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Chapter One

Arab militaries and the Arab Awakening

The upheavals that have shaken the Arab world since December 2010 have to a large extent been shaped by the behaviour of the security services in each country. As of December 2011, no clear pattern had emerged, and differences in the employment, cohesion, perfor-mance and effectiveness of military and internal security forces were notable throughout the region. These differences can be explained by factors such as varying levels of pay and benefits; sectarian, political and tribal loyalties; internal organisation; differen-tiation between, and selective deployment of, units; professionalism and politicisation of the senior ranks; and use of foreign mercenaries.

Military behaviour: between repression and self-preservationDuring the past year, the military forces of Arab states have at times behaved as an organic extension of ruling regimes, and at times as independent insti-tutional players bent on securing and maintaining their own standing and privileges. This behaviour is a consequence of particular national situations: in Tunisia and Egypt, where there were no rulers’ rela-tives in senior army and police positions, the regular military distanced itself from the regime to decisive effect. In Libya, Syria, Yemen and Bahrain, where the security services remained cohesive or fought back, relatives of the rulers were entrusted with key command responsibilities. In these cases, depend-able elite and generally well-resourced units carried much of the repressive burden: the Republican Guard in Yemen, led by Brigadier-General Ahmed Saleh, son of President Ali Abdullah Saleh; the ethnic-Alawite-dominated 4th Armoured Division in Syria commanded by Brigadier-General Maher al-Assad, brother of the president, Bashar; the 32nd ‘Khamis’ Brigade in Libya, named after Muammar Gadhafi’s youngest son; the Bahrain Defence Forces and internal security forces headed by senior members of the ruling Al-Khalifa family. In broader terms, tech-niques to exert control over the military have had variable effect. In Syria, the policy of appointing an Alawite officer as deputy to any Sunni commander, and vice versa, has so far succeeded in preventing dissent among the senior ranks of the army (although

the effect of further reported army defections in late 2011, and attacks by the ‘Free Syrian Army’, remains to be seen). In Egypt however, the Mubarak strategy of placating the military by allowing it to run its own businesses did not ensure its loyalty.

Tensions between the regular military, internal security forces, paramilitaries and militias also played a role. In Tunisia, the army, often sidelined by the regime of former President Zine el-Abidene Ben Ali, fought the loyalist Republican Guard in the days following Ben Ali’s departure. In Egypt, rivalry between the military and the Interior Ministry was on display during and after the February 2011 protests: the army did not back the police in earlier days and did not coordinate with them once the police left the street. In Syria, raids by the shabbiha (armed regime thugs) against protesters often motivated army defec-tions. Indeed, the fact that regimes that invested heavily in internal security and coup-proofing could succumb so quickly to popular, often peaceful upris-ings suggests that this emphasis was as much a reason for their own demise as a guarantee of survival.

A review of the behaviour of the Arab mili-taries shows that they often reflected the evolutions, complexities and tensions within their own soci-eties rather than necessarily following the wishes and interests of their political leaders. In Tunisia, the military facilitated regime collapse and volun-tarily stepped aside during the transition. In Egypt, an ambivalent yet pivotal army command eased the transition from Mubarak – only to adopt a heavy-handed, albeit uncertain, approach to the transition, when it became concerned to protect its institutional power and privileges.

In Libya, the regular military rapidly split, with significant numbers immediately joining, and organising, the rebellion against Gadhafi. In Syria, the military remained largely cohesive, although growing numbers of mostly low-rank defectors joined protesters in clashes against loyal elite units. In Yemen, while some senior military commanders and their troops defected to the opposition, the Saleh regime maintained the allegiance of elite units under the command of family members. In Bahrain, the military demonstrated its absolute loyalty to the

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Al-Khalifa royal family – a function of the exclusion of Shi’ites from its ranks and the recruitment of foreign Sunni mercenaries – and took an active part in the crackdown. In Algeria, where the military remains the backbone of the regime of Abdelaziz Bouteflika and a major economic player, events have not yet required its deployment nor tested its cohesion.

This complex picture will not deter Arab govern-ments, among others, from deriving lessons from the events of the past year. Governments may conclude that investment in security services does help to ensure survival, and may question whether their security apparatuses should be reformed to increase accountability, or whether money would be better spent on improving social and economic conditions in a bid to placate rather than coerce the population. In fact, those engaged in a fight for survival, like the Assad regime, will be likely to reward and rely on their most loyal units, ratcheting up the coercive pres-sure applied to demonstrators.

Other governments that faced or fear renewed unrest may well invest more in their security forces. This will likely be the case in the Gulf, Algeria, Jordan and Morocco, where tightening internal secu-rity could accompany timid efforts at political liber-alisation. Wealthy countries will also try to ensure support through recruitment into the armed forces and enhanced conditions of service, a course taken by Qatar when it raised military salaries in September 2011, and earlier by Saudi Arabia, which announced bonuses and promotions for military personnel in March 2011, as well as the creation of 60,000 internal security positions. But transitioning states like Egypt, Libya and Tunisia – depending on the room for manoeuvre accorded the new generation of politi-cians – may want to reform and limit the role of the armed forces in political life, moves which could face some resistance.

A new regional military balanceThe strategic landscape in the Middle East is changing fast, with new questions and uncertain-ties affecting long-held assumptions about regional power balances, military capabilities and deterrence.

This is most acute for Israel. The Arab Awakening has exacerbated its isolation in the region. The stra-tegic partnership with Turkey is in tatters; its cold peace with Egypt is brittle; peace with Jordan is dependent on a fragile Hashemite monarchy; the death of the Israeli–Palestinian peace process could lead to renewed conflict; the threat from Hizbullah

has sharpened; and its military superiority over a changing Syria is in danger of becoming irrelevant. This evolving picture could prompt Israeli defence planners to adapt their military posture. Conflict with Egypt, though unlikely, requires renewed focus on Israel’s southern flank. At the very least, it will require contingency planning and greater mobilisation of forces to contain possible threats from the Sinai and possible knock-on effects in Hamas-controlled Gaza. The reported eastward flow of weapons from former Libyan stocks will further alarm Israel.

Further north, Israel had grown accustomed to a conventionally weak and minority-ruled Syria that could be deterred and was unwilling and unable to escalate directly and conventionally. Should the Assad regime lose control of large parts of the country or crumble, Israel would have to deal with new, probably unpleasant realities. A new Syrian govern-ment may not be aligned with Iran and Hizbullah but would be unlikely to relinquish its claims on the occupied Golan Heights or quickly shed animosity toward Israel. State collapse, fragmentation or civil war would complicate Israel’s military options. The new reality in its neighbourhood will have caused Israel’s planners to consider their options regarding manning, deployments and capabilities: at this stage Israel will certainly be looking to hedge, militarily, against an increasingly unsettled future. Meanwhile, Israel continues to express concern over Iran’s nuclear and ballistic-missile programmes.

Should the Assad regime in Syria fall, Iran could be prompted to invest further in conventional and asymmetric capabilities as a means of exerting influ-ence. A Syrian collapse would also pose difficulties in supplying Hizbullah with arms and ammunition should it again engage in conflict with Israel. It is possible that Iran would speed up delivery of both as a form of contingency planning. There are already reports that weaponry pre-positioned in Syria since 2006 has been transferred to Lebanon because of secu-rity concerns.

Israel’s position could be eased because its neighbours are unlikely to pursue expensive mili-tary procurements: they lack the resources, have varying levels of access to new hardware and have more pressing priorities. Egypt’s military receives $1.3 billion annually in US military assistance. In recent years Cairo started to modernise its land and air inventories, especially with Western, notably American, hardware. The Egyptian military has little incentive to endanger its ability to continue this

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process, or to endanger support and maintenance agreements, by turning to other suppliers. But it is not inconceivable in some capability areas: Turkey and Egypt have been reported as discussing possible sales of Turkish UAVs. The scarce resources at Syria’s disposal will probably be used to ensure regime survival, by rewarding allies and loyal units.

For the Gulf states, the Arab Awakening has strengthened Iranian reach and influence by ousting Mubarak and by diverting attention from the main threat they perceive to regional stability: Tehran’s ambitions and its nuclear programme. This threat perception is unlikely to lead to any reduction in arms procurements, which in recent years have included deals on fast jets, helicopters, precision-guided muni-tions and missile-defence systems, among other things. One obstacle to these deals could be enhanced Western public and parliamentary scrutiny of arms deals with the Gulf states. Criticism of security and defence sales to Bahrain has already surfaced in the US and the UK after Bahrain’s military participated in the island state’s crackdown. Another contentious issue will be the already controversial Western, in particular American, assistance to elite Yemeni forces, ostensibly for counter-terrorism activities. These units, commanded by Saleh’s relatives, have taken part in operations against protesters.

Interventions abroad: the exceptionThe Arab Awakening has also seen unprecedented willingness by several Arab governments to back and participate in military interventions. Early Gulf support for the Libya intervention served to provide essential and symbolic political cover for the NATO-led operation. However, the limited power-projection capabilities of Qatar and the United Arab Emirates (UAE) meant that their direct military contribution was limited and critically dependent on Western logistical support: Qatar provided six Mirage 2000 aircraft plus C-17 rotations: the UAE deployed six F-16s and six Mirage 2000s.

However, Qatar’s deployment of special forces to train Libyan rebels may have been key to improving the rebels’ capabilities. Combined with the lesser toxicity of being Arab Muslim nations, the ability of the UAE and Qatar to disburse money, deliver weap-onry, train rebels and provide special-forces assistance without public scrutiny and accountability proved a useful adjunct to the NATO air campaign in ensuring the fall of Gadhafi. Jordan played a discreet role: it too provided fast jets, although it remains unclear

what missions they flew. Special-forces training and support was another possible contribution, and in September the Jordanians pledged to deploy a field hospital. However, at the time of writing the Libya intervention seemed to be an exception, and there was little appetite in Arab capitals to repeat it in Syria or Yemen. In these cases, the strategic risks, military conditions, political complexities and sectarian over-tones outweigh any political advantages of a direct military intervention.

