Reassessing the Revolution in Military Affairs Initiatives in Strategic Studies: Issues and Policies

James J. Wirtz General Editor

Jeffrey A. Larsen T.V. Paul Brad Roberts James M. Smith Series Editors

INITIATIVES IN STRATEGIC STUDIES provides a bridge between the use of force or diplomacy and the achievement of political objectives. This series focuses on the topical and timeless issues relating to strategy, including the nexus of political, diplomatic, psychological, economic, cultural, historic and military affairs. It provides a link between the scholarly and policy communities by serving as the recognized forum for conceptually sophisticated analyses of timely and important strategic issues. Nuclear Transformation: The New U.S. Nuclear Doctrine Edited by James J. Wirtz and Jeffrey A. Larsen Proliferation of Weapons of Mass Destruction in the Middle East: Directions and Policy Options in the New Century Edited by James A. Russell The Last Battle of the Cold War: The Deployment and Negotiated Elimination of Intermediate Range Nuclear Forces in Europe Maynard W. Glitman Critical Issues Facing the Middle East: Security, Politics and Economics Edited by James A. Russell Militarization and War Julian Schofield Global Politics of Defense Reform Edited by Thomas Bruneau and Harold Trinkunas Perspectives on Sino-American Strategic Nuclear Issues Edited by Christopher P. Twomey Strategic Culture and Weapons of Mass Destruction: Culturally Based Insights into Comparative National Security Policymaking Edited by Jeannie L. Johnson, Kerry M. Kartchner, and Jeffrey A. Larsen Terrorist Financing and Resourcing Jodi Vittori The India-Pakistan Military Standoff: Crisis and Escalation in South Asia Edited by Zachary S. Davis Responding to Catastrophic Events Edited by Jeffrey A. Larsen Reassessing the Revolution in Military Affairs Transformation, Evolution and Lessons Learnt

Edited by

Jeffrey Collins Researcher, Carleton University, Canada

and Andrew Futter Senior Lecturer in International Politics, University of Leicester, UK Editorial selection and content © Jeffrey Collins and Andrew Futter 2015 Individual chapters © Respective authors 2015 Softcover reprint of the hardcover 1st edition 2015 978-1-137-51375-5 All rights reserved. No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication may be made without written permission. No portion of this publication may be reproduced, copied or transmitted save with written permission or in accordance with the provisions of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, or under the terms of any licence permitting limited copying issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency, Saffron House, 6–10 Kirby Street, London EC1N 8TS. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages. The authors have asserted their rights to be identified as the authors of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. First published 2015 by PALGRAVE MACMILLAN Palgrave Macmillan in the UK is an imprint of Macmillan Publishers Limited, registered in England, company number 785998, of Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire RG21 6XS. Palgrave Macmillan in the US is a division of St Martin’s Press LLC, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010. Palgrave Macmillan is the global academic imprint of the above companies and has companies and representatives throughout the world. Palgrave® and Macmillan® are registered trademarks in the United States, the United Kingdom, Europe and other countries. ISBN 978-1-349-57069-0 ISBN 978-1-137-51376-2 (eBook) DOI 10.1057/9781137513762 This book is printed on paper suitable for recycling and made from fully managed and sustained forest sources. Logging, pulping and manufacturing processes are expected to conform to the environmental regulations of the country of origin. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Collins, Jeffrey, 1985– Reassessing the revolution in military affairs : transformation, evolution and lessons learnt / Jeffrey Collins, Researcher, Carleton University, Canada ; Andrew Futter, Senior Lecturer in International Politics, University of Leicester, UK. pages cm Includes bibliographical references and index.

1. Military art and science – Technological innovations. 2. Military art and science – History – 20th century. 3. Military art and science – History – 21st century. 4. Military policy. I. Futter, Andrew, 1983– II. Title. U42.C565 2015 355—dc23 2015021452. To Jenny, for the patience, love and support This page intentionally left blank Contents

Notes on Contributors viii

Introduction: Reflecting on the Global Impact of the RMA 1 Jeffrey Collins & Andrew Futter

1 The United States and the RMA: Revolutions do Not Revolutionize Everything 16 Keith L. Shimko

2 A Peculiarly British Revolution: Missing the Point or Just Avoiding Change? 33 Andrew M. Dorman

3 The Perpetual Search for Efficiency: The Canadian Approach to the RMA and Military Transformation 51 Jeffrey Collins

4 The Interruption and Evolution of Australia’s RMA 71 Rachael Bryson

5 The Israeli Revolution in Military Affairs and the Road to the 2006 Lebanon War 92 Raphael D. Marcus

6 The Russian Response to the RMA: Military Strategy towards Modern Security Threats 112 Andrey Sushentsov

7 RMA and India: Nothing Revolutionary about It 132 Harsh V. Pant & Yogesh Joshi

8 RMA, European Militaries and the Limits of Modernization 156 David J. Galbreath

Conclusion: Reflecting on the RMA Concept 175 Andrew Futter

Index 181

vii Notes on Contributors

Rachael Bryson holds a Master’s from the Centre for Military and Strategic Studies at the University of Calgary, and a BA from the University of Ottawa in Political Science and Communications. She is a PhD candidate in Carleton University’s Political Science department. Her research interests include civil–military relations, Canadian defence policy, comparative studies in defence policy formation, and institutional change within armed forces. Jeffrey Collins is a research associate with the Atlantic Institute for Market Studies and a PhD candidate in Carleton University’s Political Science department, Ottawa, Canada. His thesis examines Canadian defence transformation and procurement. His other research interests include Israeli military history and defence policy, international law, Canadian energy politics, and Australian defence policy. A former policy advisor on defence and foreign affairs for the Government of Canada, Collins’s work has appeared in numerous journals including Foreign Policy Analysis, Canadian Naval Review, Defense & Foreign Affairs Strategic Policy , SITREP: Journal of the Royal Canadian Military Institute and the national Canadian daily, the National Post . Andrew M. Dorman is Professor of International Security and an associate fellow at the Royal Institute of International Affairs, Chatham House. His research focuses on decision-making and the utility of force, utilizing the case studies of British defence and security policy and European Security. He has held grants with the ESRC, British Academy, Leverhulme Trust, Ministry of Defence and US Army War College. He trained as a Chartered Accountant with KPMG, qualifying in 1990, before returning to academia. He has previously taught at the University of Birmingham, where he completed his Master’s and doctoral degrees, and the Royal Naval College, Greenwich. Andrew Futter is Senior Lecturer in International Politics at the University of Leicester, UK. His work focuses mainly on contemporary nuclear weapons issues, including ballistic missile defence, proliferation, the changing nature of deterrence, and new challenges to the utility and perception of nuclear forces. He has published two books, Ballistic Missile

viii Notes on Contributors ix

Defence and US National Security Policy in 2013 and The Politics of Nuclear Weapons in 2015, and written widely for numerous peer-reviewed and professional publications. He is currently working on an ESRC-funded Future Research Leaders project looking at how cyber weapons and the advent of a new information age are challenging, transforming and impacting the role, efficacy and thinking that underpin nuclear weapons and strategy. David J. Galbreath is Professor of International Security at the University of Bath and Director of the Bath Centre for War and Technology. His work focuses on drivers of military reform in Europe with a particular focus on the US influence on European militaries. He is also working on the role of changes in science and technology and their influence on emergent warfare. His work is currently funded by the ESRC and the Defence Science and Technology Laboratory. He is editor- in-chief for the academic journals European Security and Defence Studies . Yogesh Joshi is a doctoral candidate at the Center for International Politics, Organisation and Disarmament, School of International Studies, Jawaharlal Nehru University, India. He has been a fellow at Sigur Center for Asian Studies, George Washington University and is currently an international PhD partnering fellow in Defence Studies Department, King’s College London. His PhD dissertation examines the interaction between political ideologies and international political structure in the making of Indian foreign and national security policy during the Bharatiya Janata Party-led government from 1998 to 2004. Raphael D. Marcus is currently completing his PhD in the Department of War Studies, King’s College London, where his doctoral research focuses on military innovation and insurgency adaption in the Israel– Hezbollah conflict. He also holds an MA (with High Merit) with a focus in terrorism and security from the Department of War Studies, and a joint BA in Islamic Middle Eastern Studies and Political Science from Brandeis University. He has held research assistant positions at Jane’s, the United Nations, and the Center for Strategic and International Studies, focusing on Middle Eastern affairs, terrorism, and military preparedness. Raphael is a member of the Insurgency Research Group at King’s College London. Harsh V. Pant is Professor of International Relations at King’s College London. He is also a non-resident fellow with the Wadhwani Chair in U.S.–India Policy Studies at the Center for Strategic and International Studies, Washington, D.C. His current research is focused on Asian x Notes on Contributors security issues. His most recent books include The US-India Nuclear Pact: Policy, Process and Great Power Politics, The Rise of China: Implications for India , and The Rise of Indian Navy: Internal Vulnerabilities, External Challenges . Keith L. Shimko is Associate Professor of Political Science at Purdue University, USA. He is the author of The Iraq Wars and America’s Military Revolution , Images and Arms Control: Perceptions of the Soviet Union in the Reagan Administration, five editions of International Relations: Perspectives, Controversies and Readings , and the forthcoming The Foreign Policy Puzzle: Interests, Threats and Tools. He is currently working on a book examining debates among conservatives about the Iraq War entitled Bush and Burke in Baghdad: American Conservatism and the Iraq War . Andrey Sushentsov is a political analyst and international relations scholar at Moscow State University of International Relations (MGIMO) in Russia. He holds a specialist degree in Modern History from the Lomonosov Moscow State University and a PhD in International Relations from MGIMO University. He has written books on US politics and the conflicts in Afghanistan and Iraq, including America’s Small Wars and Essays on U.S. Politics and Regional Conflicts , both published in Russian in 2014, as well as articles and reports on US–Russian and Russian–Georgian relations. He is an associate professor at MGIMO University and a partner with the Moscow-based consultancy firm Foreign Policy Analysis Group.

Introduction: Reflecting on the Global Impact of the RMA Jeffrey Collins & Andrew Futter

Nearly a quarter of a century after US-led coalition forces relied extensively on information technology, hi-tech precision weapons and joined-up military doctrine to comprehensively defeat Saddam Hussein’s Iraqi army in Operation Desert Storm, the concept, implications and legacy of the so-called Revolution in Military Affairs (RMA) remains both contested and indistinct. Indeed, and while the swift and impressive military victory in early 1991 ignited a widespread scholarly and policy debate about the transformative nature of modern technology in warfare,1 and became commonplace in strategic studies’ literature and policy guidelines throughout the 1990s and early 2000s, the military challenges of the past decade and a half have increasingly called in to question the efficacy of the RMA concept and its application. Conflict and intervention in Afghanistan, Iraq, Lebanon, Gaza, Mali, Libya, and most recently in Ukraine and against the group known as Islamic State (IS), have all pointed to a different type of challenge for modern militaries – and provided a difficult test for the RMA concept. As a result, the notion of an RMA has slowly disappeared from both academic and policy debate in the last decade and a half, as traditional and conventional conceptions of warfare have given way to asymmetric conflict and more complex use of force scenarios (at least that is, for the time being). However, RMA-based thinking and decisions continue to impact and affect the way modern militaries around the world approach and plan for future conflict, and many are still dealing with the effects of RMA-inspired decisions taken during the 1990s, and/or continue to base military planning at least partly on these ideas. While the RMA concept – and the associated academic and policy debate – is often heralded as a distinctly and inherently American phenomenon and something that applied primarily to US forces and

1 2 Jeffrey F. Collins & Andrew Futter military operations, its impact has and continues to be far more widespread. Indeed, it is not just close US allies – drawn to emulate US military thinking for political, strategic and operational reasons – that adopted and transformed military procurement, doctrine and tactics based on the RMA concept, but also US peer competitors, certain “rising powers”, as well as potential adversaries as they set about responding to changes in US thinking and doctrine and apparent post-Cold War military requirements. Neither has the impact of the RMA been felt by all at the same time or in the same way. For some states the impact of new information and communications capabilities and associated sophisticated and “smart” conventional weaponry began as far back as the 1970s, for many it was intrinsically linked with “lessons” of the 1991 Gulf War, while for others it has been and continues to be a constant background pressure vying for influence over the past two decades. Different states and their respective militaries have experienced these new pressures in different ways due to political, budgetary, cultural and operational reasons. Consequently, as the chapters in this book show, the RMA is best considered as a holistic, global concept that continues to shape the way nations conceptualize, plan and fight wars and ensure their security. The central objectives of this collection are therefore threefold; (1) to re-engage with the RMA debate some twenty five years after its zenith in the early 1990s, examine how RMA-type thinking has evolved, and to reconsider its lasting impact and influence on how modern militaries think, plan and fight wars; (2) to broaden the focus of the analysis beyond just the US and a handful of its key allies in order to look at how the RMA was interpreted, understood and reacted to by a variety of different actors across the globe; and (3) the collection seeks to consider what lessons can be learned from the experience of the past three decades, and what this means for the future of warfare and the thinking, practice and doctrine that will underpin this.

The RMA: genesis, key components and debate

Despite its ubiquity and prominence during the 1990s and early 2000s, the notion, specifics and genesis of a Revolution in Military Affairs remains somewhat nebulous, and continues to drive a heated and passionate debate. Indeed, the idea of a military revolution is nothing new, and history is littered with periods where changes in military technology or doctrine appear to represent a break from the past. 2 In 1955 for example, historian Michael Roberts gave a speech at Queen’s University Belfast Introduction 3 under the title “Military Revolution, 1550–1660.” During his lecture, in what can now be inferred as one of the original arguments made about RMA, Roberts told his audience that the transformation in how wars are fought is primarily due to societal changes (e.g. taxation, technology, organization) occurring within the warring parties. 3 Sir Michael Howard likewise argued that past RMAs were the direct result of interrelated societal and technological changes, such as the emergence of the bureaucratic state and nationalism in the 19th century in conjunction with steam power and telegraphs. Contemporary RMA advocates, he notes, too often focus just on the technological aspect at the expense of the societal; a theme that would emerge in later criticisms of RMA. 4 While Roberts’ speech represents a noteworthy historical anecdote most scholars agree that today’s current RMA debate emerged in the 1970s when the United States made the move to an “all volunteer” military force, shifted its strategic focus from East Asia to Europe, and in particular to the adoption of the “AirLand Battle” doctrine in 1982. 5 In fact, with nuclear détente among the superpowers, Pentagon planners began to believe that any future war with the Soviet Union would be based on the maintenance of a qualitative edge in technology and training in conventional forces rather than on purely numerical superiority. This became known as the “offset strategy.” Of course, it wasn’t without coincidence that this thinking occurred during a time of major advances in information technology and precision-guided munitions, or “smart bombs”, the first of which were dropped in the closing years of the Vietnam War.6 That said, the RMA also emerged from the writings of Soviet military planners in the 1980s in response to the growing sophistication of American technology. Indeed, the Pentagon’s Soviet counterparts began writing about a Military-Technical Revolution’ (MTR) in which they saw “computers, space surveillance, and long- range missiles” shifting the balance of power in favor of NATO. 7 In fact, by the mid-1980s the Chief of the Soviet General Staff, Marshal Nicolai Ogarkov, had become the leading advocate of MTR and sought to transform the Soviet Union’s military forces along the lines of information technology.8 In this way, as Dima Adamsky points out “ ... although it was the US that was laying the technological groundwork for the RMA, Soviet, rather than the American military theorists, were the first to intellectualize about its long-term consequences.”9 However, with the end of the Cold War in 1989 and the dissolution of the Soviet Union by 1991, many of these reforms and innovative changes remained unimplemented. 10 Instead, it was the impressive US-led victory in the 1991 Gulf War that crystallized the notion that 4 Jeffrey F. Collins & Andrew Futter a revolution was underway in Western thinking about the nature and conduct of warfare.11 As William Perry remarked at the time:

In Operation Desert Storm the United States employed for the first time a new class of military systems that gave American forces a revolutionary advance in military capability. Key to this capability is a new generation of military support systems – intelligence sensors, defense suppression systems and precision guidance subsystems – that serve as “force multipliers” by increasing the effectiveness of US weapons system. 12

