Just a little over a century ago the dominant theme in American politics was “Manifest Destiny.” In the hundred years of alleged progress since, that somewhat pompous phrase has been thoroughly discredited and relegated to the historical limbo occupied by “The White Man’s Burden” and other outmoded dogma of a more naive age. Irreverent as it may be to rattle the bones of this imperialistic skeleton in the national closet, however, we must confess that Mr. Polk’s phrase has a haunting ring in this post-war world of 1949. For when one surveys the present international scene, it is more than difficult to escape the conclusion that there is indeed a destiny which manifests itself in the affairs of men.
Today the United States stands on the threshold of a new era as the greatest power on the face of the globe. Without either desiring or seeking it, America has suddenly emerged in a role of world leadership. Whether you call it destiny, or fate, or what you will, it remains demonstrably true that the American people have never consciously coveted nor actively solicited this nomination. We have, on the contrary, consistently attempted to ignore our opportunities, avoid our responsibilities, and delegate our powers. But all to no avail. The course of events has moved inexorably along what seems to have been a fore-ordained path.
Through a fog of good intentions and muddled thinking we have gradually groped our way to firmer ground. Slowly, and often painfully, we have learned the sharp lesson that what we do not do is as important and as fraught with concrete significance as what we do. Reluctantly but inevitably we have come to realize that the laws of nature and the opinions of mankind have decreed our fate and fixed our position. And finally we have acknowledged the plain, harsh fact that we cannot retreat from this position, we cannot abdicate our role, without willfully sacrificing man’s last and brightest hope for a livable world.
No nation has ever faced a harder decision or assumed a heavier responsibility. The destiny, if destiny it be, which has propelled us against our wishes to this hazardous eminence is a manifest burden, rather than a blessing—except, perhaps, in the sense that it is more blessed to give than to receive. For we are faced with the prospect of pouring out a great portion of the resources of our country and the fruits of our labors to purchase that which was formerly ours by natural endowment. We are entered upon a gigantic struggle to maintain the simple right of living our own lives in our own land in our own way. In the material sense we have nothing to gain and everything to lose.
As always, however, it is futile to protest the injustices of fate and the inequities of fortune. We have assumed the responsibilities of leadership and it is now our task to execute them successfully, for our own safety and the world’s salvation.
Materially, morally, and spiritually the United States is best fitted for this enormous task. This is a relative, not an absolute, assessment—a statement of fact, not a chauvinistic boast. With all of our many faults and obvious shortcomings we still possess an incomparably effective economic system, a government of law based on acceptable moral concepts, and a way of life which recognizes, if it does not always practice, the spiritual truths which most men have found eternal. Add to these advantages the imponderable potential of atomic energy, and it becomes clear how unique is our position.
With full realization of the immense power at our command, however, we arc all of us here in America poignantly aware that this power has definite and serious limitations. The most effective of these limitations are self-imposed.
Human nature being what it is, we may perhaps be forgiven for considering it as something more than remarkable that there has never been any public consideration in this country of applying the principles of manifest destiny in their original form. With almost limitless possibilities open to us, we have not only refused to contemplate them but have not even found it necessary to say, “Get thee behind me, Satan.” When, we might ask, in the sordid history of man’s individual selfishness and national greed, has temptation been so great and repudiation so complete?
It would go far towards dispelling many of the unfounded fears abroad if the world in general would understand how irrevocably the United States has renounced the traditional ambitions of power politics. The American people have neither taste nor talent for imperialism. They have no desire whatsoever to extend the political boundaries of this country by the acquisition of one square foot of foreign soil. Some of them may feel that destiny has called America to its present role, but none of them feels that destiny demands the establishment of an American empire. And there is no man or party capable of leading Americans down the primrose path of expansionism. It is simply and plainly a political impossibility.
The first and basic limitation imposed on American power is, therefore, this voluntary limitation of the ends towards which that power will be aimed. Automatically this also restricts the means which can be used, and to a large extent sets the course which we must follow. As now agreed upon, that course is directed towards three objectives:
(1) Maintenance of the integrity of the United States in its present form and extent.
(2) Establishment of economic and political stability in the free nations of the world.
(3) Containment of Communism.
Specifically, we are attempting to achieve our objectives by creating an adequate American military establishment, by extending material help to friendly countries, and by waging an ideological struggle for world public opinion. Over the long haul, we hope that our efforts will secure a lasting peace, and by the example of a triumphantly better way of life plant the seeds of self- destruction in the Communist tyranny.
