In February 1998, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs testified that the services were ready and able—and Navy leaders didn't disagree. Seven months later, they reversed course, sketching a force in decline. Had they not seen, or were they just not telling?
Two years ago, the leaders of the U.S. armed forces found themselves engaged in a protracted debate on military readiness. After years of high-tempo operations, declining budgets, and diminishing force structure, the U.S. public and the media seemed inured to reports of military equipment shortages and deployment-- weary personnel. As the months passed, senior Navy leaders continued to echo in the halls of Congress the optimistic assessment made by the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs in February 1998, namely, that despite some minor inconveniences, the Navy still could meet its operational commitments.
The Navy's signals may have been scrambled, but its official position was not: the service stood ready and able to execute its taskings. But as the fog lifted that autumn, Congress was nonplussed, Navy leadership was discredited, and the operational forces were convinced their pleas had been falling on deaf ears. The convoluted nature of U.S. civil-military relationships was just one element that might have contributed to the confusion over the state of the Navy's readiness in 1998.
Checks, Balances, and Pitfalls
Many Americans seem oblivious to the tension that the Constitution creates between civilian leaders who have been assigned statutory military responsibilities and military leaders, who often find themselves thrust into the political arena. They may assume that the U.S. Constitution codifies absolute civilian control and, unaware of the scope of a military officer's responsibilities, criticize officers who do not wholeheartedly endorse every decision made by their commander-in-chief. These critics miss two fundamental points. First, the Constitution ascribes military oversight to both the executive and legislative branches. The president serves as commander-in-chief, but Congress is given the responsibility to raise, support, provide, maintain, regulate, equip, organize, arm, and discipline. Second, unwavering allegiance to one's superiors can be the antithesis of professionalism and a threat to the republic.
The Oath of Office taken by every commissioned officer in the armed forces is a sound point of departure for an inquiry into an officer's duties and responsibilities.
I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter, so help me God.
The oath makes clear that the officer's mission is to defend the foundations of our way of life. Absent are oaths of personal loyalty to the president, who appoints our senior military leaders and authorizes military operations; to political appointees, who direct and oversee the armed forces; and to Congress, which funds military programs and regulates the activities of the Defense Department.
Nevertheless, the president, as commander-in-chief, expects senior military leaders to support his programs and policies before Congress and the public, and Congress expects military leaders to provide unvarnished inputs and candid assessments. To the senior members of the armed forces caught squarely in the middle, these competing expectations are the stuff of nightmares. What if the uniformed leadership believes a commander-in-chief's program, though legal, will detract from the services' ability to do their jobs? Should a service chief endorse a political decision that he believes is not in the best interests of the United States? Should an officer incur the wrath of Congress by siding with a commander-in-chief whose views are at odds with the legislature?
The military professional concentrates on those aspects of his calling that bear on his ability to recruit, train, equip, and engage his forces in support of national security objectives. As the ultimate guarantor of the United States' fundamental freedoms, he has a solemn responsibility to place these commitments above the political concerns of his civilian superiors. But by offering candid opinions and assessments, whether to the president or to Congress, the military professional risks alienating those superiors.
In addition, by making public a difference of opinion, the military officer risks his reputation and his job. Nevertheless, it is inappropriate for that officer to cast aside his own assessments and concerns so as to make his advice palatable to his superiors.
Military forays into the political arena are not uncommon, but as Samuel Huntington pointed out, the framers "were more afraid of military power in the hands of political officials than of political power in the hands of military officers." As envisioned by the framers, a difference of opinion between the president and Congress, tolerated or even spurred by the leadership of the armed forces, is a win—not an abject loss of civilian control.
Negative Sync, Say Again All After
In January 1998; with rumors of incipient military "hollowness" circulating, the mainstream media smelled a good story. U.S. News and World Report reported on 19 January that there was "mounting evidence that conventional combat skills—and the warrior ethic that goes with them" were victims of "downsizing, budget cuts, and widespread commitments to noncombat operations." But in testimony before the Senate Armed Services Committee on 3 February, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff denied that readiness was a pressing concern. "The U.S. military has an acceptable level of readiness and is ready to execute U.S. national security strategy," he told the committee. The military, he added, was "fully capable of conducting operations across the spectrum of conflict. We are fundamentally healthy and will continue to report our readiness status to the Congress and the American people with candor and accuracy."
On 4 March, Navy Admiral Joseph W. Prueher, Commander-in-Chief, U.S. Pacific Command, one of the military's most senior operational commanders, testified before the House National Security Committee. Waving a red flag—albeit a small one—he took issue with the Chairman's rosy assessment:
U.S. Pacific Command's forward-deployed forces are ready to execute assigned missions, but significant deficiencies exist under a "two major theater wars" scenario. In 1997, U.S. Pacific Command Navy, Air Force, Army; and Marine Corps components all reported shortages of personnel in some units. Although components have overcome these problems in the short term, readiness for deployed forces is increasingly achieved at the expense of non-deployed forces.
