The primacy that the U. S. Navy once enjoyed no longer exists. The Soviet Union does not yet have America’s capability to deploy task forces for extended periods in far distant seas—e.g., the USS Hancock (CVA-19) and the USS Robison (DDG-12) were refueled by the USS Sacramento (AOE-1) in the South China Sea in 1965. But, closer to home, and in locations of its own choosing, the Soviet Navy can match or out-match the forces arrayed against it.
The tragic denouement still unfolding in Southeast Asia has generated major Congressional and public debate on future U. S. military posture. Although symbolized by Vietnam, the impetus to examine and question springs from currents deep within the social consciousness. Power balances have shifted and the rules of the game seem to have changed. Old enemies inexplicably become new friends. Group confrontations and a crisis of confidence in the authority of institutions—political, economic, and religious—symptomize the quest for a new definition of purposes. In this context, few foreign policy goals appear to be worth the risk of life and limb. The moral fervor of the post-war containment policy has given way to recognition that America cannot fill the role of international policeman. But mostly people and political parties have concluded that drastic cutbacks in military spending are prerequisite to the amelioration of internal divisions; that the purchase price of domestic tranquillity [sic] is the coin of common defense.
Myth and Reality. “New Left” popularists look to the ending of the Vietnam War and the dismantling of the “military-industrial complex” as the panacea for all domestic ills. But retrenchment also appeals to conservative, business circles. Cuts in military program are heralded as the cure for inflation, the medicine for depressed stock prices, and the threshold of a new era of prosperity. Louis B. Lundborg, Chairman of the Board, Bank of America, so testified before the Senate Foreign Relations Committee. Mr. Lundborg stated:
“If you want to profit, if you want to own the world, don’t dissipate your energies in wasteful warfare. Follow the example of Japan and Germany since World War II and be economically aggressive . . . The essence of our mistake in Vietnam is that we have somehow lost the vision to see that economics—not ideologies and not military operations—is the key to favorable world development in the latter third of the 20th Century. There is only one way out of our current dilemma and that is the elimination of the war in Vietnam.”
On the same line, Eliot Janeway’s The Economics of Crisis holds that while, in the past, the pace of economic growth could be attributed to the stimulus of war spending, all has now changed. No longer the wellspring of full employment, arms expenditures actually depress the economy by diverting resources from the private sector.
Do Lundborg and Janeway offer new insights into the workings of international politics? Are there unexplored assumptions to their argument? Statesmen will immediately look askance at the belief in the potency of economics to deter aggression. If Gross National Product alone governed the behavior of national states, Japan could not rationally contemplate Pearl Harbor and England should have succumbed in 1940. Better still, North Vietnam would have capitulated long ago. However, stripped of line charts and financial jargon, do not Lundborg and Janeway simply reiterate the ancient riddle of “guns or butter”? Attributed to Hermann Goering, the phrase remains one of those clichés parroted with little thought to content.
In reality, domestic reform and national security are not opposing social goals. They are inextricably interwoven, for reform can take place only within a framework of national security. It was, for example, the imminent threat from the Axis powers which, in the words of Franklin Roosevelt, brought an end to “Dr. New Deal” and ushered in “Dr. Win-the War.” Woodrow Wilson’s New Freedom foundered on the shoals of World War I. One must be guaranteed the security of his home before he can paint it. In this sense, expenditures on urban rehabilitation and defense both constitute forms of social security.
Although the United States cannot purchase domestic reform with economies that impair the peace, the common defense and domestic tranquility jointly presume a measure of economic well being. On this point, Edward Hallet Carr sketched the true content of the guns-or-butter option in The Twenty Years of Crisis, 1919-1939:
“Every modern government and every parliament is continually faced with the dilemma of spending money on armaments or social services; and this encourages the illusion that the choice really lies between “power” and “welfare,” between political guns and economic butter. Reflexion [sic] shows that this is not the case. The question asked never takes the form, do you prefer guns or butter? For everyone (except a handful of pacifists in those Anglo-Saxon countries which have inherited a long tradition of unconditional security) agrees that, in case of need, guns must come before butter.”
