The Military in the United States has experienced a remarkable change in its peacetime role. The new role is one of increased power and influence, and understanding the change begins with an understanding of the shift in American foreign relations since World War II.
In their broadest context, foreign relations are the operations of diplomacy conducted by governments for the purpose of achieving their national interests. A principal interest of the United States is the security of its people under the existing institutions of government. Before World War II, this end was sought by avoiding involvement in the frustrations of world politics. Isolation required little in the way of a peacetime military establishment. Since World War II, the size of the Soviet Union’s war machine and suspicions of its ambitions have been seen as a threat to the security of other nations, including the United States. American security has seemed to require a large peacetime military establishment.
The basic assumption of American foreign policy is that a balance of power in favor of the United States will deter any large-scale military action of the Communist bloc threatening American security. The size of the potential military threat has required a comparable deterrent force.
A second assumption of American foreign policy is that the United States cannot maintain unilaterally a balance of power in its favor. A concert of nations has been sought, therefore, to assure a balance of power in its favor and to deny additional gains to the Soviet Union. Isolationism has become a dead issue. As the most powerful member of the new alliances, the United States is cast in the role of leader and must make the largest military contributions.
These developments have effected considerable change on American society. One of the principal results has been the growth in power of the military profession. Although related directly to the requirements of the new character of American foreign policy, increasing military power also has strong domestic implications. The growing role of the military is causing considerable apprehension that it poses a latent threat to civilian supremacy. If there was fear of too little military power a short time ago, there is now a fear of too much.
(The popularity of the novel Seven Days in May and the movie which was made from the book are cases in point. It is significant that the novel’s plot was considered realistic by millions of Americans.)
Agrowing technology in warfare and the rise of the national state led to the formation of professional military organizations in Western societies. The militia was incapable of the professionalism required to wage modern war. By the end of the 18th century, even General George Washington was of the opinion that a civilian militia was useless in war. The standing army became a regular fixture of the state.
Gaetano Mosca, in his treatment of the military profession, considered as a “great modern fact” the obedience to civil authority of the standing army and its little direct political influence. This achievement had been possible he argued,
. . . only through an intense and widespread development of the sentiments on which juridical defense is based, and especially through an exceptionally favorable sequence of historical circumstances.
Warnings were sounded by the eminent Italian, however. He thought that the “principle of division of labor” must not be too rigorously followed in dealing with military professionalism because isolation of the military function would endanger the social order.
. . . The whole of a society would become subject to the group that exercises not the highest function from the intellectual or moral standpoint but the most indispensable function . . . the military function, in other words.
By 1937, Harold Lasswell had advanced the concept of the garrison state, which he continued to develop in a series of essays extending into the postwar era. Lasswell saw that the fear of imminent conflict could place a democratic state in a permanent condition of readiness for war and could create the garrison state. In such a state, the total resources of the nation are geared to the demands of standing on the brink. Normal democratic processes are subordinated to the military necessities of total war. Such large numbers of citizens are required to undergo military training and indoctrination that military frames of reference overtake the functions of citizenship. The social structure soon reflects the full development of the garrison state, as all elitist and status groups are subordinated to the military professionals. Fear of war causes the exchange of civil liberty for security.
After World War II, Karl Mannheim reviewed the wreckage that was Germany and optimistically sought answers to the dilemmas of freedom, power, and democratic planning. He issued an appeal for renewed thought on the role of the military. In his opinion, the increasing influence of the armed forces, in view of new weapons, demanded increased development of democratic theory relative to the place of the armed forces in democratic society. In the first few years after World War II, he could see little evidence of any such development.
As the United States moved into the arena of limited war in Korea in 1950, the disagreement between General Douglas MacArthur and President Harry S. Truman focused attention on the implications of policy differences between an elected civilian leader and a popular military hero. By 1961, the Major General Edwin Walker case revealed the involvement of a military leader in political- ideological activity. Bracketed by the MacArthur hearings in 1951 and the “muzzling- the-military” hearings of 1961, the polemics of military power had completed a full cycle.
The recurrent concern over the possibility of the military elite undermining, by virtue of growth in power, the control by civilian authorities is a “straw man” issue to most contemporary civil servants. However, it is this very consensus which disturbs many Americans. They see current conduct as no guarantee to the continued health of civilian supremacy. The view that civilian control is assured clearly and permanently by constitutional provisions is criticized for being naive. Still more naive, hold such thinkers, is that “the only requirement is to put a civilian at the top.” The feeling is that continuance of civil power simply cannot be left to the conscience of individual military leaders. It is argued that perhaps the United States has been too free of “military consciousness” during peacetime. Our present national posture, startling in terms of our history, may contain influences which are subtle, too subtle for an unsuspecting American populace.
