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the Commandant deeply mourned the losses and injur to his Marines in Lebanon, he mourned even more aI1f nation and people who might forget how to reach bey01'' themselves, to believe strongly in higher purposes, an ’ when necessary, to take action based on those purposeS^ In General Kelley’s thoughts are found the paradox® that accompany, often as millstones, our nation’s attemp ^ to conduct its foreign policy in situations in which so instruments such as diplomacy and security assistance aI^ insufficient of themselves to meet the nation’s need an must be then supplemented or replaced by the harder p° icy instruments—sometimes by instruments of steel- Is it enough that America wants to help other nationS' particularly when some, like Lebanon, are defined as na tions only as a sort of contradiction in terms? Must Amer cans in uniform be prepared to die for any cause to wmc they are assigned, however vague or inconstant? Leban was a Gordian knot of events and conditions in whi political and military elements were confusingly interW0^ ven. Does the close political control of military situate ‘
wh°
diffi'
or both? Was the American involvement in Lebanon a rious, carefully planned effort to bolster a troubled reg
se-
ime
Lebanon has been likened to the flagpole that is just beyond the grasp of the reaching Marine in the Iwo Jima statue, thus calling to mind Robert Browning’s deathless couplet: . . man’s reach should
exceed his grasp, Or what’s a heaven for?”
The modern era has seen the world’s two superpowers increasingly burdened rather than blessed by their awesome military capabilities. Today, even involvement with lesser developed countries carries high risk, for the threat of retaliation is always present, as is the fear that the nuclear specter may somehow come forward. Such a concern calls into question the wisdom of deploying U. S. forces when the use of force is not anticipated. It asks if success, however measured, is possible in those situations where uniformed Americans are sent overseas to provide “presence” or engage in peacekeeping missions, because as a superpower America can rarely, if ever, afford the luxury of taking military action in isolation— unlike lesser powers. Instead, the political calculus of action and reaction must always be carefully considered, in spite of the fact that the resulting policies may at times limit a military commander’s ability to complete his mission and protect his men.
But even when the guidance to the military is clear— when the mission and objectives are coherent and realistic, and the resources allotted sufficient for the task—it is still possible that a superpower’s self-imposed restrictions will preclude success. Because of these inherent risks, political leaders will warily fix their attention on larger concerns, and will remain oriented toward controlling events at any cost. It is vital for military leaders to provide civilian authorities with the soundest military advice, to insist that advice be weighed in those policy debates that might produce a decision to employ U. S. forces, and to act with courage and responsibility—even to resign on principle, if necessary—if that advice is ignored and U. S. forces are instead put at undue risk in situations where there is little hope of a favorable outcome and where losses may result. During the recent involvement in Lebanon—as, perhaps, in Korea and Vietnam—our nation failed in some degree to fully consider the restrictions that attend our status as superpower. Considering its carnage and its unresolved
■ the
aftermath, it is probable that in their 1979 invasion Soviets made a similar miscalculation in Afghanistan- lesson, then, is for national leaders—civilian and nu tary—to work harder to understand the inherent handle p as well as the inherent strengths of being a superpow ,
Not long ago, during the course of an interview w CBS about the Marine Corps, General P. X. Kelley ®a ® Lebanon “a failure, by any measure.” He was referri ? not only to the U. S. departure from that country but a to his personal feeling that the loss of so many Mari ^ must always be considered a kind of failure, whatever outcome. But then the Commandant’s discussion on topic waxed philosophic. He called to mind Felix de W ^ don’s famous statue of the Marines raising the fla8 0 Mount Suribachi at the conclusion of the 1945 Battle 0 Iwo Jima.
General Kelley noted that the outstretched hands of °j^ of the Marines do not quite touch the flagpole. Instead, t Marine is reaching—above his fellows and himself- T 1 “reaching,” General Kelly suggested, was a symbol 0 both the Marine Corps and the nation—of a vital Ame^ can strength. It symbolizes the aspiration and will to g farther, to do more, to reach beyond and above onesel to endeavor great efforts for great purposes. And, wh'
such as Lebanon adequately protect those in uniform go to such places, willing but hardly trained to do a < cult job in unique, changing, and often dangerous circUI11 stances? Were those who died in Lebanon heroes, victims
and support the vital interests of both our allies and selves? Or was it a misguided and poorly thought out
1
beyond Our Grasp?
a magnet for trouble.
virtual
confes'
of the outward manifestations of Lebanese
may
is that their theory may have been correct, yet we
tempt to regain control of events in the Middle East, that perpetual tinderbox which always holds the fascinating immediacy of conflagration? Finally, when American military men die serving their nation overseas in these times, who, if anyone, is strictly accountable for the decisions made leading to their deaths?
In exploring these questions and the events which underlie them, it is perhaps best to first describe the Mideast and its history; to trace the decision of the United States to establish a military presence in Lebanon in 1982 to assist the Lebanese Government in maintaining order; and, finally, to describe events during the U. S. involvement and to draw conclusions from the whole. I underline that this is merely an attempt, for I am convinced there are no real experts on this region.
Whispering Pines and Shouting Factions
When walking the streets of the Middle East— Damascus, Riyadh, Amman, Cairo, Jerusalem—it is easy to forget the region’s tensions. Life there is business as usual. One experiences the constant bustle, the rattling noise, the pungent smells, the clear-eyed stare of those for whom religion has the deepest meanings. But on closer inspection, the signs of enmity and struggle are there. Hundreds of cannon holes are visible in the corrugated steel sunroof over the famous street in Damascus along which St. Paul made his escape, testimony to a French strafing attack of long ago. At the Allenby Bridge between Jordan and Israel, the Arab sham that Israel doesn’t exist— although the Israeli guardpost is in sight a scant hundred yards away—is maintained by carrying two passports. The geography is claustrophobic; nations can be driven border to border—by car or tank—in an hour or two. My visit to the area last year offered the fascination of in-depth journalistic discussions with the current leaders of all these troubled nations. They were glibly persuasive oratorical contests, with each leader straining to avoid accepting any responsibility for the region’s long history of terrible wrongs. Who, one wonders, is at fault?
The Middle East is also formidably beautiful—stark and serene. It is the land of the Bible and notable of not only the New Testament—compassion, understanding, forgiveness—but, more appropriately, of the Old Testament eye-for-eye vengeance and retribution—of blood spilled, and spilled again, until the ground develops a thirst for it. In such a place it soon becomes obvious that only man’s tenacious will to endure keeps him from being swept away by the tests of nature and time and those that his fellowmen impose.