The Gulf states’ intervention in March 2011 to shore up the faltering monarchy in Bahrain contrasted with the Libyan case. The deployment of the Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) Peninsula Shield Force (see p. 307) was based upon clause two of the GCC charter’s section on military cooperation, which states that any threat to a GCC state is a threat to all member states: as-yet-unsubstantiated allegations of Iranian interference were used as justification. In all likeli-hood, it was meant to not only end a month of largely peaceful protests that rattled the monarchy but also to pre-empt any political settlement that would include significant concessions to the opposition.

The GCC forces – more than 1,000 Saudi troops from the National Guard and 500 UAE policemen –maintained a low profile. They faced protesters in the first days after their deployment but were involved in few clashes. Their main mission was to protect key infrastructure and installations, freeing Bahraini mili-tary, National Guard and police units to conduct a wide-ranging and tough crackdown.

Many among Bahrain’s Shia majority consider the Peninsula Shield troops an occupying force and an instrument of Saudi control. For the Sunni minority, they guarantee regime survival, its monarchical char-acter and Bahrain’s Gulf identity. Although only Saudi troops remain in Bahrain, the length and nature of the Peninsula Shield deployment remains uncer-tain. Among options considered is the establishment of Peninsula Shield bases in each of the six GCC states. Conversely, the Bahrain intervention may militate against the ideal of greater GCC military integration: although a provision of the GCC charter was invoked, smaller Gulf states are wary that this could serve as a precedent for Saudi intervention in their affairs.

An opening for security-sector reform?Among the many grievances that fuelled the Arab Awakening, pervasive state repression and inces-sant police brutality ranked near the top. The initial spark was the self-immolation of 26-year-old fruit

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vendor Mohamed Bouazizi in Tunisia after a dispute with local authorities about a permit for his business. In Egypt, a key Facebook group behind the January revolution was named ‘We are all Khaled Said’, after a young man beaten to death by police. Security-sector reform (SSR), which would include political, cultural, doctrinal and organisational changes, will be necessary to sustain efforts at political liberalisation.

This is a demand of Egypt’s revolutionaries, as evidenced by the storming and subsequent dissolu-tion of the State Security Investigations Service, an internal-security and counter-terrorism force criti-cised for its methods. The Interior Ministry was simi-larly sacked and its head sentenced to jail after the revolution.

Yet it remains uncertain whether popular demands will lead to significant change. The Supreme Council for the Armed Forces (SCAF), Egypt’s de facto ruling body, has agreed to limited reforms under pres-sure from the street. But with the military seem-ingly unwilling to shoulder the task of maintaining fragile internal order for much longer, expediency may well prevail over long-term requirements to reform the security system. The SCAF has another reason to resist wholesale reform: its hold on power and steering of the transition is primarily motivated by the desire to shape the new political order; to preserve institutional power and autonomy; and to limit any governmental and parliamentary oversight of its mission, budget, internal functions or extensive business interests.

In Bahrain, the Independent Commission of Inquiry established to investigate events including actions by protesters and security forces during February and March 2011, documented a range of abuses by security forces and described the routine use of excess force by these agencies. Its recommen-dations included the revocation of arrest powers from the country’s National Security Apparatus and the establishment of training programmes for Bahrain’s police. While some low-level officers have been dismissed pending investigation into their actions, the question remains whether the upper echelons of the Bahraini security apparatus – many of whom are members of the royal family – will be held account-able, whether the practice of recruiting foreign Sunnis will end, and whether the ranks of the security forces will be opened to Bahraini Shi’ites. Across the Arab world, political leaders will find themselves locked in awkward, uncomfortable relations with military leaders, as both groups struggle to adjust to new real-

ities and find ways to satisfy popular demands while maintaining their influence.

The wAr In LIbyA

In February 2011 internal protest in Libya disinte-grated into civil war. By mid-March Gadhafi’s forces had cleared rebels from much of western Libya and were close to recapturing Benghazi, the first city to rise up. Though some rebel strongholds remained in the Jebel Nafusa mountains south of Tripoli and Misrata to the west, the rebels had little prospect of holding out and Gadhafi had signalled his intent to exact retribution. The passing of UN Security Council Resolution (UNSCR) 1973, and the subsequent mili-tary operations by NATO and non-NATO states, provided crucial support to rebel forces.

NATO forces maintained this military mission for seven months, and the Alliance ended Operation Unified Protector on 31 October, following the fall of Sirte, and the death of Gadhafi on 20 October. However, the operation exposed gaps in both NATO capability and will, with criticism from senior US officials over atrophying capability and continuing falls in funding. Indeed, that the war lasted so long was in some ways a consequence of these resource constraints. So while the war might lead to short-term satisfaction in many European capitals, it highlights a number of cold realities that European NATO states will have to consider.

Course of the warUNSCR 1973, passed on 17 March, authorised ‘all necessary means’ to protect civilians and established a no-fly zone. It forbade any ‘occupation force’. Enforcement began on the afternoon of 19 March with French air-strikes on a regime column nearing Benghazi, joined that night by UK and US attacks on Libyan air defences, which were rapidly neutral-ised. A maritime force also deployed to enforce an arms embargo. Two weeks later, military command passed from USAFRICOM to NATO. President Barack Obama withdrew US forces from direct combat on 4 April, although the US continued to play a major supporting role, providing suppres-sion of air defences and ISR coverage, and 80% of NATO air-to-air refuelling. Six months of cumula-tive attrition of regime targets by NATO-led attacks followed. The international Libya Contact Group and NATO’s command structure provided political and military frameworks that bound together NATO and

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participating non-NATO nations, including Sweden, Jordan, Qatar and the UAE, the latter two nations providing considerable discreet political and military support to the rebels.

The campaign initially concentrated on the threat to rebel enclaves. In the west, a combination of tough defence and NATO air-strikes defeated regime efforts to capture Misrata. The rebels had access to supplies brought by sea from eastern Libya, and the failure of regime attempts to close this access by mine-laying proved costly. Rebel positions in the Jebel Nafusa came close to falling, causing such concern to France that it covertly air-dropped weapons and supplies in late May.

Political divergence manifested itself in varying degrees of military commitment to the operation. Jordan, the Netherlands, Spain, Sweden and Turkey limited themselves to supporting roles and flying combat air patrols. After the US withdrawal from combat missions, ground attack was left to Belgian, Canadian, Danish, French, Norwegian, Qatari, UAE and UK forces. From April, half the combat power and much of the non-US support, such as intelligence gathering, was provided by the UK and France. Many NATO members, notably Poland and Germany (whose foreign minister publicly criticised NATO’s actions), deployed no forces in harm’s way.

From late June, attacks on regime targets increased, benefiting from improved intelligence and surveillance from defectors and the Benghazi-based National Transitional Council (NTC). The attacks sought to achieve a coercive effect on the regime lead-ership to persuade it to comply with UNSCR 1973. But while rebels in the east pushed regime forces back from the edge of Benghazi, they were unable to dislodge government defences at Brega, exposing their limited military effectiveness. In the west, rebels pushed back regime troops encircling Misrata and expanded their position in the Jebel Nafusa. The rebels and their supporters used this time to supply arms, improve rebel military and governance capa-bility and to improve coordination with NATO. Meanwhile, the UK led an international effort to help the NTC develop a plan for Libyan-led post-conflict stabilisation and reconstruction, seeking to avoid the problems experienced after previous conflicts, notably Iraq.

Lessons learnt in combat, as well as external supplies, training and advice, increased the effec-tiveness of the rebel forces. By July NATO adopted a more aggressive interpretation of UNSCR 1973,

reflecting UK and French views that the regime was such a threat to Libyan civilians that it had to be directly attacked. By 20 August, the military, internal security and repressive capabilities of the regime had been sufficiently eroded by coalition attacks that it was outmatched by both rebel military forces and the confidence of anti-Gadhafi citizens of Tripoli. The city fell to a synchronised operation that combined preci-sion strikes by NATO, advances and an amphibious landing by rebel units, activation of sleeper cells, public calls for an uprising by anti-government imams and external disruption of Libyan state broad-casting. This was followed by political and military efforts by the rebels and NTC to stabilise Tripoli, prevent retribution and re-start essential services. All these efforts were guided, like the NATO mili-tary effort, by a desire to avoid the perceived failures of the Afghanistan and Iraq interventions. Gadhafi’s death at the end of October marked the end of organ-ised resistance.

explaining the outcomeIn February and early March, Gadhafi’s security forces were incapable of quickly overwhelming the rebels, principally because the regime lacked suffi-cient loyal and competent troops. After 19 March, Gadhafi’s forces rapidly adapted by concealing tanks, armoured vehicles, artillery and rockets in urban areas. And they equally rapidly fielded large numbers of armed 4×4 vehicles or ‘technicals’. These were agile, manoeuvrable and easy to hide, but as they were also the principal rebel weapons platform, it was difficult for NATO to distinguish regime and rebel columns.

Gadhafi never articulated a strategy. It may be that he was hoping for a ceasefire, followed by a period of negotiation, or he may have hoped that time would lead the coalition to fracture. However, the regime inflicted no NATO casualties. NATO air-strikes neutralised Gadhafi’s air force and air defences and, in time, neutralised naval and coastal-defence forces, eliminating the regime’s ability to challenge the rebel sea line of communication from Benghazi to Misrata. No attacks were mounted on NATO ships outside the range of coastal artillery, NATO air bases, HQs or command and control networks. There were no special forces or state-sponsored terrorist attacks in coalition states. This forfeited opportunities to inflict casualties and militarily disrupt NATO forces where they were most vulnerable, or to raise the military and political costs of the operation.