Obviously, a foreign policy predicated on these purposes has inherent and inevitable dangers. First and greatest is the danger that it might lead to war. Any active policy unavoidably provides numerous occasions for a conflict of interests which either party might consider insoluble except by force.- But that is a calculated risk which we have accepted and must continue to accept.
The consensus of opinion now seems to be that open conflict will be successfully avoided, and that we face an indefinite continuation of the present “cold war.” While that prospect is certainly not as grim as the spectre of a third World War, if is by no means a pleasant one. It implies that the crises we have been facing for the past three years have not been temporary, accidental difficulties, but tactical moves in a permanent plan of deliberate dissension. It means that there will continue to be a succession of Berlins, and of Greeces, and of Chinas. And it means that our habit of improvising to meet the needs of each individual situation must give way to a policy designed to cope with the over-all problem; that we must prepare to wage the peace as effectively as we waged the late war. This leads to the conclusion that a vital question of today for the professional naval officer is, “What part will the United States Navy play in the waging of the peace?”
It might be well to begin with the plain assertion that the Navy will have a part to play. Because there are at least two opposing schools of thought on this question, both anxious to deny the Navy its rightful part as an instrument of American foreign policy.
The extreme internationalists hold that U. S. foreign policy should be, and soon will be, exerted exclusively through the agency of the United Nations. Accepting the basic premise, however, that the United States will make a sincere effort to operate through this organization whenever possible, it must also be accepted that there will continue to he, as in the past, numerous occasions when it will not be possible. To name only one of these occasions, the failure of the Security Council to agree on any effective or equitable plan for the control of atomic energy makes it imperative that the United States pursue an independent course in this vital field.
As a forum for presenting both sides of a question before the bar of world opinion, the U.N. has definite value; but as a practicable agency for the establishment and maintenance of a just peace it is, in its present form, largely impotent. So long as the Soviet Union retains its veto power and there is no fundamental agreement on principles between the Eastern and Western blocs, this impotency will probably continue to hamper all progress.
Majority decisions of the United Nations have, of course, had some weight during the recent past. Hut in order to have any material effect, they have had to be implemented in concrete form. That means that they have been and will continue to have to be backed up by some type of effective force and administered by some kind of executive authority. Without either an International Police Force or a World Administrative Agency at its disposal, the United Nations must depend for these services on one of its member nations. To a large extent the United States has been performing this function, using its diplomatic organization to apply, and its military force to back up, majority decisions of the U. N. This process will continue, perhaps on an increasingly larger scale, so long as the basic aims of American foreign policy coincide with the aims of a majority of the member nations. Hut this sort of cooperation means increased, rather than lessened, responsibilities for the traditional instruments of our foreign policy. That policy may be directed toward ends different from any we have known in the past, but it will flow through familiar channels. It will continue to be formulated by Congress, directed by the President, administered by the State Department, and backed up by the services. So instead of U. S. foreign policy acting through the agency of the United Nations, we actually have the converse: the U. N. majority acting through the agency of U. S. foreign policy.
In stating that the services will back up American policy, we are using a commonly accepted phrase but one that may be misleading. Actually, of course, a nation’s foreign policy and its military potential are completely interdependent. Any realistic policy must be solidly based on the country’s ability to carry out the commitments and sustain the political activities of its representatives abroad. Even a policy primarily designed to maintain peace must be predicated on the war-making capacities of the opposing states. At the same time, the size and nature of the military establishment is determined by the size and nature of the responsibilities imposed on the military by the foreign policy adopted. Between military potential and foreign policy it is a case of the chicken and the egg—impossible to determine which comes first.
Speaking plainly, the basic responsibility of the American military establishment is specific and obvious. It is to create an instrument capable of imposing the only restraining force which an opposing ideology will recognize and heed—the cold threat of effective retaliation. Our entire strategy in the waging of the peace is imperatively based on our ability to wage a destructive war on an enemy’s homeland. It is not, and could not be, based on the simple, static capacity of this country to repel an attack on our own homeland, because both the lessons of history and the dictates of common sense make it clear that the type of ambition represented by aggressors cannot be checked with a defensive military potential that the only effective deterrent is a demonstrable offensive ability.