The challenge lies, therefore, in articulating a military policy which will accommodate the realities of defense but not unduly penalize the economic aspirations of the citizenry.
It is time also to stay the recurrent analogy to the postwar prosperity of Germany and Japan. By relinquishing dreams of imperial glory, spokesmen of the right and left argue, these nations have worked economic miracles. We might note in response that the United States, for all its far-flung commitments, yet retains a substantial advantage in output and living standards and, to date, enjoys the longest sustained prosperity of its history. Moreover, to attribute the rank of the German and Japanese economies to lower military outlays represents a masterpiece of simplistic analysis. It completely ignores the immediate postwar conditions in both countries and the positive American aid given to each. But all this is unnecessary. The United States cannot emulate Switzerland. Because of the structure of world society, America shares a primary responsibility for the preservation of peace. (Had the United States shouldered its obligations after World War I, events might have taken a happier turn and concurrently would have allowed the progression of domestic reform.) Germany and Japan, on the other hand, live and labor securely within the range of American power. If the United States were to follow their example, there would emerge a new grouping of states under which neither they nor America would share an equal measure of security. Circumstances would then impel them to full-scale rearmament, likely with nuclear weapons. Would this make for a more peaceful world? If so, what was 1939-45 all about?
Finally, the supposition that a people can have peace—if they but will it—rests upon a rather naive conception of the human species and the natural environment. In Conflict and Defense, Professor Kenneth E. Boulding comments:
“Conflict is an activity that is found almost everywhere. It is found throughout the biological world . . . It is found everywhere in the world of man, and all the social sciences study it. Economics studies conflict among economic organizations—firms, unions, so on. Political science studies conflict among states and among subdivisions and departments within larger organizations. Sociology studies conflict within and between groups. Anthropology studies conflict of cultures. Psychology studies conflicts within the person. History is largely the record of conflict. Even geography studies the endless war of sea against land and of one land form or one land use against another . . .”
“Nature,” Emerson warned us, “has made up her mind what cannot defend itself shall not be defended.” Man, who always possessed the power to destroy himself, has evolved through eons of conflict and continues to exhibit strongly aggressive tendencies in interpersonal and cultural relationships.
Balance of Power. Originating in the dynamics of the European state system, the balance of power traditionally came into play when one state, by reason of its internal resources or by alliance with other powers, reached a position of potential domination. Instinctively, its opponents joined together to protect then territories and vital interests by redressing the scales. Alliances shifted to and fro but rarely according to ideological patterns.
History moves on, but the balance of power endures, marking man’s failure to construct a supranational sovereignty. Eugene V. Rostow argues:
“Our safety as a nation has always depended—and this was perceived early in the history of the Republic—on there being a balance of power in Europe and a balance of power in Asia, so that no hegemonic power, no one power, would acquire so much strength in either place that it would be free of all restraints from rivals at home, and thus be able to become a threat to the United States . . . .”
Diplomats now weigh the scales on a world level rather than European level and define “balance” to be an equilibrium of forces wherein each side rests “securely” in its position, but lacks the wherewithal to contest successfully for predominance. The emergent peace is not a static order, but must be carefully nurtured to preserve the power base upon which it uneasily rests. With the advent of nuclear weapons, this supposes a more intricate assessment than in previous generations.
On the assumption that the destructiveness of nuclear warfare outmatches possible political gains, the major powers—United States, Russia, England, France, and soon China—acquire a guaranteed national security, i.e., their home territories form inviolable sanctuaries from the ravages of war. If the vital interests of a state equate solely with territorial integrity, the nuclear powers no longer need look to their alliances and may retreat to a new Maginot Line of strategic retaliation. In this balance of terror, we find the kernel of neo-isolationist thought.