Lebanon is a smallish country of just over three million people. Though small, it has both the stamp of chaotic diversity and a diversity of chaos. It contains 17 officially recognized religious sects, two foreign armies of occupation, until recently four national contingents of a multinational force, seven national elements to a United Nations “interim” peacekeeping force, and some two dozen extralegal militias. More than 100,000 people have been killed in hostilities there over the past eight years. In short, Lebanon is a country beset with virtually every unresolved
dispute afflicting the peoples of the greater Middle East-
Over a lengthy period, Lebanon has become a vi battleground where armed Lebanese factions simultane ously manipulate and are manipulated by the foreign forces surrounding them. Not only do Syrians and IraQ1^ and Israelis and Palestinians, use Lebanon as a place settle old quarrels—they pick new ones there as well- e rorism of all types is rife. In a country where crimin involved in indiscriminate killing, armed robbery, eXtor tion, and kidnapping issue political manifestos and ho press conferences, there has been no shortage of surro gates willing to do the bidding of those foreign 8oV®^1 ments which seek to exploit the opportunities presented ; Lebanon’s anarchy. ,
There is no certain sense of national consciousness unites all Lebanese, not even for a majority of the cl zenry. This is because the Lebanon of antiquity w Mount Lebanon, the highland mountain chain runniiU north-south through the center of the country, and a regi where Maronite Catholicism enjoyed more than a mule ium of relative isolation to develop its own identity ^ reaching back to well before the time of the Crusades. 1920, the French acquired part of the Levant following W defeat and dissolution of the Ottoman Empire. They adde^ non-Maronite territory to Mount Lebanon in order create a greater Lebanon, a new state in which Maron* comprised but 30% of the population, rather than the 7 0 they had constituted on Mount Lebanon. . ,
Most politically conscious non-Maronites, especia ; Sunni Moslems and Greek Orthodox Christians, we1^ opposed to integration in the new state. The idea ruled by Maronites was particularly objectionable to Sunni Moslems, who had been powerful and preemine in the Ottoman period. Their strong preference was toJ° Lebanon with Syria in order to form a greater Syria- ' the time the French were preparing to leave Lebanon- however, the leaders of both Maronite and Sunni fact'0 were ready to work together. They fashioned the unwrit “National Covenant” of 1943, a “gentleman’s agree ment” which stipulated that if the Maronites refrain^ from invoking Western intervention, the Sunnis would 1 turn refrain from seeking Pan-Arab unification with Syria; With hindsight, this could have been labeled with grea understatement a very “uneasy marriage.”
That same pact determined that Lebanon’s political sys tern would be established through an allocation of govern ment positions and parliamentary seats based on the na tion’s sectarian balance as predicated on the census—that is, on confessionalism. Much has been ma sionalism. The President of the Republic and the arme forces commander in chief are always Maronite; the Pr,n ^ Minister must be a Sunni; the Speaker in the Chamber Deputies is a Shiite; and for every five non-Christian Dep uties, there must be six Christians. This system reflects belief among the founders of an independent Lebanon t sectarian cooperation was the key to the country’s s vival—a mechanism to facilitate compromise. The ir
?ever know if successful theory could in this case have e^n made into successful practice.
But government in Lebanon rests not only on confes- Sl0nalism but on localisms as well. Political power has l^ditionally res'ded in the hands of local power brokers— ^ronite populists, Druze and Shiite feudalists, and Sunni Ur an chiefs. These local leaders draw their power from 8.rass-roots organizations based on sectarian and ancient ?,an relationships. Local leaders periodically gather in eirut to elect a president and form governments—but n°ne are prepared to allow the central government to pene- rate their constituencies, unless it is to deliver a service 0r which they have arranged and for which they will take Credit. They guard their turf jealously against unwanted 8°vernment encroachment, whether encroachment comes the form of the civilian bureaucracy or the nation’s miliary forces.
When a new leader is named, the others in the power e he tend to coalesce in order to limit his power. The basic Institutions of government—the army, the judiciary, and e Bureaucracy—are kept deliberately weak in order to c°nfirm the government’s dependency. If the local chiefs ar§ue among themselves, especially over those issues hich tend to pit major religious sects against one another, e central government simply stops functioning.
. This, in essence, is what has happened in this decade. n the past, Lebanon—sometimes alone, often with exter- assistance—had survived its crises. But the highly ■ Motional Arab-Israeli confrontation proved a fatal over- °ad for such a fragile system.
n the aftermath of the creation in Palestine of the state ° Lrael, more than 100,000 Palestinians fled to Lebanon !n *^48. Over time, an armed state-within-a-state grew on ehanese territory. This process was accelerated in 1971 7 the arrival from Jordan—itself almost three-quarters alestinian—of several thousand Palestinian fighters and ,J" leadership of the Palestine Liberation Organization B-O). The PLO used Lebanon as a haven from which to Conduct terrorist raids into Israel, and it shored up its posi- l0n in Lebanon by forming alliances with dissident Lebanese groups hoping to harness Palestinian firepower to the ause of social revolution.
This in turn encouraged the more conservative elements 0. Lebanese society, mainly the Maronites, to organize ^'litarily. From 1968 on, the PLO-Israeli confrontation in suuthern Lebanon caused the progressive polarization of p® Lebanese along confessional lines, with Maronite nristians generally opposing the PLO presence and Mus- uns generally supporting it. The continued confrontation a so caused the local power brokers to fall back on their ^sources and, as these were depleted, to seek support r°ui foreign sources. The central government, deprived 'ts lifeblood, was left weak and almost powerless. In e civil warfare of 1975-1976, the central Lebanese Gov- err>uient ceased to exist in all but name.
Syria had historically supported the PLO and its Lebanese allies. But, in June 1976, fearing that a revolutionary re§'me in Beirut would draw it into another war with Is- faeL Syria intervened instead on behalf of the Maronite Militias. Cleverly, Syria used a United Arab League mandate to mask its unilateral action and give its intervention political credence. A stalemate ensued, and from late 1976 to June 1982 Lebanon lay powerless under the weight of de facto partition and partial occupation by Syria. During this time, none of the basic issues underlying the earlier civil war was resolved.
On 6 June 1982, claiming it was acting in response to continuing acts of terrorism launched by the PLO across the southern Lebanese border, Israel launched a massive drive against Palestinian camps based in southern Lebanon—the so-called “Peace for Galilee Operation.” Within three days, however, the Israeli spearhead had reached much farther north—to the outskirts of Beirut. Israeli objectives for the invasion were to end the political and military independence of the PLO; to put the northern Israeli population centers beyond the reach of hostile actions emanating from Lebanon; and to break the internal Lebanese political paralysis in such a way as to facilitate official relations between Israel and Lebanon.
By 14 June, the Israelis had linked up with Christian Lebanese forces in East Beirut. The 32d U. S. Marine Amphibious Unit (MAU), which was deployed on board amphibious warfare ships in the Mediterranean, conducted a successful evacuation of U. S. citizens from the port city of Juniye on 23 June.
On 2 July, Israeli forces instituted a military siege of Beirut. This caused intense diplomatic activity aimed at avoiding an all-out battle for the capital. The efforts of Philip Habib, U. S. Ambassador to the Middle East, were successful, and some 15,000 armed Palestinians and Syrians were evacuated from Beirut under the auspices of a hastily arranged multinational force (MNF), consisting of French and Italian contingents and elements of the 32d MAU. All MNF elements were withdrawn from Lebanon by 10 September 1982. The scene was set for hope, re-
(Lebanese Armed Forces) to carry out their responsi
ities in city of Beirut. Commander U. S. Forces establish and maintain continuous coordination
Throughout the 20th century, when the U. S. Government has landed troops on foreign shores—Guadalcanal in 1942, Pusan in 1950, Da Nang in 1965—the honor of being first-to-fight has fallen to the Marines. But, as the devildogs disembarked from their landing craft at Beirut in 1982, their orders were, not to fight a war, but to help keep a disintegrating peace.
newed civil order, and the reconstitution of an effective government in Lebanon. This optimism was largely held at political and diplomatic levels. But the view in other councils, and particularly within the military, was that the stakes were so high for Syria in Lebanon that it would resist attempts to dislodge its forces by all possible means.
U. S. Involvement
This less optimistic reaction proved the correct one. The long-parched soil of Lebanon’s peace needed more than a brief shower of cooperation and understanding. It needed a downpour, which never came. The glimmer of hope brought about by the evacuation of the PLO from Beirut had lasted only briefly. On 14 September 1982, PresidentElect Bashir Gemayel was assassinated. The assassination was followed in rapid order by the Israeli occupation of West Beirut and the massacre of hundreds of unarmed civilians—Lebanese as well as Palestinian—in the refugee camps of Sabra and Shatila from 16 to 18 September.
