Last Muster for the Citizens' Army?

An America which, for almost two centuries, relied on its farmers, shopkeepers, and businessmen to don uniforms, wage a war, and then return to their civilian pursuits may one day soon place its faith and its future in an All Volunteer Force. When and if this happens, the transition period will be extremely difficult as the military seeks to accommodate to a concept which as yet lacks explicit definition.

At this time in America it is widely accepted in both civilian and military circles that American involvement in the Vietnam war is “winding down.” It is also generally believed that, barring some catastrophic development in Indochina, this de-escalation is irreversible. The schedule of monthly troop withdrawals set by President Nixon is being adhered to closely. Even amid current congressional clamor for a definite withdrawal date, it seems safe to assume that direct American military involvement will be terminated sometime before November 1972. A national news magazine has even suggested that anyone with a pencil, paper, and a calendar can accurately predict the final withdrawal date. For America, then, the Vietnam war, our longest war, declared or undeclared, is coming to an end. There have been and will continue to be a variety of appraisals of the American involvement in Southeast Asia. As these appraisals are being considered, it should be remembered that their objectivity will be tainted by their proximity to the very events they attempt to appraise. Time and history will be the final arbiters and will render the last judgment on the wisdom of American intervention.

Throughout history the conclusion of a war has usually been followed by a period of national self-scrutiny during which time the nation assesses the extent of its casualties. The assertion that America has, during the course of the Vietnam war, sustained a great number of casualties, both physical and spiritual, can hardly be denied. No country, not even one of the world’s strongest, can wage war for a decade and emerge unscathed. The national cost of a war is, of course, measured first in terms of injuries and loss of life, and in this measure America has paid dearly. Over 50,000 American lives have been sacrificed in this conflict, and over 300,000 Americans have been injured. These numbers, awesome as they are, cannot begin to convey the tragedy and personal loss that falls upon the families and friends of these victims.

After the casualties of human lives have been reckoned, a war’s cost is often measured in economic terms. In the simple measurement of dollar cost, the Vietnam conflict absorbed over $20 billion annually during its peak years. Economic measurements, however, go beyond the simple dollar-cost calculations; the economic cost of a war can also be measured by its impact on the national economy. In this latter measurement there is a consensus among economists that the financing of our Vietnam involvement without increased taxes fueled the fires of inflation in the national economy. Inflation was, then, one economic wound suffered by our nation as a result of the Vietnam war.

Aside from the traditional measurements of the war’s cost in terms of human lives and economic impact, politicians, historians, political scientists, and many others have recently noted war casualties of a less tangible nature. We are told by some authors that the Vietnam war has sent American morale to an historic nadir. Others tell us that Americans have lost confidence in their leaders and their political system. Historian Arthur Schlesinger, Jr., says that the Vietnam war is partly responsible for what he calls the current “crisis of confidence.” Sociologists and political analysts say that the Vietnam war has contributed to the polarization that is evident in contemporary American society; the polarization of the blacks and the whites, the young and the old, the rich and the poor. Some diplomats and foreign policy experts have described the period of American involvement in Vietnam as a decade during which American foreign policy reflected an obsession with Southeast Asia; there have been predictions that America’s future policy makers will regret this past decade of diplomatic imbalance. These probings of America’s wounds are important not because they all necessarily result in accurate or valid diagnoses but because when voiced in the American “marketplace of ideas” they will hopefully help to heal the country’s wounds and smooth the transition to a peacetime role.

On any list of American casualties of the Vietnam war, there is one casualty which should be of utmost concern to the nation’s civilian and military leaders; that casualty is the image of the military. Perhaps more than any other profession, the military has in the past decade suffered a drastic loss of public respect. Unfortunately, this decline in public esteem for the military profession is most pronounced in that group which will soon provide our national leadership, i.e., the country’s youth. Evidence of youth’s generally unfavorable attitude toward the military can be found in almost any junior officer’s conversation with high school or college counterparts. The junior officer is invariably asked, “When are you getting out?” It is assumed that the officer will leave the military profession at the earliest opportunity. Another frequent query is the incredulous “You’re not staying in, are you?” Underlying this question is the obvious assumption that there is no possible reason for pursuing a military career. These two examples, drawn from personal experience, are admittedly oblique indications of an anti-military attitude among today’s high school and college generation.