It was also remarked that the high-tech actions in the Gulf War had fostered a perception within Western public opinion and political elites that war could be successfully waged without the likelihood of friendly casualties.13 The increasing importance and role of satellites, precision- guided munitions, and airpower in transforming the way planners understood warfare during the Gulf War became reinforced as the early post-Cold War years saw defense funding dry up and the growth of new and diverse set of operational demands and major security challenges, such as in Somalia and the Balkans. The combination of these factors created an onus on defense planners to be innovative in designing their force structures.14 While these changes were occurring in the late-1980s and early- 1990s, Andrew W. Marshall and Andrew Krepinevich, followers of the Soviet MTR literature and employees of the Pentagon’s Office of Net Assessment, concluded that the military world had entered a “revolution in military affairs.” 15 Unlike the MTR, they viewed RMA as something beyond technology and hence made the connection that an RMA includes technological advances and doctrinal changes – in effect, the former influences the latter. 16 Hence, the Office of Net Assessment defined RMA as,

A major change in the nature of warfare brought about by the innovative application of new technologies which, combined with dramatic changes in military doctrine and operational and organizational concepts , fundamentally alters the character and conduct of military operations. 17

This definition became so commonplace that it has been used – nearly word-for-word, for example, in the Canadian Force’s official RMA policy guidance, Shaping the Future of the Canadian Forces: A Strategy for 2020 . Introduction 5

Since Marshall and Krepinevich put forth their ideas, numerous scholars have expanded and debated upon what the RMA means in practical terms. Andrew Richter has argued that RMA, in its current format should be viewed as the idea that the character of war is defined by “the ability to collect, analyze, disseminate, and act upon information.”18 He characterizes the current RMA as one that allows militaries to gather, process, and fuse data in real-time. This quick processing is then transmitted to designated military units which act with “speed, precision, and with great effect over long distances.” 19 Taking a less definitive tone, Elinor Sloan contends that RMA comprises five themes: (1) militaries are structured around being lighter, more deployable, expeditionary forces; (2) is “battlefield mobility,” (e.g. medium-to-heavy lift helicopters and light tanks); (3) air power-oriented doctrines relying on precision weapons and standoff force; (4) “jointness,” or the seamless use and integration of the three armed services (army, navy, air force) to achieve military objectives and (5) a transitioning of the role of the navy from blue-water operations to littoral combat in support of ground and air forces. Finally, like Sloan, Maloney and Robertson make the case that the RMA can be viewed as encompassing five characteristics: (1) greater lethality; (2) increase in the volume and precision of fire; (3) jointness; (4) increased use of small units to have strategic impact (e.g. special forces); (5) and an increase in detectability and battlefield visibility. 20 In contrast to the above, Lawrence Freedman disputes the notion that there is a revolution in military affairs; instead he states that if there is a revolution it is in strategic affairs. He emphasizes that technological advances have only allowed Western states to achieve their political goals in more diverse strategic ways. 21 Nevertheless, he concurs with Richter’s notion that this RMA (or RSA) is dependent “on the interaction between systems that collect, process, fuse and communicate information and those that apply military force.” 22 This “system-of-systems,” first articulated by US Navy Admiral William A. Owens in the 1990s, supposedly allows for planners to control a multi-dimensional perspective, or “battlespace,” in war. Such control, it is argued, would effectively remove the proverbial “fog of war” identified by Prussian military theo- rist Carl von Clausewitz in On War (hence Michael O’Hanlon’s descrip- tion of RMA proponents being “anti-Clausewitizian”).23 The passage of time and a slew of military operations since the pinnacle of RMA discussions in the 1990s and early-2000s has seen the concept placed under a more critical lens. A number of analysts have remarked on the fallacy of using the Gulf War as the textbook case study of RMA. Daryl Press states that the emphasis on technology in cementing allied 6 Jeffrey F. Collins & Andrew Futter victory in 1991 is misleading, for the level of combat skills training among the mostly US, UK, and French ground forces was of such a high level that it negated the coalition’s technological edge. This was especially acute during the Battle of al-Burqan when two Iraqi brigades launched a surprise counterattack against US Marines under the cover of burning oil fields and morning fog (a literal fog of war). The combat skills of the lightly armed Marines repulsed the armored attack before the smoke cleared and airpower and artillery could be called in. The Marines suffered zero fatalities but destroyed at least 100 Iraqi armored vehicles. In a word, the success of allied forces in the Persian Gulf had a lot more to do with the Iraqis’ “poor marksmanship, low rates of fire, and ineffective fire coordination” than their technological inferiority. 24 Thomas Mahnken and Barry Watts similarly unpeel the Gulf War-RMA thesis, noting that the Iraqis’ resistance to re-orientating from an entrenched attrition strategy in the face of overwhelming allied airpower essentially meant that the Iraqis fought on allied terms. In this sense, the Gulf War is hardly transformative or revolutionary; an RMA would need to involve a symbiosis “between technology, operational concepts, doctrine and organizational changes” and the Gulf War was not it. 25 Stephen Biddle suggests that the infatuation of RMA advocates with the Gulf War has a lot to do with the extremely low allied casualty rates that defied pre-war predictions by many magnitudes (less than 1/200th of official reported projections). Such distortions fed into the belief that the technological superiority and ability of United States armed forces represented something truly revolutionary when in fact it was simply a lopsided win akin to the Israeli victory in the Six Day War in 1967.26 As has been already noted, many of the advanced weapons platforms used in the 1991 conflict can be traced back to the Vietnam War; the first use of precision-guided munitions was in the 1972 “Linebacker” raids and the first operational use of a stealth aircraft (the Y0–3A) also occurred in the early 1970s. As such, it has been said that the RMA was less a revolution and more of an evolution of technology and doctrine over the preceding two decades. 27 The American-centrism of RMA has also been the target of critics. Martin van Creveld, for one, links the emergence of RMA in the post- Cold War era as the result of the American political-military elites’ desire to overcome “Vietnam syndrome” and fight a short, decisive conventional war on the Pentagon’s terms.28 Meanwhile, Jeremy Black associ- ates the development of RMA thinking in the 1990s as part-and-parcel of American unilateralism and its sole superpower status. In his words, “the RMA was symptomatic of a set of cultural and political assumptions Introduction 7 that tell us more about the aspirations of the 1990s and early 2000s than they do about any objective assessment of military capabilities.” In short, RMA reflects an unswerving American belief in technology and an attempt at “overcoming a sense of decline.”29 Further disapproval of RMA has come in the form of its implied “anti-Clausewitzian” nature, and particularly claims that the development of new technologies would able to overcome “the fog of war” and “friction” on the battlefield. Eliot Cohen retorts that the notion that the fog of war can be lifted is something that is often articulated by the technologically-driven air forces and navies of the world. Ground forces, on the other hand, often wonder how any technology or doctrine can clarify “when an opponent attempts to conceal its force or attacks the information systems that observe it.” Cohen therefore regards RMA as more of an aspiration than a reality; something that “is predicated on the inability of other countries to systemically deny the United States the information its weapons systems need.”30 Keith L. Shimko also notes this latter point when he contends that technology does not bring about RMA but rather creates the opportunity. 31 In a similar vein, Williamson Murray, writing in a 1997 edition of Joint Force Quarterly , states that neither new capabilities or concepts will negate the “fundamental nature of war”; that being how “friction together with fog, ambiguity, chance, and uncertainty will dominate future battlefields as it has in the past.”32 Equally prominent are the countless examples of operations where GPS-satellites, precision weaponry, and “system of systems” communications networks failed to pierce the fog of war: the inability of allied special forces, satellites, and airpower to eliminate the Scud missile threat in the Gulf War;33 the undetected Iraqi armored brigade counterattack against the Third Infantry Division in the 2003 fight for Baghdad; the presence of Fedayeen Saddam para- militaries attacking coalition convoys in southern Iraq; and al-Qaeda’s concealment of half of its positions and at least 350 fighters during Operation Anaconda in Afghanistan in 2002. 34 Because of these examples, Tim Benbow argues that RMA’s biggest failing is its inability to incorporate the political and military changes happening in within international security; instead RMA concepts remain fixated on technology and designing militaries to fight nation-state, conventional foes. 35 Hence, it is for these reasons that HR McMaster refers to RMA as a “fantastical theory” due to it being divorced from battlefield realities. 36 By the early 2000s, American defense planners began recasting RMA as “military transformation.” With essentially the same attributes (high technology, speed, precision, information control, fewer ground forces, 8 Jeffrey F. Collins & Andrew Futter etc ... ) the use of the term military transformation helped bring some parameters to the RMA debate, by reflecting what many saw – some ten years after the Gulf War – as being less of a revolution in military affairs (with a definite end-point) and more of an ongoing exercise in developing new technologies, doctrines, and structures. This shift in terminology, and the lack of distinction between RMA and military transformation concepts, was best made in a 2002 Foreign Affairs article by then US Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld in which he made the case that transformation was about precision-guided munitions, special forces, intelligence, space, and jointness in the use of military force.37 The criticisms of RMA still applied, however. Transformation still suffered from the same problem as RMA in that it continued the to rest on the notion and belief that future wars “could be won quickly and efficiently, at low cost by small forces.” 38 With the onset of the insurgency in Iraq in late-2003 it had become apparent that the agile, force-multiplying technology and thinking of the RMA was not only becoming unsuited to waging an unconventional counterinsurgency campaign, but at times, was actually becoming a liability. In the various battles for the Iraqi city of Fallujah during 2004 for example, the punitive use of airstrikes, artillery, and tanks by the US-led coalition forces embittered the civilian population against the occupation, feeding the ranks of the insurgency. The Israelis would encounter a similar situation in Lebanon in 2006, when their reliance on airpower and artillery against Hezbollah militants embedded within the civilian population led to unnecessary civilian casualties and a loss of the international public relations battle. In general, the much vaunted RMA, with its reliance on effects-based operations, system of systems integration, and battlefield dominance appeared to be increasingly at odds with the unconventional conflicts that Western militaries were being confronted with. Accordingly, the concept began to lose favor – first in the United States and then with its allies – so much so that by mid-2000s there was very little reference to it in either scholarly or practitioner circles.

Structure of the book

The main aim of this edited collection is therefore to compare and contrast thinking about the RMA across different actors and over time, and particularly to extend the analysis beyond Western militaries and the US-centric debates of the 1990s. Accordingly, this collection proceeds in eight specific case studies – each looking at how the RMA has been Introduction 9 understood, operationalized or reacted to by a various different states across the globe – before considering its legacy and continued impact on both national military and global strategic thinking in the conclusion. In Chapter 1, Keith L. Shimko examines the lessons learned by the United States military from its recent intervention in Afghanistan, and considers what this means for the future use of US military power. Particular attention is paid to how, following US intervention in the 1991 Gulf War and the Kosovo campaign in the late 1990s, many scholars and policy practitioners debated the impact that the burgeoning Revolution in Military Affairs would have on the conduct and effectiveness of US military operations and thus national security policy. Yet shortly there- after, the US found itself leading major ground coalition campaigns wherein RMA technologies played an enabling role for operations but, unlike some (but not all) of the interventions in the 1990s, were not necessarily decisive in their own right. This chapter thus takes stock of US ground campaigns after 9/11, in particular operations in Afghanistan, and seeks to explore the following questions: (1) How were advanced RMA technologies employed in the battle space in support of “low-tech” military objectives associated with the “comprehensive approach” and winning hearts and minds? (2) What were the concepts of employment for advanced battlefield technologies (such as drones), and were the platforms themselves successfully employed towards achieving strategic aims – or did they undermine overall aims? (3) What were the strategic or operational level constraints – both within the US military as well as in relation to other coalition partners – to the successful employment of these technologies, if any? And, (4) crucially, what can US operations in Afghanistan tell us about the future of integrating advanced technologies into asymmetric and “low intensity conflict” battle spaces, both of which appear to be increasingly prevalent in the emerging security environment? In Chapter 2, Andrew Dorman investigates and examines the origins of British thinking about the Revolution in Military Affairs and how this continues to underpin British military thought today. The chapter explains that the British conception of the RMA emerged from a narrow review of the British Army’s approach to fighting on the North German Plains as part of NATO’s Northern Army Group during the 1980s. More specifically, Dorman suggests this was driven by a coales- cence in the army’s thinking that dove-tailed with the re-equipment of the Royal Air Force (RAF) with the Tornado GR1 and the RAF’s fixation with the long-range strike role, and mirrored changes that were also occurring in parallel in the US-led Central Army Group. The chapter 10 Jeffrey F. Collins & Andrew Futter suggests that the effect of these changes was displayed during the 1991 Gulf War where the RAF was effectively able to focus on the deep strike role while the deployed British Army division was employed in the flanking role as part of the US VII Corps. The chapter argues that this legacy remains influential in British military thinking and continues to influence the British conduct of operations, often with negative consequences. It also suggests that, in particular, it led to a misunderstanding of the operational level of war, the assumption that the British military officer in command of British forces was the operational commander and that such operations were inevitably land-air focused. This has had a profoundly damaging impact on British defense policy and the composition and equipment of Britain’s armed forces over the last two decades. In Chapter 3, Jeffrey F. Collins evaluates the role that domestic and regional factors have played in shaping the Canadian approach to the Revolution in Military Affairs and Transformation during the 1990s and 2000s. Collins contends that Canadian defense policy since 1945 has been dictated largely by how much the government is willing to spend on the Canadian Forces in order to satisfy alliance commitments, particularly in maintaining military interoperability with the United States. Owing to the country’s comfortable geo-strategic location atop the North American continent, the greater political priority has largely been on sustaining social welfare programs and protecting the domestic economy. For the Canadian Forces, this means having to make the most out of every defense dollar and to constantly strive for greater efficiency. In this context, Canadian defense planners saw the RMA and, later, Transformation as concepts in which to not only achieve more efficiency but to also obtain new efficacy for allied operations through the introduction of advanced weaponry and information technology systems. Their approach, however, was undermined by inter-service rivalry, a costly counterinsurgency campaign in Afghanistan, and multi- billion dollar economic stimulus expenditures put in place during the 2008–09 global recession. In Chapter 4, Rachael Bryson examines the evolution of the Australian approach to the Revolution in Military Affairs. Bryson explains how the RMA was identified as a top priority for the Australian Defence Force (ADF) in the 1997 Australia’s Strategic Policy document, and that the pursuit of technological advancement was spurred at least partly by the rapid growth of potentially hostile military forces within the Asia-Pacific region, and strongly motivated by interoperability with the United States. In addition to other major modernization Introduction 11 and procurement projects, project Knowledge Edge – which focused on advanced capabilities in intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance – was outlined as one area where Australia could excel and be a valuable ally. However, over a decade later, a White Paper released in 2013, outlined some drastic alterations to the initial plans laid out in 1997 and successive documents. This chapter, therefore, provides a comprehensive update on the RMA and lessons learned, in light of the events that have shaped Australian military thinking and doctrine since 1997, namely: the terrorist attacks of 9/11, deployments to Timor-Leste, Solomon Islands, and Afghanistan, the 2008 global financial crisis, and the growing military ambitions of states in the Asia-Pacific. Ultimately, this chapter argues that the RMA in Australia has not been fully realized in light of the various alterations to defense planning, and the re-imaginations of the future of the ADF. In Chapter 5, Raphael D. Marcus examines Israeli perspectives on the Revolution in Military Affairs and the development of alternative approaches to asymmetric warfare through the lens of recent operations in Lebanon. The chapter explains why the Israeli Defense Forces (IDF) carried out two decades of military transformation associated with the RMA, and how it was viewed as uniquely beneficial because of changes related to Israel’s operational environment, post-heroic societal shifts within Israeli society, and budgetary constraints. This chapter discusses the origins and implementation of the RMA in Israel, and focuses on how the RMA was utilized, specifically on the Lebanese battlefield vis- à-vis Hezbollah amidst ongoing protracted conflict. After witnessing mediocre results in the IDF’s two RMA-inspired large-scale operations against Hezbollah in the 1990s, IDF officers on the ground in Lebanon sought to develop a new doctrinal concept for dealing with asymmetric conflict amidst a search for an alternative approach to the increasingly intractable conflict. This new concept, institutionalized by the IDF as “The Limited Conflict” doctrine, redefined the way the army viewed military engagement, battlefield decision-making, military objectives, and attritional warfare. The Limited Conflict doctrine can be viewed as a parallel, alternative solution devised by IDF officers on the ground in Lebanon in response to the perceived relative ineffectiveness of RMA-inspired concepts for containing Hezbollah. Both the RMA and the Limited Conflict concepts each shaped and influenced IDF preparedness and conduct leading up to the 2006 war. Ultimately, the IDF’s force structure and weapons procurement strategy remained largely focused on RMA-inspired conventional warfare, but the army itself was operationally focused on low-intensity conflict through much of the 12 Jeffrey F. Collins & Andrew Futter