These events quickly led to an agreement by France, Italy, and the United States to reconstitute the multinational force. On 26 September, the French and Italian contingents reentered Beirut. On 29 September, the 32d MAU began disembarking at the Port of Beirut. The contingent of 1,200 Marines occupied positions in the vicinity of Beirut International Airport (BIA), as an interpositional force between the Israeli forces and the populated areas of the city.
The Lebanese welcomed the U. S. Marines and the other multinational force elements warmly. The MNF was seen as peace-keeper and protector. In hindsight, however, this period was really the lull before the storm.
The mission statement for the Marines passed essentially unchanged from the Joint Chiefs of Staff to the U. S. Commander in Chief Europe, thence to Commander in Chief U. S. Naval Forces Europe, and finally through Commander Sixth Fleet to Commander Task Force 61 (commander amphibious task force), who was designated Commander, U. S. Forces Lebanon. It read as follows:
“To establish an environment which will permit the Lebanese Armed Forces to carry out their responsibilities in the Beirut area. When directed, USCINCEUR will introduce U. S. forces as part of a multinational force presence in the Beirut area to occupy and secure positions along a designated section of the line from south of the Beirut International Airport to a position in the vicinity of the presidential palace; be prepared to protect U. S. forces; and, on order, conduct retrograde operations as required.”
The mission statement also provided the following c°n cept of operations:
“• ■ • land U. S. Marine Landing For in Port of Beifljj and/or vicinity of Beirut Airport. U. S. forces move to occupy positions along an assigned section o a line extending from south of Beirut Airport to t vicinity of Presidential Palace. Provide security p°sts a intersections of assigned section of line and major ave nues of approach into city of Beirut from south/sout east to deny passage of hostile armed elements in orue to provide an environment which will permit LA
will
with
other MNF units, EUCOM (U. S. European Command) liaison team and LAF. Commander U. S. F°^e will provide air-naval gunfire support as required-
The concept of operations also tasked Commander Ta^ Force 61 to conduct combined operations with other mn 1 national force contingents and the Lebanese armed f°lCC:j and to be prepared to execute retrograde or withdraw'1* operations. Commander Sixth Fleet further design**® Commander Task Force 61 as the on-scene comman ® and Commander Task Force 62 as the Commander, U- , Forces Ashore Lebanon. But, while USCINCEUR defm®® the concept of operations and provided detailed tasking subordinates and supporting commanders, little ad e clarification was provided as the orders were passed do the chain of command. As a result, there were percept^ differences as to the precise definition and importance the “presence” role at various levels within the chain command. Similarly, the exact responsibilities of the com mander of the U. S. element of the multinational force<
egarding the security at Beirut Airport, were not clearly e meated in his mission statement—a situation which °^ced the commander to choose for himself the degree to . lch his command should concentrate on the peacekeep- 3S set aPart frorn their own self-defense. No one ressed the central question of whether such a mission s°u*d be carried out both successfully and safely given the Pecial restrictions on superpower uses of force already fussed. In the calm pleasantness of October 1982, this as merely harmless oversight. In the vastly different circumstances of October 1983, it may have proved the fatal in that month’s most shattering event, if/ 6 rn'ss'on of the U. S. Marines in Beirut was implicit - characterized as a peacekeeping operation, although Peacekeeping” was not explicit in the mission state- ent- In September 1982, the President’s public state- ^enL his letter to the Secretary General of the United atl°ns, and his report to the Congress all conveyed a J"°ng impression of the operation’s peacekeeping nature. e e subject lines of the Joint Chiefs of Staff alert and x^cute orders were entitled, “U. S. Force Participation in ® anon Multinational Force Peacekeeping Operations.” ese orders were carefully worded to emphasize the non- °mbatant role of the U. S. portion of the force. f(> ^Urt^er condition incident to the insertion of U. S. j°rces mto Beirut was that the Lebanese Government and pS armed forces would ensure the protection of the multinational force, including the assurances from armed facial'’8 to refrain from hostilities and not to interfere with f ^ activities. Ambassador Habib received assurances r°m the Lebanese Government that these arrangements .a been made. These assurances were, in fact, included n Lebanon’s exchange of notes with the United States.
^ 1 Was assumed from the outset that the U. S. Marines in £banon would operate in a relatively benign environ- fo£"t. Syrian forces and elements of other conventional rces were not considered a significant threat to the multi- eatl°nal force. The major threats were thought to be un- *Ploded ordnance—in fact, the first Marine injury and $eath resulted from that source—and possible random ..niPCr and small unit attacks from members of the PLO I 'eftist militias. But U. S. intelligence sources con- uded that a significant terrorism threat existed, and that . e Marines ashore should anticipate attacks from extrem- s and fanatics belonging to various fringe elements. It a as hoped, however, that the Marines would be regarded s nonpartisan and evenhanded by the various factions, nd that this perception would hold through the expected ~^ay duration of the operation. l hese assumptions were essentially correct for Septem- er 1982. But by 16 March 1983, six months later, when a ^nade thrown at a U. S. patrol wounded five Marines— p when similar attacks were directed at the Italian and I rench peacekeeping contingents—these assumptions no °nger held.
r ^hat led to the change? There are few clues in the ^Cc°rd of U. S. Marine operations in Lebanon over the r‘^-rnonth period. In November and December 1982, a ofrfve ca*m st'H prevailed. In November, a Department defense team completed a survey of the capabilities and requirements of the Lebanese armed forces. In December, Marine mobile training teams from the multinational force began conducting individual and small unit training for these forces at Beirut Airport. Training of a Lebanese rapid-reaction force began during the week of 21 December. The last significant event of 1982 was the beginning of negotiations between Lebanon and Israel on 28 December, calling for the withdrawal of foreign forces.
On 5 January, Israeli forces began conducting patrol operations, including reconnaissance by fire, south of Marine positions along the old Sidon road near the airport. Several stray Israeli rounds landed on Marine positions. During the month, there were at least five attempts by Israeli patrols to penetrate Marine positions. On 2 February 1983—in an event sensationalized by the media worldwide—a Marine officer was obliged to draw his pistol in order to halt an Israeli penetration. These incidents not only highlighted the need for U. S. diplomacy to replace the threat of force as the basis for eliminating Israeli intrusions; it also underlined superpower limitations. Unlike the Israelis, who essentially operated with a free hand, the United States could not afford to deal forcefully with adversaries or friends because of the potential political fallout.
From 20 to 25 February, the Marines, at the request of the Lebanese Government, conducted emergency relief operations in the Lebanese mountains in the wake of a mid-winter blizzard and sub-zero temperatures. Further incidents involving Israeli elements and Marine patrols were recorded during the months of March and April as U. S. patrols were expanded in support of Lebanese force deployments. Still, there had been negligible contact between the U. S. elements of the multinational force and opposition Lebanese factions. The peacekeeping mission was being conducted as originally conceived—until, that is, the grenade incident on 16 March.
Then, on 18 April, the U. S. Embassy in Beirut was destroyed by a massive explosion which claimed the lives of 63 persons, 17 of them U. S. citizens. The bomb was delivered by a pickup truck and detonated—apparently by an Islamic zealot who willingly sacrificed his life for what he considered a sacred cause and an absolute guarantee of heaven. Subsequently, U. S. Embassy functions were moved to the British Embassy and the Duraffourd Building, both protected by U. S. Marine security detachments. Reprisals were not conducted.