Somewhat more salient indications of this attitude are found in the radical proposals made by some student groups. The Far Left’s call for the dismantling of our nation’s defense establishment is an obvious manifestation of a scornful attitude toward the military profession. While it must be granted that these extremists specific views are probably not shared by the majority of our nation’s youth, many of the extreme attitudes underlying the radical proposals do seem to filter through in a somewhat diluted form and become tacitly accepted by many young people today. Career preference polls of high school students indicate that of all the professional career opportunities available, the military profession is at present one of the careers least likely to be chosen. Student groups on college campuses have exerted great pressure on college administrations to abolish ROTC programs and any defense-related activities.[*] This student pressure has resulted in the abolition of ROTC programs at several schools. These examples do not show a generally favorable attitude among the young toward the military.

Since most human attitudes are partly rational and partly irrational, the causes of this unfavorable attitude have their roots in reason as well as in sentiment and emotion. The Vietnam conflict has evolved into America’s most unpopular foreign war of this century. The official rationale for American involvement in Vietnam Has varied so much from administration to administration that the initial lack of popular support led to widespread public skepticism and criticism of our alleged goals in Indochina. This skepticism and unpopularity has evoked a national sense of guilt about American involvement in Vietnam. Nations, like individuals, often try to alleviate acute guilt feelings by projecting the guilt onto a scapegoat. Since the military is, in times of war, the nation’s war-maker, it has been chosen to bear most of the burden of this national guilt. The specious and simplistic reasoning put forth in attempts to rationalize this irrational scapegoatism usually runs along the following lines: the military wages war; the Vietnam war was a tragic mistake and failure; the military waged the Vietnam war; therefore, the blame rests with the military profession. Besides being a sophomoric exercise in looking for blame, this line of reasoning fails to realize that in matters of foreign policy the nation’s military leaders advise the nation’s civilian leaders; the military does not make the final decision of when and where to wage war. Four American presidents have supported American military involvement in Vietnam, and two of these presidents escalated this involvement. The recently published “Pentagon Papers” give clear evidence that, in the fashioning of our Vietnam policy, for every General Taylor or Westmoreland there was a Bundy, a Rostow, a McNamara, or a Rusk. These facts are not offered in justification or defense of American involvement in Vietnam; they are noted in order to point out the futility of attempting to place the blame for the Vietnam war on any one segment of American society.

It would be unfair to the conscientious critics of our military involvement in Vietnam to assert that the current unfavorable attitude toward the military is wholly irrational. During the course of the Vietnam conflict the military has committed some transgressions, indulged in some excesses, and at times acted irresponsibly. For example, the Service club scandals revealed in Congressional investigations did nothing to improve the image of the professional military man. The My Lai massacre and other atrocities have only sharpened the nation’s sense of guilt and weakened its trust in the military. Documented incidents of mismanagement of military budget appropriations have further eroded the nation’s confidence in the military. Confronted with these facts, even the most loyal military man would be forced to admit that there is a partially rational basis for the decline in respect for the military profession.

This unfavorable attitude toward the military would normally be of no inordinate concern; the military and many other professions have periodically weathered storms of public criticism. However, there are two factors which must be considered along with the current anti-military attitude. The first factor is the “generation of peace” that has been optimistically prophesied by President Nixon; the second factor is the possible establishment of an all-volunteer military. These two possible developments must be analyzed in conjunction with the current anti-military attitude.

Whether the period which follows the Vietnam conflict will be a “generation of peace” or just a renewal of the Cold War tensions of the 1950s remains to be seen. Regardless of which course history takes, it can probably be predicted that the post-Vietnam period will be characterized by a marked reduction in U. S. military activity abroad. It would be inaccurate to interpret this low military profile as an indication of a swing toward isolationism. If it indicates any swing at all, it would seem to indicate an American inclination toward internationalism rather than interventionism. The American people and the nation’s leaders have learned at least one lesson from the Vietnam war: America cannot, through military intervention, export democracy. President Nixon’s Guam Doctrine and his policy of Vietnamization appear to be official manifestations that this lesson has been learned at the highest levels of our government.