1990s and 2000s, leading to an ill-prepared and fundamentally flawed approach to war against an adaptive adversary in 2006. Andrey Sushentsov reviews the Russian response to the Revolution in Military Affairs in Chapter 6, and considers how this has shaped military strategy towards various modern security threats. Sushentsov explains how Moscow has its own unique military tradition that differs from either the US or the general European experience, and how this is at least in part a result of the fact that Russia has the longest land borders and one of the smallest population densities in the world. These dynamics have meant that Moscow has been forced to rely both on large manpower and the most advanced far-reaching weapons of the epoch. Current Russian discussions regarding future conflicts with Moscow’s participation have their outcomes in Military Doctrine (2010), a massive rearmament program (2010–20) and technological and organizational changes in the Russian military. They are aimed at maintaining Russia’s independence in global affairs mainly through deterring conflict with NATO and building a constructive partnership with China. This secures Russia’s position as a stability guarantor in its neighboring regions, especially in the Caucasus and Central Asia. Facing low-intensity conflicts in North Caucasus, on the Tajikistan border with Afghanistan and now in Ukraine, Russia is also rapidly developing its rapid-response forces and precision weapon systems. Harsh V. Pant and Yogesh Joshi focus on India in Chapter 7, and suggest that the Indian approach to the Revolution in Military Affairs has had “nothing revolutionary about it.” India is one of the major emerging powers in the world, both economically and militarily, and is surrounded by a dangerous neighborhood. It faces threats along the entire spectrum of conflict: insurgencies, limited wars and even a nuclear confrontation. Based on its threat assessment, the Indian military strongly favors incorporation of various elements of the US-led RMA such as precision in firepower, network centric warfare, and doctrinal innovation fostering “jointness” and integration of operations across services. However, India’s response to the RMA has been evolutionary and empirical evidence suggests that India has made only halting progress. This is evident in its force modernization program that is highly platform centric rather than network intensive. Doctrinally too, individual services remain divided on lessons from RMA: principles of attrition and holding of territory still guides the Indian army whereas the air force is clearly focused on a strategic role based on a strategy of “shock and awe.” Integration and jointness of operations have also suffered mainly because of the lack of reforms at the highest levels of Introduction 13 defense policy-making. The chapter explains the three key reasons behind India’s slow response to the RMA: (1) the lack of an effective higher defense policy-making structure that could curtail inter-service rivalries among the three services; (2) the advent of nuclear weapons has shifted the focus away from warfighting to war avoidance and, (3) an inert strategic culture always disincentivizes radical change, rather favoring a slow evolution. In Chapter 8, David J. Galbreath examines the influence of the Revolution in Military Affairs on European militaries and the limits of modernization. As Galbreath argues, after the Cold War, European militaries began to think about how to shift their defense forces to fit different sorts of strategic challenges. As the strategic environment looked as if it was changing from “major war” needs, the breakup of Yugoslavia from 1992 came at the same time that the RMA agenda was at its peak in the US. Throughout the 1990s, European militaries slowly began to take up the move to modernize their militaries as a result of the changes in the US, in NATO, and the strategic environment. While European militaries sought to imbue their forces with the qualities of the American RMA, there were also institutional and martial impediments to its further implementation. This chapter, therefore, looks at the impact of the RMA on European militaries and examines the conduits of modernization and the impediments to its implementation. Lastly, in the Conclusion, Andrew Futter reflects on the Revolution in Military Affairs concept and the key themes and possible future directions that emerge from the book.

Notes

1 . For an excellent overview of this, see Eliot A. Cohen, “A Revolution in Warfare,” Foreign Affairs, 75:2 (1996) pp.37–54. 2 . On this see, Colin Gray, Strategy for Chaos: Revolutions in Military Affairs and the Evidence of History , (London: Frank Cass, 2002). 3 . Michael J. Thompson, “Military Revolutions and Revolutions in Military Affairs: Accurate Descriptions of Change or Intellectual Constructs?” Strata , 3 (2011) pp.87–88. 4 . Michael Howard, “How much can technology change warfare?” in Michael Howard and John F. Guilmartin, Jr. (eds) Two Historians in Technology and War (Carlisle, PA: Strategic Studies Institute Monographs, 2004) pp.2–3. 5 . On AirLand Battle see, John L. Romjue, “The Evolution of the AirLand Battle Concept,” Air University Review , 35:4 (1984) pp.4–15. 6 . Elinor Sloan, Military Transformation: Key Aspects and Canadian Approaches (Calgary: CDFAI, 2007) p.2. 7 . Keith L. Shimko, The Iraq Wars and America’s Military Revolution (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010) p.6. 14 Jeffrey F. Collins & Andrew Futter

8 . Frederick W. Kagan, Finding the Target: The Transformation of American Military Policy (New York: Encounters Books, 2006) pp.xi–xix; Jeremy Black, War and Technology (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2013) p.228. 9 . Dima P. Adamsky, “Through the Looking Glass: The Soviet Military-Technical Revolution and the American Revolution in Military Affairs,” The Journal of Strategic Studies , 31:2 (2008) p.258. 10 . Max Boot, War Made New: Technology, Warfare, and the Course of History 1500 to Today (New York: Gotham Books, 2006) p.8; Cohen, “A Revolution in Warfare,” p.39; Thompson, “Military Revolutions and Revolutions in Military Affairs: Accurate Descriptions of Change or Intellectual Constructs?”p.85. 11 . Max Boot, War Made New , pp.7–8; Shimko, The Iraq Wars and America’s Military Revolution, p.3. 12 . William J. Perry, “Desert Storm and Deterrence,” Foreign Affairs, 70:4 (Fall, 1991) p.66. 13 . Michael Ignatieff, Virtual War: Kosovo and Beyond (Toronto: Penguin, 2006) p.160. 14 . James R. Fitzsimonds and Jan M. Van Tol, “Revolution in Military Affairs,” Joint Force Quarterly, 4 (1994) pp.26–27; see also Lawrence Freedman, The Revolution in Strategic Affairs, Adelphi Paper 318 (London & New York: Oxford University Press, 1998) p.5. 15 . For an overview of this see, Andrew F. Krepinevich and Barry D. Watts, The Last Warrior: Andrew Marshall and the Shaping of American Defense Strategy (New York: Basic Civitas Books, 2014) particularly chapter 8. 16 . Shimko, The Iraq Wars and America’s Military Revolution , p.6 17 . Cited in Sean M. Maloney and Scot Robertson, “The Revolution in Military Affairs: Possible Implications for Canada,” International Journal, 54 (1999) p.445; see also Elinor Sloan, Modern Military Strategy: An Introduction (London: Routledge, 2012) p.51. 18 . Andrew Richter, “Lessons from the Revolution: What Recent US Military Operations Reveal about the Revolution in Military Affairs and Future Combat,” Journal of Military and Strategic Studies , 7:3 (2005) p.2. 19 . Andrew Richter, The Revolution in Military Affairs and Its Impact on Canada: The Challenge and the Consequences (Vancouver: UBC Press, 1999) p.2. 20 . Sloan, Military Transformation, pp.1–2; Maloney and Robertson, “The Revolution in Military Affairs: Possible Implications for Canada,” p.444. 21 . Freedman, The Revolution in Strategic Affairs. 22 . Richter, The Revolution in Military Affairs and Its Impact on Canada , pp.10–11. 23 . Richter, “Lessons from the Revolution: What Recent US Military Operations Reveal about the Revolution in Military Affairs and Future Combat,” p.3. Originally coined by Carl von Clausewitz, the “fog of war” refers to the uncertainty that exists in war about one’s own forces, opponent, and environment. 24 . Daryl G. Press, “Lessons from Ground Combat in the Gulf: The Impact of Training and Technology,” International Security , 22:2 (1997) pp.138–43. 25 . Thomas G. Mahnken and Barry D. Watts, “What the Gulf War Can (and Cannot) Tell Us about the Future of Warfare,” International Security, 22:2 (1997) pp.159–61. 26 . Stephen Biddle, “The Gulf War Debate Redux : Why Skill and Technology Are the Right Answer,” International Security , 22:2 (1997) p.164. Introduction 15

27 . Black, War and Technology , p.235; John F. Guilmartin, Jr., “Technology and Strategy: What are the Limits?” in Michael Howard and John F. Guilmartin, Jr. (eds) Two Historians in Technology and War (Carlisle, PA: Strategic Studies Institute Monographs, 2004) pp.16–19. 28 . Martin Van Creveld, The Age of Airpower (New York: Public Affairs, 2011) p.331. 29 . Black, War and Technology , pp.232, 240. 30 . Cohen, “A Revolution in Warfare,” pp.40–41. 31 . Shimko, The Iraq Wars and America’s Military Revolution , p.6. 32 . Williamson Murray, “Thinking about Revolutions in Military Affairs,” Joint Force Quarterly (Summer, 1997) p.76. 33 . Guilmartin, Jr., “Technology and Strategy: What are the Limits?” p.19. 34 . H.R. McMaster, “On War: Lessons to be Learned,” Survival , 50:1 (2008) pp.22–23. 35 . Tim Benbow, “‘Talking’ Bout Our Generation? Assessing the Concept of ‘Fourth-Generation Warfare,’” Comparative Strategy , 27:2 (2008) pp.148–49. 36 . McMaster, “On War: Lessons to be Learned,” p.19. 37 . Donald Rumsfeld, “Transforming the Military,” Foreign Affairs, 81:3 (2002) pp.21, 25. 38 . McMaster, “On War: Lessons to be Learned,” p.21.

1 The United States and the RMA: Revolutions Do Not Revolutionize Everything Keith L. Shimko

The period between the conclusion of Desert Storm in 1991 and the onset of the Iraqi insurgency in the summer of 2003 may always be remembered as the heyday of the RMA. It was in the afterglow of the US-led coalition’s unexpectedly easy and lopsided victory over Iraq and the liberation of Kuwait that the RMA, previously little more than the obscure musings of a handful of military strategists and historians, emerged from the shadows of strategic thought to hog the limelight. The war and its outcome was, in the words of Colin Gray, “a flash in the sky of strategic consciousness.” 1 For the next decade the language of revolution was ubiquitous. Journals were filled with articles (and even essay contests) about the nature, meaning and significance of the RMA.2 References to revolutionary technologies and capabilities were common whenever military officials testified before congressional committees, justifying virtually every weapons system by emphasizing its contribution to the revolution or, to use Donald Rumsfeld’s preferred terminology, “military transformation.” Defense Department posture statements and policy reviews became almost caricatures of RMA promotionalism, veritable grab bags of RMA mantras and jargon. 3 Exuberance and rhetorical excess were the order of the day. But now the glow of easy victory has faded. And after more than a decade of difficult and ambiguous wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, the RMA bubble appears to have burst. Barry Watts notes that “given the protracted nature and exigencies of ongoing conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan,” by 2008 and 2009 “very few in the US national-security establishment were giving much thought to RMAs and transformation.” 4 And Frank Hoffman virtually consigns the RMA to the dustbin of strategic

16 The United States and the RMA 17 intellectual history, dismissing it as “a blast from the past, a piece of pre-9/11 prehistory.” 5 What are we to make of this? Should we chalk it up to intellectual and policy faddishness, and inclination to latch onto the latest ideas and concepts only to abandon them when some rethinking is necessary? Was all that talk of an RMA mistaken, a mirage on the strategic landscape supported by little more than technological dreams and a handful of misleadingly easy military victories? Or has the exuberance and rhetoric dissipated because we have come, either explicitly or implicitly, to a more balanced assessment and understanding of the RMA, one tempered by more than two decades of military engagements revealing limitations that were too easily ignored in the face of initial military successes?

The contemporary American RMA: theory

It was Andrew Marshall who provided the most succinct and widely accepted definition of an RMA as “a major change in the nature of warfare brought about by the innovative application of new technologies which, combined with dramatic changes in military doctrine and operational and organizational concepts, fundamentally alters the character and conduct of military operations.”6 There are, of course, many other definitions that differ in nuance and emphasis, but almost all are relatively minor variations, similar themes, incorporating some element of technological, doctrinal and organizational changes that combine to significantly alter the manner in which force is applied and wars are fought. In reassessing the RMA after several decades of debate and experience, Marshall’s definition remains as good a place as any to start. Though at the end of the day, it is more important to understand what has changed (and what has not) than judge whether some arbitrary bar for “revolutionary” change has been surpassed, thus posing the question, are these terms still heuristically useful. As matter of policy the RMA had its origins in the specific strategic challenges confronting the United States in the late 1970s and early 1980s. Emerging from its long and ultimately unsuccessful war in Vietnam, the United States found itself facing a Soviet Union that now enjoyed parity in strategic nuclear weapons as well as numerical superiority in conventional forces in Europe. 7 With the Vietnam diversion and debacle out of the way, the more fundamental Soviet challenge remained. But how could a nation weary from a decade of war possibly turn around and devote the necessary human and economic resources needed to counter Soviet conventional power? Given the magnitude of 18 Keith L. Shimko the imbalance in manpower and material, was there sufficient political will to rise to the challenge and even things out? Fortunately, many did not think it necessary to replicate Soviet capabilities. Rather than match the Soviet Union soldier for soldier and tank for tank along the European front, Marshall and others advocated an “off-set strategy” in which US technological advantages and the new warfighting doctrines they made possible would allow NATO to prevail over a quantitatively superior adversary in the event of conflict in Europe. The Soviet advantage in numbers/quantity could be off-set by American advantages in technology. As Bruce Berkowitz explained,

A totalitarian country like the Soviet Union had to control the flow of information. The Soviet regime was so worried about the threat of Samizdat that in 1971 the average Soviet citizen could not get near a Xerox machine, never mind a computer. This was the great weakness that would help destroy the Soviet Union ... Marshall could see that as long as the Communists remained communists, the Soviets would never catch up. The United States, said Marshall, had to figure out how to use this advantage. 8

In military terms this overall technological advantage was rooted in a suite of surveillance, communications, stealth and munitions guidance technologies that could help lift, though not completely eliminate, the proverbial fog of war and solve the age-old problem of target acquisition while reducing the vulnerability of US forces. These capabilities could be woven together into a “reconnaissance-strike complex.” Though many assumed that most important advantage of these technologies was the minimization of collateral damage and civilian casualties, the primary military benefit was actually the ability to hit a large number of targets in a short period of time over a large battle space. This was critical to most of the key doctrinal innovations associated with the RMA, including AirLand Battle, John Boyd’s ideas about speeding up the OODA (obser- vation, orientation, decision and action) loop so as to leave an adversary hopelessly confused and overwhelmed, John Warden’s strategy of using airpower to paralyze an opponent, and even Ullman and Wade’s infamous “shock and awe.”9 All of these doctrines were predicated on hitting an array of widely dispersed tactical, operational and strategic targets reliably and almost simultaneously. Minor differences aside, they were all manifestations of a more general conception of “parallel warfare,” an approach to the application of force that “reconfigure[s] the basic elements of warfare by distributing mass along a time line The United States and the RMA 19 that is narrow but a space continuum that is broad ... allow[ing] mass to become concentrated in time but not in space.” 10 This was evident when “the Gulf War began with more targets in one day’s attack plan than the total number of targets hit by the entire Eighth Air Force in all of 1942 and 1943 – more separate air attacks in 24 hours than ever before in the history of warfare.”11 Of course, these technologies were not developed or acquired in the 1970s and 1980s with an eye toward fighting and defeating Iraq. Iraq was not even on the radar screen of potential threats (indeed after the 1979 Iranian revolution Iraq was considered something of a strategic ally, a bulwark against the spread of radical Islamic fundamentalism). As the technological foundation of the off-set strategy, the reconnaissance-strike complex was a child and orphan of the Cold War and its strategic challenges the United States faced. AWACS (Airborne Warning and Control System) and JSTARS (Joint Surveillance and Target Attack Radar System) planes were expected to roam the skies over Europe to see far behind the line of battle as stealth fighters and bombers avoided detection en route to their targets in Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union to wreak havoc. But this was not to be. Thanks to the collapse of the Soviet Union and end of the Cold War, the world fortunately never found out if all of this would have played out as planned. Instead, over the course of the next two decades RMA technologies and doctrines would be put to the test against some unexpected adversaries in missions and settings very different from those originally anticipated. Conceptually, it should not have been difficult to discern the potential limitations of a reconnaissance-strike complex (and, thus, the RMA it supposedly supported) from its constituent elements – persistent surveillance, rapid communication, efficient task allocation, and precision strike. The complex’s sequence begins with the identification of relevant targets relying almost exclusively on national technical means – satellites, AWACS, JSTARS, UAVs (Unmanned Aerial Vehicles), etc. – rather than human intelligence. The information gathered is then disseminated in real-time, providing an unprecedented degree of situational awareness to widely dispersed forces as the task of attacking specific targets is assigned to those best positioned to strike. A succession of targets could then be attacked rapidly with precision when needed. The ideal is for this “sensor to shooter cycle” – that is, the time between the identification of targets and their destruction – to be condensed as much as possible. Once a target is identified it should be hit in minutes or hours, not days. These two ends of the reconnaissance-strike complex 20 Keith L. Shimko are most relevant for understanding its limitations and the conditions that would enhance as well as detract from its utility. On the reconnaissance/sensor end, the architecture depends on the ability to identify the most important targets largely by the national technical means. If we think in terms of more traditional interstate conflicts pitting one national military against another, most militarily relevant targets are of this type. Communications facilities, radar installations, airfields, defense ministries, tank columns, battalions and similarly large and distinct assets can usually be located and tracked through technological reconnaissance. US systems were designed to identify these very types of targets since they would have been numerous and critical in any war against the Soviet Union in Europe. As Warren Chin emphasizes with respect to AirLand battle,