Should reprisals have been considered? Probably—but, again, the ramifications of an overt act of force by a superpower must be considered. Could such an act have taken place without escalation of some sort, and not necessarily in Lebanon or the Middle East? A nation like Israel, in contrast, can and does operate without such restrictions. They can rely on their considerable military prowess and their superpower ally’s security umbrella.
Constant fighting between Christian and Druze forces in the Shuf mountains finally spilled over into Beirut, where artillery shelling occurred between 5 and 8 May. On 17 May, Israel and Lebanon signed an agreement calling for the withdrawal of Israeli forces from Lebanon and the institution of special security measures for southern Leba-
SYGMA
The sense of humor that sustains Marines in times of crisis may have inspired some of them to ponder how far their Corps had come from its birthplace, Tun Tavern, 1775, to the Peacekeepers Tavern 82-83, at Beirut airport, facing page. And, above, as they rested unloaded rifles on sandbags soon after they landed, they were within 1,200 miles of their ancient stomping ground, “The Shores of Tripoli,” now part of Qaddafi’s Libya.
non. Israel, however, predicated its withdrawal on the simultaneous withdrawal of Syrian and PLO forces, and other adversarial elements which had again infiltrated into Lebanon parties which had not been included in the negotiations. Both refused to initiate withdrawal while Israeli forces remained in Lebanon. The stage was set for further violence.
On 25 June, U. S. Marines conducted combined patrols with Lebanese forces for the first time. During this period, fighting in the Shuf between the Lebanese Army and Druze militia escalated sharply. From 19 to 23 July, President Amin Gemayel traveled to Washington and obtained a promise for the expedited delivery of military equipment to his forces. On 22 July, Beirut Airport was shelled by mortars, wounding three Marines and temporarily closing the airport. On 23 July, Walid Jumblatt, leader of the predominantly Druze Progressive Socialist Party, announced the formation of a Syrian-backed “National Salvation Front” opposed to the 17 May Israel-Lebanon agreement.
10
and 11 August, an estimated 35 rounds of mortar and rocket fire landed on U. S. positions, wounding one M rine. On 28 August, the U. S. force returned fire f°r 1 first time. On the following day, U. S. mortars silence Druze battery after two Marines had been killed and wounded in a rocket and mortar attack. j
One theory held that these attacks were actually target^ against the Lebanese armed forces, located adjacent to ^ Marines at the airport. But the volume of the attacks Marine positions debunks this thesis. One thing is clear all forces at the airport, American or Lebanese, were s ting ducks.”
On 4 September, Israeli forces unexpectedly withdre from the Alayh and Shuf districts, falling back to the Wali River. Lebanese forces were not prepared to fill *, void, moving instead to occupy the key junction at dah, south of Beirut Airport. The airport was again shel & later that day, killing two Marines and wounding two ° ers. The next day, a Druze force reinforced by elements the PLO routed the Lebanese Christian militia and all eliminated the Lebanese forces as a military factor in Alayh district. _
This defeat obliged the Lebanese armed forces to cupy the mountain village, Suq-Al-Gharb, in an eff°rt avoid conceding to the Druze all the high ground °ve looking Beirut Airport. Subsequently, U. S. Marine poS tions were subjected to constant fire. As a result, coun battery fire based on target acquisition radar vv
by
a sniper. On 19 October, four Marines were wounded
mployed. An F-14 tactical reconnaissance mission was °Wn for the first time on 7 September, followed on 8 Eptcmber by the first use of naval gunfire support for the brines from Navy destroyers offshore.
On 11 September, U. S. policymakers determined that e successful defense of Suq-Al-Gharb was essential for jj® Safety of the Marines in Lebanon. Accordingly, on 14 at ^tern^er’ an emergency ammunition resupply was initi- ed to the Lebanese Armed Forces. On 19 September, f avy destroyers provided gunfire support to the Lebanese ^rces defending Suq-Al-Gharb. The battleship New Jer- . y l^B-62) arrived in Lebanese waters on 25 September. cease-fire was instituted that same day, and Beirut Air- °d reopened five days later.
k Although the cease-fire officially held until mid-Octo- r> factional clashes intensified and sniper attacks on ele- A,ej'ts °f the multinational force became commonplace.
though Walid Jumblatt had earlier announced a separate rn°Vernment administration for the Shuf and called for the f ass defection of all Druze from the Lebanese armed rces, the leaders of Lebanon’s key factions nevertheless ^§reed on October 14 to hold reconciliation talks in Ge, ®Va, Switzerland. On 16 October, one Marine was killed
Lebanon would ultimately turn. The official U. S. account read as follows:
“At approximately 0622 on Sunday, 23 October, the Battalion Landing Team (BLT) Headquarters building in the Marine Amphibious Unit (MAU) compound at Beirut International Airport was destroyed by a terrorist bomb. This catastrophic attack took the lives of 241 U. S. military personnel and wounded over 100 others. The bombing was carried out by a lone terrorist driving a yellow Mercedes Benz stakebed truck that accelerated through the public parking lot south of the BLT Headquarters building, crashed through a barbed wire and concertina fence, and penetrated into the central lobby of the building, where it exploded . . . while the majority of the occupants slept. The force of the explosion ripped the building from its foundation. The building then imploded on itself.”
Almost simultaneous with the attack on the Marine compound, a similar truck bomb exploded at the headquarters of the French element of the multinational force.
It is not the focus of this article to dwell on the reasons that this savage attack occurred or on its purpose. That task was accomplished eloquently in the report by the Department of Defense Commission on the Beirut International Airport Terrorist Act, 23 October 1983—otherwise known as the Long Commission.* A conclusion of that
*The chairman of the commission was Admiral Robert L. J. Long. U. S. Navy (Retired).
report was that “the USMNF [U. S. contingent of the multinational force] was not trained, organized, staffed, or supported to deal effectively with the terrorist threat in Lebanon.” The commission further concluded that “much needs to be done to prepare U. S. military forces to defend against and counter terrorism.”
Nowhere was this point made more obvious than in the rules of engagement (ROEs) provided the Marines in Lebanon. The rules were essentially those used in peacetime by U. S. forces stationed throughout the world— specifically, to react only in self-defense and in proportion to the threat, and to cease reacting when the threat abated. The Long Commission concluded that the mission statement, the rules of engagement in use, and the implementation in May 1983 of a dual blue card (tighter security and more flexible weapons arrangements in the vicinity of the embassy and the ambassador’s residence)/white card (less stringent security at the Marines’ airport compound) rule by the Marines contributed to a policy that overly specified security risks at different locations. The commission held that the rules detracted from the Marines’ ability to respond to terrorism.
It may well be that the original ROEs, which have adequately protected U. S. forces deployed during peacetime, would have been sufficient, that is, when attacked, attack back. But the fact that the Marines chose different ROEs for different Beirut locations, and had to work with the other multinational force elements, each with its own ROEs—when taken together—made it more difficult, not easier, to respond to terrorism.
With hindsight, it would appear that the inability of the Lebanese Government to develop a political consensus and the resultant outbreak of hostilities between the Lebanese armed forces and armed militias supported by Syria effectively precluded any possibility of a successful peacekeeping mission. By late summer of 1983, the situation in Lebanon had changed to such an extent that the conditions upon which the Marines’ mission and rules of engagement were initially premised were considerably altered. While, over time, additional guidance and modification of the rules of engagement were provided the U. S. contingent to the multinational force to enable it to cope more effectively with an increasingly hostile environment and a growing threat of terrorism, the situation of restricted options available to the United States with its peacekeeping mission continued to make successful execution an impossible task.
