursuit ofcorporate goals or profits by any promis-ing strategy. Personally, teleopathy—asexpounded by Kenneth Goodpaster—be-comes excessive devotion to career, to ad-vancement through gradations of goalsduring a professional life. For the sake ofcorporate goals or career, no amount of overtime, supererogation, or neglect of personal concerns or duties can bethought to be utterly blameworthy. Beinga team player or getting ahead overridesall.

Loyalties can have bad as well asgood properties. They can be mature aswell as immature in focus and degree ofdedication. In ethical reasoning such fail-ings can lead to rigorous or quasi-legalis-tic elaboration of technicalities and rulesdivorced from fuller human reality andsubstituted in place of a well-groundedethics and morality. Just as ethics cannotbe ultimately subordinated to any othersystem or purpose neither can ethical ormoral education be a subordinate part ofsome system of courses. Often moral the-ory is relegated to one or two chapters ina book on the ethics of “[fill in the blank].”

Beeper EthicsThe phenomenon sometimes called

“beeper ethics” (a term introduced byArthur L. Caplan) is a manifestation ofanother systematic difficulty. To illustratethis point, think of ethicists jumpinginto the midst of conflicts or doubt. Ethi-cists on the staffs of hospitals and mentalinstitutions frequently find the on-the-spot aspect of decisions taxing. Medicalprofessionals often regard analytical ap-proaches and reflective considerations tobe impractical and unhelpful. Policieswith the most impact on actual ethicalperformance in such situations are fre-quently handed down as decisions by

medical committees or senior practition-ers and deal with procedures for emer-gencies, triage, referral to courts, termina-tion of treatment, etc.

In the business world, even wherecodes of ethics are enshrined and ethi-cists are engaged through the medium ofa vice president for corporate ethics andvalues, major policies with some of thegreatest ethical impact on employees orcustomers are often decided directly bythe most senior managers and top levelexecutives. Such decisions usually in-volve personnel administration as well ascustomer relations and advertizing. Deci-sions on downsizing, plant closures, andtechnological change also arise underspecial circumstances. Operative valuestoo frequently flow directly from thehighly situated principle of maximizingprofits.

Some of the most useful contribu-tions of ethicists in the professional orbusiness world are likely to be in advanc-ing national policies and legislationwhich incorporate an ethical orientationat a general level and focus on the com-mon good and overall quality of life.Questions of ethics or morality at basehave to do with wisdom and virtue andare not only concerned with the best wayof doing something but with what isworth doing. When wisdom and virtuousprinciple are well understood, our mostimportant and efficacious institutionsand activities can be related to these.

A person needs to be “about some-thing” at his or her core and feel deeplywhy some things are worthwhile and oth-ers are worth everything. Whether a per-son resolves this well or poorly, rightly orwrongly, the effort is crucial to being fullyhuman. It is especially important in thecase of members of the Armed Forces aswell as others for whom honor is quintes-sential. Conscience, duty, orders, leader-ship, professionalism, loyalty, courage,and judgment—and their evil oppositequalities—all derive from the inner devel-opment of a person. This progress may beadvanced in silence and solitude, throughreflection, or amidst a profusion of diffi-cult, even stressful activities.

The works reviewed provide impor-tant foundational material for ethical ed-ucation. People of honor will search foroutstanding persons as models. They willseek principles as ideals for forming con-science and understanding their personaldedication to duty and the need to do theright thing. In the course of ethical edu-cation it is of utmost importance that adialogue continues among special ethi-cists, philosophers generally, and intellec-

tuals more generally. Toner’s work seeksto foster values by a rigorous education.He warns soldiers that even great profes-sional competency without education invalues can lead to a My Lai massacre.

This concern is, of course, es-timable. Training and technical skills dodemand education in values at a founda-tional level. But it is the particular inten-tionality that needs careful considera-tion. Toner’s education in values is adetermined course toward getting stu-dents to believe those specific thingswhich he feels they must. This set of be-liefs is auditioned for us in his jeremiaddescrying the squalid state of commonAmerican values and, to a degree, ourculture.

Because ethical education must beprofoundly based on a commitment tovalues, so must values be intellectuallygrounded in some ultimate convictionabout a worldview, a profound sense ofthe meaning of life and human con-sciousness and knowledge. Values are notto be engineered to fit an agenda estab-lished at the level of these values them-selves. We cannot assume the bases ofvalues at the start of education in values.Toner has designated training as appro-priate to skills and education as appropri-ate to values. But without the initial in-tellectual exploration as a propaedeutic,the result would be “values training.”