Of particular importance was the development of VISTA (very intelligent surveillance and target acquisition) technologies. These systems were able to see into the operational depth of the enemy’s positions. Improvements in data processing ... allowed information to be provided almost instantaneously, and from this it would be possible to create a real-time picture of enemy activity. The enemy’s command and control, transportation infrastructure, logistical facilities and force concentrations could then be attacked in long-range precision strikes. 12

The critical first step in this scenario, of course, is the detection of “command and control, transportation infrastructure, logistical facilities and force concentrations” by this “very intelligent surveillance.” Everything else flows from this. The ability to find targets is obvi- ously the necessary precondition for attacking them.13 The self-evident problem is that not every conflict/mission is going to present the same target set as would a conventional war in Europe. Every adversary is not going to be like the Soviet Union. And if such targets are scarce or even non-existent because of the nature of the enemy or setting/environment, the complex’s overall effectiveness is severely diminished. The guided munitions that constitute the public face of the RMA are useless without equally precise information about the location of the targets they are supposed to hit. At the strike/shooter end the major limitation of the complex is perhaps less obvious. Here the issue is the military and political value of destroying/disabling assets. The complex is most useful not only when these assets can be found but also when disabling/destroying them will The United States and the RMA 21 help achieve military and political ends. Destruction, after all, is never an end in and of itself. There is (or at least certainly should be) an ultimate political objective for any use of force. In AirLand Battle Soviet forces and assets would have been destroyed in order to maintain the political independence of Western Europe. In this scenario striking and destroying these targets beyond the front would have been critical, even essential, to achieving this political objective. But not all conflicts are the same in terms of the purely military contribution to the eventual attainment of political ends. The value of “kinetic” military action varies. Counterinsurgencies, for example, have long been seen as different. In countering an insurgency the primary challenge is not weakening the enemy militarily but rather earning the loyalty of populace. As David Galula explained several decades ago in his classic analysis, in combatting an insurgency,

A victory is not the destruction in a given area of the insurgent’s forces and his political organization. ... A victory is that plus the permanent isolation of the insurgent from the population, isolation not enforced upon the population, but maintained by and with the population. ... In conventional warfare, strength is assessed according to military or other tangible criteria, such as the number of divisions, the position they hold, the industrial resources, etc. In revolutionary warfare, strength must be assessed by the extent of support from the population. 14

So to the extent that a contemporary RMA rests on capabilities and technologies comprising a robust reconnaissance-strike complex, there was never any reason to expect it to be equally effective or, thus, revolutionary in every context. There is a conceptual problem with defining RMAs as a major change in the nature and conduct of warfare in that “warfare” is not a single phenomenon that always takes the same form. Wars can differ in many important respects, including the nature of the adversary, the setting in which they take place, and the relative contribution of military force for achieving political objectives. An RMA may very well alter some types of warfare quite dramatically while leaving others essentially unchanged. RMAs, like all other revolutions, do not necessarily revolutionize everything. The Russian revolution changed many important things about Russian political, economic and social relations, but certainly not everything. The same could be said for the French revolution and the industrial revolution. The critical task is always understanding what 22 Keith L. Shimko revolutions change and what they do not. That some important things go unchanged in no way undermines the proposition that a revolution is underway or has taken place. Understanding all of this is, of course, always easier retrospectively than prospectively.

The contemporary American RMA: experience

More than two decades have elapsed since the 1991 Gulf War first height- ened public awareness of a contemporary RMA with its vivid imagery of guided munitions destroying targets while leaving everything around them undisturbed. Since then the United States has been involved in a series of very different military engagements in Somalia, Kosovo, Afghanistan and, of course, Iraq yet again. These did not all turn out as well for the United States as the 1991 campaign. Each of these conflicts presented a very different set of military and political challenges that can be seen as diagnostic tests for the RMA and the technologies underpinning it. Perhaps not surprisingly, the results have been somewhat mixed. Though one might initially suspect that they have complicated and muddied an assessment of the RMA, in reality these conflicts have helped clarify important questions about its promise, limitations and scope. Though it is not possible to analyze all of these conflicts in this short chapter, we can make some general observations in terms of what they tell us about the RMA. One way to begin thinking about these issues is through two juxtapositions: first, the 1991 Gulf War compared with the intervention in Somalia a little over a year later; and second, the initial phase of Operation of Iraqi Freedom that deposed Saddam Hussein in March/April 2003 with the early US response to the emerging insurgency in the fall of 2003 and spring of 2004. On one level these juxtapositions contrast instances of apparent success with failure, but for our purposes the comparisons are useful in that they throw into sharp relief the strengths and weaknesses of the reconnaissance-strike complex, an understanding of which is critical for any assessment of the RMA. By any military measure, the campaigns to liberate Kuwait in 1991 and remove Saddam in 2003 were wildly successful. Both achieved their initial objectives in matter of weeks with relatively (and perhaps surprisingly) few US/coalition casualties. Many of the technologies associated with reconnaissance-strike complex and RMA made their debut in Desert Storm and generally lived up to (or even exceeded) expectations, though the hopes of some that airpower alone might induce an Iraqi withdrawal from Kuwait were dashed. In the bombing campaign that The United States and the RMA 23 preceded the very short 100-hour ground war, Iraq’s strategic, operational and tactical assets were systematically attacked on an unprecedented scale in an extremely short period of time without the civilian casualties Saddam hoped would enrage the Arab world and destroy the coalition aligned against him. The Gulf War Air Power Survey emphasized the broad range of targets that were struck “extraordinarily quickly,” noting that “what took a day or two to accomplish in this conflict might have taken months in others.”15 Stephen Biddle characterized the military strategy in Desert Storm as an “extensive deep battle program” in which “Iraqi command posts, communications systems, transportation arteries, logistical nodes and reserve troop concentrations were struck almost simultaneously across the theater” in a way that would have been impossible just a decade or two before. 16 This sort of attack was the essence of the doctrinal innovations associated with the RMA from AirLand Battle to “Shock and Awe.” According to Frederick Kagan, “they called this sort of attack ‘parallel war,’ and rightly believed that it represented a fundamental transformation in warfare.” 17 By 2003 the reconnaissance-strike complex had matured a great deal. Most of the systems that first appeared in Desert Storm were more fully developed and integrated. A decade after Dessert Storm, guided munitions were cheaper, their stockpiles larger, and many more platforms were able to deliver them. Intelligence assets, forces and platforms were more tightly linked so they could function together as a “system of systems” in a common mission. A decade long emphasis on “jointness” in planning and training had broken down inter-service divisions and rivalries to promote cooperation. Improved communications dramatically accelerated the transmission of information, increasing battle space awareness and shortening the sensor-to shooter cycle. Though smaller, after post-Cold War reductions in manpower, the US military was almost certainly a more lethal force than it was in 1991 largely because of this continued exploitation of surveillance, communication and targeting technologies. In 2003, however, its task was more ambitious – to remove and replace Saddam Hussein’s regime, not just expel its forces from recently conquered territory. Since the mission was different, the battle plan was as well. Whereas in 1991 some airpower enthusiasts thought that a ground campaign might prove unnecessary, no one doubted one would be needed this time. Unlike Desert Storm, Operation Iraqi Freedom began with a combined aerial and ground assault. Despite this and other differences, the conceptual foundation of the war to get rid of Saddam was quite similar to Desert Storm. Embodying the basic logic of parallel warfare, it also 24 Keith L. Shimko entailed widespread, simultaneous and precise attacks on the full range of tactical, operational and strategic targets, this time accompanied by a very rapid ground advance through southern Iraq. The military goal was to disable Iraqi forces, paralyze their political leadership and generally overwhelm the Iraqis as ground forces descended on Baghdad as quickly as possible to oust the regime. Not surprisingly given the scale of the assault, “the Iraq high command perceived from the beginning that they were under attack everywhere.” 18 This perception reflected quite accurately the reality of their predicament. In the end, this phase of the war lasted just a little more than three weeks. Even those who expected favorable outcome for the United States seemed almost stunned by the speed and ease of victory. Martin Van Creveld characterized the “three- hundred mile, three week campaign that cost the Americans 138 deaths” as a “walkover.”19 And John Keegan marveled that “the Americans achieved a pace of advance unprecedented in history, far outstripping that of the Germans toward Moscow in the summer of 1941 and even that of the British from the Seine to the liberation of Brussels in the victorious summer of 1944.”20 Thus, in both 1991 and 2003 the reconnaissance-strike complex appeared to work as intended. The unexpectedly lopsided victories over what should have been a formidable foe were taken not merely as a vindi- cation of US defense policy, which some critics had previously dismissed as technological razzle-dazzle and fetishism, but also an indication of a contemporary RMA. 21 The three basic elements of an RMA Marshall pointed to– new technologies, organizational changes and doctrinal innovations that alter the character of warfare – were in evidence. The reconnaissance-strike complex (new technologies) allowed fewer forces working jointly (organizational change) to implement parallel warfare (doctrinal innovation) to great effect. In both cases, however, success was soon followed by disappointment as subsequent engagements seemed to offer contrary verdicts. A year and half after the liberation of Kuwait the United States (under the auspices of the United Nations) was drawn into a humanitarian mission in Somalia to assist in, and provide protection for, the distribution of food to alleviate a famine that was largely the result of an ongoing civil conflict that undermined law and order. Recognizing that any long-term solution to the humanitarian crisis would require some resolution of the political turmoil tearing Somalia apart, the U.N./ US mission gradually expanded, setting the United States on a collision course with a number of Somali militias, thus morphing a humanitarian endeavor into a de facto political intervention. Dealing with the militias in Mogadishu The United States and the RMA 25 turned out to be more challenging and frustrating than defeating Iraq’s military, one of the world’s three or four largest. Images of the charred remains of American soldiers being dragged through the streets past jeering crowds after the downing of a Blackhawk helicopter signaled the beginning of the end of US involvement in Somalia, a humiliating outcome that contrasted sharply with the recent victory in the Gulf against a seemingly more imposing adversary. The technologies and capabilities that served the United States so well in Desert Storm obvi- ously did little to save it from a defeat and withdrawal at the hands of Somali militias armed with little more than pickup trucks and machine guns on the streets of Mogadishu.22 Similarly, a few months after Saddam was deposed (and ultimately captured) in April 2003 the United States was confronted not merely with random, spasmodic violence perpetrated by Saddam loyalists and “deadenders” but an organized Sunni insurgency determined to undermine the American occupation and whatever (likely Shiite dominated) government replaced Saddam’s regime. As the insurgency escalated over the coming months/years and mounting sectarian violence threatened outright civil war, the same American military that routed Iraqi forces in less than a month was unable to get a handle on the deteriorating security situation as violence spiraled out of control in many parts of the country. The reconnaissance-strike complex that was so effective in the spring of 2003 offered no decisive advantage in this Iraqi conflict. One common theme in both cases is the diminished utility of technical means of surveillance. On the streets of Mogadishu and Baghdad the US intelligence assets that could detect and track tank columns moving in the desert could not differentiate a militiaman/insurgent from a regular citizen, a safe house from a family dwelling or a garage where cars were repaired from one where explosives were produced. When American forces confronted the Iraqi military they enjoyed a tremendous informational advantage. They knew more about the locations and activities of the Iraqi forces than Iraqi leaders. Conversely, the Iraqis knew very little about the where American forces were or what they were doing. The Iraqis were often completely in the dark about what was what going on. Information dominance was a crucial advantage for the United States. But in the Somali conflict and Iraqi insurgency the tables were turned. Now it was the insurgents and militia who enjoyed information dominance. They knew where the Americans were as US troops and their bases stood out like sore thumbs while the militias and insurgents were able to blend into their native surroundings, employing a form of low- tech stealth enabling them to avoid detection. 26 Keith L. Shimko

The initial US response to the Iraqi insurgency in late 2003 and early 2004 reflected this reversal of fortunes. American forces were starved for information about the insurgency: Who were the insurgents? Where were they hiding? Where were their weapons being stored? Where were explosives being assembled? Who was supporting the insurgents? Radar in the air and satellites in space were not going answer these questions. To get this kind of information thousands of young Iraqi men (primarily Sunnis) were rounded up in broad sweeps, imprisoned and interrogated in numbers so great that many of Saddam’s old prisons (including the infamous Abu Ghraib) had to be reopened. In the end this approach yielded little information. It was almost certainly counterproductive by increasing the hostility fueling the insurgency, making the problem worse, not better.23 The dilemma, however, was that American forces confronted an unfamiliar problem: they needed intelligence that could only come from people, not machines. The surveillance assets that dramatically increased situational awareness in the conventional phase of Operation Iraqi Freedom were decidedly less helpful in this new environment. James Corum gets to the heart of the matter in explaining that “the role of intelligence in counterinsurgency is fundamentally different from its role in conventional war. Conventional military intelligence is about looking for things we can see and count.” The reconnaissance- strike complex excels at this. This is what the complex was designed to do when Soviet conventional power was the focus of American fears in 1980s, and this is exactly why it did so well in 1991 and 2003. But “in counterinsurgency, the first mission of intelligence agencies is to understand the context of the conflict, which means collecting information about the whole society, understanding local conditions, monitoring public opinion, and analyzing social and political relationships and networks.” 24 Consequently, the fog of war, which was substantially diminished when the Iraqi military was the adversary, returned with a vengeance at the onset of the insurgency. Only the people who possessed the critical information about what was happening on the ground in Iraq could lift the fog this time. As one commander in the “surge” noted, “this kind of war is a battle for intelligence, and this intelligence could only come from the local population.” 25 Those familiar with counterinsurgency understood this. After American forces under the command of Colonel McMaster in Tal Afar and General Petraeus in Mosul pushed insurgents out of neighborhoods, they remained in local outposts rather than retreat to the relative safety of their bases, establishing a constant presence. 26 Only once they were immersed in communities could they keep the insurgents from returning, The United States and the RMA 27 learn about local dynamics, establish a rapport with leaders, build relationships, secure the population and help solve their problems. This was essential for establishing trust and mutual respect between US forces and the people whose help they needed in order to be successful. The hope was that Iraqis would then begin providing the critical information only they could provide. The point is not that the surveillance capabilities of the reconnaissance-strike complex were useless. UAVs could provide information on what was happening in areas where American forces could not be present. They might see and track insurgents planting and detonating explosive devices around the corner from where US soldiers were on patrol. Nonetheless, the relative contribution of technical means of surveillance to situational awareness in this context paled in comparison to what could (and must) be provided by people in those neighborhoods plagued by insurgent violence. The lesson here is that the reconnaissance part of the reconnaissance-strike complex is not equally effective in lifting the fog of war and dramatically improving battle space awareness in all settings. It all depends on what needs to be seen in a given context. This determines what constitutes battle space awareness in the first place: what does one need to be aware of? If the reconnaissance-strike complex is the technological foundation of contemporary RMA, this means that its revolutionary impact will vary. As Lawrence Freedman notes, “the setting for military operation will largely determine the advantage provided by access to new technology.” 27 Technologies have to be effective if they are to be “revolutionary.” Though this should have been obvious even at a purely conceptual level, experience has surely driven the point home. The inability to gather the necessary intelligence via technical means in certain conflicts and settings highlights one of the key limitations of the reconnaissance-strike complex and, thus, the contemporary RMA. A second critical limitation is on the other end of the complex. In criticizing a transformation agenda focused on perfecting the reconnaissance-strike complex, Kagan argues that it defined “the basic problem of war as identifying and destroying the correct targets to force the enemy to capitulate,” which he thinks “misses the point of war entirely ... [because] war is not about killing people and blowing things up ... it is purposeful violence to achieve a political goal.”28 Kagan makes a valid point, though it is somewhat overdrawn. He is certainly correct that the US military exploited emerging technologies with an eye toward radi- cally improving its ability to detect and destroy enemy assets. And few would disagree that violence should be used to achieve political ends. Kagan is wrong, however, to suggest that identifying and destroying 28 Keith L. Shimko targets “misses the point of war entirely .” It would be more accurate to say that this ability is sometimes extremely useful for achieving political ends, but not always. Just as the relative contribution of technical versus human intelligence can vary, so too can the relative contribution of kinetic military force for achieving political objectives. In conventional conflicts between states, the ability to destroy the enemy’s military capabilities can indeed go a long way in achieving the desired outcome. In other conflicts, however, the contribution may be marginal at best. This also became increasingly evident once the United States entered the counterinsurgency phase of Operation Iraqi Freedom. Whether one focuses on the early efforts of McMaster and Petraeus, the Defense Department’s updated counterinsurgency field manual (FM-34), or the so-called “surge” in 2007, we see a counterinsurgency strategy that has little to do with the RMA’s reconnaissance-strike complex and deemphasizes kinetic military power/operations.29 There is certainly a kinetic component to counterinsurgency in driving out insurgents and destroying their assets when at all possible. This is essential for securing the population. But this is a relatively small part of what is needed to achieve the ultimate goal of winning over the local population in order to isolate the insurgents and deny them safe haven. When the objective was driving the Iraqi’s out of Kuwait in 1991, the ability to find and destroy Iraqi assets was critical, probably decisive, for achieving this objective. But when the objective was dampening an insurgency that posed a danger to the larger American political project in Iraq, finding and destroying targets was not nearly as important. The relative unimportance of the reconnaissance-strike complex in this context can also be seen in the lack of new counterinsurgency doctrines or strategies that depended on it. FM-34 and the blueprint for the surge were mostly restatements of classic counterinsurgency strategies that have changed little over time. All of the basic ideas predated the technologies associated with the RMA. This contrasts with emergence of new doctrines such as parallel warfare for applying force in more conventional conflicts where there were good reasons to suspect the reconnaissance-strike complex would be particularly effective. So while the basic strategy for defeating Iraq in 1991 and 2003 would have been impossible without the technological advances of the previous few decades, the strategy for combatting the Iraqi insurgency in 2004 or 2007 was pretty much what it would have been in 1967 or even 1907. This absence of any significant doctrinal innovation in the context of counterinsurgency, which reflects the limited utility of the reconnaissance- strike complex, speaks to the limitations of the RMA. New technologies The United States and the RMA 29 may be helpful in these conflicts as well, but there is no reason to regard them as transformative or “revolutionary.”