After the shattering event of 23 October, the rest ol the U. S. involvement in Lebanon was essentially anticlimax. Resolutely, the United States immediately announced it would never be driven from Lebanon by terrorism. Attacks regularly occurred against Marine airport positions. On 4 November, the Israeli Military Governor’s Headquarters in Tyre was destroyed by a suicide driver in a small truck loaded with explosives. There were 46 fatalities. On the same day, Ambassador Donald Rumsfeld was appointed by President Reagan to replace Ambassador Robert McFarlane as the President’s special envoy to the Middle East.
During November and December, Israel, France, and
the United States conducted retaliatory air strikes again® Syrian positions in the Bekaa Valley. The cost was htg^> the results uneven. In late January 1984, I listene Walid Jumblatt, visibly nervous in a late-night intervie with American journalists in a Damascus hotel, e*P that he had been convinced of American goodwill an neutrality until the day the offshore gunfire support began- After that, he said, the Marines were just another fact' fighting against the cause of his Druze followers. , So the sound of the New Jersey’s mighty Suns, °n reached Damascus. By March 1984, the Marines had redeployed, as had the armada of naval ships that supported them.
Issues Offshore
Throughout the period of U. S. involvement hi Leba^
from
U1V 1T1U1111VJ UJUU1V. 111V 1CUVV lUU^WW “• - _ . -
10 to 30 ships during different periods, always consist! of amphibious warfare vessels—containing a Marine serve for commitment ashore if necessary—with supP and supply ships in company, and often the support ot or more frigates or destroyers and a helicopter ass ship. In addition to protecting the naval force, the srna combatants—augmented for months by the battleships’ Jersey—were also capable of delivering direct supP0 gunfire ashore to counter threats to the Marines at Be' Airport. Farther from shore steamed one or more aircr carrier battle groups capable of projecting air P0"1 , ashore as necessary, and serving as a visible warning a buffer to other powers that might be interested in influen ing the Lebanese situation.
Many of these forces were called away from °jn ments elsewhere, thus thinning U. S. naval strength other locations such as the Arabian Sea and northern rope. Off Lebanon, the ships and planes were capable providing the full range of naval support to U. S. f01^ ashore: airpower projection, gunfire support, transport ^ tion and logistics, search and rescue, medical care, an reserve fighting force. -c
The force reached its greatest size just after the trag terrorist bombing of 23 October. In November 1983> included three aircraft carriers: the Dwight D. Eisenhow (CVN-69), Independence (CV-62), and John F. Ken^^ (CV-67), plus their battle group escorts. The ships we reportedly sent when retaliation was being considered ^ the suicide bombing but largely dispersed after French a^ Israeli forces conducted reprisal air raids against camps of those thought to be culpable, and when °Per
non, an active naval force remained at sea off Beirut support the Marines ashore. The force ranged in size
the
eastern Mediterranean to return to their normal deploy ments elsewhere. a|
The real story offshore is not about what these na^ forces accomplished, which is well known—they V formed their assigned naval missions with the highest
tional pressures increased for naval forces assigned to
gree of professional competence. The real story is
with
these forces became increasingly involved, not only the military and political situation ashore in Lebanon, pointedly within the U. S. domestic political rea 11
more
1985
Three issues, which were subject to public discussion only in the final weeks of the U. S. involvement in Lebanon, best reflect that involvement:
- The question of the New Jersey's effectiveness in Lebanon and thus, by extension, the question of battleship effectiveness in general
- The interrelationship between targeting policies for naval gunfire support and political considerations, such as the War Powers Act
- The more fundamental question of the reaction of Lebanese factions to the use of naval gunfire
The return of the World War II Iowa (BB-61)-class battleships to active duty—two are now active, a total of four planned—formed an important part of President Ronald Reagan’s naval recovery program of the 1980s. Limited by cost to a maximum of 15 aircraft carrier battle groups but tasked with broad global responsibilities on all of the world’s major seas and oceans, the Navy sought to use the four battleships as centerpieces for surface action groups, each capable of performing many missions that would otherwise require carrier battle group assets.
The cost was attractive—about $400 million to reactivate and reequip each ship. The New Jersey, reactivated previously for Vietnam gunfire support, had already proven that there was still a role for her 16-inch guns. These superships, whose heavily armored construction had long been considered invulnerable to any conventional munition, were ideal platforms for modern technology. In Lebanon, the Navy maintained, the New Jersey “hit what it aimed at,” silencing those who sought to bombard the force of U. S. Marines. Unsaid but certainly obvious, use of the battleship’s guns to suppress enemy batteries was far less costly than the use of naval air power, if any indication may be given by the December 1983 air raid by U. S. carrier aircraft against Syrian positions in the Bekaa. In that raid two aircraft were lost and one was damaged by surface-to-air missiles and antiaircraft artillery. Sixteen- inch shells fly undaunted through air defenses. Aircraft often do not. Moreover, naval shelling does not produce prisoners of war. Lebanese President Amin Gemayel is reported to have said, “I don’t care what message the U. S. sends to our opposition, as long as it is sent with the New Jersey.”
But critics are quick to point out that—despite naval shelling—the Lebanese forces performed less and less effectively over time, the Marines were ultimately forced to “redeploy,” and President Gemayel himself finally had to bow to Syrian demands.
For some, the jury is out on the battleship—but not for the Navy, which is proceeding at full speed with plans to reactivate all four. The Navy points out that in Lebanon the measure of effectiveness was that when the New Jersey fired, the firing from the mountains and hills into Beirut
As the situation in Lebanon continued to unravel, like this tattered Lebanese flag, members of the 24th MAU attended a memorial service for two comrades killed in a rocket and mortar attack on 29 August 1983.
not the
agreed strongly with the administration whether or
stopped. They add that the naval bombardments were conducted despite heavy restriction on ground-based forward observers and on aerial reconnaissance—both absolutely critical to the effectiveness of naval gunfire against targets ashore—and in the face of firm orders to minimize collateral damage and avoid civilian casualties. It was a nearimpossible assignment against an enemy who prefers to operate—as did the Viet Cong—from civilian enclaves. The judgment seems to be that while the New Jersey accomplished her mission in Lebanon in strictly military terms, she failed to produce a truly decisive effect.
If the battleships represent the specific case for gunfire support, the broader question of targets for that gunfire represents the general case. On 14 February 1984, Secretary of the Navy John Lehman told a group of defense reporters that “there is very definitely a shift in emphasis to make it clear that we will be providing supporting fire to the Lebanese armed forces, and that it is not linked to specific incoming fire against the Marines at the airport.” Later there was a clarification. Finally, the Secretary re
leased a statement saying that the ‘ ‘correct policy is lha the naval gunfire was intended to protect the multination force and Americans in the greater Beirut area, and not Lebanese army.”
The problem with Lehman’s remarks was that they ran counter to the official policy adopted by the administrati°n to fend off potential congressional criticism, and to le?1^ lation enacted the previous October forbidding changes the mission of the Marines in Lebanon. Congress had lS
Marines were engaged in hostilities as defined under t War Powers Act. Subsequently, Congress passed legrsj tion recognizing that such hostilities existed and author!2 ing the U. S. contingent to remain in Lebanon f°r months. The legislation did not preclude “protective mea sures” for the Marines but by limiting changes to the M ^ fine mission prevented military intervention on behalf the Gemayel government. It was along this razor’s edg between congressional opprobrium and Lebanese collap- that the Reagan Administration sought to tread.
°ntended that protecting the ministry was an act of U. S. 6 'defense because U. S. military advisors were in. Ved in training Lebanese forces and were present in the Ministry.