However, autarchy has never secured peace. The vaunted invulnerability of the nuclear club lies in a mechanical advantage; and, given the pace of technological change, the next turn of the wheel can readily transform today’s assurance into tomorrow’s menace. Nations must take a longer perspective. The nuclear states, therefore, seek support from the non-nuclear powers. The community of interests which results, not entailing immediate consequences for the homeland, is to be defended to some point by conventional forces. Yet, the ties that bind allies do not pull so tightly as in the pre-nuclear era, for the satellite nations comprehend full well that the major powers abhor nuclear confrontation. This permits them to shift sides befitting the concerns of the moment or engage in local wars for particular ends. Their patrons finance such dangerous machinations lest a significant shift occur in the conventional power balance that might foreshadow a nuclear showdown. Hence, the world balance of power operates on two levels: a strategic retaliatory capability and a conventional forces posture.
Plainly, balance of power is not the optimum method of organizing international affairs. It has never eliminated war. At best, skillfully managed, it can delay the outbreak of war, perhaps localize the eruption, and buy time for man to devise other means to abort armed conflict. If there were no balance of power, there would be no peace, albeit uneasy; only the anarchy of warring principalities divorced from higher order or purpose. On a strictly pragmatic basis, the balance of power embodies an ingenious conception to reduce the frequency of conflict and coincidentally assure the survival of the constituent powers.
Maturely cognizant of international realities, prudent men, nonetheless, agree humanity would potentially benefit by a reduction in the $200 billion spent annually by all powers on weapons—the more so if accompanied by political settlements blunting the points of contention. However, arms limitations must be mutual and proportionate to avoid disrupting the balance of forces upon which peace rests. For example, total disarmament separated from political accords would not ensure peace, but would only weight the balance toward nations with the larger populations. What then are the parameters for negotiation? Is there a force so necessary to the maintenance of peace that any loss of proportionality would encourage one party to test the order of power? This may come to light by analyzing the problem from the perspective of the major powers.
Soviet Union. Formidable perplexities confound Soviet foreign policy. In the West, Russia looks upon a renascent Europe. Germany, hesitantly seeking the formula for reunification, remains economically the strongest power. Bereft of colonial empires, England and France still wield a nuclear stick. Whatever its problems, NATO manifests greater intrinsic strength than the imposed alliance of the Iron Curtain countries. The prognosis for further Western European integration waxes and wanes but never quite fades out. Closer to home, despite pledges of ideological comradeship, Russia can scarcely place a full measure of trust in its Balkan allies. To the southeast, over 750 million Chinese in control of nuclear systems unencumbered by treaty constraints ponder a chronicle of Russian aggrandizements. Off her eastern coast, Japan, regarded as the pre-eminent Asian power of the 1970s, also catalogs its grievances for a rebirth of nationalism to exploit. Finally, many of the Eurasian rimland states hold alliances with one of the Soviet Union’s big power opponents—the United States. In all, despite the presence of nuclear weapons, the Soviet remains vulnerable to land warfare on two fronts.
Circumstances of geography and politics apparently dictate a defensive strategy for the Soviet Union. To many observers—in and out of government—Russia no longer seems to threaten and the more optimistic foresee a basis of political accommodation. Such appraisals of Soviet intent may indeed prove correct. On the other hand, Russian leaders may have deduced a different assessment of their position for they have chosen a proper path to regain freedom of maneuver—seapower. If the Soviet Union can wrest control of the seas lapping the Eurasian land mass, new vistas open up. It may: (a) checkmate U. S. support to the rimland states; (b) ultimately, if needed, create a second front against China; (c) outflank Europe in the Mediterranean; (d) sever the life-lines of a Japan wholly dependent upon international trade. In time, yet another prospect looms: to support “wars of liberation” in Africa and South America. With naval forces commensurate to its ambitions, the Soviet Union may select among these options and perhaps avoid nuclear confrontation by not straight-out challenging the territories of a pacific America. It could, in brief, alter the conventional balance of power. The reader will add to the analysis of the Soviet Union’s extant capacity to wage strategic nuclear warfare from the sea.