Conclusion

Desert Storm and the first phase of Operation Iraqi Freedom were taken at the time as the most compelling evidence of a contemporary RMA. In retrospect, this should have come as no surprise because in these conflicts the United States confronted an adversary in a setting that could hardly have been more ideally suited for demonstrating the effectiveness and revolutionary potential of the reconnaissance-strike complex. The Iraqi military was precisely the type of opponent this complex was designed to take on. As Robert Citino explains, “although the American military never fought the battle for which it had prepared for so long ... [it got] its chance to cross swords with a large, mechanized force organized and trained more or less on the Soviet model.”30 In this respect Iraq was an enemy straight out of central casting – a smaller and almost certainly less competent version of the Soviet military American forces had been trained and equipped to defeat in Europe for more than a decade. Freedman observes that the Iraqi military in the desert “provided an opportunity to display in a most flattering light the potential of modern weapons systems.” Indeed, in Desert Storm “it was as if Saddam had been asked to organize his forces is such a way as to offer coalition forces the opportunity to show off their forces to the best advantage.”31 In 1991 and 2003 the environment was rich in the sort of targets the sensors in the reconnaissance-strike complex could detect, and in both cases their destruction was decisive in the achievement of US objectives. Consequently, after a quarter century of debate and experience the case for a contemporary RMA rests largely on the impact of the reconnaissance-strike complex in traditional interstate conflicts in which at least one side possesses the relevant technologies and capabilities. Elsewhere the evidence for an RMA is substantially weaker, perhaps even non-existent. Thus, if we want to assess whether a contemporary RMA has, to use Marshall’s framing, “fundamentally altered the conduct and character of military operations,” we may need to unpack things a bit because “military operations” is a fairly broad and inclusive concept. The United States’ wars against the Iraqi military were “military operations.” The humanitarian mission that turned into a political intervention in Somalia was a “military operation.” The effort to combat the insurgency in Iraq was a “military operation.” And although we have not dealt with them 30 Keith L. Shimko here, the United States also conducted military operations in Kosovo and Afghanistan. But these were all very different military operations. Taken as a whole, they indicate that the technologies associated with an RMA can fundamentally alter some military operations but not others. There is really no reason anyone should ever have expected otherwise. It will probably never be possible to give an unqualified yes or no answer to the question of whether an RMA is fundamentally altering “military operations” or “warfare” writ large. All of this might help us understand why discussions of an RMA have waned in recent years. It is not necessarily because there has been no revolution. There is a persuasive case to be made that in some settings technological, organizational and doctrinal changes have indeed fundamentally altered the conduct of warfare. The problem may be that the revolution’s scope is more limited than many anticipated in the 1990s, when the RMA was all the rage. The RMA as it was conceptualized then may be relevant primarily for a type of conflict that is becoming increasingly rare. This is Jeffrey Record’s conclusion: because “Clausewitzian great-power clashes have been superseded by smaller, politically messy wars, many of them fought by irregular forces in failed states ... mastery of the RMA is mastery of a war that will likely never be fought.”32 What Record questions is not the existence of an RMA but rather its importance and real-world relevance moving forward. The course of any RMA is determined not merely by the potential significance and impact of the technologies that define it but also the conflicts in which they will actually be deployed. Ultimately RMAs have to be analyzed and assessed in reality, not just theory. Recent experience leads some to suspect that even if there has been an RMA that has changed some important things about the conduct and character of certain military operations, what has been left unchanged may turn out be more significant. This may account for why no one in the United States talks very much about the RMA anymore.

Notes

1 . Lusaz Kamienski, “Comparing the Nuclear and Information RMAs,” Strategic Insight, 2:4 (April 4, 2003). Accessed at: www.ccc.nps.navy.mil/si/apr03/ strategy2.asp . 2 . The RMA essay contest was in the Joint Force Quarterly (Spring, 1997) pp.6–49. 3 . Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Joint Vision 2010 (Washington, D.C: U.S. Department of Defense, 1996). 4 . Barry Watts, The Maturing Revolution in Military Affairs (Washington, D.C.: Center for Strategic and Budgetary Assessments, 2011) p.3. The United States and the RMA 31

5 . Frank Hoffman, “New Ideas that Look Old,” Armed Forces Journal (July 2006). 6 . Cited in Thierry Gongora and Harald von Riekoff, eds, Toward a Revolution in Military Affairs? Defense and Security Policy at the Dawn of the 21st Century (New York: Greenwood Press, 2000) p.1. 7 . Not everyone bought into the more alarmist assessments. See Barry Posen, “Measuring The European Conventional Balance,” International Security (Winter 1984/85) pp.47–88. 8 . Bruce Berkowitz, The New Face of War: How War Will Be Fought in the 21st Century (New York: Free Press, 2003) p.35. 9 . Carter Malkasian, “AirLand Battle and Modern Warfare,” presented at the International Forum on War History at the National Institute for Defense Studies (Tokyo, Japan), 2014. Accessed at: http://www.nids.go.jp/english/ event/forum/pdf/2014/09.pdf ; Robert Coram, Boyd: The Fighter Pilot Who Changed the Art of War (New York: Basic Books, 2002); David S. Fadok, John Boyd and John Warden: Airpower’s Quest for Strategic Paralysis (Maxwell Air Force Base, AL: Air University Press, 1995); Grant T. Hammond, The Mind of War: John Boyd and American Security (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution, 2004); John Warden, The Air Campaign (New York: to Excel Press, 2000); Harlan Ullman and James Wade (with L.A. Edney, Fred Franks, Charles Horner, Jonathan Howe and Keith Bradley), Shock and Awe: Achieving Rapid Dominance (Washington, D.C.: The National Defense University Press, 1996). 10 . Kurtis D. Lohide, “Desert Storm’s Siren Song,” Airpower Journal (Winter, 1995) p.5. 11 . David Deptula, Effects-Based Operations: Change in the Nature of Warfare (Arlington, VA: Aerospace Education Foundation, 2001) p.2. 12 . Warren Chin, “Technology, Industry and War, 1945–1991,” in Geoffrey Jensen and Andrew Wiest (eds) War in the Age of Technology (New York: NYU Press, 2001) pp.55–56. 13 . Hence the title of Kagan’s excellent book, Finding the Target: Transformation of American Military Power (New York: Encounter Books, 2007). 14 . David Galula, Counterinsurgency Warfare: Theory and Practice (Westport, CT: Praeger, 1964) pp.54–6. 15 . Thomas A. Keaney and Eliot A. Cohen, The Gulf War Air Power Survey (Washington, D.C.: 1993) p.321. 16 . Stephen Biddle, Military Power: Explaining Victory and Defeat in Modern Battle (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2004) p.140. 17 . Kagan, Finding the Target, p.123. A similar argument can be found in Steven M. Schneider, Parallel Warfare: A Strategy for the Future (Fort Leavenworth, KS: U.S. Army Command and Control General Staff, 1998). 18 . Williamson Murray and Robert Scales, The Iraq War: A Military History (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2003) p.248. 19 . Martin Van Creveld, The Changing Face of War: Lessons of Combat from the Marne to Iraq (New York: Ballantine Books, 2006) pp.247–48. 20 . John Keegan, The Iraq War (New York: Vintage, 2005) p.186. 21 . An early and influential critique of relying on high tech weapons can be found in James Fallows, National Defense (New York: Vintage Books, 1982). 32 Keith L. Shimko

22 . Walter Clarke and Jeffrey Herbst, “Somalia and the Future of Humanitarian Intervention,” Foreign Affairs (March/April 1996) pp.70–85; John Drysdale, “Foreign Military Intervention in Somalia,” in Walter Clarke and Jeffrey Herbst (eds) Learning from Somalia: The Lessons of Armed Military Intervention (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1997) pp.118–34. 23 . Steven Metz, Iraq and the Evolution of American Strategy (Washington, D.C.: Potomac Books, 2008) p.156. 24 . James Corum, “Getting Doctrine Done Right,” Joint Force Quarterly (2nd Quarter, 2008) p.95. 25 . LTC Jim Crider, Inside the Surge: One Commander’s Lessons in Counterinsurgency (Washington, D.C.: Center for a New American Security, June 2009) p.10. 26 . On the experience of McMaster in Tal Afar see George Packer, “The Lessons of Tal Afar,” The New Yorker (April 10, 2006) pp.49–65. 27 . Freedman, The Revolution in Strategic Affairs , p.43. 28 . Kagan, Finding the Target , pp.358–59. 29 . FM 3–24: Counterinsurgency (Washington, D.C.: Department of the Army, 2006). The basic blueprint for the surge is Frederick W. Kagan, Choosing Victory: A Plan for Success in Iraq. Accessed at: https://www.aei.org/wp-content/ uploads/2011/11/20070111_ChoosingVictoryupdated.pdf 30 . Robert M. Citino, Blitzkrieg to Desert Storm: The Evolution of Operational Warfare (Lawrence, KS: The University of Kansas Press, 2004) p.275. 31 . Freedman, The Revolution in Strategic Affairs , p.29. 32 . Jeffrey Record, “Operation Allied Force: Yet Another Wake-up Call for the Army?,” Parameters (Winter, 1999–2000) p.20.

2 A Peculiarly British Revolution: Missing the Point or Just Avoiding Change? Andrew M. Dorman

Over the last two decades or so the literature on innovation has emerged, building initially on the idea of Revolutions in Military Affairs and then moving to a much broader agenda on the idea of defense transformation.1 While there are divisions over who can lead transformation there is a general acceptance that defense transformation, particularly for the West, is the right direction of travel. Yet, the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan have raised question marks about this assumption and a refocusing, particularly by the US, on more traditional inter-state warfare. Within the transformation literature, the United Kingdom has been used by a number of authors as an example of innovation and cited as the leading transformational European power. In general, the first wave of literature tended to argue that the United Kingdom has successfully embraced innovation albeit based on far more financially constrained circumstances and this has become the accepted truth.2 This is frequently cited in various defense publications, in particular the “2002 Strategic Defence Review: a New Chapter,” which incorporated much of the transformational language in stark contrast to its predecessor.3 Yet, there are different literatures or schools that suggest that this narrative about the United Kingdom might be in error. First, there is the literature on defense acquisition which is replete with examples of the failure of the UK to adapt its acquisition processes with the result that the British armed forces are frequently equipped with equipment that fails to meet their needs. 4 This school of thinking is supported by the various reports of the National Audit Office which provide a catalog of acquisition disasters which have resulted in further cuts to the armed forces as the Ministry of Defence attempts to balance its budget.5 The

33 34 Andrew M. Dorman second school has started to provide a revisionist understanding of Britain’s recent operations. While most of this tends to attempt to put the blame for the UK’s recent failures on the politicians who committed Britain’s armed forces to war. The former Chief of the Defence Staff, General Richards, is perhaps the most notable example of this. 6 Yet, evidence given to the Iraq Inquiry has, in part, led to a growing literature that suggests that Britain’s military also share some if not all responsibility for the failures of Britain’s armed forces. 7 The third school has questioned the ability of the United Kingdom’s government and military to think and act strategically. This strategic vacuum argument begun in the March 2009 edition of the journal International Affairs was picked up by the then Chief of the Defence Staff at his annual Christmas speech to the Royal United Services Institute (RUSI) and followed by a number of other authors and parliamentary select committees.8 With this revisionist thinking in mind, this chapter will examine the United Kingdom’s return to maneuver warfare and rediscovery of the Operational Level of War during the 1980s which set in place Britain’s post-Cold War defense transformation. The chapter has been divided into four parts. The first part examines the emergence of a vision and the reform of the UK’s largest land formation based in West Germany – 1 (Br) Corps. The second part analyzes how this vision was then sold to NATO and led to reforms within NATO’s Northern Army Group which 1 (Br) Corps was a part. The third part then looks at how the vision was cemented within the British Army and how the 1990–91 Gulf War was used to export this to the other two Services. Finally, the fourth part reflects on how these changes influenced the emerging RMA debate in the United Kingdom.

