Exposing the Myth of Technology

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Second Honorable Mention

Vincent Astor Memorial Leadership Essay Contest

Exposing the Myth of Technocracy

By Lieutenant B. R. Galvin, U.S. Navy

The sense that one must opt either for the technocratic or the humanistic leader­ship style is a great problem for us as we steam into the difficult waters of the 1990s. The perceived dichotomy between technical excellence and leadership skills

can be seen in two stereotypes that are pervasive in popular accounts of war. The first is the leader a la John Wayne—a man of great stamina and moral courage standing up for what is right against an unresponsive military bureaucracy and

At sea, sailors must have confidence in their equipment and their ability to operate it. They must also have confidence in the technical compe­tence of their officers, who make the decisions with which they all must live—or die.

triumphing in the end by sheer force of character. These leaders often make deci­sions based on gut instinct, against the carefully calculated advice of their tech­nically competent but less visionary sub­ordinates. We all identify to some extent with these characters, for they display

traits we naturally desire to share; no one wants to be an uninspired underling pre­senting precisely calculated but pointless advice. The other stereotype can be summed up in one word: technocrat. This word has never had a good connotation; the press often uses it to describe Soviet bureaucrats who use “scientific” meth­ods to plan an economy that we all know is a shambles. Technocrats are generally perceived as believing that all problems, when properly formulated, are purely technical in nature and thus amenable to precise and objective solutions. Techno­crats are usually assumed to be insensi­tive, unfeeling managerial types who are seldom attuned to the needs of their sub­ordinates. The image of Admiral Hyman Rickover comes to mind, ruthlessly driv­ing hordes of cowed Navy and civilian workers in the nuclear field to higher lev­els of productivity.

In our Navy today, the natural tension between two very powerful images—the John Wayne-style “humanistic” leader and the soulless technocrat—has been exacerbated by the powerful mystique of Admiral Rickover and his nuclear clones. This has led to the development of the myth of technocracy, which describes a great Navy being taken over by a dedi­cated band of technocratic engineers and forced to do business the Rickover way— ruthless analytical efficiency at all costs, distrust of juniors (who are assumed to be incompetent), and immersion in a sea of details, even at the highest levels of lead­ership. In this myth, the common warrior is ignored, or, more properly, is viewed as a quantifiable and easily manipulated factor in management issues.

This myth (and it is only a myth) is a discredit to many, both in and out of the nuclear Navy, who feel that technical excellence is essential to good leadership in a modem Navy. Admiral Kinnard

McKee, in particular, has been hailed by Naval Academy graduates from the days when he was superintendent as having turned things around at the Academy by getting out among the midshipmen and finding out what their problems and needs really were. Later, when Admiral Kickover left the Navy and Admiral McKee became the Director of the Naval Reactors Program, he put an end to the legendary capriciousness of the entrance examinations for nuclear officer candi­dates and took many other measures to make the nuclear Navy a more humane organization.

But Admiral McKee also recognized the truth of a statement made by thcn- Chief of Naval Operations Admiral Car­lisle A. H. Trost:

“To compete in the world, to serve as a naval officer, today you must have a technical background. If you become an inveterate reader, if an idle mo­ment never finds you without a book in your hand, the broad knowledge will come to you. But without a back­ground in deep technical knowledge, and without the resulting confidence that moves you to unravel technical complexities wherever you find them, you will always be a wallflower in the ballroom of progress, and your suc­cess in our profession will suffer ac­cordingly.”

Judging by the level of technical profi­ciency in the fleet today, this truth is only partially taken to heart by the majority of naval officers. While not neglecting the need for broad study in the history of war, in strategy, in politics (for war is, as Karl von Clausewitz said, a continuation °f politics by other means), and to some extent in the humanities, the naval officer of today must at all costs achieve techni­cal excellence if he is to succeed at sea. This is not an issue of technocracy, it is an issue of technical excellence, and it is often obscured or rejected because of its seeming compliance with the myth of technocracy.