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The rebelsThe rebels began the war with a low standard of military effectiveness. This stemmed from a combi-nation of inexperience – many rebels were formerly civilians – as well as the result of Gadhafi’s starving the rump Libyan Army of resources. He had priori-tised loyal units and this led to poor levels of training and maintenance in the mainstream military. As the war progressed, rebels in western Libya modestly increased their effectiveness, for example through the use of improvised anti-tank obstacles in Misrata – probably the result of learning from combat as well as advice, training, mentoring and supplies from outside, such as those forces from Qatar. An example is the ‘Tripoli Brigade’, reportedly trained by forces from the Gulf. Along with the attrition of regime forces by NATO attacks, these factors eventually meant that combined NATO and rebel combat power outstripped the regime’s ability to defend itself.

Coalition strategyNATO claims that its operation to implement UNSCR 1973 reduced regime attacks on civilians, thus saving

lives. Certainly, without the intervention rebels in Benghazi and eastern Libya would have been rapidly defeated, followed by rebels further west. Large-scale retribution by Gadhafi’s forces was thus averted.

Both USAFRICOM and NATO moved quickly to establish command-and-control frameworks, which allowed the US to move from a leading to supporting role on 4 April. This support – including airborne refuelling, intelligence collection, combat search and rescue, and resupply of precision weapons – was nonetheless vital.

UNSCR 1973 set a political and military frame-work that bound together NATO and participating non-NATO nations. In theory, it was impartial and implied that the coalition would have been required to attack rebel forces posing a threat to civilians. Indeed, NATO said that: ‘Our targets are those forces and installations which present a threat to the civilian population. … So far, the opposition forces have shown every indication that they are committed to the protection of civilians and respect for human rights. We expect this commitment to continue. Our targets are those forces and installations which

Table 1 Operation Odyssey Dawn (19 March – 30 March) (indicative)naval Assets

Submarines (6) France: 1 SSN; Spain: 1 SSK; UK: 1 SSN with SLCM; US: 3 SSGN with SLCM

Principal Surface combatants and Principal Amphibious Ships (20)

canada: 1 FFGHM; France: 1 CVN, 3 DDGHM, 1 FFGHM; italy: 1 CVS, 2 DDGHM, 1 FFGHM, 2 LPD; Spain: 1 DDGHM; UK: 2 FFGHM; US: 2 DDGHM, 1 LCC, 1 LHD, 1 LPD

Other Ships (10) France: 1 AORH; italy: 1 FSM, 2 PSOH, 1 PCO, 1 AORH; UK: 1 MCMV; US: 2 AFSH, 1 AO

Air Assets

combat aircraft (181) Belgium: 8 Ftr; canada: 7 FGA, 2 ASW; Denmark: 6 Ftr; France: 4 Ftr, 26 FGA; italy: ε6 Ftr, ε12 FGA; norway: 6 Ftr; Qatar: 6 FGA; Spain: 4 FGA; UK: 20 FGA; US: 6 Bbr, 56 FGA, 8 Atk, 4 ASW

Support aircraft/UAVs (92)

canada: 2 Tkr; France: 6 Tkr, 4 AEW&C; Greece: 1 AEW&C; nATO: ε5 AEW&C; Spain: 1 Tkr; UK: 1 ELINT, 2 ISR, 2 AEW&C, 9 Tkr; US: 7 EW, 2 ELINT, 1 ISR, 4 AEW&C, 3 Tkr/Tpt, ε40 Tkr, ε2 ISR UAV

Table 2 Operation Unified Protector (31 March – 31 October) (indicative)naval Assets

Submarines (4) France: 1 SSN; Spain: 1 SSK; Turkey: 1 SSK; UK: 1 SSN with SLCM

Principal Surface combatants and Principal Amphibious Ships (19)

Bulgaria: 1 FFGM; canada: 1 FFGHM; France: 1 CVN, 2 DDGHM, 1 FFGHM, 1 LHD; Greece: 1 FFGHM; italy: 1 CVS, 1 FFGHM; romania: 1 DDH; Spain: 1 DDGHM; Turkey: 4 FFGHM; UK: 1 DDGHM, 1 LPH; US: 1 FFH

Other ships (10) Belgium: 1 MCMV; France: 1 FSG, 1 AORH; italy: 1 PSOH, 1 AORH; netherlands: MCMV; Turkey: 1 AORH; UK: 1 AORH, 1 AFSH, 1 MCMV

Air Assets*

combat aircraft/UAVs (182)

Belgium: 6 Ftr; canada: 7 FGA, 2 ASW; Denmark: 6 Ftr; France: 4 Ftr, 40 FGA; italy: 8 Ftr, 20 FGA; Jordan: 6 Ftr; netherlands: 6 Ftr; norway: 6 Ftr; Qatar: 6 FGA; Spain: 4 FGA; Sweden: 8 FGA; Turkey: 8 FGA; UAe: 12 FGA; UK: 22 FGA; US: 6 FGA, 1 ASW, ε6 Cbt/ISR UAV

Support aircraft/UAVs (70)

canada: 2 Tkr; France: 3 ISR, 4 AEW&C, 7 Tkr; Greece: 1 AEW&C; italy: 2 Tkr; nATO: 3 AEW&C; netherlands: 1 Tkr; Spain: 1 MP, 1 Tkr; Sweden: 1 Tkr; Turkey: 1 Tkr; UK: 1 ISR, 2 AEW&C, 2 Tkr; US: 7 EW, 3 ELINT, 2 ISR, 2 AEW&C, 22 Tkr, 2 ISR UAV

combat helicopters (17) France: ε2 Atk hel, ε10 MRH hel; UK: 5 Atk hel*Transport and Search and Rescue aircraft and helicopters are not included

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15Arab militaries and the Arab Awakening

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16 The MiliTAry BAlAnce 2012

present a threat to the civilian population.’ This careful language indicates the degree to which NATO had to ‘finesse’ the diverging views of member states: some felt the very nature of the Gadhafi regime meant all government forces posed a threat to Libyan civil-ians, while others favoured a narrower interpretation of the mandate.

As in Afghanistan, NATO successfully integrated military contributions from non-NATO states. The Alliance’s ISR operation grew, from a background of little understanding of Libya, to produce greatly improved situational awareness and targeting data. Airborne ELINT platforms such the US Rivet Joint and UK Nimrod R1 proved invaluable, as did the RAF’s Sentinel ground-surveillance radar; this was comple-mented by information provided by defectors. Once potential targets were identified, the combination of accurate target data, tight rules of engagement, careful targeting under tight political control, and precision munitions meant that NATO caused rela-tively few civilian casualties; the total remains uncer-tain.

Initial assessmentsThe NATO campaign was constrained by the terms of the UN mandate and complicated by a lack of full support within the Alliance. The chief participants clearly aimed to engineer Gadhafi’s downfall, but were unable to direct NATO to do this. One lesson of the war is therefore that political intent – not just the stated political aim – and military means should be aligned from the outset. Failure to achieve this increases the risks involved.

Recent operations have seen increasing use of precision-guided bombs and missiles, as well as the fitting of guidance systems to land-based artillery, rockets and mortars. And efforts to minimise civilian casualties and collateral damage have resulted in greater use of smaller warheads. Libya confirmed this trend. It appears that NATO air and missile attacks exclusively used precision weapons. The RAF dual-mode Brimstone anti-armour missiles were especially useful; with their low explosive yield these were successfully used to engage targets in urban areas that could not be targeted by bombs.

The role of NATO’s naval force was under-reported. As well as enforcing a maritime embargo, warships gathered considerable intelligence and provided radar surveillance. There were some exchanges of fire between NATO vessels and Libyan guns and rocket launchers, but the potential of NATO

warships to attack regime targets was limited by the absence of precision shells for naval guns.

Although attack helicopters have less endurance than fast jets and are more vulnerable to ground fire, their integral surveillance systems, missiles and cannon meant that from the outset NATO planners sought to integrate them into the air campaign, to complicate the calculations of the regime and to release jets to attack targets deeper inland. US Marine Corps attack helicopters could have been deployed from amphibious vessels early in the campaign, but the US scaling back of combat missions closed this option. Halfway through the campaign, an impro-vised French and British capability was developed, flying from amphibious assault ships.

This is just one example of how the campaign plan was under-resourced. In June 2011, then-US Defense Secretary Robert Gates stated that the NATO air oper-ations centre in Italy managing the campaign had been designed to run 300 sorties a day, but was strug-gling to manage 150, about one-third the number flown over the much smaller Serbia/Kosovo theatre in 1999. US targeting specialists were, he said, provided to augment capacity to run the campaign, a ‘“just in time” infusion of personnel that may not always be available in future contingencies’.

NATO airpower had to be divided between protecting the rebel enclaves and attacking regime infrastructure. Operations in Iraq have shown that, without ground troops, the threat of bombardment of urban areas can be countered by the persistent presence of armed aircraft. But there were significant periods of time when regime forces threatening rebel territory were not themselves threatened by NATO airpower. For much of the campaign, NATO was only able to suppress a relatively small proportion of the attacks on Misrata and the Jebel Nafusa. This meant that the war lasted longer than it would have done, had NATO’s campaign plan been fully resourced.

This is important because civil wars have their own dynamics. As they proceed, both sides become more hostile to each other, war crimes mount, radi-calisation increases, organised crime proliferates and damage to civil infrastructure accumulates. As demonstrated in the Balkans, these factors all make post-conflict stabilisation, reconstruction and recon-ciliation more difficult. Some NATO officials claim that these risks will have been offset by the work of the international community and NTC in planning for post-war stabilisation. Whether this is actually the case remains to be seen.

