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Instead of emerging from the long night of the Cold War into the sunlight of a new world order, we find ourselves in a dark world, full of sound and fury, lit only by occasional flashes of lightning, in which each flash of light reveals a new crisis. As we consider each commitment of U.S. forces in this new world, we must answer five questions.
U.S. NAVY (J. BURKE) “LIGHTNING OVER POINT MUGU“
With the end of the Cold War came a wave of optimistic expectations. It was hoped that the world was entering a period of increased cooperation and conciliation, that there would be opportunities to reap a sizable peace dividend, and that there would be greater stability. Sadly, that has not proved to be the case. In sharp contrast to that hopeful vision, we live in an unsettled world where Saddam Hussein plays the self-appointed prototype of dangerous men around the globe; Iran is arming itself with new generations of submarines and cruise missiles; and North Korea continues to pursue the production of weapons of mass destruction despite new conciliatory tones. Every night, the televised scenes of this new era are beamed into our living rooms: the crying, wounded children of Sarajevo, desperate refugees from Cuba, the endless brutality in Mogadishu, the unspeakable violence in Rwanda.
In this global field of crisis, the Western allies have an important role to play. There is an imperative to lead, to provide a force for good, gradually seeking—within the constraints of our national resources—to bring order out of chaos.
This imperative is not spawned from purely altruistic motives, but rather from the simple realization that a stable global environment is good for business, good for citizens who increasingly venture to live and work abroad, and good for the political goals of our nation and alliance partners. Trade follows influence—and that requires securing our place as the world superpower.
If there is agreement on the need for involvement in this dangerous and unstable world, inevitably we must confront an issue that lies at the heart of a politically unpopular yet occasionally necessary process—the commitment of military force. For centuries, statesmen and
governments have tried to define the criteria that justify the commitment of force in foreign lands. It is a process fraught with political land mines, which stretches back more than two thousand years—from the ancient Athenians debating the commitment of force to defend their distant interests in Syracuse during the Peloponnesian War to our own U.N. Security Council discussions on the dispatch of additional troops to Bosnia-Herzegovina, with a thousand examples between.
Before a nation or an alliance decides to commit forces, there ought to be good and sensible answers to five questions. It is not essential that all of these questions be answered affirmatively; more important, a sound understanding of the issues posed will yield conclusions about the efficacy of military involvement.
► What are the specific national interests engaged? Before the blood of young men and women and national or alliance treasure are expended in foreign lands, a very specific accounting of the interests must be made. An interest may be defined as a condition of critical importance to the well-being of the state or alliance, humanitarian- ism, or the imperative to uphold the rule of law or principle. These are perhaps the most difficult criteria to meet, and there seldom will be full agreement—especially in a democracy. At the very least, however, advocates of using force must be able to articulate the national or alliance interests and present them before the public. This advocacy must be expressed in wide-ranging fora. The debate must be enjoined not only through the legitimately elected representatives of the populace, but also through the public debate on the electronic superhighway—from Internet to “Larry King Live,” from ABC polls to the op-ed pages of national and international publications.
In the end, the burden of proof must be on the advocates of force commitment and must be demonstrated to serve the national or alliance interest or to uphold uncompromising principles.
> What is the desired end state? There must be an accurate description of what the political-military landscape should look like when the committed forces are withdrawn. This goal must be clearly defined if policy drift is to be avoided.
The Persian Gulf War provides a clear illustration of the imperative to respond precisely to these first two questions. In that event, wide debate was conducted among and within nations to ensure an understanding of the interests to be served. Thereafter, the Coalition forces and the United States identified the desired end state before proceeding. Forces were then committed to carry out the clearly enunciated objectives: a free Kuwait with all Iraqi forces gone, a severely curtailed Iraqi military capability, and no U.S. or Coalition forces remaining on the ground in theater after the task was completed.
Although the military objectives were specific, there also was a less clearly defined political expectation that Hussein’s government be either destroyed or severely weakened. Ending Saddam’s ability to terrorize—although secondary to the consensus goal of restoring the Kuwaiti emirate—was a desired, albeit unofficial, outcome. Flushed with victory, having kicked the Iraqis out of Kuwait in short order, many strongly advocated “continuing the march” to Baghdad. The initial popular bravado and support for continuing the crusade notwithstanding, pursuing such a course would have been disastrous.