Values are most appropriate whenthey appeal to our reason as the bases ofour will and emotion. Insight into truthand meaning are integral to a commit-ment to values, for well-founded dedica-tion and allegiance. The depth andbreadth of Brennan’s intellectual offer-ings, as well as Stockdale’s reflection onhis detention and conversion, provideboth excellent conceptual underpinningsand substantial motivation for values ed-ucation. The search for meaning at depthcharacterizes their approach. One shouldstart here before exploring faith and allegiance. JFQ



Missing an Issue?Copies of back numbers of JFQ areavailable in limited quantities tomembers of the Armed Forces andinstitutions. Please send yourrequest to the Editor at the addressor FAX number listed on themasthead. JFQ

A JUBILEE FORAIRMENA Book Review by

THOMAS A. KEANEY

As the surge of publications and eventscommemorating the anniversary of

World War II subsides, two dates in avia-tion history are prompting their own ret-rospectives: the 50th birthday of the U.S.Air Force in 1997 and the 100th anniver-sary of the first flight by the WrightBrothers in 2003.

Tony Mason, a retired air vice mar-shal of the Royal Air Force and the au-thor of a number of books on airpower,describes the history of military airpowerfrom 1893 to 1993 in Air Power, A Centen-nial Appraisal. Anniversaries aside, thisvolume comes at an important momentfor a U.S. audience, particularly consider-ing the debate over the strategic role ofairpower and what components of it areneeded in force structure of the future.

Despite the success of airpower inthe Gulf War, the subsequent drawdownof U.S. forces presents some unansweredquestions. Did Desert Storm show air-power at its maximum potential or is itat the dawn of a revolution in militarytechnology in which it will become evenmore dominant? Do more recent militaryoperations in Somalia and Bosnia reveal amore realistic picture of what is ahead?Will U.S. preeminence in the air face fu-ture challenges and what form will theytake? Mason provides context for exam-ining these questions. He singles out theUnited States as having “differential” air-power—a capacity well beyond any com-bination of other countries—and drawsimportant lessons about our past and in-dicates where we should be going.

Mason dates airpower from a lecturegiven in 1893 by Major J.D. Fullerton ofthe British army to military engineersmeeting in Chicago. He prophesied thataeronautics would bring “as great a revo-lution in the art of war as the discoveryof gunpowder,” that “future wars maywell start with a great air battle,” andthat “command of the air would be an

essential prerequisite for all land and airwarfare.” These remarks, made ten yearsbefore the Wright Brothers flew, embodya recurring theme of airpower’s first cen-tury: the “promise” of airpower technol-ogy, given well in advance of actualachievement. Mason also cites it as a cau-tion for the future. His ability to draw onsuch themes and to synthesize aircraftand doctrinal development makes this atruly superior study.

Not solely a history of airpower norspeculation on the future, Centennial Ap-praisal shows Mason equally at homedealing with both. His coverage of avia-tion history is skewed to the latter half ofthe century and deals with aspects of air-power not normally emphasized. Thehalf century of airpower through WorldWar II occupies less than a quarter of thebook. More recent conflicts such as oper-ations over Bosnia and in the Arab-Israeliwars and the Gulf War (as seen fromboth the Iraqi and coalition perspectives)receive more analysis. No doubt reflect-ing his interests, Mason devotes more at-tention to the role of airpower in NATOand Warsaw Pact strategies than to theKorean and Vietnam Wars combined.Throughout, his analysis is incisive andwell argued. Only one section needs aqualifier, a chapter on airpower and armscontrol. The focus is limited to negotia-tions on the Conventional Forces in Eu-rope (CFE) Treaty and aircraft-countingrules for it. There exists no more luciddiscussion of the treaty, but its applica-tion to airpower in general and to armscontrol is minimal.

Particularly timely is the chapter onpeacekeeping operations. Mason writesabout ongoing operations in Bosnia(using mainly 1993 and 1994 newspaperaccounts as sources) and attempts toreach conclusions on the relative advan-tages and disadvantages of airpower inthat environment. His examination of is-sues, such as the effectiveness of offen-sive airpower in those circumstances andthe role of airlift, provides an excellentstarting point for debate. Even after twofurther years of experience in theBalkans, his observations have not beenovertaken by events.

But in arriving at his conclusions,Mason runs into a common dilemma:limited scope. He interprets peacekeepingas involving humanitarian assistance,protection, self-defense, and peace-en-forcement (not further defined). His taskis thus to look for commonality in eventsranging from the Gulf War to Somalia.Only recently has literature on peace op-erations (and military doctrine in partic-ular) begun to delineate this field.

Readers looking for indications ofthe revolution in military affairs will findMason careful in his judgments and per-haps somewhat of a traditionalist. Hecalls for even more emphasis on the elec-tronic warfare environment and extolsthe value of satellites as well as un-manned vehicles (but sees a continueddependence on manned aircraft). Hisfaith in technology is tempered by hislook at other periods in this century,comparing the dominance of the F-117in the Gulf with the fleeting dominanceof the German Gotha bomber in 1917and the British Mosquito during the latterstages of World War II.