In the post-Vietnam era, then, the military profession will suddenly be asked to fill a peacetime role. The military will have to shift from a role of active involvement in a large-scale armed conflict to a role of training, drill, and preparation. Few career military officers would deny that such a drastic change in roles creates problems. A military force which has recently known the rigors of combat, the reality and urgency of armed conflict, cannot be expected to assume a less demanding peacetime role without encountering some problems. The most critical problem encountered could be described as a “professional identity crisis.” The professional military man has a rather peculiar existence in times of peace. He is in a state of suspended animation. He is supposed to train and drill constantly in order to maintain “combat-readiness.” He is in a perpetual state of preparation. In philosophical terms, he is always in a state of potentiality and never arrives at a state of actuality. It is a difficult position professionally and psychologically. Perhaps his situation is analogous to that of a young medical school graduate who has nothing to look forward to but a lifetime of internship. Self-actualization is recognized by psychologists as one of the highest and most basic drives in man. However, the peacetime challenges to the self-actualization of the military professional are very different from the wartime challenges.

In the past, during periods of peace or reduced military activity, feeble attempts have been made to stimulate and challenge the military professionals. Too often, however, these efforts have been nothing more than resorts to excessive “spit and polish.” Such tactics have usually been counterproductive. The military profession is not made more challenging or rewarding simply by increasing the volume of trivia that military men must endure. Nor can this “professional identity crisis” be “treated” by some tacit national commitment to wage war periodically in order to revivify the nation’s military force. The suggestion that an occasional war in necessary in order to maintain an effective military force is too callous and inhumane a proposal to merit serious consideration; it echoes of Mussolini and Hitler. Although America has waged war perhaps too frequently, it has done so reluctantly and not for the purpose of rejuvenating the military profession. So while the military profession’s raison d’être is that of providing for the nation’s defense, there is a significant difference between actually defending the country and preparing to defend the country. If the “era of negotiation” and the “generation of peace” do materialize, it is conceivable that the military profession will face the external problem of coping with an unfavorable public attitude and the internal problem of adapting to a peacetime role.

There is one final factor which must be considered in conjunction with the current antimilitarism and the changing role of the military. This final factor is the possibility that in the near future America will establish an all-volunteer military. The political leaders of both major parties have indicated their support for the all-volunteer force, and President Nixon has set 1973 as the tentative target year for the complete change-over to an all-volunteer force. It is not difficult to understand why the all-volunteer concept has gained widespread support. The Selective Service System, never extremely popular, came to be seen as the bureaucratic monster which procured the human fuel for the Vietnam war. Changing the selection process to a lottery system may have made the draft more equitable, but to the youth of today it simply made the monster more undiscriminating. So it was inevitable that one of the results of the Vietnam war would be a public demand for change or abolition of the Selective Service System, and the all-volunteer force proposal provides a very attractive alternative.

First, from the individual’s point of view, the all-volunteer proposal shows a high regard for the American citizen’s right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Unlike the draft, the all-volunteer proposal in practice would not impose an arbitrary act of government upon the unwilling individual. Second, from the standpoint of national defense, proponents of the all-volunteer force argue rather cogently that an all-volunteer military will be more efficient, more highly motivated, and more professional, and therefore, will fortify the national defense. Supporters of the all-volunteer concept argue further that the modern military and modern warfare have rendered the idea of a “citizens’ army” obsolete. No longer, they say, can shopkeepers, farmers, and businessmen don uniforms, wage a war, and then return to their civilian pursuits. The legend of Cincinnatus, the Roman farmer-general, has lost its relevance, and only a specialized, highly-professional volunteer military force can effectively defend America.