The members of the Coalition from the Gulf region were unanimous in the goal of Kuwaiti liberation but less than enthusiastic about confronting Iraqi forces on their native soil, particularly after having observed nine years of mindless carnage as the Iraqis and Iranians battled on the desert plain north of Basra. As a consequence, a Baghdad campaign could not have been conducted with forces from the region. British and French support may have been possible, but the campaign likely would have been a unilateral U.S. action. To be sure, this was a more daunting political circumstance than a military liability, but it was a significant factor nonetheless.
Assuming Hussein could have been apprehended—no small task if he proved half as elusive as Manuel Noriega— it is not clear from where the leadership would have
emerged to fill the vacuum in Baghdad. The feuds of the Iraqi factions are every bit as complicated as the Lebanon situation was just a decade earlier. In whatever time it would take to sort out the leadership question, the victorious U.S. forces would be recast as police-state enforcers, fending off the inevitable Baa’thist resistance. In short order, the stunning campaign success to liberate Kuwait would have been transformed into a pyrrhic victory.
All these potential consequences were considered before the Desert Storm campaign began on 17 January 1991. In reaching agreement on the goals of the campaign, the Coalition determined that the loss of even one life was too high a price to attempt to topple Hussein.
This is not to suggest that strategic goals cannot change or be revisited once the conflict begins. In fact, it may be essential to change objectives as events unfold or new opportunities present themselves. But great care must be employed in such cases, because mid-course adjustments could undermine support for the action so carefully husbanded under the first criterion. For instance, had U.S. forces continued to Baghdad and become embroiled in a peace-enforcement effort more closely resembling an urban guerrilla warfare campaign, support at home and around the globe would have collapsed in short order.
We can contrast the Gulf experience with the U.S. involvement in Vietnam, which suffered from constantly changing military objectives, operational interference from policy makers, and an absence of a clear, coherently defined end state—where the commitment of force inexorably stumbled to failure.
Some will argue that current crisis situations are too messy to permit any clear definition of desired end state. But it is precisely because these crises are so complicated that clarity of objective is paramount before committing military force. The situation is further complicated in the case of multilateral actions or peacekeeping and peace- enforcement missions, but again, it is all the more imperative that goals and expectations be understood before actions begin. The acrimonious public debate leading up to our involvement in Haiti was indicative of the complications that inevitably emerge absent clearly stated objectives from the outset of a military campaign.
► Can we accept the likelihood that some of our people will die? In this modern media age, the violence of war is no longer romanticized as adventure in some far-off land. The clear effect of this reality is that democracies are losing the resolve to persevere in the face of casualties. The British were able to hold on—but only just—in the Falklands. As Admiral Sandy Woodward brilliantly describes in 100 Days: The Falklands War, the decision to commit forces in the Falklands was supportable from the public perspective, even through what amounted to heavy losses, but a further major warship loss or continuing active war with personnel casualties would have begun to crumble public support.
In the United States during the buildup to the Persian Gulf War, some pundits predicted more than 10,000 U.S. and allied casualties—an estimate that gave rise to some very serious doubts. Instead, the Coalition pressed forward to stunning victory with remarkably few losses. But, to those who lost family and friends in that conflict, the losses were of epic proportion.
Our national psyche has developed a very low threshold for the loss of American life in circumstances that lack well-defined, clearly understood objectives. Even when the objectives are very clear, our public tolerance for human loss is very fragile. More than any other single event, the gruesome scene of a U.S. serviceman dragged through the streets of Mogadishu was enough to dismantle the U.S. mission to Somalia. Difficult though it may be to confront the horrifying consequence of conflict, it is critical that the public resolve be considered before forces are committed.
y Can the belligerents be precisely identified? This is key to determining success and failure. It was clearly answerable in successful interventions such as the Falklands Conflict or the Persian Gulf War; it could not be clearly answered in unsuccessful interventions such as Somalia, Lebanon, and Vietnam. Difficulty with this question bodes ill for involvement in Bosnia-Herzegovina, but it must be answered before plunging into that cauldron of despair with military force.
In late 1992, during the initial phase of U.N. involvement in the former Yugoslavia, the Spanish Brigade near Mostar found itself stranded and unable to assume more than a bunkered, defensive stance, because of its inability to clearly identify the enemy. Intelligence information is critical in determining where the belligerents are. but it is much less illuminating on the political question of who they are. No matter how compelling the rationale for action may be, external forces are virtually useless—and may even become part of the problem—if they cannot identify the belligerents.