Close scrutiny of expressions of concern among sincere men reveals the basically ambiguous nature of the military profession in a liberal society. The military is seen as an appendage of such society, not as a part of it. The liberal ethos calls for the settlement of international disputes by negotiation, not arms. It emphasizes the identity of the individual, while the military ethic minimizes the role of the individual. The military has no place for the inexpendable man. Thus, the military principle and the democratic principle seem to be in direct conflict.
The liberal social dream cannot, however, escape a dilemma forced upon it by the disparity between norm and fact. One major lesson was learned from World War II—“fearlessness for the right is a better thing than fearfulness for peace.” This lesson requires the ability to resort to force, or, depending on the nature of the challenge to “right,” to garrison the state. This lesson is the very bedrock of policy which rearmed the United States in 1948. It is the very logic which, in 1962, prompted the Cuban crisis as a turn away from Munich. Before Cuba, there had been the Berlin airlift and the Korean War.
On its side of the ledger, the military style of life has done much to isolate the military community from society. But what of the other side of the ledger? Why is it so easy for the civilian community to view the military as an appendage possibly threatening to the society from which it emerged?
The first and most obvious answer is found in modern history. Military tyranny has been all too common. In societies of weak political structure suffering from severe economic depression and political frustration, the established order has been overthrown for reversion to military dictatorship.
A second answer is the strength of appeals such as that of the late C. Wright Mills. In his writing, the course of current American policy is reversed. It is presented as the inevitable road to annihilation rather than security. He sees the growth in U. S. military power no longer subordinated to a political goal. Our military power, he says, is not the means to peace but an end in itself—an ever- spiraling end. In his argument, the cause of World War III lies in the progressive preparation for it, not in an impasse in United States-Soviet Union maneuvers on the international scene.
Professor Mills asserted that the shift by the military from means to end has resulted from its success in convincing American political and industrial elites that the realities of international relations are basically military in nature. The military profession presses this argument, because it is in pursuit of status. Power or the image of power is necessary to achieve status. The military is achieving status, because the political and industrial leaders have accepted them into their ranks. The trio forms the “military clique” which is really the power elite in American society.
For some, Mills may have succeeded in obfuscating the recent history which led to the American decision to rearm after the nearly complete demobilization following World War II. His argument cannot but lead to closer scrutiny of military professionals within the frames of reference which he has popularized. The reason that the military are not more alienated from organic society by such frames of reference is because of the growing community contacts of most Americans with the military. This contact tends to negate his argument.
A third reason which tends to create the perception of the military community as external to American society is the widely held concept of the military mind. Many civilians who accept the need for military participation in policy-making nevertheless warn of the limitations of the military mind. Their concern reflects a dilemma faced by the military.
The fundamental achievement essential to the military officer is professional competence. No officer can achieve responsible command without such competence; the consequences of incompetence are too drastic. The result has been to make the professional soldier a man of action more than a man of thought. Intellectual superiority has not been related directly to successful performance in a military career.
Criticism of the military mind, however, must be the source of introspection for the military. Arthur Schlesinger, Jr., has characterized the military mind as being innocent in that it attempts to subdue every problem with military logic; conservative, in that it sees everything too clearly; and perhaps narrow, in that it is prone to having difficulty in seeing ultimate goals and in making value judgments on questions of economics, policy, and morality. While the problem of intellectual development is considered below, at this point let it be admitted that there is obvious evidence based on the recent conduct of senior officers to support a conclusion that some military men have been clumsy in judging the political consequences of their conduct. Such cases generally have been a result of the eagerness of the military to relax in a monastic niche, in intellectual as well as social isolation.
Thus, there are indirect forces which tend to create the image of the military as an appendage rather than a part of American society. If the social order should seem frustrated, could an externalized military, with its concentration of armed power, resist an invitation to seize political power? The answer is not easily arrived at. Nevertheless, it is currently in the negative, and this can be shown by examining the problem from three angles.