While these and other arguments constitute a formidable case in favor of the all-volunteer force, one point of caution should be noted. No matter how effective an all-volunteer force might be, the concept of an exclusive professional military force is somewhat at variance with one of the traditions upon which America was founded, the tradition of a citizens’ army. Many American colonists had fled Europe not only to escape religious persecution, but also to escape political persecution at the hands of “the king’s men,” the ruler’s professional military. The tradition of a citizens’ army ultimately commanded by elected civilian leaders was embodied in the American Constitution; Congress alone was granted the right to raise and support an army and a navy; and an elected, civilian president was given the powers of commander-in-chief of all military forces. Thus it became the traditional assumption that in times of crisis the nation’s defense would be provided for in the greater part by the temporary volunteer and conscripted service of the country’s civilians. It may well be that this tradition of a citizens’ army is one which has outlived its own value and should now be discarded. However, before discarding this tradition, the nation and its leaders should cautiously determine not only whether its substitute, the all-volunteer force, is the right concept but whether it is the right concept at the right time and for the right reasons.

If these three aspects of America’s post-Vietnam period—the antimilitary attitude, the possibility of an era of peace, and the probability of an all-volunteer military, are considered separately, they do not appear to be shocking developments. The antimilitarism might subside; an era of genuine peace will surely be welcomed; and the all-volunteer military could very well be practical and effective. However, these same three factors must be viewed together and considered as three distinct yet related components of a single social phenomenon, i.e., the nation’s transition from a society at war to a society at peace. When considered in this light, these three factors point to the possibility of a serious social schism, the alienation of the military from civilian society. The dangers in such a social schism will be discussed later, but first an explanation of the process by which this alienation could occur is in order.

Logically enough, the prime mover in this process will be the current antimilitary attitude of the general public. Any profession being castigated will naturally turn collectively inward for introspection and self-protection. The military profession will do the same, except that in this case the period of professional introversion will be complicated by the professional identity crisis which results from the military’s transition to a peacetime role. The military profession will have to cope with criticism from without and self-doubt from within. Now, into this hypothetical scenario inject the proposal for an all-volunteer force. Perhaps this proposal will be put forth on the rational basis that the volunteer military is simply the best way to provide for the national defense. Considering the intensity of America’s guilt about the Vietnam war, however, it is just as likely that the all-volunteer proposal will stem from a subconscious national desire to isolate the military, the symbol of this guilt, from the rest of society. This is why the all-volunteer proposal should be scrutinized to determine whether it is offered at the right time and for the right reasons.

Whatever the underlying basis of the all-volunteer proposal, the military profession will see the proposal as a refuge, an opportunity to secure and protect the profession. The transition to an all-volunteer military will not reverse this schismatic process; it would, in fact, act as a catalyst. Having failed to gain respect from the civilian community, the military would turn inward even more and seek this respect from within its own ranks. In the extreme, this could lead to the formation of an elitist military society much like the former elitist Prussian military.

Sociologists and psychologists could no doubt give many sophisticated reasons why the alienation of one profession from the whole of society is unhealthy. There might be references to Emil Durkheim’s concept of “anomie” or Erich Fromm’s discussion of “psychic insecurity.” However, even the intelligent layman can see why the estrangement of one segment of society from the rest of society is undesirable. In the case in question it must be pointed out that the military profession is a “service” profession; it is the profession which is supposed to serve the national defense needs as determined by the civilian community. As a service profession, it is necessary that the service rendered by the military be valued by the civilian community; alienation of the military would indicate a devaluation of this service provided by the military and would force the military to be self-serving. In short, the alienation of the military from society could result in a military which would not serve society. And herein lies the danger.

The social alienation of the military from the civilian society would foster misunderstanding and stereotyped attitudes on both sides. Alienation would force the military profession to withdraw into a cloister, and where there is no social intercourse there is no dialogue, no sharing of sentiments, values, or ideas. The military must function within the civilian community, not adjacent to it. In that all social fragmentation is harmful, alienation of the military would injure not only the military profession but also the whole of society. America can well do without any more social polarization. Americans are passing through a difficult period in their social history; a period when many parents are afraid of their children; a period marked by racial conflict; a period plagued by rising crime and drug abuse; a period made even more difficult by an economic recession. Alienation of the military could only further aggravate America’s social problems.