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17Arab militaries and the Arab Awakening

CoordinationThe effectiveness of NATO air attacks was reduced by limited air/land cooperation between NATO and rebel forces. As the campaign progressed, there was evidence of rebel forces passing information to NATO. As Tripoli fell, NATO admitted that it was receiving information from ‘allied forces in Libya’. These were probably small teams of intelligence personnel, special forces and air controllers oper-ating under national rather than NATO command, acting in coordination with NATO. The Chief of Staff of Qatar’s military was reported in late October as saying that Qatari armed forces had organised training ‘and contact operations’, liaising between the rebels and NATO forces. This is probably why rebel tactics and NATO strikes appeared increasingly synchronised as the campaign went on. Indeed, mili-tary advisers and trainers appear to have improved rebel forces’ effectiveness and coordination. The seizure of Tripoli, which included NATO precision attacks, rebel advances, operations to disrupt Libyan state broadcasting and mass text messaging of city residents, appeared orchestrated.

Military-strategic implicationsFrance and the UK exercised considerable political and military leadership of the NATO operation and their military credibility with NATO and the US has increased. London and Paris will claim that the war reinforces the requirement for closer bilateral military partnership and has provided practice in this. And the role played by the UAE and Qatar has increased their influence with the US and NATO.

In Washington the war has probably increased Congressional and government disillusion with NATO and many of its European members. In his June speech, Gates asserted that NATO lacked enough modern capability, said that too many NATO coun-tries opted out of war, and questioned US willing-ness to shoulder future burdens for NATO. Obama’s decision to ‘lead from behind’ increases the potential burden for NATO as a whole, particularly members such as the UK and France that aspire to expedi-tionary warfighting capabilities and military influ-ence. This will exacerbate existing military tensions within the Alliance.

Implications for future interventionsThe Afghanistan and Iraq interventions succeeded in toppling incumbent regimes, but their planning, execution and resourcing created many of the diffi-

culties that bedevilled subsequent stabilisation. While it will take time to discern the full implications of the war on long-term Libyan stability, it is clear that this intervention, executing an impartial mandate, not only changed the political and military dynamic, but in practice could not be executed impartially. This reinforces the trend from UN and NATO interven-tions in the internal conflicts in Bosnia and Kosovo.

Advocates of liberal interventionism and the ‘Responsibility to Protect’ have already claimed that the strength of their cause has been reinforced by the Libyan intervention. However, the war was in many ways most favourable to NATO. The Alliance has extensive command-and-control networks and experience integrating multinational forces. Regime propaganda was ham-fisted and there was no cred-ible Libyan conventional threat to NATO infrastruc-ture and homelands. A Libyan WMD capability could have deterred some countries from military action and posed significant challenges to NATO, as well complicating planning and diverting intelligence and attack capability from other tasks. The country’s coastline allowed sea power to be brought to bear and, as Libya is close to Europe, NATO’s limited stra-tegic lift capability was not tested. Fighting did not spill over into neighbouring states, and the flight of nearly one million people from Libya has not (so far) destabilised the region.

The most important lessons of the Libyan war may be those drawn by authoritarian regimes and states and non-state actors that require a military capability to deter or fight the US, or other forces similarly trained and equipped. Their military and security planners may deduce that they need to improve their internal-security capabilities (such as well equipped, highly trained, politically loyal elite forces) to halt protests before they develop. They will seek to prevent the Security Council passing similarly broad resolutions and to undermine the formation of any coalitions against them. They might also see value in striking enemy infrastructure and employing ‘anti-access’ systems. Finally, they could consider Gadhafi foolish to have voluntarily surrendered his WMD capability.

There will be no shortage of advocacy of particular capabilities by interest groups in NATO states, where militaries and defence industries will be seeking to further their own causes, but the military lessons of the Libyan conflict identified in coalition forces’ capi-tals are unlikely to be novel. Those drawn by author-itarian regimes could have greater ramifications for future conflicts.

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By 11 September 2001, Western armed forces were 12 years removed from those that had, during the Cold War between the late 1940s and 1989, gener-ally trained for potential war in Europe. The period from 1989 to 2001 saw them engaged on a wide range of operations. By 2001, these forces were confident they could conduct peace-support operations as well as combat operations against state actors. At the same time, some military professionals and analysts considered that the ‘Revolution in Military Affairs’ (RMA) would combine greatly improved surveil-lance, communications and precision-strike weapons, resulting in superior knowledge of the enemy and better targeted and more effective strikes. This would enable a modernised networked force to more rapidly defeat adversaries that had not taken advantage of new technologies and doctrines. After the defeat of the Iraqi army in 2003, the tactics and nature of the insurgents facing coalition troops initially blunted the edge of this advantage. These adaptable adversaries adopted asymmetric tactics to counter the firepower and tactics of coalition forces.

The principal factor in eventual tactical success in Iraq was the rediscovery of counter-insurgency (COIN) principles established in earlier wars, applied by concentrating sufficient ground troops to provide security for the people through a systematic ‘clear, hold and build’ approach. Nonetheless, as the Iraq War progressed, armies and air forces adapted some instruments of the RMA for counter-insurgency, including unmanned aerial vehicles providing persistent surveillance, the use of precision weapons, and high-capacity command and control networks capable of bringing accurate fire to bear quickly on enemy targets. Improvements in intelligence collec-tion and analysis included closer integration of tactical and strategic intelligence.

While the Western wars since 9/11 have been primarily fought on land, operations in Iraq, Afghanistan and Libya were, from their inception, ‘joint’, with the need for close integration of land, air and, to a lesser extent, naval forces. Further, military planning and wider operations increasingly involve non-military government departments including law enforcement and development bodies and, in some

combat and capability: military trends since 9/11

cases, cross-government ‘stabilisation’ groups. Some armed forces are now having to plan and operate in an overlapping area between insurgency and law enforcement. For instance, military personnel are deployed on anti-corruption duties in Afghanistan. Other armed forces are taking on tasks that were hith-erto the preserve of internal security forces (as seen in the Mexican and Brazilian armies’ domestic deploy-ments). They are also having to take account of capa-bilities such as cyber, only relatively recently seen as having military utility. All these factors will influence the future development of Western armed forces, as they shift focus from the wars of the past ten years to broader strategic challenges. These might accrue from factors as diverse as the rise of aspirant great powers, the impact of territorial disputes on regional stability, the effect of piracy, and continuing insur-gent and terrorist activity; they will also affect, to varying degrees, the development of non-western armed forces.

Ground forcesOver the last decade, conventional state-versus-state land warfare has been generally confined to the first month of Operation Iraqi Freedom in 2003 and the short Russia–Georgia war of 2008. Both these wars showed the vulnerability of conventional armies to an oppo-nent with superiority in overall firepower, air power, and intelligence, surveillance, target acquisition and reconnaissance (ISTAR) capabilities.

Regime change in Iraq, and in Afghanistan, was followed by protracted COIN operations against insurgents, including efforts to build new indig-enous security forces through training, advising and mentoring. With such insurgencies the domi-nant experience, Western armies have as a result changed a great deal. However, lessons derived from the Western experience – and the developments in weapons systems arising from that experience – will likely also influence the development of non-Western armies.

While the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan have confirmed the continuing relevance of the classic prin-ciples of counter-insurgency (including the primacy of politics, addressing the root causes of insurgency

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and making progress across all areas of governance and development) it is evident that there has been no substitute – in the absence of effective local security – for large numbers of troops on the ground or the ability to conduct combined arms combat operations.

Protection and firepowerIraq and Afghanistan have seen periods of intense ground combat, and casualty levels have been corre-spondingly high for Western armies, local forces and civilians. Insurgents have made extensive use of IEDs, including roadside bombs, with lethal effect. The IED threat has been similar to that presented by landmines and booby traps in conventional warfare, but in Iraq and Afghanistan the scale of the threat and its success in inflicting casualties was a strategic shock for many Western armies. With increasing insurgent capability, rising casualties and a decline in support for these wars in the West, protecting troops has increased in importance. Improved body armour has been fielded to protect individual soldiers, though this has added to the weight that troops must carry. There have been considerable advances in battle-field medicine, including advanced field dressings, deployment of military paramedics down to squad level and forward deployment of advanced medical technology: as a result, survival rates among those with serious wounds are higher than in any previous war.

A common counter-IED approach has been applied across NATO’s national contingents in Afghanistan. Counter-IED has become a core activity for all deployed troops, and initiatives include equip-ping infantry with hand-held detectors and forming bespoke ‘Counter-IED task forces’ with high-tech equipment such as remotely-operated ground vehi-cles. But without sufficient troops and air assets to dominate the ground and deter emplacement of IEDs, the initiative has often remained with the insur-gents. As airlifting troops can largely circumvent the IED threat, many countries have bought more heli-copters and isolated units are often supplied by para-chute. However, even the US is limited in the number of troops and supplies it can move by air with its helicopters, so logistics vehicles have in turn also had armour and jammers added.

Vehicles have been fitted with additional armour, air-conditioning, remotely operated weapons and electronic countermeasures, which have increased their size and weight: variants of the British Warrior infantry fighting vehicle in Afghanistan, for example,

now weigh 40 tonnes compared with the original 27 tonnes. Armies have also purchased and deployed wheeled protected patrol vehicles with special protec-tion against roadside bombs, such as the US Mine Resistant Ambush Protected (MRAP) vehicle. There has been greater recognition of the utility of v-shaped hull designs, first used in southern Africa in the 1970s. The US is currently modifying a number of its Stryker vehicles into this configuration.

With their combination of firepower, mobility and protection, tanks played a decisive role in the ground component of Iraqi Freedom, the Russian attack on Georgia and in the initial attempts by the Gadhafi regime to defeat the Libyan rebels. So, the tank is not obsolete, but its primary role in recent conflicts has involved supporting infantry and fighting insur-gents, rather than fighting other tanks. They remain vulnerable to air power: many Taliban, Iraqi and Libyan armoured vehicles were destroyed by air-launched munitions, albeit in relatively permissive air environments. Nonetheless, the small-arms fire generated by Iraqi and Afghan insurgents has meant that firepower from armoured vehicles, including tanks and armoured infantry fighting vehicles, has been invaluable, as has close tactical cooperation between armoured vehicles and dismounted infantry in a wide variety of terrain. And the tank’s main gun has provided a unique capability with which to attack fortified positions resistant to cannon and missiles. The tank’s potential utility is reflected in the moderni-sation and upgrade programmes devoted to tank fleets around the world. For instance, Brazil, China, India and Russia are all modernising. Conversely, some Western states are reducing their tank hold-ings due to budget cuts and questions over the utility of maintaining large tank inventories; this could increase the number of recent-generation second-hand tanks available on the international market.