The first involves the assumption that the military profession is a monolithic order which responds automatically to the top on all issues. This assumption is false. There is no identifiable political consensus at present in the military. The instrumental role of the Joint Chiefs of Staff in rejecting General Mac- Arthur’s conduct in 1950 provides an example of supporting evidence. At present, it would be impossible for any ambitious member of the military elite to obtain military action in support of a political decision which he might make. The authors of the Seven Days in May seemed to recognize this fact. The proof seems obvious in the nature of our military organization and recruitment, and this characteristic of the military must be preserved.
The second consideration involves the values and attitudes of contemporary military leaders. The 1961 Stennis Subcommittee hearings (“Muzzling the Military”) provide ample evidence. Repeatedly, military leaders voiced determined support for civilian control and for the exclusion of the military from partisan politics.
President Dwight D. Eisenhower delivered a memorandum to the Subcommittee in which he endorsed “without qualification . . . the doctrine of military subordination to civil authority.” The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff at that time, General Lyman Lemnitzer, U. S. Army, stated emphatically that he had never heard of any threat to civilian control by the military.
General Lemnitzer added, however, that there “are pressures to be resisted” and that “executive and legislative leadership must continue to provide protection.” He called for continued vigilance by his civilian superiors. The new role of the military requires that it be geared continually to the broadest American goals, i.e., to societal goals. Under such conditions, a dynamic society implies the need for a flexible military. Are the military capable of adjusting to the pressures of change in American society without developing frustrations or attempting to advance their power?
Military problems have been woven intimately into the fabric of national decision-making, and they promise to remain there in the indefinite future. In his memorandum to the Stennis Subcommittee, President Eisenhower wrote:
... In this modern day, the need of civil government for the counsel and advice of military personnel in devising of policies grows more acute. . ..
I need not remind your committee, especially, that in these times military considerations and economic, political, and ideological considerations are interrelated to such a degree as to make an arbitrary dividing line between the military and the nonmilitary increasingly unrealistic. . . .
Speaking at the graduation ceremonies at the U. S. Naval Academy in 1961, President John F. Kennedy indicated that the midshipmen must expect and prepare for a broad role in their future careers.
. . . Fifty years ago the graduates of the Naval Academy were expected to be seamen and leaders of men. . . . Today, we expect all of you—in fact, you must, of necessity—be prepared not only to handle a ship in a storm or a landing party on a beach, but to make great determinations which affect the survival of this country.
. . . You must understand not only this country but other countries. You must know something about strategy and tactics and logistics, but also economics and politics and diplomacy and history. You must know everything you can know about military power, and you must also understand the limits of military power. You must understand that few of the important problems of our time have, in the final analysis, been finally solved by military power alone. When I say that officers today must go far beyond the official curriculum, I say it not because I do not believe in the traditional relationship between the civilian and military, but you must be more than the servants of national policy. You must be prepared to play a constructive role in the development of national policy, a policy which protects our interest and our security and the peace of the world.
If it is logical to conclude that the continued health of our society depends on its response to the challenges of the future, is it not logical to seek assurance that the military’s part in that response will be a first-rate performance? Almost intuitively, having experienced life in the last 20 years, it is possible to perceive the central strand through the future: change. This perception leads to the key for response almost automatically: adaptibility. It is good insurance, however, to attempt a search of the future in more detail. Where do areas of change lie, change which may affect the role of the military and place danger in its path? What pressures for compromise to democratic principles exist?
The military profession must be aware of pressures which may arise out of insecurity and oversecurity. Our experience with the Communist bloc has shown that only a stiff military posture, exhibiting the U. S. will to fight, has formed a successful background for negotiations. The anxieties of the Cold War promise indefinite continuance. Coupling these anxieties with the political apathy of a large section of the electorate, it is possible that there may be a growing tendency for citizens to welcome authority as an escape from individual responsibility. Erich Fromm developed this point in Escape from Freedom. Any tendency for the confidence in military leadership to eclipse the less dramatic leadership of civilians might enhance a tendency toward authoritarianism. Regardless of a reluctance for power, the military could be pushed, however gradually, however subtly, to greater power by forces of popular hysteria in the Cold War and by political apathy to democratic processes.
The military must also be conscious of forceful frustration which may accompany their role within the executive organs of government. Interservice rivalry has been a familiar source of conflict. The results of this difficulty have been minimized, however, by the building of structural balance between the military departments or agencies. But there may be a greater source of conflict. President Eisenhower wrote of the close interaction of the civilian and military in policy-making. President Kennedy spoke of the need for broader knowledge among the military. Their words serve to accent the conflict latent in growing military sophistications.