If one proposes certain measures aimed at lessening the social forces pushing toward the alienation of the military profession, obviously the underlying assumption is that there is some national need for preserving this profession’s role in society. Since this assumption is not as widely shared as it once was, it is appropriate to discuss the reasons behind this assumption.

In 1651, the philosopher Thomas Hobbes observed that “The nature of war consists not in actual fighting but in the known disposition thereto . . .” Unfortunately, today, more than three centuries later, this statement contains the reason for maintaining a military force. Tragically, mankind has reaped what it has sown, for after centuries of hatred and war the nations of the world still exist in a state of international anarchy. There is still distrust among nations, and there is still a “known disposition” to resolve international differences through violence. However, to reason that the military creates this “known disposition” is tantamount to saying that forecasters cause rain or doctors cause disease. The proposal often voiced by those on the extremist fringe is that America can secure peace by unilateral disarmament; this proposal is a product of the irresponsibly romantic notion that the legacy of centuries of international hatred and conflict can be wiped away by a year or two of fatuous pollyannaism. There has not been, nor will there probably ever be, a national leader who is willing to gamble for peace with unilateral disarmament. To call those who offer this proposal Utopians dignifies their proposal far beyond its worth.

The true Utopian is one whose proposals for world peace are tempered by an understanding of world history and human nature. The world desperately needs Utopians. Anatole France wrote that “Without the Utopians of other times men would still live in caves, miserable and naked.” In a very real sense, the quest for world peace today is not Utopian; it is Darwinian in that man in this nuclear age must seek peace if he is to survive on this planet. It is the gradual realization of this fact, not the precipitous unilateral dismantling of our military forces, that will alter man’s “known disposition” to wage war. There are indications that some of the world’s leaders have come to this realization. At least one national leader has recently made statements which some years ago would have earned him the Utopian label: “For us as well as our adversaries, in the nuclear age, the perils of using force are simply not in reasonable proportion to most of the objectives sought. . . .” This is a passage taken from President Nixon’s State of the World Report of 1971.

The military profession, then, will be needed to protect our nation during its quest for peace—to protect America from those who might take advantage of the sincerity of our search. For how long will a military be needed? Will it be for 50 years, a hundred years, two centuries, or more? He who pretends to answer this is either a prophet or a liar, a seer or a fool. When the nations of the world agree upon methods other than force and violence to resolve their differences, then perhaps the military profession, unnourished by nations’ “known disposition” to violence, will die a natural death.

The military profession does have a vital role to play in post-Vietnam America, but to function effectively and responsively in a peacetime environment the military must function within the civilian society. Some military leaders acknowledge this need for a military whose role is an integrated part of civilian society. In his address to the 1971 graduates of the U. S. Naval Academy, Admiral Elmo Zumwalt, the Chief of Naval Operations, made the following statement: “. . . the time is long since past when we can retire to the coziness of the wardroom or officers’ club secure in the knowledge that what goes on ashore or outside the base is no concern of ours. . . .”

Assuming, then, that certain social conditions are present which could bring about the alienation of the military profession from society, and also assuming that such an alienation would be detrimental to the whole of American society, in order to prevent this alienation concentrated efforts should be made to maximize the social interchange between the military and civilian communities. These efforts should be directed toward three basic areas: housing, education, and community and civic action.

The first area, housing, is of prime importance. The single most effective way to prevent alienation of the military is to ensure that military men and their families reside within the civilian community, not within the confines of a military base. It is too easy for a military family to spend most of its time inside the gates of a military station. Even the medium-sized military installation provides for almost every social, economic, and religious need. The military man and his family can shop at the post exchange and commissary, enjoy recreation at the base recreational facilities, socialize at the military clubs, and worship at the station chapel. While, admittedly, all of this is very convenient, it creates a very closed society where it is possible for military personnel and their dependents to live in several states and yet have little or no contact with the neighboring civilian community. This cloistered living separates the military and civilian communities and offers limited opportunities for social, cultural, and ideological exchanges. Such exchanges are vital to a healthy society.