CombatSince 9/11, Western armies have engaged in consid-erably more dismounted close-quarter fighting than in the previous decade. The requirement for ‘boots on the ground’ makes infantry the dominant army branch in counter-insurgency and conventional fighting in urban areas. Efforts have been made to enhance infantry effectiveness through improved weapons, sights, hand-held laser range-finders, more effective tactical communications nets and night-vision devices. There has been a notable revival in sniping. But this ‘infantry renaissance’ has not yet

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resulted in a decisive increase in the effectiveness of Western armies’ infantry, partly because the weight of additional equipment and body armour, combined with the IED threat, has slowed troops down.

Iraq and Afghanistan have driven a greater appre-ciation within Western armies of the need to protect the local civilian population, which has led to more restrictive rules of engagement and increased use of precision weapons. In Afghanistan, US and British forces have used guided artillery rockets extensively, often instead of air-dropped munitions. Integration of tactical airpower with land forces has improved. Tactical air-control parties now routinely deploy to company level and below. There has been extensive use of attack helicopters for precision strike, close air support and escort duties. Armed unmanned aerial vehicles (UAVs), such as the Predator and Reaper, have similarly been integrated into the tactical battle on land, both for intelligence, surveillance and recon-naissance (ISR) and weapons delivery.

Intelligence, Surveillance and ReconnaissanceThe wars in Iraq and Afghanistan have underlined the proposition that the single most important source of intelligence in COIN is the local population. This requires decentralised intelligence capabilities and use of human intelligence teams to cultivate and exploit informants. There have been concerted efforts to enhance intelligence-gathering on the ground, and as a result intelligence staffs across ISAF have expanded at all levels from corps to company. These developments are complemented by expanded intel-ligence gathering from manned and unmanned aircraft, improvements in intelligence fusion at the tactical and strategic levels, and greater integration of national strategic intelligence with military tactical intelligence.

Adaptation, leadership and trainingHaving initially been poorly prepared for counter-insurgency in Iraq, US forces demonstrated impres-sive adaptability to the unanticipated demands of the campaign. This included tactics as well as the rapid fielding of new and improved equipment, such as the MRAP. Funding for these improvements has sometimes been found by delaying or postponing new generation equipment. The most important adaptation was the rapid evolution of a successful tactical approach to COIN. This flowed as much from organisation, doctrine and culture as it did from technology.

Rapid adaptation has not been confined to western armies: adversaries have also adapted. Insurgent roadside bomb technology in Iraq devel-oped in response to coalition tactics and equipment. In 2011, meanwhile, Gadhafi’s army adapted to NATO attacks by dispersing weaponry in urban areas to make it more difficult for NATO to engage them. This in turn led aircraft implementing UNSCR 1973 to use lower-yield precision munitions when engaging targets from the air. Gadhafi-loyalists also switched much of their capability into armed 4x4 vehicles or ‘technicals’, making it difficult to distinguish between regime troops and rebels.

The Libyan war also illustrated the importance of training and leadership. It lasted so long principally because of the low standard of military effectiveness among the rebels. That Western units kept fighting in Iraq and Afghanistan with considerable effectiveness is, in the main, evidence of high standards of lead-ership and morale, reinforced by demanding and comprehensive training.

ImplicationsSince 9/11, fighting at squad, platoon and company level has remained similar in nature to that expe-rienced in Korea and Vietnam. But it is not just the new emphasis on heavy optimisation for counter-insurgency that has changed armies; other aspects of their deployment and operations are different from those suited to combined-arms manoeuvre against a conventional land army. This is particularly evident in the static layout of security bases, which allow lavish logistical support and extensive communica-tions infrastructure, on a larger scale than could be achieved in manoeuvre operations. However, such major bases have been vulnerable to insurgent attack, and Western armies have had to develop countermea-sures, including deploying radars and guns against rocket attack in Iraq.

Land warfare now requires the ability to inte-grate traditional combined-arms fire and manoeuvre with reconstruction, development and informa-tion operations. These capabilities were previously seen by most Western armies as peripheral, and such capability as existed was often generated from the reserves rather than from regular troops. As US Army Lt-Gen Michael Vane (Director of the US Army Capabilities Integration Center) has said, ‘special-ized skills are essential for successful operations. They include operational adaptability, cultural and language proficiency, negotiation, digital literacy and

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space knowledge, weapons technical intelligence, and site exploitation. These specialized skills must now become universal tasks.’ How this is to be achieved by Western armies is not yet clear.

As Western armies withdraw from Afghanistan, most will need time to refurbish and maintain equip-ment, much of which will be worn out. Moreover, the primary orientation of Western armies towards COIN will need to be balanced by reconstituting the capability to perform the full spectrum of roles often required by defence policies. Meanwhile, many of the advanced conventional weapons previously hoped for have been cancelled or delayed as a result of finan-cial constraints that have grown since 2008. Some lessons of the last decade’s wars, probably including the extensive use of UAVs, body armour, precision artillery and improvements to dismounted infantry, will become core capabilities for Western armies, and will be studied closely by armies around the world. Other capabilities, such as MRAP-style protected patrol vehicles with limited cross-country mobility, may be judged less useful for future ‘general purpose’ armies.

MaritimeAlthough the major conflicts since 9/11 have been primarily land-based, naval forces have been involved in a wide range of roles, from amphibious assault to carrier-strike aviation in 2001, 2003 and, to a lesser extent in 2011, as well as maritime patrol and littoral manoeuvre. However, the principal focus has been on combating asymmetric threats, particularly terrorism, piracy, counter-narcotics and the threat from fast attack craft. Some navies have learned lessons from these roles relating to platform utility and design, as well as integration with air and special forces, and the developing role of non-lethal weapons. Developed countries, in particular, are pursuing programmes involving multirole vessels, a shift from the twen-tieth century concept of mission-specific vessels. This change is also being driven by the challenge of main-taining viable fleets and enhancing platform capabili-ties within the context of restricted funding.

Multirole vessels The concept of modular or multirole vessels reflects the main operational demands on navies today. The US Littoral Combat Ship (LCS) is perhaps the best example of a modular, multirole vessel: designed to operate in coastal and littoral waters, it is a small, frigate-sized ship designed to perform roles ranging

from minesweeping to anti-submarine warfare and troop transport, depending on its configuration. The UK’s Global Combat Ship (the Type 26) is likely to be another multirole ship, approximately 1,000 tonnes lighter than the 6,000 tonnes full-load displacement originally envisaged. Rather than there being the two sub-classes of vessel (anti-submarine warfare and general-purpose) that were originally planned, there will be now be only one version of the Type 26 for the Royal Navy. A similar trend towards procuring multi-purpose vessels is also clear in Germany’s MEKO series of combatants.

Austerity is accentuating the trend towards more affordable, flexible platforms. Budget cuts in major Western armed forces are encouraging acquisition of fewer and smaller vessels against the backdrop of a relatively benign security environment. Creating consortia is an option increasingly used to share development costs of major surface combatants. The UK is negotiating with potential partners as diverse as Australia, Brazil, New Zealand and possibly Chile for involvement in the Type 26 project. Another example of a consortium-based project is the ongoing Franco-Italian FREMM frigate programme, which saw its first vessel launched last year with commis-sioning expected in 2012 and follows on from the Franco-Italian Horizon project of the 2000s.

Such multirole vessels are not necessarily small: the Type 26 will be significantly larger than the Type 42 destroyers currently being replaced and the FREMM is as heavy as the Tourville-class destroyers currently being phased out in France. Multirole vessels often need to be larger than their single-role equivalents as they must embark more equipment, unless they are truly modular, as with the LCS. Nonetheless, the move towards multirole vessels reflects the main priorities of navies’ sea-based roles today. Although large destroyers and cruisers are still necessary for power projection and carrier escort, the possibility of a significant state-to-state naval conflict currently seems low. As such, the primary missions of today’s major navies usually involve dealing with asym-metric threats, particularly small, fast enemies, such as pirates, criminals, potentially sea-based terrorists and the fast-attack missile craft of developing states’ navies. These roles require a range of capabilities and flexibility, rather than the largest capital ships avail-able with extensive anti-air warfare capabilities.

The proliferation of a range of anti-ship missiles is a concern for developed countries’ navies: these offer the user the ability to engage the slower, larger

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vessels of major navies at relatively little expense. The Iranian Revolutionary Guard Corps, for instance, has a fleet of small, fast attack craft that are now armed with C-702 anti-ship missiles. These could be used in a swarm effect or with hit-and-run tactics against larger vessels. Similarly, China’s fleet of Type 022 fast attack craft, which each carry eight YJ-83 anti-ship missiles, would likely be employed as very mobile platforms in coastal and littoral defence. Indonesia is also devel-oping its force of missile-armed fast attack craft.

Other traditional roles are also in flux or seeing decreasing demand. Naval gunfire support, the stal-wart weapon of the imperial era, is of seemingly decreasing utility in the modern age. While utilised in the Libyan campaign in 2011, many of the shells fired were starbursts rather than high-explosive projectiles. The vagaries of modern warfare, requiring greater accuracy and fewer civilian casualties, have made naval gunfire support a less attractive option. Various programmes are currently under way to develop guided artillery rounds or rocket-assisted munitions that would permit greater use in contested shore envi-ronments, such as the BAE Systems/Lockheed Martin Long-range Land Attack Projectile to be used on the Zumwalt-class destroyer’s Advanced Gun System and Oto Melara’s Vulcano long-range guided ammunition.