China. Presently, China stands as a land power with declared interests adverse to those of its Asian neighbors. Nevertheless, a naval service, designed to its aims, could represent a wise use of resources of great strategic and tactical significance: It would enable it to: (a) offset Russian or American moves in Southeast Asia; (b) interdict supply operations in limited wars on the Asian mainland; (c) initiate a more aggressive policy against Taiwan; (d) project a nuclear capability to the Western Hemisphere. Naval operations, moreover, would not entail for it the risks and expenses of land warfare. Equally, for a country sharing a long and vulnerable coastline, naval forces are integral to a credible defense. With the lessons of Korea and Taiwan behind China, U. S. planners must anticipate its bid to become a Pacific naval power.
United States. Enumerating the options which seapower unveils for Russia and China concomitantly delineates the tasks of U. S. naval forces in maintaining the strategic and conventional power balance. Much has been written concerning these manifold assignments but in the concept of this paper they reduce to a single common denominator: the preservation of peace. The sea is the fulcrum of the power balance. To the extent that any man can foretell, nuclear parity will persist through the decade ahead, either by negotiation or competitive scientific endeavor. Land warfare, directly or indirectly implicating the major powers, carries a high price tag and few political gains. At least, since the triumph of Communism in China, no one, despite fierce battling, has gained much by land. Only at sea can grand designs be worked which economize on the resources committed. Accordingly, any diminution in U. S. seapower will foster a confrontation of global proportions.
What is the standard of adequacy for naval forces charged with a world mission? Putting aside the specifics of force levels and composition—a matter of professional and technical judgment—the nation must own naval forces of a size and diversity to obviate the temptation to mend by nuclear riposte a power balance upset by the hazards of defeat at sea. It is not sufficient to aver that the country already has the “largest” navy; size is a function of mission not merely of absolute comparisons. The Navy’s mission implies the capability to concentrate superior forces in a particular local [sic] without forfeiting a significant presence elsewhere. The mere existence of such a force—the true concept of a “fleet-in-being”—deters the aggressor from risks he might otherwise deem acceptable. L. W. Martin in The Sea in Modern Strategy has written:
“The essential quality of a military navy is obviously its ultimate capacity to engage and fight an enemy. Yet for the greater portion of its existence, a navy is not engaged in combat. During this time of peace, however, a navy by no means fails to exert an influence upon international affairs. This effectiveness short of war is difficult to characterize but nevertheless pervasive and may well comprise the most significant benefit a nation derives from its naval investment.”
Incredibly, the efficacy of U. S. seapower is confirmed in its lack of use, even to the extent of discouraging a building race to match its capacities. A lesser margin of naval superiority endangers the peace.
Is the margin of U. S. naval power sufficient to the calling? In her ascendency at sea, Britain lived by a two-power standard which Lord George Hamilton interpreted in 1889 as a naval establishment “on such a scale that it should at least be equal to the naval strength of any two other countries.” In 1904, this standard was revised to a superiority in battleships at least 10% over the most likely combination of their opponents. Later still, strained by the pressure of the German building program, Britain further diluted its standard to a one-power criterion of naval strength: a 60% superiority in dreadnoughts over Germany. By this measurement, although Britain could not know it at the time, it had conceded its pre-eminent status at sea. But the application of a standard presumes a definition of what constitutes naval power, and for Britain the battleship stood supreme. Life is vastly more complicated today.
If seapower relates simply to numbers of ships (including within the calculation naval air forces), the Soviet Union already approaches equality with the United States. On the other hand, Soviet numerical equivalence results from its large investment in conventional submarines, torpedo boats, and other smaller craft. These could prove decisive in its coastal waters and adjacent seas depending on which side held the offensive and whether land-based air represented a situational factor. By type of ship, the United States enjoys a commanding advantage in carriers (held by one school to constitute the basic unit of naval power) but has no similar excess in submarines (thought by others to represent the decisive weapon at sea).