If there is a revolution, Mason findsit in the preeminence of U.S. “differentialairpower” that is derived from superiorityin four areas: an aerospace industrialbase, a capacity for research and develop-ment, the ability and inclination of agovernment to allocate resources for anair force, and the size and quality of thatforce. He cites the United States as theonly nation that can meet all the criteriaand claim overwhelming preeminence.Such superiority is more vital and longlasting to Mason than any technologicaladvantage. But no preeminence goes un-challenged, and he sees Russia as themost likely U.S. competitor. Mason de-votes an entire chapter to reconstitutionof the Russian aircraft industrial base and reorganization of its air force. InChina he detects potential for regionaldominance but not the capability toclose the airpower differential with theUnited States.

The particular strength of this bookis Mason’s comprehension of the neces-sary elements of airpower. Beyond num-bers, he understands the nature of factorsranging from personnel policies to theneed for well-developed aerial refueling.Using the history of airpower he con-cludes that its proponents must stop rely-ing on the promise of things to comeand stand or fall “like any other militarypower, by its relevance to, and ability tosecure, political objectives at a cost ac-ceptable to the government of the day.”

The insight and solid analysis foundin this book make it an important contri-bution to any discussion on the future ofairpower in the United States or else-where. An unabashed advocate himself,Mason succeeds in portraying airpowerin a national context, urging his readersto get beyond either zealotry for airpoweror the residual parochialism in armiesand navies against its independence. JFQ



Air Power: A Centennial Appraisalby Tony Mason

London: Brassey’s, 1994.320 pp. £30.00

[ISBN 1–85753–069–1]

Thomas A. Keaney teaches military strategyand operations at the National War College.

OF CABALS ANDCOMPLOTSA Book Review by

JAMES L. ZACKRISON

It is easy to dismiss the theme of thisbook as yet another odd conspiracy

theory. After all, the blurb on the backcover tells us that the introduction is by“U.S. economist and former political pris-oner” Lyndon H. LaRouche. I would sus-pect this publication has not sold well inthe United States: a search of a librarynetwork showed only three holdings ofthe title in the country. Yet it has soldthousands of copies in Latin America,and the Mexican military printed a spe-cial edition of more than 500 copies. It isreportedly on the required reading list atseveral regional military academies andstaff colleges. Students of Latin Americanaffairs will ignore this book to their owndetriment. But if it is only a LaRoucheconspiracy, why is it attracting attentionamong Latin American readers?

The answer is in its alternative defin-ition of terms used in works on civil-mili-tary relations. If one accepts this ersatzjargon, most of the book makes sense. Forinstance, there is a lot of discussion in theUnited States over the proper roles andmissions of the armed forces of LatinAmerica. There are specialists and policywonks who think that the money spenton the militaries in the region would bebetter applied to other government func-tions. There are those who think thatthere is no credible regional threat to thesovereignty of the nations in the hemi-sphere, so their armed forces should bedismantled. There are academics men-tioned throughout this book who meetregularly and present papers on such top-ics. But it stretches credulity to acceptthat these facts combine to form a con-spiracy.

The opening section of The Plotspells out its underlying hypothesis in de-tail. Essentially there are two conflictingaxiomatic social systems. One, based onpaganism, posits that man is an animal,or is barely lifted above animals, or per-haps is even a superior animal or “some-thing of that sort.” Man can, throughsome kind of special magic, rise above de-pravity to become a demigod. The secondsystem, based on the Bible, envisionsman as created in the image of God, by“virtue of a creative potentiality whichcorresponds to God as the Creator of theUniverse.” Life under the latter system isconsidered sacred by virtue of the indi-vidual being created in the image of God.These systems of society are at odds withone another, and have been since the be-ginning of recorded history, or as Mr.LaRouche eloquently puts it, “since therole of Solon of Athens in kicking out theusurers and establishing a republic basedon law at Athens, which is the real begin-ning of European civilization.”

Without the hyperbole this makessense. The problem with the book ap-pears quickly, however. A connection ismade early on between the militaries ofLatin America as defenders of Christianideals, in that their armies conquered anempire to spread and glorify God andhave since been defending Christianityand the Christian states to which they be-long. It follows that anyone who opposesthe military opposes God and is thereforea pagan—to be subdued at all cost.