Developing a vision and the reform of 1 (Br) corps

In the Autumn of 1980 the British Army undertook Exercise Crusader 80, a reinforcement exercise for British forces tasked with defending a section of NATO’s Central Front in West Germany. The then Commander of 1 (Br.) Corps, Lieutenant-General Sir Peter Leng, concluded that the exercise:

showed that the reinforcement phase was completed on time but the troops were tired by the time they reached their positions. Other areas of concern were the inability to deal with simultaneous enemy actions to the front and rear and a lack of sufficient reserves. More tanks, guns, anti-aircraft and anti-armour weapons were also needed, A Peculiarly British Revolution 35

but the Ministry of Defence is aware of these problems and there is a remedy in hand.9

Far from arguing in favor of incremental change Leng’s successor, Field Marshal Sir Nigel Bagnall, argued that fundamental change was necessary.10 But why did their views differ so much? Bagnall was one of a small team sent out by the United Kingdom to learn from the Israeli experience of the 1973 Yom Kippur War where a smaller Israeli force, taken by surprise, was able to defeat its Soviet equipped opponents. More significantly he drew heavily upon the German defensive battles on the Eastern Front during the Second World War arguing that much of the Soviet doctrine was based on its wartime experience, such as the use of Operational Manoeuvre Groups (OMGs).11 This German, rather than Israeli, emphasis ultimately separated Bagnall from the contemporary American thinkers12 and, more importantly, some of his successors who sought a more maneuverist approach. Bagnall identified Northern Army Group (NORTHAG) in Northern Germany as the key battleground for NATO where its conventional forces could potentially be defeated in a surprise/short warning attack by Soviet forces.13 The result, he believed, would be that NATO’s political leaders would lack the time needed to implement any escalatory steps via battlefield, tactical, theater and ultimately strategic nuclear forces and thus be forced to surrender. He, therefore, saw his role as that of maximizing the length of the conventional battle thereby increasing the time available for NATO’s political leaders to either reach some form of ceasefire with the Soviet leadership or choose to escalate the level of violence via the use of nuclear weapons.14 As a result, he argued that the British commander of NORTHAG was effectively the operational level commander rather than NATO’s Supreme Allied Commander Europe (SACEUR) who was responsible for the conduct of operations across the entire European theater or Bagnall’s German boss – the commander of both of NATO’s army groups on the Central Front. With this assumption in place, Bagnall argued that it was no use simply focusing on the forces immediately in front of NORTHAG as the existing British and NATO thinking mandated. 15 Such an attritional based approach was problematic as it surrendered the initiative to the numerically superior Soviets. Instead, Bagnall argued it made far more sense for NATO’s NORTHAG to focus its efforts on the Soviet’s first operational echelon of forces based in East Germany and the Western parts of Poland while NATO’s 2nd Allied Tactical Air Force (2ATAF), which was tasked with supporting NORTHAG, focused on the Soviet’s Second 36 Andrew M. Dorman

Operational Echelon based in East Poland and the Western parts of the Soviet Union. The hope was that by adopting this approach NATO’s land forces would not be confronted by the Soviet Second Operational Echelon and instead only have to focus on the First Operational Echelon and thus face a far smaller opponent. As a result, the conventional phase of battle would be extended from 2 days to at least a week after which Bagnall believed NATO would run out of ammunition and other supplies.16 Having a vision does not guarantee that it will be adopted and Bagnall was not the first commander of 1 (Br) Corps who wanted to make changes. However, five factors worked in his favor and he exploited these to make the changes he wanted at this level. (1) The perceived threat in Europe had changed and there was, therefore, political buy-in to his argument.17 The early and mid–1970s had witnessed a period of détente and there was hope in the west that the superpower rivalry could be replaced by a form of cooperation.18 However, Western concern grew about what the real motives of the Soviet Union were, particularly given Soviet involvement in the Third World and the changing the strategic balance. The 1972 Strategic Arms Limitation Talks (SALT) agreement marked the formal recognition of strategic equivalence between the superpowers, which increased doubts within NATO about the credibility of the US nuclear guarantee.19 These doubts were reinforced by the modernization of Soviet intermediate-range nuclear forces, which threatened to undermine NATO’s plans to escalate any conventional conflict in Europe from the conventional to the tactical or theater nuclear level.20 Moreover, improvements to Soviet conventional forces suggested that the Soviets might have achieved the ability to conduct a successful surprise conventional attack. As a result, senior NATO officials began to place increasing emphasis upon the need for conventional and theater nuclear force improvements and advocated an increase in member’s defense budgets. This resulted in NATO’s adoption of a Long Term Defence Programme in 1977 aimed at improving NATO’s forces and in 1978 the agreement to increase defense spending by 3% per annum in real terms for five years.21 Thus successive British governments (Labour until 1979 and Conservatives post-1979) recognized that there was an identifiable and growing threat that needed to be rectified in some way. (2) By the late-1970s the British Army was suffering from the bloc obsolescence of most of its equipment and it had the reputation for being one of the worst equipped in Germany.22 In response, a substantial modernization program had been initiated covering the full plethora of army equipment. In addition, the fall of the Shah of Iran in 1979 had A Peculiarly British Revolution 37 resulted in a number of lost defense orders and forced the Conservative government to make a number of land focused defense procurement announcements in 1980 that were unplanned, such as the acquisition of 200 Challenger main battle tanks. 23 These changes in circumstance gave Bagnall the material means to conduct his proposed reforms to 1 (Br) Corps. (3) There was a change in focus within the British Army. During the 1950s and 1960s the fast-track for army promotion was based largely outside Europe where operational experience could be gained. For example, Field Marshal Lord Carver held the key joint post in the Far East before becoming Chief of the General Staff. 24 With the withdrawal from East of Suez by the early 1970s the army’s deployment to Germany became the fast track for promotion via the posts of Commander 1 (Br) Corps and Commander Northern Army Group (COMNORTHAG). As a result, within the army there was far greater attention given to the defense of the Central Region than had hitherto been the case. This resulted in a shift in the relative power balances within the army in favor of those associated with armored warfare and away from those more closely linked to colonial policing and expeditionary warfare. Thus, supporting change was seen as a means of career advancement. (4) The army had got itself into a fix. The goal of the 1975 defense review had been to significantly reduce the cost of defense. As part of its package of cutbacks the army command had decided to eliminate the brigade level of command as a means of improving the weapon-to- men ratio at reduced cost. As a result, 1 (Br) Corps was reorganized into four armored divisions each comprising five–six battle-groups, each of which had been enlarged in size. 25 This caused considerable command problems with battle-groups and divisions proving to be too unwieldy to operate. As a temporary expedient the army had introduced the idea of the Task Force Headquarters to bridge the gap between the divisional headquarters and battle-groups in wartime but this was far from satis- factory. In other words the army needed to reform its military structure anyway – Bagnall’s ideas merely served as a useful justification for rein- stating the brigade level of command.26 (5) There was significant pressure on the defense budget as a result of the global recession, the decision to acquire the Trident C-4 system as a Polaris replacement in 1980, the additional army equipment decisions caused by the loss of defense sales to Iran and a series of defense program overruns. 27 Although the Conservatives had entered office in 1979 campaigning and committed to stronger defenses by the end of 1980 the defense budget was scheduled to overspend in Fiscal Year 80–81.28 38 Andrew M. Dorman

Margaret Thatcher therefore replaced the existing Defence Secretary, Francis Pym, with John Nott in the January 1981 Cabinet re-shuffle and Nott had the express agenda of reigning in defense spending. According to John Nott: “Talk of apocalyptic choices between key defense tasks is wide of the mark, but we must, over the next year or so, look realistically at our programs in order to match them to the resources that may be available.”29 With no additional funding available Nott quickly reviewed the budget and came to the conclusion that the only way he could make significant savings was to either reduce the army’s commitment to Germany or the naval forces committed to the defense of the transatlantic convoys.30 Although he chose the latter there was still a need for cuts to the army. Bagnall’s suggestion of a major reorganization of 1 (Br.) Corps from a four division force into a more orthodox three division structure, each with three brigades met this criteria.31 Bagnall proposed to increase in the number of armored regiments in the forward two divisions with the third division receiving the Challenger tanks when they entered service. This allowed emphasis to be given to fully-manning the two forward divisions. These would then be ready to cope if a surprise attack were launched while the rest of 1 (Br) Corps, including its reservists, was deployed. These views neatly dove-tailed into Nott’s concern about a short warning attack and allowed a manpower reduction, within British Army of the Rhine (BAOR), which consisted largely of the 4th Division headquarters staff, to occur.32

1983–85 – Selling the vision to NATO – the reform of NATO’s Northern Army group

On promotion to command of NATO’s Northern Army Group (COMNORTHAG), Bagnall sought to get his new command thinking at the operational level and embrace his ideas of change.33 He wished to reduce the emphasis placed within the command on Forward Defence and an attritional based strategy and for NORTHAG to start thinking about fighting at the army group level rather than merely seeing its role as coordinating the individual battles of its four component corps. This vision was, in part, revealed at the RUSI in a two-part presentation, which he undertook with his air force Air Marshall, Sir Patrick Hine, then commander of the 2nd Allied Tactical Air Force (2ATAF). According to Bagnall:

There has been much talk about a joint Land/Air battle and earnest endeavours have been made to plan for one in the NORTHAG/2ATAF A Peculiarly British Revolution 39

area. However, without an agreed concept of operations, there is inevitably a conflict of ideas and overall priorities cannot be identified while the four in-theatre corps each conduct their own battle plan independently. Another problem has been what has been what I always describe as an over-literal interpretation of forward defence and the defensive nature of the Alliance.34

Bagnall sought to get NORTHAG to focus on combatting the Soviet’s 1st Operational Echelon whilst leaving the Operational Level to 2ATAF. He placed the German 7th Panzer and British 3 Armored Division into NORTHAG’s reserve so that the respective British and German corps commanders began to plan their corps battles without these assets. He also managed to get the Germans to agree not to use their 3rd Panzer Division without his authorization so that he could assume he would always have at least two of these three divisions as his Army Group reserve (he assumed the other would support the defense of the focal point of the Soviet attack either against the German or British Corps). 35 Bagnall also decided to take a worst case study approach and assume that the III (US) Corps reinforcements for NORTHAG would not arrive in time and so only their forward deployed brigade would be available.36 In obtaining these concessions Bagnall ran into problems with a number of German generals who did not wish to abandon the strict adherence to the policy of Forward Defence. He succeeded in having his new concept of operations adopted but at one point had to ask the then Secretary of State for Defence, Michael Heseltine, for support in pushing the policy through.37 This had implications for the British Army and its procurement policy, but more importantly it reinforced the government’s support for the defense of the Central Front and ensured that if any further defense reviews were necessary the government would first have to consider other areas of defense. Bagnall also wanted to resurrect the army’s plan of having a mobile anti-tank force capable of dealing with Soviet breakthroughs.38 This had been tested during the mid-1970s but the conversion of the Parachute Regiment to this role had been canceled during Nott’s predecessor’s time in office. The subsequent Falklands Conflict had then led to the transition of 5 Infantry Brigade which included two of the three battalions of the Parachute Regiment into the airborne role. Bagnall realized that the formation of a new unit for the air-mobile role was quite unrealistic even with the priority given to the continental commitment. He, therefore, made use of one of his brigade’s temporary lack of mechanized equipment following the divisional reorganization to give this brigade 40 Andrew M. Dorman the new role in the short-term in order to demonstrate the feasibility of his idea. Others within the army called for such a force to have a far more offensive, air assault role, mimicking the US 101st Air Assault Division but Bagnall felt that a more pragmatic step was required. In the medium-term he hoped that when 6 Brigade converted to an armored brigade another brigade would either be created or modified out of units based in the UK. Bagnall realized that a less incremental approach would raise the question of the command and control of the support helicopters attached to the proposed brigade. The Royal Air Force (RAF) High Command were fearful of losing their helicopters to the army, which they viewed as the first step towards their disbandment as a service, and were, therefore, likely to block the creation of a new brigade. Bagnall, much to the dismay of a number in the army, agreed to a compromise where the RAF’s support helicopters would support the brigade but remain under RAF control. This temporary solution neatly met the criteria set-up by Bagnall and dissolved any potential opposition to it, albeit with a delay of a couple of years while the feasibility study proved what Bagnall had already concluded.

I was quite clear that we needed an air-mobile brigade in the army and nobody had done anything about it and the only way I could see of getting this going ... was to carry out trials with 6 Brigade using the RAF Chinooks and Pumas based at Gut. The trials were no more than a way of getting the thing through the Ministry of Defence and every- body else so we could produce a great trials report ... The main thing was not to ask for everything because if one had asked for everything one would not have got it. It was just a quick reaction force with a purely defensive role. 39

The overall result would be the preservation of 3 Armored Division’s re-equipment for its role as part of NORTHAG’s reserve and the recognition in the medium-term that the creation of an air-mobile brigade was feasible. Consideration could then be given to expanding this British brigade to a divisional force utilizing other NORTHAG units, such as the German airborn brigade earmarked for NORTHAG and the Belgian Para/ Commando Brigade. At the same time, the introduction of the Tornado GR1s into the RAF and Luftwaffe provided the perfect platform for attacking the Soviet 2nd Operational Echelon forces. Designed as a compromise – the British wanted a long-range nuclear strike bomber, the Germans a ground A Peculiarly British Revolution 41 attack aircraft and the Italians a fighter – which fitted none of the original requirements of the tri-state Panavia partners, the Tornado had a range from bases in Germany that could reach the key bridges and other nodes in Poland and the western most districts of the Soviet Union. Thus, 2ATAF focused on two core missions – air defense and deep strike – with the other missions, such as close air support and the provision of rotary airlift receiving less prioritization. NATO’s Central Army Group (CENTAG), in the form of the US revi- sions to its Field Manual 100–05 ran along similar lines and NATO sought to bring the thinking together of both NORTHAG and CENTAG together in a concept known as Follow-on Forces Attack (FOFA). 40 At this time the reality of the situation was that all three initiatives ran in parallel and were not brought together despite command authority for the Central Front lying one level above both NORTHAG and CENTAG.

Cementing the vision and the First Gulf War

Bagnall’s promotion to Chief of the General Staff (CGS) and thus head of the army in 1985 allowed him to cement the changes he had made to the British Army. He created the Higher Command and Staff Course (HCSC) that was designed to train a new generation of officers to “think” at the operational level. In reality it was geared towards creating a cohort from which future commanders of 1 (Br) Corps/NORTHAG and CGS would be drawn. Partly out of the HCSC experience the process of doctrine became formally laid out in what became the first edition of British Military Doctrine .41 In the following year the RAF published its own doctrinal publication that focused on its support for the Central Front – AP3000.42 However, cementing the legacy was far from problem free. Although the 1985 defense estimates confirmed the government’s intention to increase the size of BAOR in peacetime to 56,000 43 financial pressure in the second half of the decade began to have an impact on defense. Bagnall sought to protect 1 (Br) Corps as the army’s principal focus but ran into difficulty. He oversaw the army’s review of its commitments and suggested that the UK Mobile Force (UKMF), centered on 1 Infantry Brigade, with the mission of reinforcing southern Norway or Denmark was a good candidate for reduction. To Bagnall the force represented a poor return for the level of resources committed44 and was a classic case of a political tokenism.45 More importantly, he felt that at the strategic level the Central Front in Germany remained the key theater of operations and it was more cost effective for Britain to concentrate its forces 42 Andrew M. Dorman there. This did not mean that he wanted the force deployed to Germany, a task he felt it to be ill-equipped and wholly unsuited for, but that the personnel, equipment and most of all resources devoted to it could be more efficiently used in support of the Central Front. 46 Moreover, Bagnall viewed the brigade as the potential permanent successor to 6 Brigade in the airmobile role. However, a political storm broke out following the confirmation that the future of this force was being reconsidered. Within Denmark, the most likely recipient of the UKMF in wartime, the opposition Foreign Affairs spokesman suggested that if the commitment were withdrawn the whole basis of Denmark’s commitment to NATO would have to be reconsidered. 47 To the new Defence Secretary, George Younger, there was the wider question of his support for Lord Carrington, Britain’s NATO Secretary-General, and his efforts to prevent other nations making defense cuts.48 1 Brigade was, therefore, retained in the UKMF role. Bagnall needed an alternative. Since 5 Airborne Brigade was earmarked for the out-of-area role following the Falklands War, as well as home defense, the government was unlikely to allow the army to change its tasking. The only solution was to use the regular brigade of 2 Infantry Division (the reserve division) whose wartime task was the reinforcement of BAOR. It was announced that “following the successful trial of 6 Brigade in its current role, we shall be retaining this important capability by conversion of 24 Infantry Brigade, based at Catterick, to the air-mobile role, starting next year.”49 This had repercussions for BAOR. The brigade would no longer be available for its security role within 1 (Br) Corps rear echelon and reserve units would therefore have total responsibility for this. The problem of providing the helicopter support remained. The government announced that a new army air corps regiment would be formed equipped with the Lynx helicopters in the utility and anti-tank roles to support the new brigade.50 However, these represented more of a means of filling Westland’s order book pending the entry into service of the EH-101 than a solution to the problem. Instead the main helicopter lift capability continued to be supplied by the RAF Puma/ Chinook combination based in Germany, pending the entry of the EH-101 into service. 51 So in peacetime the helicopter force would be based in Germany while the ground troops would be based in the UK. The army was forced to accept this and the problems this posed in terms of training and operational effectiveness. Politics similarly intervened in the army’s quest for an authentic attack helicopter. The army’s preference was the heavily armed US Apache A Peculiarly British Revolution 43 helicopter, which was in the process of deployment with US forces in Europe.52 However, Younger’s predecessor as Defence Secretary, Michael Heseltine, pressed for a European alternative and overruled the army and negotiations were begun with the Italians to adapt their Augusta A-129 for combat on the Central Front. Bagnall was convinced that the studies of the A-129 would reveal it to be unsuitable for the environment of the Central Front. He, therefore, acquiesced to Heseltine’s decision, hoping in the long term for Apache to be reconsidered, while in the meantime obtaining political support for their need of such a helicopter.53 Ultimately the Apache was adopted over a decade later. Similarly, the government’s goal of privatizing the Royal Ordnance Factories (ROF) presented it with a problem. The production of armored vehicles was divided between the private firm Vickers Ltd at Newcastle and the ROF Leeds. The latter had been manufacturing Challenger tanks for the British Army but was again faced with the prospect of a production gap pending the decision to replace the remainder of the Chieftain fleet in the mid-1990s. Given the relatively low production requirements of the Ministry of Defence (MOD) the preservation of two separate tank manufacturers was never a practical proposition in the longer term. Therefore, the sale of the ROF in its entirety would almost certainly result in ROF Leeds being shut down soon after its sale and a lower price received for the ROF group. This was politically unacceptable and the government decided instead to seek to sell the ROF Leeds sepa- rately to Vickers Ltd. as a means of preserving both plants. Vickers was aware of the costs involved in purchasing the factory, which required a major refurbishment to make it competitive.54 Bagnall’s goal of strengthening British tank forces neatly fitted into Younger’s political agenda. He was, therefore, happy to support Younger’s plan to purchase an additional batch of 76 Challenger Main Battle Tanks (MBTS) from ROF Leeds. This £100m contract was signed on the condition that Vickers Ltd. purchase the Leeds plant for approximately £11m and rebuild it at a cost of £14m.55 This allowed the rest of the ROF to be sold off to British Aerospace (BAE). Bagnall’s successor as commander, first of 1 (Br) Corps and subsequently NORTHAG, was General Sir Martin Farndale. Farndale had been a close ally of Bagnall and worked on the army changes in 1981 in which his divisional headquarters was the one withdrawn to the United Kingdom. However, Farndale’s vision for NORTHAG was far grander than Bagnall’s. 56 Rather than merely seeing NORTHAG as the key point with the job of maximizing time for NATO’s political leaders to find a solution or choose to escalate to nuclear warfare Farndale believed 44 Andrew M. Dorman that NATO could actually achieve a conventional victory on the Central Front. His thinking, therefore, dovetailed into the revised 1986 version of US Field Manual FM 100–5. 57 Instead of seeing the 2–3 division reserve that Bagnall had created as a mechanism for localized counter- strokes, Farndale believed that this force of effectively corps strength, if augmented by the entire reinforcement of NORTHAG by US III Corps, could act as a northern counterstroke force that would combine a similar force generated by CENTAG.58 In other words, Farndale now endorsed a view of battle that spanned the entire Central Front and involved not only allied air forces attacking targets in Poland but an allied counterstroke pushing Soviet forces back into Poland. This concept of counterstroke represented a major divergence from Bagnall’s original thinking and he was aghast but could do little to prevent it. To Bagnall such an approach was just not practical given the paucity of NATO ammunition stocks. Moreover, with NATO envis- aging a longer conventional war it now placed a renewed emphasis on the protection of the resupply convoys coming from the United States and thus started to unpick the planning assumptions that formed the basis of the 1981 Nott Review which was the basis for British defense policy. 59