One conclusion seems inarguable: the Soviet Union does not presently parallel America’s capacity to deploy task forces for extended periods in far distant seas, but closer to home and in locations of its choosing it can match or outmatch the forces against it. Whatever the test of strength, the United States no longer boasts the naval primacy of a decade ago.
Is Russia truly bidding for world seapower? The popular press has well documented the Soviet Navy’s role in a strategic nuclear conflict. Its capacity to interdict supply lines to the Eurasian rimland states is less appreciated, but this may have already exercised a baneful influence on American resolve to use seapower aggressively in the Vietnamese stalemate.
The Soviet decision to build a “High Seas Fleet” poses the exact challenge to America as that posed by Tirpitz to Britain at the opening of the 20th century. The “High Seas Fleet” signalled [sic] to Britain that Germany sought not only a continental empire, but also had larger ambitions on the world stage. Britain, conversely, could never be a European power, but severing its sea communications would reduce it to the level third-rate nation. Germany had touched the one issue upon which Britain could not compromise. Does the analogy hold today for the United States?
The calculation of U. S. naval preparedness cannot rest on a one-power standard, however. Other states, not all friendly, control quite substantial forces. China can boast of about 900 vessels, including therein some 40 submarines and 30 motor torpedo boats. Cuba, Egypt, East Germany and North Korea—all have MTB fleets of a proven nuisance value. These and lesser naval powers assert their independence by seeking to force foreign naval vessels from their territorial waters (frequently computed in distances which restrict traditional freedom of the seas). With the closing of Western bases in Asia and the Middle East, local naval forces, combined with land-based air, could wrest control of nearby sea areas—particularly if U. S. naval forces were preoccupied elsewhere. Clearly, given the maritime position of the country, the United States must not only maintain an offensive margin over Soviet seapower but must also have a reserve to counteract regional forces. (That such a reserve does not presently exist is evidenced by Defense Secretary Laird’s intention to match Soviet naval strength in the Arabian Sea after the Pacific Fleet is relieved of Vietnam duty.) At the same time, there remains another role for U. S. seapower, nearly forgotten in the disillusionments of the hour.
United Nations. The political structure of the postwar era was intended to be something better than the familiar balance of power construction. Hopefully, an international assemblage would protect the neutrality and independence of smaller nations against encroachments, internal and external, of the larger powers. We realize, sadly, that Vietnam is not an index of American imperialism, but a failure of the United Nations. In this connection, the U.N. conception assumed the world body would have at its disposal a global seapower and, indeed, this was the case in Korea. In The Sea War in Korea, Admiral Arleigh Burke, U. S. Navy (Retired), made the point:
“Control of the seas . . . was a prerequisite in implementing the United Nations decisions to resist aggression against the Republic of Korea. Without the capability to use the seas, the decision to intervene on a rocky peninsula half-a-world away would have been meaningless and unenforceable. With control of the seas, the decision was sound and reasonable.”
The author does not assert the Pollyanna view that America always fights on the side of the angels. On the other hand, the country does have a fair record in supporting U. N. efforts at peacekeeping. Today, a Korea-type decision might not be enforceable in the Middle East or Southeast Asia. Will the United Nations in the future lack the resolution or the means?
The foregoing remarks do not make an argument against the maintenance of balanced forces by the Western Alliance or the United States. Manifestly no single service alone can sway the conduct of affairs. Victory at sea without supporting adequate land and air forces would lack significance; conversely, without superiority at sea, the Western community would disintegrate. One cannot forecast the timing of another world war, but we can say with the confidence of historical precedent that global conflict will erupt when American supremacy at sea is lost or seriously threatened. Granted all three services are essential to the defense of Western interests, Russia, by casting the gauntlet, has made seapower the pivotal factor in the 1970s.