Sailors in a ship at sea during war are m a unique situation vis-a-vis soldiers, airmen, and even Marines. Unlike their counterparts on land, they have very few options in a battle. They can only retreat if the ship retreats, which is a decision the captain makes. They cannot desert, and they have little to gain by shirking their duties. Unlike a soldier who is faint at heart and strives to avoid risk by leaving his position only when it is absolutely unavoidable, the sailor’s risk is tied up inevitably in the risk to his ship. If it sinks, so does he; if it makes it through, then so, most likely, will he. This being the case, all of the rhetoric concerning John Wayne-style inspirational leader­ship is rather absurd; during the pro­tracted time of tension leading to an en­gagement at sea, stirring the men to a fever pitch is counterproductive in the extreme. They will be fatigued much more quickly and thus less attentive to their machines—their only means of in­flicting harm on the enemy. What is needed in a ship going in harm’s way in today’s high-tech maritime battle space is a resolute calm at all stations, a quiet in­tensity applied to each task based on the knowledge that each task is critical to all the rest, and that everyone sinks or swims together. This calm can only be achieved if the men have confidence in themselves and in the officers who in a warship are required to make decisions that determine the fate of all hands.

The men get their confidence in them­selves from their knowledge that they have learned their task well and have practiced it until they can do it in their sleep; they are technically proficient, and they know it. A radar operator who has mastered the intricacies of every knob on his set and every fix to get a better pic­ture, who knows the detection capabili­ties of his radar in every mode and every kind of casualty condition, is going to be confident of his ability to operate that set to the greatest benefit of his ship. But he will only turn his set on or off at the order of the captain, the ship’s weapons coordi­nator (SWC), or the tactical action officer (TAO). His confidence in these men who can augment or negate his own value to the team, who can, in fact, kill him if careless, does not come from a visceral sense that the officers are great leaders, decisive and bold, courageous and of high moral character. His confidence comes from the knowledge that his supe­rior is decisive, bold, intelligent, coura­geous, and intimately familiar with the effects of changes in the mode of opera­tion of the radar. If the radar operator knows that Lieutenant Commander X has studied everything he could get his hands on concerning the radar and its use and that he has experimented with various techniques over the last tew months of peace while trying to get a complete grasp of its capabilities, it he knows that the officer consistently discussed his ideas with the operators to get their im­pressions, he will confidently shift to stand-by when so directed. On the other hand, if Lieutenant Commander X is a tough, gutsy John Wayne type who al­ways leaves decisions up to the chief and never really understands what he is say­ing when he gives canned orders from the

Battle Organization Manual (and who never once sat at the console and did it himself), then when he runs up and says, “Place the radar in stand-by now!” there is likely to be a tremor of fear in the heart of any thinking sailor.

The TAO, and any other officer en­trusted with tactical decision making, must recognize the complex and technical nature of what lie is undertaking and pre­pare himself accordingly. Careful consid­eration of Admiral Trost’s injunction to pursue technical excellence is a great place to start. There are two parts to Trost’s comment: reading and technical preparation. In considering technical preparation, set aside any fear that an engineering degree or nuclear power training is needed; this is not true. But an aspiring TAO should be sure that he un­derstands intuitively the principles of operation of each sensor and weapon sys­tem available. He must read the technical manuals—not the maintenance section (as myth might have it), but the principles of operation and modes of operation sec­tions. Also, any casualty modes should be thoroughly understood. Usually this reading should be supplemented by sit­ting at the console and questioning the operator. (“Do you really make use of that dead time on watch in the middle of the night?”) These inquiries, and the development of real system understand­ing, will generate a sense of confidence that cannot come from “humanistic” leadership alone. The TAO must never cease trying to improve his understanding of the systems, their interrelationships, and their effective operation. Decisive­ness is important, but the only way to ensure quality decisions is to know what you’re talking about.