Reflections on the Bagnall legacy on British thinking about the emerging RMA

The sudden end of the Cold War and the demise of the Warsaw Pact and Soviet Union appeared to negate the importance of the Bagnall reforms. Unusually, COMNORTHAG General Sir Martin Farndale did not succeed Bagnall as Chief of the General Staff. Instead, the Commander in Chief, Land Force, Field Marshal Sir John Chapple, was appointed. Chapple had had no direct involvement in any of the changes that had occurred over the previous decade having served in large part in the Far East and in the Ministry of Defence. For all their ramifications the so-called Bagnall reforms have not really been studied. Instead they have developed a mythology of their own and, perhaps, more importantly, they created an underpinning for the United Kingdom’s adoption of the RMA. In the initial aftermath of the Cold War, Farndale’s expanded Counter-Stroke concept formed the basis of the famous left hook used in the 1991 Gulf War. Conducted by the US VII Corps, which was based in West Germany, it comprised British and American units drawn from what had been NATO’s Northern and Central Army Groups. It reinforced in the minds of the British Army A Peculiarly British Revolution 45 the need to remain compatible with its US counterpart and thus in the latter’s developing concepts. Britain’s armed forces in the post-Cold War continue to be influenced by these reforms and thus it impacted on the British response to the so-called Revolution in Military Affairs that appeared to emerge from the 1991 Gulf War. The first legacy draws on Bagnall’s assumption about the role of COMNORTHAG. As NORTHAG was disbanded the United Kingdom successfully secured command of NATO’s new Allied Rapid Reaction Corps (ARRC), which was seen as NORTHAG’s successor and since then the army has continued to argue that it needs to maintain a corps level capability through its retention of ARRC command. Secondly, in all subsequent operations and, particularly, Britain’s involvement in both Iraq and Afghanistan, is the assumption that whoever commands the major element of the British land component is inevitably an operational level commander. Thus from the end of the conventional phase in Iraq in 2003 and Afghanistan in 2006 successive divisional/brigade commanders believed that they were the operational commander rather than any allied or even British coalition commander. This is problematic at a number of levels. For example, from 2006 onwards each successive brigade deployment to Afghanistan was based on a new brigade plan formulated by the brigade commander who thought he was the operational commander. Little attempt was made to learn from or build on the experiences of the preceding brigade or establish how the brigade was supposed to fit in within the wider NATO campaign plan for Afghanistan. The result was a series of short term initiatives rather than a more long term approach. The third legacy has been that there is an assumption of military primacy. In Bagnall’s case, thinking about what is now termed Phase IV operations was largely irrelevant. If he was successful in the conflict then either the NATO political leadership had agreed on a suspension of hostilities with the Soviet Union or they had decided to escalate the conflict by recourse to nuclear weapons. In the case of the former then the civilian authorities already had a functioning and established civilian infrastructure and organization. In the case of the latter, it probably didn’t matter. In the post-Cold War conflicts the importance of Phase IV operations has become paramount and their neglect has proven to be highly damaging. Fourth, doctrine has moved from being a cottage industry into a process of mass production. However, as a result of this, the British Army has become less mission command focused and instead increasingly trapped by its own dogma. In particular, there is a constant emphasis on the 46 Andrew M. Dorman maneuverist approach and a failure to recognize that attrition remains an element of war. The Bagnall reforms sought to rebalance the attritional-maneuverist balance by shifting away from the previous NATO thinking which had been almost entirely focused on attritional battle to one which also embraced maneuver. However, in British thinking this shift in thinking has continued to the other extreme in which maneuver is seen in some parts as the anathema of attrition. In reality, maneuver is about gaining a tactical advantage to achieve an attritional victory. War has never been a non-contact activity where casualties can be avoided. The fifth legacy has been the continued emphasis on traditional state on state conflict and the importance of armored warfare. In the immediate aftermath of the end of the Cold War the British Army underwent a series of reductions but maintained its general emphasis on armored warfare. Thus, the 1998 Strategic Defence review sought to configure the army around seven brigades, six were armored or mechanized in focus, with only the new 16 Air Assault Brigade being any attempt at developing a lighter capability. 60 Even after Iraq and Afghanistan, the army’s Future Force 2020 again emphasized this armored focus with three of the army’s four principal brigades defined as Armored Infantry and the fourth a reduced 16 Air Assault Brigade. The remaining Adaptable Force elements largely replicate the regional brigades of the Cold War with relatively little combat power or significance.61 The sixth legacy has been that there has been evidence of a cult of being the maverick with a succession of senior army officers claiming to be the army’s new great thinker. Unfortunately, the failing of Britain’s armed forces, particularly the army in both Iraq and Afghanistan appears to suggest the reverse is true. This links to the final legacy. The army’s lack of awareness of its own history, evidence by the Bagnall reforms, also appears to show a lack of intellectual engagement and a lack of appreciation of the lessons of the past. This conclusion links directly to the revisionist critics of recent British operations and reinforces the argument that the attempt to blame recent failures on the political elite is just more evidence of denial and an ultimate reluctance to change.

Notes

1 . Barry R. Posen, The Sources of Military Doctrine: France, Britain and Germany between the World Wars (Ithaca, New York, USA: Cornell University Press, 1984); Stephen Peter Rosen, War and Human Nature (Princeton, NJ, USA: Princeton University Press, 2005); Theo Farrell and Terry Terriff (eds) The Sources of Military Change: Culture, Politics and Technology (Boulder, CO, USA: Lynne Rienner, 2002). A Peculiarly British Revolution 47

2 . Leading this argument has been Theo Farrell, see for example, Theo Farrell and Tim Bird, “Innovating within Cost and Cultural Constraints: The British Approach to Military Transformation,” in A Transformation Gap? American Innovations and European Military Change, ed. Terry Terriff, Frans Osinga and Theo Farrell (Stanford, CA, USA: Stanford University Press, 2010); Tom Dyson, “Defence Policy under the Labour Government: Operational Dynamism and Strategic Inertia,” British Journal of Politics and International Relations , 13:2 (May 2011) pp.206–29; Victoria Nolan, Military Leadership and Counterinsurgency: The British Army and Small War Strategy since World War II (London: I.B. Tauris & Co Ltd, 2011). 3 . “The Strategic Defence Review: a New Chapter,” Cmnd. 5566 (London: TSO, 2002); “Strategic Defence Review 1998,” Cmnd. 3999 (London: TSO, 1998). 4 . Lewis Page, Lions, Donkeys and Dinosaurs: Waste Blundering in the Armed Forces (London: William Heineman, 2006); Warren A Chin, British Weapons Acquisition Policy and the Futility of Reform (Aldershot: Ashgate Publishing Ltd, 2004). 5 . National Audit Office, “Army 2020,” HC.263 (London: TSO, 2014); National Audit Office, “MoD Equipment Plan 2013 to 2023,” HC.816 (London: TSO, 2014); National Audit Office, “Carrier Strike: the 2012 Reversion Decision,” HC.63 (London: TSO, 2013); National Audit Office, “Management of the Typhoon Project,” HC.755 (London: TSO, 2011); National Audit Office, “Ministry of Defence – Delivering Multi-Role Tanker Capability,” HC.433 (London, TSO, 2010). 6 . Jonathan Bailey, Richard Iron and Hew Strachan, British Generals in Blair’s Wars (Farnham: Ashgate Publishing Ltd, 2013); Jack Fairweather, The Good War: Why We Couldn’t Win the War or Peace in Afghanistan (London: Jonathan Cape, 2014); Christopher L Elliott, High Command: British Military Leadership in the Iraq and Afghanistan Wars (London: Hurst, 2015); Richard North, Ministry of Defeat: The British War in Iraq 2003–09 (London: Continuum, 2009); General David Richards, Taking Command: the Autobiography (London: Headline Publishing Group, 2014). 7 . Warren Chin, “Why Did It All Go Wrong? Reassessing British counterinsurgency in Iraq,” Strategic Studies Quarterly (Winter 2008) pp.119–35; Frank Ledwidge, Losing Small Wars: British Military Failure in Iraq and Afghanistan (New Haven, CO, USA: Yale University Press, 2011). 8 . Paul N Cornish and Andrew M. Dorman, “Blair’s Wars and Brown’s Budgets: From Strategic Defence Review to Strategic Decay in Less than a Decade,” International Affairs, 85:2 (March 2009) pp.247–61; Air Chief Marshal; Sir Jock Stirrup, “Annual Chief of the Defence Staff Lecture,” RUSI, December 3, 2009, https://www.rusi.org/events/past/ref:E4B184DB05C4E3/ Accessed on May 5, 2015; Paul Newton, Andrew Sharpe and Andrew Colley, “Reclaiming the Art of Strategic Thinking,” The RUSI Journal , 155:1 (February 2010) pp.44–50. 9 . Mike Gaines, “NATO’s Crusader 80,” Flight International, 3:279 (October 25, 1980) p.1572. 10 . Interview with author. 11 . Chris Bellamy, “Antecedents of the Modern Soviet Operational Manoeuvre Group (OMG),” The RUSI Journal , 129:3 (September 1984) pp.50–58. 12 . See Robert A. Gessert, “The AirLand Battle and NATO’s New Doctrinal Debate,” The RUSU Journal, 129:2 (June 1984) pp.52–60; H. Gole, General 48 Andrew M. Dorman

William E. DePuy: Preparing the Army for Modern War (Kentucky: University Press of Kentucky, 2008); Richard Lock Pullan, US Intervention Policy and Army Innovation: From Vietnam to Iraq (London: Routledge, 2006). 13 . David Hazel, “The Sudden Attack Debate: Arguments and Alternatives,” The RUSI Journal , 123:4 (December 1978) p.37. 14 . Interview with author; Andrew J. Poerre, “Can Europe’s Security be ‘De-Coupled’ from America?” Foreign Affairs , 51:4 (July 1973) p.761; Pierre Lellouche, “Europe and her Defense,” Foreign Affairs, 59:4 (Spring, 1981) p.815. 15 . See C.J. McInnes, “BAOR in the 1980s: Changes in Doctrine and Organization,” Defense Analysis , 4:4 (December 1988) pp.377–94. 16 . Interview with author. 17 . In 1976 the CIA’s annual estimate of Soviet defense spending stated that previous estimates had been low and that the Soviet Union was actually spending 11–13% of GNP on defense and not 6–8% as previously thought. Paul Cockle, “Analysing Soviet Defence Spending: The Debate in Perspective,” Survival , 20:5 (September/October 1978) p.209. This was subsequently repeated by the British Government. “Statement on the Defence Estimates, 1977,” Cmd.6735 (London: HMSO, 1977), p.5. 18 . See “Statement on the Defence Estimates, 1976,” Cmnd.6432 (London: HMSO, 1976), p.8. 19 . Andrew J. Pierre, “Can Europe’s Security be ‘Decoupled’ from America?,” in Foreign Affairs, 51:4 (July 1973) p.761; Pierre Lellouche, “Europe and Her Defense,” in Foreign Affairs , 59:4 (Spring 1981) pp.813–34, 815. 20 . See Christoph Bertram, “The Implications of Theatre Nuclear Weapons in Europe,” Foreign Affairs, 60:2 (Winter, 1981–82) p.306; Raymond L. Garthoff, Détente & Confrontation: American-Soviet Relations from Nixon to Reagan (Washington, D.C., USA: The Brookings Institution, 1985), chapter 25, pp.870–86; Christopher J. Makins, “TNF Modernization and ‘Countervailing Strategy,’” Survival , 23:4 (July/August 1981) p.157. 21 . David Greenwood, “NATO’s Three Per Cent Solution,” Survival , 23:6 (November/December 1981) pp.252–60. 22 . “The Army,” in The Economist (March 29, 1980) p.45; Henry Stanhope, “Army Plans Russian-type AA gun,” in The Times (January 12, 1978); William Jackson, Britain’s Defence Dilemma: An Inside View (London: B.T. Batsford Ltd., 1990) p.7. 23 . Andrew M. Dorman, Defence under Thatcher, 1979–89, Southampton Studies in International Policy (Basingstoke: Palgrave, 2002). 24 . Private discussion with author. 25 . Lieutenant-General Sir William Scotter, “The British Army Today,” The RUSI Journal , 121:2 (June 1976) pp.16–22; Major-General Frank Kitson, “The New British Armoured Division,” The RUSI Journal , 122:1 (March 1977) pp.17–19. 26 . “Defence in the 1980s – Statement on the Defence Estimates,” Cmnd. 7826 (London: HMSO, 1980), p.25. 27 . Andrew M. Dorman, Defence under Thatcher, 1979–89, Southampton Studies in International Policy (Basingstoke: Palgrave, 2002) pp.50–2. 28 . David Fairhall, “The Battle of the Cuts,” The Guardian (January 7, 1981). 29 . John Nott, House of Commons Parliamentary Debates , vol. 997, 5th series, session 1980–81, pp.19–30 January 1981, Statement 20 January 1981, col.152. A Peculiarly British Revolution 49