The 1998 Department of the Navy Posture Statement did not exactly raise the ante. In the chapter on readiness, the Chief of Naval Operations (CNO) and Commandant of the Marine Corps asserted: "Naval forces are operating at a satisfactory, but lower, level of readiness. Today, deployed and non-deployed readiness continues to remain sufficient to meet all National Military Strategy commitments." On 18 March, testifying before the National Security Subcommittee of the House Appropriations Committee, Vice Chief of Naval Operations Admiral Donald L. Pilling echoed the now-familiar refrains of the Chairman and the CNO:
We use a variety of metrics to determine unit level readiness such as the availability of people, training proficiency, material condition and operational availability of our ships and aircraft. Each of these reports and systems indicate current readiness of our forward deployed forces is satisfactory. However, the fragile nature of readiness requires that we remain attentive for signs of readiness degradation.
The Navy now had established the ambivalent manner in which it would describe its readiness over the next six months. Navy leaders would allude to the challenges facing non-deployed forces but would reaffirm that the Navy was able to execute all of its assigned missions. If readiness was lower-a matter of debate at this point-it still was acceptable.
Deciphering the Delphic Oracle
On 25 September, Vice Admiral Herbert A. Browne, Commander, U.S. Third Fleet, testified before the House National Security Committee's Subcommittee on Readiness, Personnel, and Military Construction. He described in detail the many frustrations that his unit and group commanders were experiencing. Third Fleet battle groups and amphibious ready groups suffered critical shortages of personnel, aircraft, and spare parts. Overall readiness, degraded throughout the interdeployment training cycle, reached a satisfactory level only just prior to their deployments. Costs associated with meeting increasingly stiff environmental statutes were draining the Navy of funds needed to buy new systems and equipment upgrades. Operational restrictions driven by concerns over the endangered Loggerhead Shrike were taking a toll on air wine proficiency.
After repeated testimony that so-called military hardships were little more than inconveniences that bore close scrutiny, the Navy now had a spokesman poised to make a bold statement. The Navy would abandon the joint "more with less" bandwagon. Or would it?
"Deployed readiness is satisfactory," the admiral concluded, adding the now-standard caveat that it was "being maintained at the expense of nondeployed readiness." But if deploying forces still could carry out the assigned mission, why should Congress care about the gyrations or the fragility of the Navy's training regimen? The admiral's own appraisal made all of the unfunded requirements and lost training opportunities he had just enumerated sound like expensive luxuries. By his own admission, we were getting the job done without them.
Historians may wish to identify and examine the events that shook the military from 26 September through 28 September, because on 29 September, the Joint Chiefs radically revised their assessments of military readiness. Over a 72-hour period, the sky apparently had fallen.
The nation's top generals on Tuesday sketched a stark portrait of the armed forces in decline, increasingly undermanned, ill-equipped, facing greater risks in future wars and needing another $16 billion. . . . the Joint Chiefs dropped years of insistence that they could do more with less . . . and openly pleaded for help in preserving the power of the U.S. military. . . . And though the chiefs assured the panel they could still fight and win two major wars nearly simultaneously, they said the risks involved in fighting a second conflict have risen because of a lack of combat-ready forces and long-range transports.
Ironically, even after reaching the point where they felt compelled to express a sense of urgency, the Joint Chiefs hedged their bets. Measuring readiness is tough, but how could so many senior military leaders, confronted with identical indications, reach such different conclusions in a matter of months, if not days? How could the armed forces in barely six months go from "fundamentally healthy" to being on the verge of a "nosedive"-while still retaining the capability to fight two major conflicts? Were previous budget agreements at the root of our dissembling? Did statements by the president and members of Congress constitute prior restraint on the military's leaders? Did the Secretary of Defense, as one U.S. representative claimed, "limit the Pentagon to $250 billion annual budgets, based on his personal sense of what the American people [would] support"? Was the alarmist call just a means of staking a claim on predicted budget surpluses?
By the end of 1998, the readiness delta was old news. Few seemed to note or care, however, that military professionalism and credibility had suffered a major blow.
Vieques as Denouement
Barely one year later another readiness issue would give the Navy's leaders a chance to set the record straight-to make a clear and compelling case for the needs of the service, irrespective of the political consequences. When the Vieques controversy shifted into high gear in the fall of 1999, senior Navy and Marine Corps commanders were united in their belief that this facility was "an irreplaceable national asset." They made a convincing argument that our continued access was a matter of national security. But with swelling media interest and a string of prominent figures attacking U.S. "imperialism," Vieques quickly became a "Navy" problem.
Today, the Navy finds itself committed to leaving the island, although it has identified no suitable replacement. In a matter of weeks, political dialogue transformed Vieques from a vital and unique training facility whose loss would place U.S. forces at risk to a redundant asset that the military could afford to abandon. The silence that met this about-face was deafening.
Do the structure of the Constitution and the competing loyalties that it encourages necessarily drag the uniformed leaders of the armed forces into political contests that have little to do with supporting and defending our fundamental freedoms and way of life? Is Vieques the template for future military involvement in civil and political matters? The answer is not necessarily. There is nothing to stop the military's many civilian bosses from managing every facet of defense affairs, but military leaders are not required to reciprocate. Such recalcitrance, of course, may carry a high price tag. Playing one government entity against another may yield the desired result over the short term, but over the long term it sacrifices credibility and erodes goodwill—precious commodities for an outfit that cherishes honor, courage, and commitment. Those who hope to stem the bleeding of the 1990s by working both sides of the fence may have forgotten that we still are paying the bills for our political successes of the 1980s.
Commander Harris is assigned to the Naval Personnel Command in Millington, Tennessee.