That fact is recognized by most Americans. But, as we all know far too well, this common agreement on the necessity for an effective American war potential does not extend to the nature of that potential. There has been, and is, much argument on the question of how the U. S. military establishment should be constituted.
Without attempting to enter into the endless ramifications of this argument, we would like to point out one simple and sufficient reason why Congress, as the responsible authority, has decided that a strong Navy is necessary. Most of the enthusiasts who have attempted to wreck the naval establishment have based their case on future developments. There has been no attempt by any intelligent or responsible authority to deny the obvious fact that in the present situation sea power is essential. And since we are basing our policy on our ability to effectively retaliate against aggression that might come tomorrow, or next month, rather than twenty years from now, we cannot afford to destroy the balance between the services which alone makes it possible to act now. The strategical role of the Navy in the waging of the peace is, therefore, generally accepted.
Although the major responsibility of the American armed forces is strategical, in creating an effective war potential the services will also have an important tactical function. Potential power is essential, but in the day-to-day realities of international politics more is required. First, the potential must be visible. It must be available for public inspection, as a tangible reminder to enemies and a concrete reassurance to friends. In a cynical world which has learned to believe nothing it hears and only half of what it sees, it is not sufficient to merely tell the facts and figures about American military power. The foreign citizen, friendly or antagonistic, must actually see U. S. ships, planes, guns and men, and see them repeatedly, before he will concede the ability of the United States to either help or hurt him.
Second, power must at times cease to be potential and become actual. In attempting to exercise influence or protect our citizens in every part of the world we will constantly find it necessary to have military force on the spot and ready to act. In most cases direct action, involving shooting, will probably not be required, but again the argument of available, effective force will be the most useful form of persuasion.
It is in this tactical sphere that the Navy will play the most important role. That is undeniable on the basis of the facts, in spite of the attempts of some air power enthusiasts to abrogate this function too.
The Berlin air lift has admittedly been the outstanding example of the importance of the military in foreign policy tactics. The superb performance of the Air Force in executing its difficult assignment has provided a potent reminder of American power and efficiency. It has served even more valuably as eloquent proof to the peoples of Europe that the United States has both the will and the ability to fulfill its commitments. But without any intention of detracting from the credit due the Air Force, we submit that the Berlin operation is a special instance which does not have important bearing on the overall problem of tactical procedure. Here we have been operating in occupied territory, using facilities which are, temporarily at least, as much a part of the American air installation as March Field or National Airport. To draw any inferences from this situation as to the total capacities of the Air Force as an instrument of foreign policy would be a serious error in logic.
As a matter of fact, in the total world picture air power is largely an immobile instrument. To operate efficiently around the globe the Air Force would require two things: first, the privilege of access to neutral territory; and second, the establishment of an extensive system of permanent bases. The first is denied to it by international law and custom, and the second is impracticable.
During its short history, air power has been hampered by the tendency of most nations to extend the right of sovereignty to the air space over their territories. The Air Force is therefore denied even the right of access to a large part of the medium in which it operates, as well as access to the land space required to make sustained operation possible. Although international law has become largely a polite fiction, it still provides a framework within which the United States has voluntarily chosen to work. As such, it acts against our Air Force’s freedom of action as effectively as any of our other self- imposed limitations.
Even if we should assume that the pressures of the precarious international situation might bring about a surrender of sovereignty sufficient to make the use of air power possible, we would still have the problem of providing a system of worldwide bases. This would impose a crushing burden on the American taxpayer which it is extremely doubtful could be borne without placing the country on a war footing. The only alternative to this unpleasant course would be to divert funds from the other services and cripple our war potential for an unpredictable period of time.
In contrast to the Air Force, the Navy constitutes a highly mobile, efficient force which can be used now with far greater flexibility and economy. It needs no expensive system of bases and can sustain itself indefinitely with its own floating sources of supply, as was proved in the Pacific. But there is not even the need for this demonstrably practical effort. Within certain limitations, there are bases available to the Navy in every part of the world outside of the Iron Curtain. Sea power has traditional privileges which are denied to air power. There is a long history of precedent which has produced a sizeable body of agreement on freedom of the seas. There are accepted customs governing naval visits to friendly ports, and such visits have become a commonplace which arouses neither unrest nor apprehension.
To illustrate the importance of this distinction, take the case of Turkey. That crucially important zone is an inaccessible sphere for the Air Force. Yet the Navy has continually visited Istambul, to present to the Turks the only tangible evidence of American strength they have received. And this is only one example of a situation duplicated many limes the world around.