U. S. seapower properly constitutes an investment in peace, and therefore in the opportunity for domestic reform. Herein lies a cogent appeal to youth, including the young sailor and junior naval officer: to see the mission of seapower in the preservation of peace. If youth seems unattracted to service careers, the fault lies in the failure to articulate the realistic idealism associated with this vocation. Most often, young people see only a “military-industrial complex” divorced of mission and unrelated to the resolution of domestic problems. Expectedly, they drift into a neo-isolationism, not dissimilar to Britain’s infamous Oxford Pledge group, reflecting a profound cynicism about the motives and competence of U. S. leadership. They should be asked: Can the U. S. Navy match the achievement of the Royal Navy from 1815 to 1914 and give to mankind a century free of general war?
There exists cause for optimism that the Soviet chooses to challenge at sea. First, it is a challenge on home ground. America has inherited the Western tradition of seapower and accumulated a store of experience in its modern applications. Secondly, the naval service makes minimal demands on manpower and resources when compared to land power. England combined world seapower with material well-being, while others suffered the retarding effects of land warfare. Thirdly, seapower is unobtrusive, for ships on distant stations do not create the military presence at home in a society lately sensitized to the “influence” of the Pentagon on American life. Most felicitously, the nation has in seapower the kind of military posture congenial to the preservation of democratic institutions and economic progress.
It would conceivably be possible for a country to exhaust itself by over-arming in peacetime, but the margin of safety is much greater than we in this country have for some time been allowing ourselves to think. Despite public excitement, 1969 defense outlays were about the same percentage of GNP as in 1955, even including Vietnam costs. In 1955, defense expenditures represented 63% of the Federal budget; by 1966, they had declined to 52% and were 30% of all government expenditures. For the first time in American history, defense expenditures no longer take the major share of public spending. Welfare expenditures of all types, on the other hand, have expanded at a faster pace than defense spending or GNP.
In particular, this is not the opportune moment to contemplate any retrenchment impairing the mission of naval forces, U. S. supremacy at sea has lost some of its cutting edge, and the ominous consequences grow daily more apparent. On the contrary, there is need, after careful discussion of strategy and tactics, to rebuild, replace, and expand the operational fleet. However, a navy is more than ships and men; it is knowledge. The United States must command the seas but the technology is a matter of legitimate debate. The advent of VTOL may signal the dispersion of naval air power to smaller fleet units; the missile may yet restore autonomy to the lone surface vessel; much investigation remains on surface effect and other propulsion systems. In all, flexibility of response is of great value. Yet, less than 10% of all research and development expenditures, public and private, in 1969 was directed to naval and maritime projects—certainly not a case of overspending!
At this writing, the SALT talks near fruition and the resulting euphoria, unless shattered by the clatter of Middle East reality, is likely to fuse with domestic political tactics to sponsor proposals tantamount to unilateral arms limitation. In this atmosphere, we are apt to forget that the framers of the American Constitution placed the common defense and the general welfare on the same plane of importance. To paraphrase the Preamble: unless we prudently “provide for the common defense,” we shall not “insure domestic tranquillity” or “promote the general welfare.” For America, the center of a world maritime community, seapower offers the best means of securing both ends.
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Dr. Clark is Professor of Finance and Statistics at Drexel University, Philadelphia. He received his M.B.A. degree from the City University New York (1950) and his Ph D. from New York University (1959). The author of The New Economics of National Defense and Business Fluctuations, Growth, and Economic Stabilization, he is a frequent contributor to professional journals in economics and finance as well as to the Military Review, Journal of the Royal United Service Institution, and the Proceedings.
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“Go, Labor On”
One Sunday the following announcement was broadcast over the ship’s public announcing system: “Protestant services will commence on the forecastle in five minutes. Knock off all unnecessary work.”
A half hour later came this additional announcement: “Divine services are completed. Resume all unnecessary work.”
—Contributed by Rear Adm. James Ferris, USN
(The Naval Institute will pay $10.00 for each anecdote published in the Proceedings.)