The following day, naval gunfire was directed at Suq- Q "Gharb in support of Lebanese forces fighting against militia. The administration’s position was that the Ctl0n was taken to prevent the Druze and others from copying the hills overlooking Beirut Airport and the narine compound.
h . y 'ate February 1984, use of naval bombardments was t e|ng explained as a means of protecting U. S. personnel fining Lebanese forces—although it is impossible to nhrm that American military advisors ever accompa- ^led Lebanese forces in the field—and as retaliation c8a'nst hostile fire directed at U. S. reconnaissance air- ra '• In the 7 February statement in which President Rea- an announced his decision to redeploy the Marines, he so said that the United States would continue “to pro- i' e naval gunfire and air support against any unit firing £ 0 greater Beirut from parts of Lebanon controlled by yna.” He described this policy as consistent with the existing mandate” of the multinational force. While this lcy for use of force may have been within the man- ate, the actual use of this force in support of the Gemayel a^Vernment, which was considered by many at this time s simply another faction, laid waste to any claim of evented neutrality.
a 'he situation in Lebanon continued to unravel— U. S. losses to mount—the administration was faced !. a quandary. Few clear policy alternatives existed 'eh could possibly have served Lebanon’s military and a° hical needs. To have expanded the Marines’ mission rj , flowed them to operate more actively would have 's ed greater casualties and triggered calls from the ^erican public and Congress to end all U. S. involve- *n Lebanon. Vietnam’s wounds were far from
s- ^he threat of Congress claiming that the Marines’ mis- a °n had changed from neutral peacekeeping to support of h c°nfessional faction not only further limited administra- c°n. °Ptions but may have brought about a constitutional tj.riSls 'he challenge had been met by administration indigence. Fortunately, such a crisis was averted. But ^ e Possibility of such congressional action could well n3Ve served as inducement to Syria and its allies in Leba- e°n to keep up attacks on the Marines in hopes of arousing Hough domestic pressure in America to pull them out.
, e option of withdrawal—until it became the only pru- et" choice—was particularly difficult for the administrate1 because of legitimate concern for the rippling effect . a' such a move might cause in undermining the credibil- T °f America’s commitments to her other friends and a'hes.
Which brings us to the third issue, the reaction of oppo- 1 '°n factions in Lebanon to the U. S. naval gunfire and 'ejection of air power ashore. Lebanon is a nation in v 'ch even rank criminals and terrorists are wise to the a "e of the media; indeed, their every action or pro- °"ncement plays to them. They are also aware of how
democratic institutions and free societies conduct themselves. And they are particularly knowledgeable about the United States, where there are scarcely any secrets and even our most painful private anguish as a nation is invariably subject to the most excruciating public debate. Lebanon may still be considered a democracy, but it is a primitive and shattered one, where the spirit of political negotiation and compromise has been replaced by the stark realities of force.
The Lebanese factions knew how to make their plans work, given the enormous intelligence available to them— if not about the actual tactical dispositions and plans of the multinational force, then more importantly, about the motivations and limitations which underlay overall U. S. policy. On 14 September 1983—unable to alter the Marine mission because of congressional legislation—the U. S. Government announced that the Marines in Lebanon would thenceforth be authorized to call on U. S. naval and air power not only to defend themselves but to assist other Western forces and, in certain circumstances, the Lebanese Army. This change was not lost on the Lebanese groups, nor were the words of administration spokesmen who insisted that there was no change in the basic mission of the Marines in Lebanon. The factions knew they could not realistically hope to attack naval forces offshore, which the American press and their own limited probes had shown were too well defended and simply inaccessible to their limited geographical and technological reach. What they could attempt was to eliminate—or render untenable—the presence of that ground force the naval force was on call to support.
This simple but direct strategy worked. In his State of the Union address on 25 January 1984, the President declared, “We are making progress in Lebanon.” He insisted once more that “. . . we must not be driven from our objectives for peace in Lebanon by state-sponsored terrorism.” Shortly after giving that address, the President approved a plan to remove the Marines from Beirut. The U. S. withdrawal was announced on 7 February 1984, sending shock waves reverberating through the Middle East. One year later, on 6 February 1985, the President delivered his State of the Union address closely following his landslide reelection. This time, he made no reference to Lebanon. He did not mention the continuing difficulties of the Middle East.
Peering Through the Fog
Eminent strategist Carl von Clausewitz, in his landmark study On War, wrote that often in war the simplest thing is difficult and the most difficult thing easy—but that it is always hard to see what must be done. This he attributed to the “fog of war,” to war’s normal condition of confusion and inefficiency, chaos and carnage, unpredictability and uncertainty. No doubt this “fog” is also present in the political realm and perhaps, at least at times, in all human endeavors. Certainly such a construct provides an explanation—consoling or not—when things do not turn out as planned.
It may be true that all of the more unfortunate or incon-
Pr
to the point where they consider military forces more
doubt
job—to win. Were he alive today, he would no
readily conclude that if U. S. forces would not be allo've to do their jobs for whatever reason, then they should no be deployed. ...
Such a theory would hold that the act of deploying rn1 1 tary forces signals commitment. The advantages are o ous. Leaders become experienced in the skillful non-u of force, as in the Cuban Missile Crisis. But under su circumstances, the need to eliminate uncertainty and maintain absolute control can become overwhelming Thus, the President himself positioned the individual ship in the naval blockade off Cuba in October 1962. tainly, effective civilian control of the military instrumen is a necessary condition for any free and democratic sys
1. n
ded
tern. The military should not be allowed a free hand
venient elements that are to be found in large-scale conventional wars are also to be found in limited wars or “military actions”—only they are worse. In limited war, the central difficulty is not only the perennial challenge of demonstrating resolve to the enemy but also the unique military task of having to adapt, quickly and successfully, to those unfamiliar or changing conditions in which one’s forces must operate. Diplomatic success will hinge directly on military success, since resolve cannot survive repeated military failure.
The passage from an older world of regular conventional wars to a world where most wars or military actions are now strange and unconventional campaigns—even, in some cases, carried out under the paradoxical threat of nuclear involvement—may have brought political leaders
suit
able for signalling than for fighting. As Clausewitz re minds us, “War is the continuation of politics with t admixture of other means.” .
As a result, political leaders have come to see mult / forces primarily as an augmentation to the diplon13 corps rather than fighters. The problem is military Pers°° nel are not trained as statesmen but as fighters. Frank Roosevelt commented during World War II that mili13^ forces always should be the last instrument of policy use • But when they are used, they ought to be left to do the should, however, be allowed the freedom of action ne& to solve the military problem within the limits set far’ l_ And the military can only begin solving the problem 'v‘ie it has received a meaningful and realistic mission.
The Vietnam War provided countless examples of h° political control failed to consider the military impe^f tives, and how on many occasions the civilian leadership selected plans not because of their likely military success^ but simply because they were controllable. President Lya don Johnson’s personal control of the target list for U- ‘ air strikes into North Vietnam is perhaps the best kno'v illustration but another is the fact that in 1968, Genera William Westmoreland, Commander U. S. Military Ass*® tance Command Vietnam, needed special authorization use antipersonnel artillery rounds in the desperate defens of Khe Sanh. But if micromanagement of the milita^ function greatly inhibits the ability of military leaders conduct operations safely and efficiently in a hostile enj1 ronment, another factor makes this still more difficult- by becoming focused on the militarily trivial, those in P° litical control may fail to carry out the vital macro fUIjc tions which only they can properly perform: specific3); ’ the definition of a clear military mission with stated obJeC^ tives obtainable within the military realm, and a de3 statement regarding the limitations on resources wh>c they will permit the military to apply. In limited war situ^ tions it sooner or later seems to become easier for politic leaders to place increased emphasis on signalling and P°s turing. They may even come to centrally direct all rnilitar' evolutions down to their barest minutiae. They even m3; place severe limitations on actual hostilities. With thos controls they gain the means to regulate domestic and ternational political reaction, but they also may lose the military leader the means to limit the loss and injury
Hs men. The final results are overflexible and ambiguous P° icies—for the military leader, the fog of war writ pain- fuI1y large.