Large platforms persistIn light of this, the UK Royal Navy’s new Type 45 destroyer appears to be something of an anomaly. Priced at £1 billion per vessel, the Type 45 seems at odds with current Royal Navy priorities, which focus on threats from asymmetric warfare. This helps explain why the initial requirement of 12 was halved to six in 2004. Primarily an anti-air-warfare vessel, they are also carrier escorts, but in a navy with no current carrier strike capabilities, it is unclear whether the ship is the right fit for present demands. Similarly, planned numbers of the Zumwalt-class destroyer to be built by the US, at a cost of more than US$3bn per ship, have been cut from 32 to just three. Budget cuts have also forced Western navies to reduce their plans for new aircraft carriers. The UK has opted to do without carrier strike capabilities until 2020, and then will pursue an Anglo-French carrier capability based on two operational carriers with fixed-wing aircraft. Even the US Navy has debated cutting one of its 11 aircraft carriers in a bid to save costs.

In the developing world, however, economic growth has remained robust and aircraft carriers remain a major procurement item for emerging

powers. China sent its first aircraft carrier on sea trials in 2011; India is purchasing a refitted Soviet carrier while simultaneously planning to build two more carriers indigenously. Brazil continues to operate a former Clemenceau-class carrier, although its service life is questionable and a replacement may be sought. This only serves to further highlight the dichotomy between developed and developing coun-tries’ spending and procurement trends. The former continue to move towards smaller, more mobile plat-forms adaptable for asymmetric warfare. Developing states in some cases show increasing interest in major platforms while continuing to pursue exactly those asymmetric warfare capabilities that so concern developed states’ defence planners and naval staffs.

Platform developmentsHowever, both developed and developing states’ navies are interested in deploying more and larger amphibious assault vessels, essentially the largest form of multirole vessel available. For developed countries, these ships offer the opportunity to deploy rotary wing airpower at sea without using their limited aircraft carriers, while also providing the flex-ibility to deploy amphibious forces. In developing countries, where aircraft carrier programmes may be small or non-existent but the desire to project air power at sea remains, amphibious assault vessels either fill the power projection gap or can act as a stepping stone towards larger carriers. Russia’s December 2010 decision to purchase four Mistral-class landing helicopter docks (LHDs) from France emphasises the desire for multirole vessels, as they act as both helicopter carrier and amphibious assault vessel, carrying up to 16 heavy helicopters, 40 tanks and 900 troops. South Korea commissioned the first of its Dokdo-class LHDs in 2007, while Spain brought the Juan Carlos I into service in 2010. Landing plat-form docks (LPDs), meanwhile, offer amphibious capabilities with reduced helicopter carrying capa-bility: China commissioned its first Type 071 LPD in 2007 (with a second undergoing sea trials and a third in build) and Chile purchased the Foudre from France in October 2011. Algeria ordered a San Giorgio-class LPD from Italy in August 2011 which, if delivered, would be a substantial boost to its amphibious capa-bilities. Australia, meanwhile, purchased the landing ship dock RFA Largs Bay from the UK, which was offi-cially handed over in October 2011.

The utility of rotary-wing naval aviation has been proven in recent missions, from the intelligence-gath-

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ering capabilities of counter-piracy missions to attack helicopters off the coast of Libya. Although helicop-ters are more vulnerable to air defences, in conflicts involving near-total air dominance, they can enhance capabilities and, at sea, they increase a ship’s radius of action, making them invaluable when dealing with smaller, faster vessels.

Diesel-electric submarines (SSK) equally appeal to both developing and developed country navies that aim to improve their sea denial (as opposed to sea control) capabilities without the expense and expertise required for nuclear submarine operations. Countries in Southeast Asia have been active in this field. Vietnam has ordered six Kilo-class submarines, Malaysia has taken delivery of its first two SSKs, Singapore is bringing the Archer-class of upgraded ex-Swedish boats into service, and Indonesia and Thailand are expressing interest in new submarine purchases. Japan is seeking to expand the number of its submarines from 16 to 22, while Australia has long-term plans for 12 new, larger SSKs as replacements for its six Collins-class boats. These developments may at least in part indicate unease over China’s efforts to enhance its own submarine capabilities. In Europe, Germany and Italy will commission the last of their Type 212 subma-rines in 2012 and 2014 respectively, while Algeria has improved its capabilities with two improved Kilo-class boats. Air-independent propulsion, which allows these submarines to patrol without having to snorkel, is also an increasingly common feature.

Overall, the past decade has greatly influenced naval thinking and tactics in developed navies. Multirole vessels are increasingly common as the perceived threat has migrated from state-based naval assets to non-state threats from small, fast craft. Ship-to-shore power projection, particularly in the initial stages of a land campaign, mean aircraft carriers, amphibious assault ships and their escorts remain relevant, but the declining use of traditional naval gunnery and vulnerability to anti-ship missiles undermines, in the short term at least, the utility of capital ships. Nonetheless, key emerging countries still perceive a strong navy as crucial to ensuring the security of their increasingly globalised interests, and will pursue major shipbuilding programmes to improve their power projection at sea.

AerospaceThe conflicts since 9/11 in Iraq, Afghanistan and Libya have underscored the strategic importance of airpower to deliver kinetic and non-kinetic effect,

and to provide intelligence, surveillance and recon-naissance (ISR). However, the funding crisis facing many governments and defence ministries is having a profound effect on military aerospace, particularly in Europe. It is also – along with the lessons of recent conflicts – helping to propel developments in the technology, employment and even theory of air and space power. In common with the land and sea envi-ronments, these will be studied closely by defence planners and air staffs in countries which are still prospering economically.

While air power’s contemporary utility is not in question, there is less certainty among strategic thinkers and defence planners in the US (where air power has long been central to national war-fighting and deterrent capacity) and elsewhere over its future direction. The recent wars in which the US has been engaged have generated doctrinal uncertainty over how to best configure the air force and other US mili-tary aviation in the face of a kaleidoscope of emerging threats.

ISRDuring the initial phases of military operations in Afghanistan and Iraq leading to regime change, advanced ISR and air-launched precision weapons enabled the US and its allies to deploy ground forces at substantially lower levels than would previously have been required. ISR gave the West an asym-metric edge in terms of improved tactical- and theatre-level situational awareness. These campaigns have seen a distribution of ISR assets to platoon level, enhancing the usability and timeliness of their product. Meanwhile, ISR platforms now boast an array of sensors and systems across an increasingly broad range of radar frequencies and electro-optical bandwidths, with new developments in multi-spec-tral imagery systems. Systems such as the Predator UAV have also been developed as weapons plat-forms. Combat operations over Libya during 2011 further reinforced awareness of the value of air- and space-based ISR systems. Space-based ISR as well as communications systems, traditionally the domain of only a handful of states, will likely proliferate following the emergence of cheaper, and smaller, satellites. The UK has considered small satellites as a means of acquiring a national geo-spatial intelligence capability, while Singapore has examined the utility of comparatively low-cost remote sensing satellites.

Unmanned aerial vehicles (UAVs, also known as RPAS or Remotely Piloted Air Systems) have emerged

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from recent wars as important platforms for carrying ISR systems. Equipping a UAV with a capable sensor suite and an endurance of tens of hours is of immense value, but also raises the issue of survivability. The level of airborne ISR available in Afghanistan and Libya is highly desirable for Western armed forces, but similar provision in contested air space would be another, possibly much more costly matter. In Iraq the permissive air environment enabled the US to deploy a successful lower-cost platform in the form of the MC-12 Liberty ISR aircraft, based on the 350 King Air, which moved from concept to first mission-flight in less than a year; less costly solutions like this might prove attractive to militaries with less resources.

Anticipated cost savings may have influenced interest in unmanned systems, but experience over the past decade shows that these systems – at least at the high-end – are expensive and require a consid-erable number of support personnel. These systems may thus only be affordable for rich, technologically-advanced states’ air forces. This problem of afford-ability may be even more acute in relation to the low-observable long-range combat UAVs now in the early stages of development. While such systems will doubtless find a place in future air force inventories, the extent and pace of their introduction, and the way they are employed operationally (not least in terms of the level of autonomy granted to the platform) all remain areas of contention. Air arms will need to consider carefully the optimum force balance between manned and unmanned platforms, the ownership and operation of which is likely to remain a source of friction between armed services. There have been debates in the US and in the UK over ownership of UAVs between respective air and land forces.

Funding for air powerThe funding problems facing many air forces, notably in the West, are jeopardising procurement plans. Still deeper cuts are in prospect. One important example concerns US Air Force tactical combat aircraft. The USAF’s ageing fighters need to be replaced: the majority of F-15s are more than 20 years old, while most F-16s are around 15–20 years old. However, delays to the Lockheed Martin F-35 programme, and the threat of an extended and reduced procurement of that type, pose major problems for air force plan-ners. Life-extension programmes for combat aircraft will place additional strain on air force budgets.

Meanwhile, funding constraints are forcing many European air arms, as well as the various branches

of US military aviation, to continue reducing their personnel and orders of battle. The UK’s 2010 Strategic Defence and Security Review further cut the Royal Air Force. The latest defence cuts announced in the Netherlands in April 2011 axed a fighter squadron, while a German review in late October is expected to lead to reductions in the size of the air force.

New generationsWhile the US F-35 programme struggles with delays and cost escalation, watched with anxiety by partner nations in the project, Russia and China are flight-testing their own ‘fifth-generation’ combat aircraft. Three Sukhoi T-50s were being used for flight trials by late 2011, and the Chengdu J-20 first flew in January 2011. After well over a decade of stagnation, Russia has revitalised its defence aerospace research and development. Whether, and to what extent, it can maintain this effort in the medium-to-long term is uncertain: Russia’s defence industry – while innova-tive and capable in small-scale production – continues to face challenges in serially producing equipment (see Russia, p. 183). The collapse of defence spending in the 1990s resulted in the contraction of Russia’s defence industry, and a loss of intellectual capital. This adversely affected serial production manufac-turing capacity. For Beijing, the J-20 marks a step change in ambition from the Chengdu J-10 fighter, though how quickly and on what scale production of operational variants will commence is unclear.