We have arrived at a point in mass communications where every mistake—each innocent shot, every instance of collateral damage—is played and replayed on nationwide television. Identification of belligerents must be unambiguous if the use of force is to be effective. y Are sufficient forces and resources available to accomplish the desired end state? The answer will reveal military operational alternatives and, equally important, will provide a gauge for the depth of public support. Force or resource limitations will, in turn, narrow the options available.
The cleanest response to this question was advanced by former Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff General Colin Powell when he prescribed the need for overwhelming force in every conflict situation. If policy makers conclude there is sufficient cause to commit force, then it must be known where those forces are coming from, what sustainability and support they require, and what the requirements are to extract them from the conflict. But most important, the forces must be sufficient to overwhelm the belligerents and must be available in the here and now— not contingent on the next vote of confidence.
This “doctrine” is frequently misunderstood as a simplistic demand for raw volume. On the contrary, numerical count matters less than the range of capability options that must be available. For instance, although the U.S. Marines were prepared to deploy to Panama and thereby add number to the “overwhelming force” sent to apprehend Noriega, the nature of the operation did not require the unique amphibious assault capabilities the Marines could offer. As a result, they stayed home and the cam-
paign was largely an Army airborne-assault engagement. Similarly, while the Gulf Coalition force did not outnumber the Iraqi opposition, its composition was nonetheless more than sufficient to overwhelm.
The doctrine of overwhelming force is not a veiled effort to achieve jointness. Rather, it is a strategy that calls for the use of the best combination of resources configured to meet a given situation—regardless of the proportion of service representation. In short, it is the difference between the success of Desert Storm and the tragedy of Desert One.
The issue then is not sheer numbers, but rather the right mix of forces available, in sufficient volume, to overwhelm the enemy. Once the decision is made to commit force, it is equally essential to permit events to move forward without operational meddling from policy makers. This is the most effective means both to ensure military accountability for results and to mitigate against disaster.
The decision to commit force may well be the most difficult decision a human can make. For each conflict situation during his watch as Secretary of Defense, Dick Cheney struck the delicate balance required to spark public debate, enunciate the intended outcome, and select the resource requirements and operational plan—then stepped back after assigning military accountability for the conduct of the action. But before issuing the final launch order, he reflected on the ultimate human dimension of the action yet to come.
If a policy maker doesn’t feel the gut-wrenching import of his actions, that there is potential to send young men and women to their graves, then he or she is not the right person to make the decision. That is not to say that forces should never be committed—rather, the decision must be made with full recognition of the terrible weight of the potential human consequences.
When called upon to make a decision to commit force, a policy maker must focus on more than the cold calculus of answers to these five questions. He or she also must see in the mind’s eye the face of that young Sailor or Airman or Soldier or Marine. Those men and women deserve to be placed in a situation only when the responses to these questions ring clear.
None of this should paralyze policy makers or be construed as a rejection of the policy of committing force abroad. The taxpayers of the United States have expended trillions of dollars in building superb military forces—and
A successful intervention, the Gulf War had wide support, clear objectives, an unambiguous adversary, and forces and resources configured to meet the situation. Here, then-Secretary of Defense Dick Cheney meets with U.S. troops in the Gulf just before Desert Storm.
Contrast that with Operation Restore Hope: When the objective in Somalia was changed from humanitarian relief to peace enforcement, without a concomitant change in force configuration, the United States paid a high price. Unable to identify the belligerents or the specific national interests involved and in the face of public outrage over casualties, the administration doubled back and began a quick withdrawal.
the people who make up these forces have dedicated their lives to the endeavor. They can and should be used as a force for good in this disquieting world. Indeed, we have an obligation to lead, and to lead responsibly.
Conversely, the current pattern of increasing the burden of ill-defined demands on our forces will merely exacerbate the effect of diminishing capabilities and, ultimately, those who pay the price will be our men and women in uniform—with longer deployments, with far less capable equipment and logistic support, and perhaps with their lives. They and our nation deserve better.
The world beyond our shores is unpredictable and dangerous, a place where we can glimpse the future only dimly. But, if we determine that we can’t afford to pay as much for defense, then we must design a strategy that clearly articulates the more limited or different role we want to play in the world. And when we seek to implement that strategy, we must look individually at each commitment of force and coldly answer the five questions. Then, if required, we must move forward with quiet, dispassionate minds and a strong sense of conviction into the violence of war.
In this world increasingly lit by lightning, that is the only sound way to proceed with the commitment of force.
Mr. O’Keefe is on the faculty of the Pennsylvania State University and previously served as Secretary of the Navy in the Bush administration.