Looking back on the Vietnam War, former Secretary of tate Dean Rusk said, . .we never made any effort to yeate a war psychology in the United States during the letnam affair. We didn’t have military parades through ll!es • • . we tried to do in cold blood what can perhaps °n y be done with hot blood, when sacrifices of this order are involved. At least that’s the problem that people have 0 ^ink of if any such thing, God forbid, should happen a°ain.” Rare, indeed, in the modern military era are inactions such as that purportedly given to the Royal avy admiral who headed the British task force sent to setake the Falkland Islands from Argentina. The orders 'mply read, “Take actions in the interest of Britain and r>er Majesty.”
j |n January 1985, Defense Secretary Caspar Weinberger (e 1Vered a most contemplative address before the Na- t'°na* Press Club in Washington. In it, he spelled out six ®sts that he thought ought to govern the future use of ^1 itary force by the United States: the United States should not commit forces to combat verseas unless the particular engagement or occasion is Rented absolutely vital to our national interest.
Having decided to commit forces to combat, we should ^ so wholeheartedly and with the very clear intention of
^ should have clearly defined political and military Jectives, and should know precisely how our forces can accomplish them.
The relationship between our objectives and the forces e have committed must be continually assessed and ad- usted if necessary.
Before the United States commits combat forces toad, there must be some reasonable assurance that we 11 have the support of the American people and their ^ected representatives in Congress.
The commitment of U. S. forces to combat must always e a last resort.
These tests, taken together, almost certainly reflect the a<nfol lessons of the Vietnam War—but also of the recent <,er*°d of U. S. involvement in Lebanon. They were, as cecretary Weinberger said, “intended to sound a note of Uution for the future, especially with regard to Central ^Herica.”
And certainly they do. But these tests on the use of Bitary force should focus not on history but on present . lrcumstances, in which small military units have been j.ncreasing]y used for “presence” or as “peacekeeping k°rces.” fo most cases, the U. S. military presence has 5en largely symbolic. Bitter, painful experience has 0vvn, and not just in Lebanon, that potential adversaries ari(l especially the fundamentalist fanaticism of the mod- ^rr> Middle East—will not be deterred from bloodshed by token military presence.
Why are small fanatic groups seen as increasingly capa- e of thwarting the efforts and interests of larger powers? Be reasons seem obvious. Extremists, unlike most of us, are ready to go beyond rational limits and use whatever
amount of force is necessary to preserve their interest or further their causes. The razing of the Syrian city of Hama by President Hafez al-Assad to quell a revolt is a staggering example. With the deaths of some 20,000 inhabitants— about one-fifth of the city’s population—the regime provided a classic example in the utility of extremism. In Hama, there is no longer a whisper of revolt.
Extremists are willing to exploit the media fully— simplifying their positions into short black-and-white cliches to which the media respond—by making the outrageous statements for which radio and television live. Extremism is also on the rise as a successful implement of policy because it has a much wider popular base than we want to believe. Extremism feeds on itself, and it feeds on frustration and insensitivity. Extremists are popularly thought to be crazy, but perhaps they are instead sensing and acting on wider and deeper feelings within their societies. Perhaps the only difference between the extremist and the average citizen is that the extremist takes the frustration and anger of the people around him and plays them out to their limits and beyond. It is out beyond those limits—in a world of shrewd if malevolent creativity and of violent instruments violently employed—that our nation and its armed forces must learn to contend.
Secretary Weinberger is right to suggest that the United States resist ventures that entail undue risk when those tests he sets for the U. S. use of force have not been met. To members of the military, not being permitted to win in a holding action is only a shade away from the realization of defeat. Suffering casualties that may be perceived as unnecessary, without the authority to fight back, is a difficult thing for the fighting spirit. It would be impossible for U. S. military forces—or any military forces—to be committed regularly to essentially sacrificial roles requiring them to stand their ground and accept punishment from a ruthless and determined enemy.
But there are also difficulties with these tests for the use of military force, not in their prudent wisdom or undeniable substance but in their interpretation and application to the real world.
Who can say what, exactly, are America’s vital interests? In the interdependent world of recent years, it has appeared at times that anyone and anywhere fall into that broad category. Moreover, the list of U. S. vital interests is subject to frequent and rapid change. Take Lebanon, as an example.
What defines “winning?” Must we always seek unconditional surrender or, in the other extreme, a return to the status quo ante bellum, given that neither is likely in the nuclear age? Which limited political and military objectives will be used to define victory?
How can an administration obtain a reasonable assurance of public support before forces are committed? Certainly not by referendum. What difference will it make even if such support is given, if it later is eroded as the going gets tough? Perhaps the only good answer, however ironic, is that an administration can obtain public support only by consulting Congress. For the members of Congress will go along with the administration's plan to apply military force only if their constituencies have also been
Secretary of Defense Caspar Weinberger is shown with the multinational peacekeeping force in December 1982. In January 1985, he made a historic speech in which he enunciated a series of six guidelines relative to the commitment of U. S. military force which, if scrupulously followed, would mean “No More Vietnams,” but, also, “No More Lebanons.”
fully convinced—and then only if diplomatic efforts have been exhausted. Though ironic, this illustrates an undeniably positive aspect of the War Powers Act.
There are no easy answers to these questions, but that should not diminish the value of their being asked. But the most vital question may be whether we Americans are willing to learn, or are even capable of learning, from our history—from our failures and even from our successes. In his celebrated treatise Summary of the Art of War, Antoine Henri Jomini advised, “Military history, accompanied by sound criticism, is indeed the true school of warfare.” If this was true in the time of Napoleon, it is certainly no less true today. The answer to whether we will learn from Lebanon remains moot against the ring of Jomini’s advice and the echo of George Santayana’s admonition that, “Those who do not learn from the failures of history are condemned to repeat them.” There are those who would claim we Americans are too arrogant to learn, too prideful as a people to genuinely question or examine our policies and actions.
The U. S. involvement in Lebanon, while well documented, is inaccessible to most of us for reasons of security classification. Part of the purpose of classification, of course, is to ensure that potential enemies are unable to gain an intimate view of high level U. S. decision-making. This has its disadvantages, for at times there are practical reasons for some of this information to be placed in the public domain. It is impossible to confirm that our military leaders strongly advised the political authorities that U. S. use of force in Lebanon was neither appropriate nor practical; documentation is always scarce on such advice. But it is possible that only public knowledge of such information will ensure that such failures are prevented in the future.
To some, and particularly those without access to classified materials, it is almost as if the American involvement in Lebanon never happened. They know only that the Marines did a very difficult job over which they were given little effective control, conducted themselves fully in keeping with their proud tradition as the world’s elite fighting force—then went home to lick their wounds, bury their dead, and try to put it all behind them. Perhaps this also explains why formal determination of command accountability for the tragedy of 23 October 1983 has never been rendered.