Nonetheless both the T-50 and J-20 projects high-light a closing of the defence-technology gap with the US and Europe. Given the constraints on US defence spending, Washington may have to accept a reduced technological edge, though it will try to ensure that it remains ahead of its rivals. The Russian, and prob-ably eventually Chinese, platforms may proliferate as a result of export sales, offering some nations access to high-capability combat aircraft not available from the West. Moscow has already secured Delhi as a partner in the T-50, while Beijing shows every inten-tion of increasing its defence aerospace exports. The JF-17 is already in service with Pakistan. Moscow is promoting what may be the ultimate version of the Sukhoi Su-27 Flanker, the Su-35S, for export.

But combat and ISR platforms are not alone in receiving closer attention from air force planners. Recent wars have reinforced the value of air-to-air refuelling as well as strategic and tactical airlift. In the latter case, fixed- and rotary-wing platforms have been increasingly employed for in-theatre movement,

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as one response to the growing use of IEDs targeting ground forces and their logistic trains. Meanwhile, there has been development in the tactical use of air power, with greater integration of ground and air forces on operations, improvements in close-air-support through greater use of forward air controllers and improved munitions, as well as the devolution of airborne ISR platforms and products throughout ground units.

PGM and missilesThe US, Russia, China, the UK and France are among the states continuing to develop laser and radio frequency directed energy weapons. While the US has continued research into airborne lasers , it is likely to be applied to defend against tactical, rather than ballistic, missiles. High-power microwave payloads are being developed for cruise missiles. This type of warhead can generate a localised electromagnetic pulse that can damage or disable electronic systems.

Russia and China are re-equipping their inven-tories of air-launched weapons. The lessons offered by US-led campaigns over the past decade – and in Russia’s case, its experience in Georgia – have led both Moscow and Beijing to switch to developing and re-equipping their air arms with precision-guided munitions (PGM). Both states also continue to develop satellite navigation systems primarily for military purposes, to assist navigation and weapons guidance. The Russian air force has introduced a conventional long range air-launched land-attack cruise missile (LACM), the Kh-555, into its inventory, as has China with the YJ-63. Beijing also continues to develop an air-launched variant of its DH-10 ground-launched LACM. Conventionally-armed cruise-missile systems and technologies continue to proliferate, both in the land attack and anti-ship roles. Indonesia test-fired the Russian 3M-55 (SS-N-26) in April 2011, while Pakistan continued to develop the Ra’ad ALCM and the Babur GLCM. Syria ordered the Bastion coastal defence version of the 3M-55. As air defence technology improves, cruise-missile devel-opers are considering very low-observability plat-forms with reduced radar cross-sections, as well as high-speed cruise missiles, as countermeasures. The US is carrying out both stealth and high-speed research, with the same paths being explored in Russia. India is also planning high-speed weapons research in conjunction with Russia.

In terms of warheads, large PGM are growing in size, with some systems designed to accommodate

penetrators as well as warheads in order to attack hardened and buried targets more effectively. Small PGM, meanwhile, are becoming smaller: this can help to increase the number that aircraft can carry, while reduced warhead size is intended to mini-mise collateral damage and non-combatant casual-ties. Maximising the weapons-load by minimising warhead size becomes important when engaging targets in congested terrain; it is also desirable when platform numbers are under increasing pressure.

Learning lessonsThe wars of the last ten years have had a profound effect in modifying the types of military operations Western armed forces have performed in these conflicts. They have led to developments in the equip-ments used to prosecute these campaigns and stim-ulated debates over the resources that armed forces will need for the future. For Western armed forces, adapting to the conditions on the ground in Iraq and Afghanistan provided a challenge that only began to be addressed with a measure of success when sufficient troops were deployed to enable sustained counter-insurgency, a strategy requiring the reacqui-sition of specific skills and resources. Against oppo-nents who fought back hard and were able to both sustain and inflict substantial casualties, Western military units needed to prepare for major combat operations. These wars have also necessitated the adaptation of existing equipment and the acquisi-tion of new equipment to fit the requirements of these theatres. Defence establishments and industries will be considering how they can increase responsiveness in procurement planning cycles, so that adapted capa-bility can be generated more through conventional procurement streams rather than as, in the UK case, urgent operational requirements. There is also, across all services involved in recent Western campaigns, a greater appreciation of the need to protect civilian lives, with corresponding restrictions on rules of engagement. Increasing stress is being placed in the West on equipment and forces that can be config-ured for different operations, as well as being rela-tively inexpensive. At the same time, Western states face difficult choices over which equipment will have enduring utility after withdrawal from Afghanistan.

Some lessons will endure from the past ten years. The importance of ISR and force protection are two, and both will probably see increased investment around the world though, as the MC-12 aircraft noted above demonstrates, militaries requiring competent

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ISR platforms for operations in non-contested airspace need not always consider the latest high-end UAVs. Flexibility of platforms and flexibility of forces are further lessons: adaptation to the changing require-ments of military campaigns has been demonstrably important. Thorough training is essential to the flex-ibility of forces. Furthermore, military planners will be increasingly aware that adversaries may seek to leverage asymmetric advantages in conflict, examples of which could include cyber activity and IEDs. They will probably also have to take account of the capa-bility of some adversaries to challenge them conven-tionally as well as in asymmetric ways: In its 2006 war against Hizbullah, Israel fought a hybrid opponent that displayed a mixture of capabilities and tactics that might be expected in regular as well as insurgent opponents. Israeli forces suffered a number of mili-tary shocks, not least those arising from unrealistic expectations of what networked forces and precision weapons could achieve. The Israeli Army’s effective-ness had been reduced as a result of preparing for

security operations in Gaza and the West Bank at the expense of training in combined arms war-fighting.

For Western governments, the unpopularity of the Iraq and Afghanistan wars may make it more difficult to contemplate using force than in the aftermath of the Balkan conflicts of the 1990s, particularly if a conflict is likely to involve a substantial ground commit-ment, and with defence budgets already contracting and likely to shrink further as forces are withdrawn from Afghanistan, maintaining the large personnel strengths utilised in recent COIN campaigns will prove more difficult. Non-western governments, often with diverse recent military experiences and defence priorities, may look to the West for lessons, and perhaps pointers to useful capabilities, organisa-tions and tactics, but they may be less constrained by finances. In many of these states, moves to modernise or recapitalise forces, capabilities and precise equip-ment and weapons variants – and how and in what contingencies these forces and capabilities will be employed – will be driven by local defence priorities.

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The war in Afghanistan remains the main focus of military effort for the US and many other countries in NATO and beyond (see The Military Balance 2011, p. 9), as the refusal to divert resources from Afghanistan to the Libya campaign demonstrated. But despite some military successes, and record numbers of foreign troops, political progress remains elusive.

In November 2010, NATO and Afghan President Hamid Karzai agreed that Afghan authorities would take the lead for security across the country from the end of 2014, a move enabled by the 2009–10 surge of 30,000 additional US troops. In June 2011 US President Barack Obama announced that the surge had peaked and numbers would begin to reduce, with 10,000 US troops due to depart by the end of 2011. Remaining surge reinforcements were to be withdrawn by September 2012. Obama stated that the remaining 68,000 US forces would be ‘coming home at a steady pace’ as the Afghan National Security Forces (ANSF) assumed security leadership. US General David Petraeus, then commander of the NATO-led International Security Assistance Force (ISAF), recommended a much smaller drawdown. US Marine Corps General John Allen, who replaced Petraeus in July 2011, is conducting a review of the campaign plan and the development of the ANSF.

The ANSF continued to grow during 2011. By October, the Afghan National Army (ANA) and Afghan National Police (ANP) were around their target strengths of 171,600 and 134,000 respectively. The intent is to have 195,000 ANA and 157,000 ANP by 31 October 2012, and these targets will probably be met. The ANA is improving its combat support and combat service support and, as NATO forces reduce, it will probably be capable of holding those areas in southern Afghanistan that are now clear of insurgents. The ANP will also progress, but its effectiveness is dependent on wider improvements in the justice system, including courts, lawyers and prisons. These areas lag even further behind, with reports that NATO will decline to send detainees to Afghan prisons that fall below minimum inter-national standards. Although there has been some reduction in casualty and absence rates, the attri-tion rates for the ANA, the border police and the

The war in Afghanistan

elite Civil Order Police are still well above the 1.4% monthly target.

The war in 2011 ISAF continued offensive operations in 2011, for example successfully contesting insurgent control of Kunduz and Balkh provinces. This built on progress in 2010, which included improved intelligence, clear-ance of Taliban strongholds in Helmand and Kandahar provinces, and significant attrition of insurgent leaders inside Afghanistan by special forces. In July 2011, Lashkar Gah (the provincial capital of Helmand); Kabul (less one district); Bamiyan; Panjsher; Herat; Mazar-e Sharif and Mehtar Lam were transferred to Afghan security leadership. A second tranche of districts and provinces was announced in November 2011, to begin transition by the end of the year.

Southern Afghanistan remained the main effort; it appeared that ISAF’s offensive operations to clear and hold populated areas in the south had improved security there. Although the insurgents continued to attack ISAF and ANSF with small arms and IEDs throughout the country, the territorial gains of 2010 were not reversed. Indeed, NATO displayed cautious optimism that security improvements would endure. For example, British officers and officials were confi-dent that the combination of greater troop numbers, successful ‘clear, hold and build’ operations, growing ANSF capability and confidence, the successful

Just how capable?In June 2011, ISAF delivered the following assessment of ANA capability: Of six corps and one divisional HQ, all but one of these formations were capable of operating with ‘partnered assistance’; 17 of 20 brigades had reached the same level; of 158 kandaks (battalions) two were independent, 55 effective with advisers, 56 effective with assistance and the remainder ‘developing’. By 2014, the majority need to be independent or effective with advisers. This transition will require practical assessment, not that driven by scorecards, by combined ISAF and ANSF commanders and the Afghan government. Many units are now being tested and some, such as special forces, are well rated, although all operate with ISAF supporting assets available. The real test for the ANSF will come in 2014 and afterwards.