A general Service-wide policy aimed at the gradual elimination of on-base housing could be the first step toward relocating military personnel within the civilian community. This measure would have to be combined with a substantial increase in the quarters allowance for all military ranks, especially the lower enlisted ranks. There are, of course, many “defense impact areas,” where the military population is so high that the local civilian housing market could not meet a sudden military demand for homes. However, the key word in the proposal to eliminate on-base housing is “gradual,” and in some areas “gradual” might mean 10 of 20 years. Regardless of how long this gradual elimination would take, the relocation of military personnel within the civilian community could be a significant step toward preventing the formation of a closed military society which is isolated from the main currents of American society.

The second area in which civilian-military ties could be strengthened is that of education, i.e., the education of military personnel, not their dependents. In general, the military services should attempt to use civilian educational institutions to the greatest extent possible for the education of military personnel. The use of civilian educational institutions for the furtherance of the education of professional military men and women could provide numerous opportunities for healthy intellectual exchange and competition between the civilian and military communities; these opportunities could range from the high school level to college and postgraduate levels. Officer training and education programs, such as ROTC and the Navy’s Naval Enlisted Scientific Education Program (NESEP), certainly should not be abolished; if anything, programs such as these should be strengthened. Enlisted education programs which use civilian educational institutions should be continued and perhaps expanded. An example of such a program is the Navy’s Associate Degree Completion Program (ADCOP), which offers higher-ranking enlisted personnel two years of study at any one of several selected junior colleges.

Those who call for the abolition of ROTC on civilian campuses are asking that another wedge be driven between the military and civilian communities. The abolition of ROTC and similar programs would only serve to isolate the military profession from the society it is supposed to serve.

Exposure of the military man to the ideas and opinions of civilian counterparts will keep him attuned to the society he serves. At the same time, the education of the military at civilian institutions will help the student generation to understand the role of the military in a modern peacetime society. Too often, men in uniform have been stereotyped as fascists or bloodthirsty warmongers; and too often college students have been stereotyped as “long-haired bums.” Our country’s colleges and universities, if open to all segments of society, can provide the forum where the nation’s students, whether they are preparing for a military or civilian career, can lay aside these divisive stereotypes.

The third and final area which offers opportunities for contact between the civilian and military communities is that of civic action. This category encompasses all forms of voluntary civic action from youth-oriented activities, such as Boy Scouts, Girl Scouts, and Parent-Teachers Associations, to neighborhood improvement councils and participation in local political affairs. Since the military man’s participation in community activities depends on his particular military duties as well as on his inclination toward civic action, no specific proposals are put forth at this time. In general, however, it can be recommended that the command level of all the military services strongly encourage their personnel to participate in civic affairs.

The subject of the military man’s participation in politics has always been a sensitive one, and any issue concerning the extent of the military man’s participation has usually been decided against broader participation. The Hatch Acts of 1939 and 1940, which circumscribe the military man’s political activity, permit only the very basic political activities—petitioning, contributing, and voting. Perhaps this stringent legislation should be studied now with a view toward allowing the military man to play a more active role in our nation’s political process. After all, America’s representative participatory political process is the constitutionally prescribed means for effecting change. The exclusion of the military man from meaningful participation in this political process could result in the dangerous paradox in which the military man’s profession is the defense of a political system he neither fully understands nor highly values. The vitality of our American democracy depends upon the active participation of every citizen; therefore, lack of participation and political apathy are undesirable in any profession, including the military.

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A graduate of the U. S. Naval Academy with the Class of 1968, Lieutenant Katauskas was designated a Naval Flight Officer in November 1969. He has recently completed a tour as a navigation instructor at the Naval Advanced Air Navigation School in NAS, Corpus Christi, Texas, and is currently undergoing training en route to Patrol Squadron Eight at NAS, Brunswick, Maine.