The gist of our argument is that the “wild blue yonder” is not the vacuum of interstellar space. It is an integral part of the mundane scheme of things, with physical, legal, and practical limitations. It is, in peacetime, a rigid medium in which to operate. Comparably, the sea is a much more amenable medium and the use of sea power much more practicable. In addition to the vital advantage of flexibility—which in the practical sense means the ability to “git thar fustest with the mostest”—the Navy provides a more useful working force. The naval task force is a compact, self-contained, efficient unit, with its own artillery, its own air power and, in the Marine Corps, its own infantry. Certainly a balanced military force of this nature offers the best possible means of applying American military power when, where, and how it is needed.
It is, therefore, clear that the Navy will play an indispensable part in both the strategy and tactics of the cold war. And it is equally obvious that the new role of the Navy will be drastically different from any that it has played in the past.
It would be superfluous to attempt to discuss the technical developments which have revolutionized the art of naval warfare during the past three years. We all know the profound effect that this revolution has had in transforming the very nature of military theory, and it may be taken for granted that the professional naval officer is intensely aware of his personal necessity to understand and apply these developments. To anyone who has ever been a part of the U. S. Navy, there can be no question of the Navy’s ability to successfully fulfill its basic responsibility of preparing itself to meet the demands of a new war.
It might be suggested, however, that the average officer may not be as acutely aware of the need to prepare for a new kind of peace. The tremendous things that have been happening in the field of weapons, equipment, and high science have naturally obscured the less dramatic but equally revolutionary changes that have taken place in the routine sphere of peacetime operations. These changes are profoundly affecting administration, training, logistics, morale, and every other phase of naval activity. Their cumulative effect has been to sharply increase the responsibilities of the individual officer and to appreciably alter the character of the naval profession.
Obviously it would be beyond the scope of an essay of this nature to even outline the operational differences between the pre-war and post-war navies. The basic distinction, of course, is between a one-ocean fleet and a collection of global task forces; between a leisurely life of frequent liberty and infrequent training cruises, and a tense, active life of continual operation in distant seas. Administration no longer operates through a simple, fixed pattern of battle force, squadron, etc., but through a complex, constantly changing chain of command. Training, which was formerly the primary activity, has become a corollary activity to be conducted under serious difficulties. Logistics, of course, presents the clearest example of a tremendous multiplication of facilities required and problems to be solved. And morale, now that a normal home life has become even more difficult to achieve than it ever was, is all too familiar a problem personal as well as professional.
These are only a few examples of the practical difficulties which must be solved by the new peacetime Navy. Endless ramifications on the same theme will occur to anyone who gives the matter a little serious thought. The central point is that this myriad of routine requirements necessitates the development of a completely new working technique, beginning at the lowest operating level and carrying through to top echelons of command. The creation and application of such a technique is a pressing and immediate responsibility of each individual officer.
Although the U. S. Navy has long been a traditional instrument of American foreign policy, the new scope and nature of that policy, and the increased importance of the Navy as an instrument, both act to vastly increase the significance of this role to the professional officer. For it is obvious that” upon his intelligence, discretion, and diplomatic ability much of the success or failure of our waging of the peace will depend. This drastic change in the nature of a naval officer’s duties will naturally have an important effect on the character of the profession, the requirements to be met, and the type of officer to be desired. In the educational phase and in the selective process more emphasis will have to be placed on the officer’s ability to comprehend the human, as well as the technical, facts of life. lie will have to have the ability to understand and deal with all kinds of people in all parts of the world. He will have to acquire a sound knowledge of the history, customs and, most important, current political conditions affecting these peoples. And for a service which has always devoutly eschewed anything and everything remotely connected with politics, this development of a new political awareness is perhaps going to be the most difficult task of all.
No one is going to expect the naval officer to be a propagandist for democracy or a missionary for the free enterprise system. Hut in his capacity as an executive cog in the functioning of our foreign policy he will be serving in an ideological war in which it will be no small task to distinguish between friend and foe. A certain amount of political knowledge is necessary in order to make even this primary distinction, and a great deal more is needed in order to steer a straight course through the complex shoals surrounding every one of the international incidents of this confusing era.
In discussing the new global role of the U. S. Navy one is naturally inclined to compare it with the role of the Royal Navy during the age of the Pax Britannica. Hut although the situation is comparable, it is by no means similar. And the points of difference are significant enough to warrant some examination.