In the weapons world, the TAO must understand all of his available methods of putting ordnance on target. He must know not just basic ranges and ordnance types but must understand thoroughly the ability of each weapon to engage differ­ent types of targets under different types of circumstances. He must be able to make technically competent trade-off decisions to ensure maximum system ef­fectiveness. He will be the only one with access to all information at the moment of truth (except maybe the captain), so he'd better know what options he has. There may not be time for a debrief or critique if he doesn’t. Consider, for example, the post of TAO on a non-Aegis cruiser. It would be impossible, without having a background in deep technical knowledge, to attain the required level of knowledge to be able to go into a shooting war confi­dent of being able to fill in for the cap­tain, operating the complex ship to its utmost and taking full account of the ca­pabilities of the enemy, the impact of the environment, and a random scattering of possibly significant equipment degrada­tions.

In addition to technical knowledge, Admiral Trost enjoined us to be inveter­ate readers, never finding ourselves in an idle moment without a book in our hands. The technically proficient officer also must study the political, historical, and ethical dimensions of his profession. The Law of the Sea and our position on the United Nations Conference on the Law of the Sea, for instance, should be items familiar to any would-be tactician or strategist. A passing knowledge of Cor­bett and Mahan, a sprinkling of Clausewitz and Jomini, and a careful reading of retired Captain Wayne P. Hughes, Jr.’s, Fleet Tactics (Naval Insti­tute Press, 1986) should be considered a minimum start in the study of war at sea. It is important to remember that this is our chosen profession, and we may die in its conduct. To do so ignorant of what we are doing and why would be a travesty. But most important is to realize that tacti­cal innovation takes place at sea. Only by a combination of deep technical prepara­tion, thorough systems knowledge, and a thoughtful study of naval history and

contemporary naval thought can an offi­cer gain sufficient mastery of the art of naval tactics to aspire to innovate. This is more critical than it may appear since there are only a few people who at any time are devoted full-time to tactics de­velopment; they cannot cover every pos­sibility. If we hope to achieve maritime superiority or even temporary control of the sea against a resolute enemy, we had better have officers who are capable of tactical cleverness and even deviousness, within the limits of the Law of War.

Admiral Trost offered some very im­portant advice when he made the quoted remarks at the U.S. Naval Academy in 1988, yet the pervasive myth of technoc­racy has led to its rejection by some. Even worse, many (or most) officers probably just slip through the intellectual cracks. If you find yourself talking of doing a “data dump” after the TAO por­tion of Department Head School,¹ pause for a moment to think. You, and only you, are capable of making yourself into a good TAO in a few months; your life and the lives of your crew may depend on your level of knowledge. You cannot af­ford to presume that you can dump data. Any department head who reports to a combatant ship without having read the Combat Systems Doctrine should simi­larly consider whether he is missing a vital point. Who does he think is going to ensure that the ship fights effectively? The captain, all by himself?

The myth of technocracy, which envi­sions a “creeping nukeism” taking over the Navy and “abandoning the ageless precepts of military professionalism,”² is, indeed, only a myth. But at the same time, nuclear engineers who read techni­cal manuals with ease should complete their education by learning about the “big picture” of our profession through their own reading. It is not the Navy’s obligation alone to train us to become brilliant, innovative tacticians.

'Kenneth P. Weinberg, “A New Look at SWOS," U.S. Naval Institute Proceedings, January 1990, pp. 103-105.

Jeffrey E. McFadden, “We Need Leaders, Not Technocrats,” U.S. Naval Institute Proceedings, January 1990, p. 84.

Lieutenant Galvin is a student in the underwater acoustics master’s degree program at the Naval Post­graduate School. He served in engineering billets in the USS Bagley (FF-1069) and USS While Plains (AFS-4) prior to attending Nuclear Power School in Orlando. Florida. His last sea tour was as electrical officer on the USS South Carolina (CGN-37).