Not so long ago, the single criterion for selecting our military leaders was professional competence. Now, senior officers are required to be intellectually capable of relating their missions to government, industry, and science. In its issue of 5 February 1965, Time magazine devoted its cover to the U. S. Joint Chiefs of Staff and labeled it “Thinkers and Managers Replace the Heroes.” Many military officers feel, however, that growing intel- lectualism may undermine professionalism and, resultingly, undermine the military’s ability to fulfill its primary role.
Civilian administrators have observed that the Cold War did not create comparative authority among the military in Great Britain. Could not increasing the education and sophistication of the military undermine civilian leadership? The danger is that military subordinates may be more capable than civilian superiors, with consequent tensions. Or, in more explicit terms, it is possible that a rather heavy-handed civilian superior exercising authority summarily over capable military leaders may create a feeling of rebellion. The military could strive to extend their power and influence as insurance against such happenings.
At first glance, these arguments seem logical, and one is apt to give them credence— except for the fact that they represent the ensconcement of mediocrity in terms of arguments against change. Backing off a bit for better perspective, the argument against the development of knowledge and the ability to think among the military reflects a medieval attitude.
Whether intellectual development is meant for the senior officer in Washington, D. G. or the young officer in the field, the fact is that such development is no longer a pleasant trapping to professional competence. It is a part of it. Furthermore, only development among the younger officers guarantees the high quality of the reservoir from which senior officers are drawn.
It is in the intellectual needs of its new role that the military faces a crisis, if any at all. The military society is not monolithic, and its present leaders are men remarkable for their loyalty and remarkable for their ability to accept new responsibilities in government. But the future is not guaranteed by facts in the present, and the future promises change. This change will have to be met by a redefinition of education and career development in the military. It will not be met by intellectual abdication and a return to professional isolation and monasticism. Preliminary steps have been taken in this direction, but a much greater effort is needed.
The responsibilities given the military require that it not be the victim of immutable professionalism in a mutable society and world. The cocoon which is opened only in wartime no longer exists. The military have been drawn by civilian superiors into the spheres of counsel and the process of administration. To the military has been left the job of making their new role compatible with professionalism.
The military are directed only to be loyal to the policies and decisions of the Commander-in-Chief and to keep hands off the driving mechanism of the republic: politics.
The military professional ethic has a proud tradition. The military self-image has been high, indeed. The military traditionally have seen themselves “above politics.” But they learned rapidly after World War II that they cannot articulate in a vacuum the complexities of foreign aid, defense planning, mutual security, and scientific research.
That part of military responsibility which requires obedience to orders from the Commander-in-Chief is met easily. It is the other aspect of their new role—that of participating in the creative organs of government with civilian superiors—which is difficult.
The desire to preserve the professional military ethic free of tarnish from politics, while recognizing the need to fulfill a creative role, produces strain. Deciding what is political is not easy. It has already required of the military profession a careful sensitivity to the political consequences of all its words and actions. Development of this sensitivity must continue, but it must not become inhibiting or the creative role will not be fulfilled.
First of all, the military must maintain an active dedication to the democratic processes of government. Such dedication requires that educational institutions, training programs, and the examples set at the top must explicitly teach the supremacy of civil authority and the exclusion of the military man from political activity beyond his right to participate as a voting citizen.
The second suggestion is allied closely to the first. The military profession must continue the basic requisite of professional competence. But of the officers who are to become its leaders, the profession must demand broad intellectual achievement. In this context, officers must develop a sense of history. If it is not blasphemous to express it so, the individual professional officer must be “born again” to the political values which are our heritage. Officers must be encouraged toward the type of intellectual achievement which prevents them from denying alternatives to their own formulations. If a military officer should ever feel that civilian leadership is not guaranteeing the most prudent national security policy, open criticism of that leadership while in uniform must be seen in strict personal conscience as a disloyal act. This problem is not a simple one. It is obvious that an honest professional man is often required to give unwelcome advice. For the military advisor, the problem turns on whether or not he joins or aids political factionalism. Under no circumstances must the man in uniform ever allow himself these choices.
Finally, the military must give up forever their long isolation from the dynamic social scene. The military must become accustomed, for example, to the irreligious treatment of the press. No matter how dedicated their officers are or how sincerely they do their job, honest accomplishment will always be sacrificed for the notoriety of mistakes. There will always be suggestions for reform. These are the ways of a dynamic society. They must not create frustrations. The surest way not to commit the mortal error of trying to control the social order is to stay in step with it. As society reshapes itself, here a little, there a little, it must carry its military along with it.