The Long Commission Report, in fact, stated that it “did not question the political decision to insert the Marines into Lebanon,” and “did not address the political necessity of their continued participation in the multinational force following the 23 October 1983 terrorist attack” because “political judgments are beyond the purview of the Commission’s Charter.” Without disputing such assumptions, which speak for themselves, it may be
of
that until such disappointing and unsuccessful chapter U. S. history as our Lebanon experience are carefully an objectively scrutizined by those with sufficient stature aI1 authority to examine and analyze all factors and deternu full accountability, there is neither incentive nor kno ^ edge enough to prevent similar failures. One senses strange aura of helplessness here, in stark contrast to much courage and strength. .,|
What have we learned from Lebanon? Only time ^ tell. It is difficult to agree with the February 1985 claim t former Secretary of State Alexander Haig in testim°0 before the Senate Foreign Relations Committee that ^ prompt U. S. retaliatory strike against Syrian camps 1 Lebanon after the April 1983 bombing of the U. S- E1? bassy in Beirut would have prevented the Marine barrac massacre six months later—though his point about reac ing to aggression and injury is well taken. It is a stateme overflowing with a kind of affected omniscience, just t kind of statement that in the past has perhaps caused rat e than averted such tragic events. But one can genera ; agree with The Washington Post's Meg Greenfield, who1 that same month wrote of Vietnam and the lessons sh unlearned as we suddenly found ourselves approach! r the tenth anniversary of Saigon’s fall. She wrote, “We a still immobilized by the war, admitting no evidence t might alter our understanding of what happened.” The is a familiar ring to these words, a ring reminiscent of Bourbons who, when restored to the throne of Naples at
aPoleon’s overthrow, were held to have “remembered everything and learned nothing.”
In recent months, Israel has announced another phase of 's withdrawal from southern Lebanon. Jordan’s King Ussein and PLO leader Yasser Arafat have reportedly Cached an agreement which holds promise for Arab-Is- |jjeli negotiations. King Fahd of Saudi Arabia has visited e White House in search of increasing President pagan’s commitment to the Middle East peace process. 116 President’s spokesman released a cautious statement Say>ng simply that the United States would continue in its f. 0rts to support peace in the Middle East. Later, the n,ted States and Soviet Union—newly reinvolved in the equaUy thorny but more invigorating process of negotiat- n§ strategic arms control—sat down to a separate meeting 0n the Middle East. The meeting’s results were never
announced.
Only time will tell what lessons our Lebanon involvement taught America. But one thing remains clear. A great power cannot afford to sit on the global sidelines—as America did in the 1970s. Greatness requires involvement. Despite the risks, which are always present, and despite the attempts that sometimes go sadly awry, America will maintain its influence and stature only if it is willing to take some of those risks, and also to accept and learn from results that are not always positive. After all, we are far from the only nation to have suffered “downs” as well as “ups” in the conduct of our foreign policy.
By the spring of 1984, our hopes for Lebanon had been almost totally dashed. Our military forces had been driven out, as had the forces of our allies. The Lebanese Army we had labored to strengthen had essentially collapsed.
We had again sent home American military dead to their families from some far off place across the ocean. Almost as if unaware of those events, the polyglot.Lebanese militias continued fighting their own and others’ battles in their perpetual civil war. And most Americans—with the instinctive reaction of a child who touches a hot stove and gets burned—wanted to get as far away from Lebanon and the Middle East as possible, and for as long as possible. To surrender to this instinct would be wrong, and not only because the United States lives in a perpetual “glasshouse” environment, where every move is watched and calculated upon by numberless countries, large and small. It would also be wrong because throughout its history the United States has remained a living symbol of attempting to do the right thing, however difficult or costly. General Kelley, in his TV interview, mourned a people who could not reach beyond themselves and grasp a higher purpose—and take action, if necessary, to support that purpose. We must take care that it is not some future America for which the general mourns. Lebanon was painful and difficult. It was a place where a well-intended America often felt frustrated and misunderstood. That perception was correct, and at least partly our own doing. But we must learn from Lebanon. We must force ourselves to learn and to be adaptable. For there will be other “Lebanons.” There are, in fact, some now. If America cannot find a low-risk method of influencing events—as the Soviets have apparently found through such means as proxy forces and outright intimidation— then we must resurrect our ability to manipulate. Manipulation is not merely the negative trait we often resent in individuals. It is, as well, an important national skill which makes diplomacy much easier. Not that long ago in a country like Lebanon, a quiet word from an American diplomat that the United States favored some particular course would have sent that nation’s politicians scurrying to adjust themselves to what was seen as American foreign policy. At that time America could manipulate because it was feared and trusted. By 1984, not even the 16-inch shells of the New Jersey could fully convince the Lebanese factions that the United States was really seriously committed to their causes. Is it still possible in this confusing age for the United States to “do good” abroad, to make the world better? The answer—for small countries at the mercy of criminals and thugs in whatever pose, and for small democracies being pushed around by larger despotic powers—is yes; it has to be. For many, only Americans’ hope, courage, and willingness to help stands between nationhood and chaos. And, as seen in our Lebanon involvement, sometimes even that is not enough. But in the Middle East, “doing good” is a more complicated problem than elsewhere. It requires a more positive, assertive—even interventionist—approach. It was right for the United States to try to negotiate a settlement | of the Arab-Israeli conflict, even if that meant manipu a ing all the parties in order to force a deal. It was also rig for this nation to try to rebuild Lebanon, even if that mea the deaths of American Marines. What was wrong was 0 try these things and fail. The Middle East is the “rough side of town.” Perhaps^ country that isn’t prepared to play rough—that does no ing, for example, when two embassies and a Marine he quarters are bombed in Lebanon, or in a more recent c when an American Army officer is first shot, then alio to bleed to death by Soviet guards in East Germany ^ should play only in the safer side of town. If the Un' States wants to operate in difficult areas such as the M__ die East—areas where the talons are always unsheathe it will have to do so more skillfully and, to be effect*^ more harshly. As the saying goes, “If you don’t have will to use a gun, don’t carry one. It’s dangerous. The United States should stand its ground in the Mid a East and anywhere where it can aid the causes of Pea and freedom. It should continue to fight—in the main, 0 hopes, diplomatically—for what it believes in. Amen can’t save the world from itself, but it can and should its power wisely and effectively to help countries such Lebanon. It can’t make Arabs and Israelis—or other an tagonists in the world—love each other, but it can gum ■ or prod, them toward agreements and a relaxation of ten sions. Toward realism. The good the United States can 1 in the Middle East and elsewhere is certainly worth t risk of trying. But only as long as America remains nation uniquely capable of reaching beyond and above > self—to a higher calling, higher effort, and higher pur pose—will this be so. . But if we cannot find the means to exhibit suffic1^ courage and statecraft—if we cannot reach as a nation higher effort and purpose—-then we must not expect ou military forces to make up for our inadequacy and indif ^ ence as a society and perform as global “jacks-of'a ^ trades” and surrogate sacrifices, particularly if they aiaj not allowed to fight and win. After Korea, Vietnam, an Lebanon we know what outcome such a course produces- It produces defeat—and not only for our military forC®s but, far more importantly, for America, and for America future willingness to be involved in the world. “America,” wrote F. Scott Fitzgerald, “is above al ' willingness of the heart." Where, one must wonder, would both America and the world now be without tna willingness? Commander Bruce L. Valley serves in the Office of the Secretary Defense on assignment for the President’s Strategic Defense In't‘at|ary Formerly a special assistant and principal speechwriter to the Seer of the Navy and CinCSouth, he has recently been a federal exeeo fellow at Georgetown University’s Center for Strategic and Intern*110 Studies. A naval aviator, Commander Valley was graduated from U. S. Naval Academy, U. S. Naval Test Pilot School, Naval Postgf* ate School, and the Naval War College with highest distinction. |
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