The British Navy operated as the instrument of a foreign policy which was, in contrast to our present policy, more flexible and yet simpler. Simpler in that it was founded on the solid basis of a coldly selfish devotion to the best interests of the British Empire. More flexible in that the conception of how these interests could best be served varied to meet the needs of each individual situation. American policy, on the other hand, is more rigid in conception, more complex in execution. Our tendency has always been to establish fixed sets of defined principles, such as the Monroe Doctrine, the Fourteen Points and the Atlantic Charter. Some of these principles conflict with each other and most of them conflict with our own self-interest, which makes the conduct of our foreign policy an extremely complicated process. Leaving aside the moot question of moral right and wrong, it is clear that the Royal Navy had a much simpler task, and one which bears little resemblance to the problem facing the U. S. Navy.
If this analysis seems somewhat pessimistic, consider for a moment our situation in the matter of Palestine. Here we are endeavouring to render equal justice to two bitter antagonists, each of whom can quote precedents and principles which prove irrefutably that right is on his side. The question is further confused by a sharp difference of public opinion at home and by the fact that every material and military consideration makes it imperative that we compose the quarrel without offending one of the parties in the dispute. In regard to the latter point, Palestine provides a perfect test case between moral right and self-interest.
In addition to realizing that we cannot pattern our conduct after the familiar example of the Pax Britannica, we must also recognize two other important facts. The first is that we can expect no gratitude for our efforts in the world, and the second is that our task will grow even more difficult than it now is.
Paradoxically, America is entering upon a more active international role at a time when she is more effectively isolated by her political and economic system than she ever was by geography. There is, in all the world, only one other country which today speaks the same language. Only in the Dominion of Canada do the words which men use to-define their activities and their institutions have the same meaning as they have for us. Everywhere else, in varying degrees, the doctrine of state supremacy, of collectivism, of government control, is established. Mr. Vishinsky’s definition of democracy is only the most extreme example of the infinite •variations to which the word is now subject, and the Soviet Union represents only the ultimate in the statist tendency which is evident everywhere from Paris to Pakistan.
Although we have not acquired any permanent lease on the affections of the world, we have at least been able to purchase advantage with the lavish stream of wealth we have been pouring out. The recipients of our aid have studiously avoided looking any gift horse in the teeth or offending the goose that lays the golden eggs. Now, however, Uncle is beginning to tighten his purse strings, and to the bitterness of being poor relations will soon be added the greater bitterness of being disinherited. For we are beginning to find that there are limits to the resources and capacities of the United Slates, and to the burdens which the American people can or should be asked to assume. Already we are closely examining the new demands Which are constantly being presented to us and, as in certain countries, reluctantly refusing. That weeding out process will continue with sharply increased momentum during the very near future and our policies will have to be furthered with less and less material support. 'Phis will be a major difficulty which can only be overcome by making the best possible use of that with which we have to work.
In any essay devoted to one particular subject there is always the danger of overemphasizing that subject. But nothing in this discussion is intended to obscure the obvious fact that the primary task of the U. S. Navy, and the principal responsibility of the individual officer, is to prepare for war. We do submit very sincerely, however, that there is an almost equally compelling necessity to prepare for the kind of peace we must expect during the troubled years ahead.
The Navy’s role in the waging of the peace will be important and difficult. The Service as a whole and each individual will be called upon for exertions fully as great as any experienced during the late war. But with heavier responsibilities will come larger opportunities, with graver problems will come greater interests, and with wider horizons will come richer experiences. The Navy has never offered a more engrossing, satisfying, and useful career.
What holds true for the Navy holds true, in lesser degree, for all of us here in this great country. We have created here what we call, for lack of a better name, the “American Way of Life.” That way has its faults. But it has given to those fortunate enough to be a part of it more in material well being, in freedom, and in happiness than mankind has ever known. Only four short years ago we successfully defended these ideals and ideas of ours and returned to enjoy the peace we had won. Now we find that fate has presented us with a new challenge and a new responsibility.
We have accepted that challenge and shouldered that responsibility. The United States has staked its wealth, its freedom, and its future on our ability to wage and win another and more lasting peace. To do that we need the courage and the stamina, the ingenuity and the energy, the patience and the foresight that we used in planning and executing the toughest operations of the war. For this is the only operation that counts now. This is Operation Destiny!