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handover of Lashkar Gah to Afghan security lead-ership, and the maturing of many civilian develop-ment projects meant that Helmand was on the way to a successful transition to Afghan security lead by the end of 2014.

There was a modest reduction in the level of NATO fatalities – 285 in the first six months of 2011 compared with 324 in the same period in 2010. However, civilian deaths rose. In its mid-year report in July 2011, the UN Assistance Mission in Afghanistan (UNAMA) documented 1,462 civilian deaths in the first six months of the year, an increase of 15% over the same period in 2010. UNAMA said that the main factors behind this rise were ‘increased and widespread use of IEDs, more complex suicide attacks, an intensified campaign of targeted kill-ings, increased ground fighting, and a rise in civilian deaths from air strikes’. In total, UNAMA reported, ‘80% of all civilian deaths in the first half of 2011 were attributed to Anti-Government Elements (up 28% from the same period in 2010), 14% were attributed to Pro-Government Forces (down 9% from the same period in 2010) and 6% were unattributed.’

The UN Secretary-General’s September 2011 report to the Security Council assessed that the average number of security incidents from January to August 2011 showed a 39% increase compared with the same period in 2010. Although there was no overall increase in suicide attacks, the use of suicide bombers in complex, ‘spectacular’ attacks had increased by 50% since 2011. In Kabul, ‘spectaculars’ in summer 2011 included attacks on the InterContinental Hotel, the British Council, the US embassy and ISAF HQ. Less attention was given to attacks outside Kabul, including those in Tarin Kot, Kandahar city and Jalalabad. All of these were contained and then defeated by the ANSF, with limited support from ISAF advisers and helicopters.

Insurgents have also intimidated and assassi-nated politicians and security and government offi-cials. Much of this effort has been in Kandahar where the deputy provincial governor, mayor, provincial police chief, head of the Kandahar Shura, as well as junior and mid-ranking officials, have all been killed. Two influential figures close to Karzai were also murdered: his special adviser Jan Muhammad Khan and Ahmed Wali Karzai, his half-brother and an important Pashtun power broker. Meanwhile, the October 2011 assassination of former president Burhanuddin Rabbani suggested that some insur-gents wanted to derail Kabul’s efforts to negotiate.

Karzai subsequently stated that he would no longer talk to the Taliban, implying he would negotiate with Pakistan instead.

Assessment As the 2011 fighting season drew to a close, it was difficult to reconcile NATO’s cautious optimism with the UN’s reporting of increased violence, the apparent success of the insurgent assassination campaign and media coverage of the ‘spectacular’ attacks in Kabul. Although UN statistics show a sustained increase in complex and ‘spectacular’ attacks, they also suggest that insurgents were less successful in areas where there is a high density of NATO and Afghan forces. NATO spokespeople claimed that this demonstrated not only the tactical success of clearance operations, but also the impact of the special-forces-led attacks on insurgent leadership. But significant security chal-lenges remain. Parts of southern Afghanistan outside the ‘cleared’ areas remain under insurgent control. The end of the surge means that it is unlikely that further offensive operations would clear more of Helmand and Kandahar.

There has been much less military progress in eastern Afghanistan, the heartland of the Haqqani Network. This insurgent group has been responsible for the series of ‘spectaculars’ against iconic targets in Kabul. Although these have all been contained and then neutralised by the ANSF with ISAF support, they suggest weaknesses in the ANSF’s ability to secure their capital. If such attacks continue with sufficient frequency they will create, both within Afghanistan and internationally, a pervasive impression of ungov-ernability and failure of transition.

If the insurgent campaign of assassination continues at the same intensity as in late 2011, it may cause significant attrition to politicians and officials. It also seeks to intimidate the population and reinforce propaganda that insurgent victory is inevitable after 2014.

US troop reductions will probably be matched, if not overtaken, by similar reductions in the 40,000 non-US troops in the country. The Netherlands and Canada have withdrawn combat troops, leaving reduced contingents training the ANSF. Denmark plans to reduce troops in combat roles, whilst increasing the number of Danish military and police trainers. The UK announced that its 10,000-strong force would be reduced by 1,000 troops by the end of 2012 and that any UK troops remaining after 2014 will no longer be in a combat role.

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×

1 207 (AFG)

Sources: ISAF/IISS Research. Military symbols depict unit/formations’ standard organisation, but many have re-roled for deployment to Afghanistan and operate special equipment such as PPVs and anti-IED equipment.

×1 215 (AFG)

×3 205 (AFG)

×1 205 (AFG)

×2 205 (AFG)

×4 205 (AFG)

×3 201 (AFG)

3 215 (AFG)

3 1 ID (US)×

×1 203 (AFG)

4 10 (US)×

×4 203 (AFG)

3 25 (US)×

×2 201 (AFG)

×× 111 CAPITAL (AFG)

(three brigades)

172 (US)×

×2 203 (AFG)

×3 203 (AFG)

17 (POL)×

Mazar-e Sharif

Qal’eh-Now

Herat

Farah

Lashkar Gah

Kandahar

Qalat

Tarin Kowt

Ghazni

Pol-e Alam

Wardak

Pul-e Kumri

Sharan

Khost

Jalalabad

Mehtar LamNijrab

NuristanPanjsher

Bagram

Faizabad

Kunduz

Gardez

Maimanah

Shibirghan

Chaghcharan

Bamiyan

Asadabad

Regional CommandCapital – Kabul

Regional Command West

Regional Command North

Regional Command South

Regional Command East

Regional CommandSouthwest

US

US

US

USUS

ROK

US

US

US

US

US

USUS

CZE

TURNZL

US

ITA

ESP

LTU

NOR

TURSWE

GER

HUN

GER

US UK

AUS/US

Albania 286Armenia 126Australia (AUS) 1,550Austria 3Azerbaijan 94Belgium 577Bosnia-Herzegovina 55Bulgaria 597

Canada (CAN) 529Croatia 317Czech Republic (CZE) 694Denmark (DNK) 750El Salvador 24Estonia (EST) 162Finland 195France (FRA) 3,932

Georgia 937Germany (GER) 5,150Greece 153Hungary (HUN) 415Iceland 4 (civilians)Ireland 7Italy (ITA) 4,213Jordan 720

Rep. of Korea (ROK) 350Latvia 174Lithuania (LTU) 236Luxembourg 11Macedonia (FYROM) 163Malaysia 46Mongolia 114Montenegro 39Netherlands (NLD) 183

New Zealand (NZL) 188Norway (NOR) 562Poland (POL) 2,580Portugal 229Romania 1,947Singapore 39Slovakia 326Slovenia 87Spain (ESP) 1,526

Sweden (SWE) 614Tonga 55Turkey (TUR) 1,840Ukraine 23United Arab Emirates 35UK 9,500US 90,000US (OEF-A) 7,000Total (rounded) 137,638

Estimated troop contributions of NATO–ISAF nations – October 2011

Map 2 Afghanistan

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30 The MiliTAry BAlAnce 2012

It is very unlikely that the troop drawdowns will be reversed, because of a combination of war weariness, financial pressure and the perceived reduction in the clear and present danger posed by al-Qaeda. Indeed, political and financial difficulties in NATO states may increase pressure to accelerate withdrawals.

This will encourage insurgents who think that they can outlast the US and NATO effort. The Afghan-led ‘peace and reconciliation programme’ has embraced several thousand former insurgents. But there is no evidence in the public domain that military efforts in Afghanistan or Pakistan are having any coercive effect in bringing insurgents to the conference table, let alone keeping them there and forcing them into an acceptable deal.

what now for transition?The IISS Adelphi book Afghanistan: To 2015 and Beyond (December 2011) assesses that, in the short term, NATO and the ANSF will attempt to improve secu-rity in and around Kabul, to improve their chances of detecting or disrupting further efforts at spectacular attacks by the Haqqani Network. Efforts to counter the assassination campaign will also continue, as will messaging to portray security progress made.

In September 2011 Senate testimony, outgoing Chairman of the US Joint Chiefs Admiral Mike Mullen explained that US, NATO and Afghan forces would ‘increasingly focus on eastern Afghanistan’ in 2012, but that he did not expect to see the effects of these operations until the end of that year. In eastern Afghanistan, in Secretary of Defense Leon Panetta’s view, ‘the topography, the cultural geography and the continuing presence of safe havens in Pakistan give

the insurgents advantages they have lost elsewhere in the country’. It is likely that the required US forces will come from southern Afghanistan. This shift of effort will probably allow the clearance of some terri-tory, but it is not evident that sufficient resources or time are available to adequately neutralise Haqqani activity and enclaves before the US drawdown further reduces ISAF’s combat power. Meanwhile, Afghan and NATO offensives in eastern Afghanistan are unlikely to be complemented by Pakistani efforts against Haqqani bases in North Waziristan.

The greatest threat to the transition strategy is continuing poor governance and extensive corrup-tion. According to Mullen: ‘Pervasive corruption, by criminal patronage networks that include govern-ment officials – at both national and local levels – impedes all efforts to consolidate tactical successes ... If we continue to draw down forces apace while such public and systemic corruption is left unchecked, we will risk leaving behind a government in which we cannot reasonably expect Afghans to have faith. At best this would lead to continued localised conflicts as neighbourhood strongmen angle for their cut, and the people for their survival; at worst it could lead to government collapse and civil war.’ He also said that corruption delegitimised the very authori-ties to which the US was to hand over power. This is supported by considerable evidence of insufficient improvement in Afghan governance, or reduction in corruption, to neutralise the root causes of the insur-gency, even in areas that have been ‘cleared and held’. It is not obvious that there will be sufficient progress in this area by 2014 to make progress irre-versible.

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