The “grand conspiracy” starts here.According to this volume, the elimina-tion of national military institutions isonly the latest step in a long effort by theBritish Empire to bring Spain and her for-mer colonies in Latin America undertotal Anglo-American rule. “With few ex-ceptions, that strategic objective hasdominated United States policy towardIbero-America since the turn of the cen-tury, when Anglo-American empire inter-ests seized firm control over U.S. institu-tions in the government of that evilMason and admirer of the Confederatecause in the U.S. Civil War, Teddy Roo-sevelt.” The American Freemasonicmovement, the Scottish Rite of Freema-sonry, and corrupt Catholics in theUnited States become the agents ofBritish imperialism. This oligarchy usesall its powers to destroy the sovereign na-tion-states of the region and their institu-tions, in particular the armed forces whodefend that sovereignty. Why? Becausethe “oligarchy has classified people ofMediterranean, black, and Oriental andso forth origins as being qualified to behelots—as being an animal species on

the lower level of society than the‘Elect’.” Moreover, their object is to elim-inate technological progress and the pur-suit of science and reason, abolish self-government, and retain their numbers atdesired levels.

And this is where things get compli-cated. The mechanism for imposing sucha viewpoint is the new world order es-poused by former President George Bushwhich is a project to eliminate the armedforces as institutions in Latin America asrevealed in a book entitled The Militaryand Democracy: The Future of Civil-MilitaryRelations in Latin America, edited by LouisGoodman. The agents of this plot rangefrom the International Monetary Fund toleft-wing French intellectuals.

The Plot finds a test case in the inva-sion of Panama, already occupied by U.S.forces and using the U.S. dollar as its cur-rency. The first step taken by Washingtonafter the invasion was to disband the Pa-namanian military and create a policeforce. The second case is El Salvador,where the United States had been secretlynegotiating with the Farabundo Marti Na-tional Liberation Front (FMLN). In 1990,according to the authors, General GeorgeJoulwan, commander in chief of U.S.Southern Command, ordered a negoti-ated settlement. FMLN was to infiltratethe government and the armed forceswere to be reduced, all in the name of de-mocratizing the Americas. As a result ofthese two test cases, two military institu-tions in the region were decreased to neg-ligent threat levels.

While this book rehearses some use-ful data, it is all manipulated to supportthe tangled web of conspiracy outlinedabove and loses credibility. The assump-tion that the United States, acting at thebehest of British imperialism, plots to un-dermine and destroy the armed forces ofthe region through nongovernmental or-ganizations, academic symposia, and ob-scure or nonexistent agents is of coursepatently absurd. If the U.S. military wasplotting to annihilate counterpart mili-taries in Latin America, it would use itsown assets instead of LaRouche’s bizarreregister of academics, diplomats, and therest of his cast of characters. While thosepeople no doubt have influence, theycertainly do not enjoy as much as ThePlot ascribes to them.

The balance of this book is devotedto case studies and an “interview” withLaRouche. While there are numerous ex-amples of the twisted logic which is uti-lized to weave this conspiracy, a look atonly a few demonstrates the alternative



James L. Zackrison is an analyst with theOffice of Naval Intelligence and currently a visiting fellow at the National DefenseUniversity.

The Plot to Annihilate the Armed Forces and the Nations

of Ibero-AmericaWashington: Executive Intelligence

Review News Service, Inc., 1994.391 pp. $15.00

[ISBN 0–943235–11–1]

reality at work here. In discussing coun-terdrug efforts as a mission for the mili-tary, the term “eradication” is used to in-dicate the elimination of the illegal drugtrade. When the proceedings of a confer-ence published in the United States claimthat eradication is not working and thatthe effort should be reoriented toward in-terdiction, the authors present this deci-sion as approval of an acceptable level ofdrug use, thus reducing the overall effortto stop the trade. To everyone else, how-ever, “eradication” is the buzzword foruprooting illegally planted coca or marijuana plants.

Another example that should giveLatin American specialists some pause isthe definition of geopolitics found in thepreface: “[it] arises from the conceptionthat it is nature as such, with its effectsupon man, which determines behavior,and thus determines interests accord-ingly.” That is social Darwinism and notgeopolitics. Geopolitics is the effect of ge-ography on the nation-state.

For analytical purposes, a criticaldistinction is contained in the statementthat there is “no moral difference be-tween the oligarchy of Britain and theUnited States—essentially the ScottishRite-related Freemasonic oligarchy—andBolshevism. There never was.” Althoughthat claim is true, it is also irrelevant.Capitalism and Bolshevism are not con-cerned with morality, rather they arephilosophical arguments for the owner-ship of property. Even stretching thepoint to include two different systemsyields the same conclusion: neither isabout morality. But the authors of ThePlot use an illogical and irrelevant con-nection between two opposing systemsto form a key element in their conspiracytheory. Adding the appropriate perspec-tive to that connection removes a basicbuilding block from the theory, thusnegating the reasoning of their evidence.

The authors of this book compiledall the right data and then applied it to asingle argument. Their logic, however,involves the assumption of a causal rela-tionship between the intent of eventsand people involved. That assumption isunquestionably false. Nonetheless, thebook currently is commanding a growingfollowing within the militaries of LatinAmerica. Thus it should be studied as an insight into one of the influences onmembers of the armed forces within our hemisphere. JFQ



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