30 . Interview of Sir John Nott with author. 31 . Interview with Field Marshal Sir Nigel Bagnall with author. 32 . Interview with Field Marshal Sir Nigel Bagnall by author; House of Commons Defence Committee, “First Report – Allied Forces in Germany,” HC.93 , session 1981–82 (London, HMSO, 1982), p.vi; Private Interview with author. 33 . John Stanley, House of Commons Parliamentary Debates, “Debate on the Army” (January 30, 1986), vol. 90, session 1985–86 (January 20–31, 1986), col.1116. 34 . General Sir Nigel Bagnall, “Concepts of Land/Air Operations in the Central Region: I,” in The RUSI Journal, 129:3 (September 1984) pp.59–62, p.60. See also Air Marshal Sir Patrick Hine, “Concepts of Land/Air Operations in the Central Region II,” 129:3, (September 1984) pp.63–66. 35 . See Colin McInnes, NATO’s Changing Strategic Agenda: the Conventional Defence of Western Europe (London: Unwin Hyman, 1990). 36 . Interview with Field Marshal Sir Nigel Bagnall with author. 37 . At one point Bagnall felt it necessary to brief Michael Heseltine, who in turn briefed the Prime Minister, to try and break the deadlock that he was facing but in the end they did not need to exert pressure. Interview of Field Marshal Sir Nigel Bagnall by author. 38 . Interview with Field Marshal Sir Nigel Bagnall by author; Robert R. Rodwell, “Evolving the Air Mobile Army,” Flight International, 102:3320, w/e (November 2, 1972) pp.618–21. 39 . Interview with Field Marshal Sir Nigel Bagnall by author. 40 . Boyd D. Sutton, John R. Landry, Malcolm B. Armstrong, Howell M. Estes III and Wesley K. Clark, “Deep Attack Concepts and the Defence of Central Europe,” Survival , 26:2 (March/April 1984) pp.50–70; Robert A. Gessert, “The AirLand Battle and NATO’s new Doctrinal Debate,” The RUSI Journal, 129:2 (June 1984) pp.52–60. 41 . “Design for Military Operations: The British Military Doctrine,” Army Code 71451, 1989. 42 . “History of British Air Power Doctrine,” p.3.12.1, http://www.raf.mod.uk/ rafcms/mediafiles/374F3212_1143_EC82_2E801D2FE37E9617.pdf Accessed on March 24, 2014. 43 . “Statement on the Defence Estimates, 1985,” Cmnd. 9430-I (London, HMSO, 1985). 44 . Interview with Field Marshal Sir Nigel Bagnall by author. 45 . The UK Mobile Force consisted of an air-portable brigade of four infantry battalions, an armored reconnaissance regiment, an armored squadron, one- plus SAM battery and a logistical support group. IISS, The Military Balance, 1987–88 (London, IISS, 1987) p.79. 46 . Ibid. 47 . Hilary Barnes & David Buchan, “Danes Worried by UK Review of Defence Force’s Role,” The Financial Times (22 January 1987). 48 . Interview with Lord Younger by author. 49 . Ian Stewart, House of Commons Parliamentary Debates, vol. 121, sixth series, session 1987–88, October 26–November 6, 1987, Debate on Defence Estimates (October 27, 1987), col.213. 50 . “Statement on the Defence Estimates, 1989,” Cmnd.675 (London: HMSO, 1989) p.25. 50 Andrew M. Dorman

51 . Timothy Sainsbury, House of Commons Parliamentary Debates, vol. 126, sixth series, session 1987–88, January 25–February 5, 1988, Debate on the Army (January 26, 1988), col. 183. 52 . Private interview with author. 53 . Ibid. 54 . Ibid. 55 . George Younger, House of Commons Parliamentary Debates, vol. 102, sixth series, session 1985–86, July 22–October 2, 1986, statement to the House (July 24, 1986), col.853; David Buchan, “Vickers to Buy State Tank Factory,” in The Financial Times (July 25, 1986). 56 . Interview of General Sir Martin Farndale with author; General Sir Martin Farndale, “Counter Stroke: Future requirements,” The RUSI Journal, 130:4 (December 1985) pp.6–9; General Sir Martin Farndale, “The Operational Level of Command,” The RUSI Journal , 133:3 (Autumn 1988) pp.23–29. 57 . John L. Romjue, “The Evolution of American Army Doctrine,” in The Origins of Contemporary Doctrine ed. John Gooch, Strategic and Combat Studies Institute, no. 30 (September 1997) pp.72–74. 58 . Interview of General Sir Martin Farndale with author. 59 . Andrew M. Dorman, Defence under Thatcher, 1979–89, Southampton Studies in International Policy (Basingstoke: Palgrave, 2002). 60 . “The Strategic Defence Review,” Cm.3999 (London: TSO, 1998). 61 . “Transforming the British Army – An Update July 2013, ” http://www.army. mod.uk/documents/general/Army2020_Report_v2.pdf Accessed on May 5, 2015.

3 The Perpetual Search for Efficiency: The Canadian Approach to the RMA and Military Transformation Jeffrey Collins

Introduction

Since 1945 Canadian defense policy has continuously been shaped by a set of interrelated deterministic variables: geography, alliances, the public favoring of social programs, and budgets.1 The country’s political, bureaucratic, and even military leadership, have long since sought ways to get more “bang for the defense buck” through the adoption of measures that ostensibly would generate greater efficiencies and efficacy in the Canadian Forces (CF) without undermining the military’s ability to fulfill North American and European alliance obligations. One such approach was the 1968 unification of the three armed services – navy, army, and air force – into one CF. Another effort, and the one being analyzed in this chapter, was the adoption of the concepts and platforms affiliated with the Revolution in Military Affairs (RMA) and its close cousin, Transformation, particularly during the period of 2005– 11, at the height of Canada’s combat operations in Afghanistan. But, as this chapter will emphasize, the CF’s approach to both the RMA and Transformation produced mixed results as plans were undermined by the deterministic constraints typical of defense policy-making in Canada, inter-service tensions found at the executive level within the CF, and, of course, the challenges and costs of combatting an insurgency in Afghanistan. In undertaking this analysis, this chapter will first begin with an overview of the determinants of Canadian defense policy making. This section will explain the constraints that have long-shaped the decisions surrounding CF funding, planning, and procurement. Such constraints

51 52 Jeffrey Collins can partially explain how RMA/Transformation concepts were internalized and why they ran into difficulty in 2005–11. Next is an-depth look at the CF in the 1990s, a period of dramatic cutbacks and a high operational deployment level that paradoxically delayed the CF’s interpretation of RMA concepts and accelerated their adoption, however haphazardly and uncoordinated by the three services. The third section is an examination of General Rick Hillier, his background and pivotal role in attempting to institutionalize Transformation and foster a truly joint CF. Finally, this chapter will illustrate how the impact of service parochialism, the Afghanistan war, and a recession altered Hillier’s Transformation plans. The conclusion will speak to what the RMA/Transformation experience says about instituting far-reaching reforms in Canadian defense.

Determinants of Canadian defense

To better understand Canada’s approach to the RMA one must first know the deterministic variables and history surrounding Canadian defense policy. First, geography has and will continue to shape Canada’s force structure, strategic orientation, and military budget.2 Sitting atop the North American continent Canada is arguably located in one of the most secure and stable locations in the world. Since the late-19th century – and thanks in part to a series of defense agreements signed in the early-1940s – the country’s one land bordering neighbor, the United States, happens to be its closest friend and ally.3 Consequently, Canada does not face a conventional military threat to its national integrity.4 Since the end of the Second World War this reality has meant that Canadian politicians have been in the enviable position of being able to determine how much money to fund the CF without suffering much in the way electoral repercussions. The translation of this reality for those in the CF and the Department of National Defence (DND) means that they are rarely a political priority. There are few votes to be won on military spending.5 Equipping the CF is more of a question of “how much is just enough?” that is, how much money is needed to ensure that Canada meets the military commitments of its alliances with the United States and NATO respectively? In budgetary terms, Canadian defense spending is largely discre- tionary – representing roughly 20% of all federal spending. Hence, when it comes to trimming deficits and balancing budgets the DND/CF becomes an attractive target.6 For Canadian defense planners this budgetary instability makes medium and long-term procurement and force structure planning difficult to undertake. Such difficulties are further The Perpetual Search for Efficiency 53 exacerbated by a historical lack of government policy guidance, which often leaves “the CF in the position of having to interpret Ottawa’s will.”7 Suffice to say, the corollary of continental security and ad-hoc military funding places Canada in the position of having to rely on the United States for its security. The post-1945 drift away from Canada’s previous great power patron, the United Kingdom, towards the United States, in combination with the above factors, has meant that the CF – particularly the air and naval branches – needs to be able to interoperate with its American counterparts.8 To illustrate, look no further than the North American Aerospace Defense Command (NORAD). Set-up in 1958 and headquartered near Colorado Springs, NORAD is a binational command which governs both Canadian and American airspace defense. A Canadian officer serves as its deputy. In order for the Canadian air force to fulfill its duties it needs to interoperate with United States aircraft. In practical purposes, this has seen Canada move away from indigenous jet fighter production in the late 1950s to purchasing American aircraft such as the CF-101 “Voodoo,” the CF-104 “Starfighter” and the still operational CF-18 “Hornet.”9 It is also why the RCAF is currently pushing for replacing the CF-18 with the F-35.10 While the DND/CF went through the ritualistic ups and downs of defense spending between 1945 and 1989 the Cold War did offer stability in terms of the operations and technological requirements Canada required to fulfill its NORAD and NATO obligations. 11 Under the latter alliance, Canada participated in maintaining deterrence against the Soviet Union through the stationing of ground forces and airpower assets in both France, until the mid-1960s, and West Germany, until 1993–94. Meanwhile, the Canadian navy conducted anti-submarine warfare patrols in the North Atlantic. Outside of alliance duties, Canada committed small numbers of forces to United Nations peacekeeping operations in a variety of environs, the most prominent being Egypt (UNEF I) and Cyprus (UNICYP). While not particularly taxing on the CF’s resources these missions proved politically popular at home as a succession of governments, beginning with Prime Minister Lester Pearson’s Liberal administration (1963–68), saw the Canadian public closely associate peacekeeping with their national identity. 12 This would prove consequential in the 1990s (see the next section). On the technological end, procurement was relatively straightforward; platforms were simply replaced with newer models. However, in the earlier 1960s it became apparent that the growing cost of sophisticated weaponry was in conflict with the public pressure for more 54 Jeffrey Collins money to be allocated to a widening social safety net. The combination of these factors led to the development of what remains arguably one of the earliest examples of the RMA concept of “jointness”: the 1964 White Paper on Defence’ s goal to integrate and unify the three armed services into one Canadian Forces. 13 Financial concerns were not just the only motivating factor, inefficiencies in procurement, logistics, and administrative overheads also proved decisive in then Defense Minister Paul Hellyer’s drive to amalgamate the Royal Canadian Navy, the Canadian Army, and the Royal Canadian Air Force into one service. While there is little space available to go into the still sensitive debate surrounding unification, a few points are worth noting. First, the Act to Amend the National Defence Act was passed the same year as the White Paper on Defence . The immediate effect was to replace the three service chiefs with one Chief of Defense Staff (CDS) empowered with full executive authority over the military. A Deputy CDS would oversee all military operations. In 1965–67 the three services’ separate logistical support and training units were morphed into one. Finally, the coup de grace came in April 1967 when Parliament passed the Canadian Forces Reorganization Act, which abolished the RCN, Canadian Army, and RCAF effective 1 February 1968. In their place rose the Canadian Forces with one common uniform and a functional command system, based primarily on a Maritime Command, Mobile Command, Air Defense Command, and Air Transport Command. It’s been noted that some money was saved given that “rationalization and [an] economy of forces” was introduced but overall command inefficiencies, especially service parochialism, have remained an ongoing issue in Canada. Joint support and training was achieved but operationally the new CF performed along traditional service lines.14 In a country where there is little public appetite for military spending and an ever-constant political pressure to sustain social programs, numerous government officials and military officers have sought to squeeze every penny out of the defense budget through administrative reforms since the 1968 unification process. It is within this context that Canada approached the RMA in the aftermath of the Cold War.

Defense in the 1990s: the road to the RMA

In 1991, as the world looked an awe at the destructive capabilities of the United States’ armed forces in the deserts of southern Iraq, Canada’s military were in the midst of bracing themselves for another cycle of drastic cutbacks. Over the course of the two previous decades Canada’s The Perpetual Search for Efficiency 55 national debt had ballooned – to nearly $750 billion by 1994 – and was growing at a rate of $40 billion per year.15 In 1992 the Conservative government of Brian Mulroney released its Canadian Defence Policy, the first defense policy statement since the end of the Cold War. The document not only foretold the tough times ahead but also reiterated the main determinisms surrounding Canadian defense policy: “[T]he size of our country, its strategic location, and the limited resources that we can devote to defence mean that, for the foreseeable future, Canada will maintain its long-standing relationship with the United States.”16 In material terms, total personnel numbers were to be reduced from 81,000 to 75,000; the Multi-Role Combat Vehicle, which had only been announced months earlier to replace the army’s aging armoured personnel carriers, was cancelled; and the CF’s presence in Europe was to be reduced to just 1,100 personnel. 17 But even that latter decision would be short lived as the two remaining CF bases in Germany were closed in 1993–94, thereby ending a four-decade permanent Canadian military presence in Europe. 18 A new government, under the leadership of Liberal Prime Minister Jean Chretien, came to power in 1993 committed to slaying the deficit and getting the country’s debt under control. Defense became, yet again, another area to go searching for savings. A new White Paper was released in 1994, the White Paper on Defence, that called for a 30% reduction (in real terms) in defense spending between 1993–94 and 1998–99. This represented a monetary drop of roughly $12 billion per year to $9.4 billion. As a result of such cuts Canadian defense spending fell to 1.1% of GNP, down from the NATO average of 2.2%.19 A further cut in personnel numbers was also made, this time from 75,000 to 60,000. The 1994 White Paper further stated that the CF would see $15 billion worth of equipment delayed, reduced, or cancelled over 15 years.20 In short, “just enough” cash was being allocated to defense in order to keep Canada’s seat at the allied table and to provide the bare minimum of capabilities for a national disaster response.21 Thus, on the lack of public resistance to these military cuts one observer reiterated the truism that in Canada “there is always room for less defense spending. There would be little public outcry in light of the fact that the public and the provinces are being asked to do a lot with less.” 22 In the midst of such a downturn in defense spending and capabilities little attention was being paid to the RMA debate raging south of the border. The only real implicit reference in the 1994 White Paper to RMA hi-tech capabilities was a sentence calling on the CF to be able to fight “alongside the best, against the best.” As defense scholar Elinor Sloan remarked, for 56 Jeffrey Collins most of the 1990s, the RMA would remain, at best, an aspiration for the Canadian Forces.23 Without any policy guidance on the RMA, the CF returned to the familiar pattern of trying to generate efficiencies and improved efficacy through administrative changes. There were some successes. For example, one area was in contracting out strategic lift, pilot training, and logistic support functions to the private sector, otherwise known as alternative service delivery. In the words of one commentator, “[t]he use of private firms has been highly successful, as logistics contractors employed under both contracts saved the deployment of thousands of military support personnel.”24 Ironically, due to the budgetary tightness in the 1990s the CF, by default, became more streamlined, developing a more efficient CF command structure by learning to get “the most of their human, material, and financial resources.”25 Yet despite these bright lights, whatever benefits such reforms could bring were automatically undermined by the Chretien government’s decision to participate in practically every UN and NATO mission in the decade. Even though the CF was undertaking its largest downsizing since the late-1940s both the country’s body politic and civilian leadership were conscious of upholding Canada’s peacekeeping image; the government had a lot more to gain politically in participating in overseas stability operations than in spending more on defense. The impact of this increase in operational tempo was borne out by the numbers: during the four decades of the Cold War the CF deployed on 25 overseas missions. In contrast, during the 1990s Canada’s military were sent overseas on 70 missions. Such a scale of deployment was unsustainable, wear and tear on both personnel and equipment was vastly exacerbated: between 1968 and 1998 combat capability – as measured by personnel and equipment numbers – declined for the navy by 50% and the air force by 60%. 26 The army especially felt the brunt of the cuts and corresponding operational demands. It “had been least favored in the equipment purchases of the late-1970s and early 1980s” and was now facing a serious commitment-capability gap as its armored vehicles and support equipment began to deteriorate.27 As if things could not get worse, an organizational crisis erupted in 1995 when news emerged that members of the elite Canadian Airborne Regiment who, on their deployment to Somalia in 1993, murdered two Somali teenagers, one of whom was tortured. The resulting allegations of cover-up and deception by senior defense officers led to a collapse of trust with political officials and obliterated any sense of duty, on the part of the latter, to give the CF direction let alone increased funding.28 Hence, when it came to adapting to the RMA, by the mid-1990s the CF The Perpetual Search for Efficiency 57 and the DND were well and truly on their own. 29 The equivalent of a U.S.-style Quadrennial Defense Review was not forthcoming. The corollary, however, was that the more the “penny pinching” increased, and the more operational pressures took their toll, the CF actually began turning to the RMA as a model to increase efficiency, save money, and remain reliable on allied operations. 30 In this regard, the CF view of the RMA was not unlike those perceptions held by senior officers, bureau- crats, and politicians of the unification measures of the 1960s. The first serious policy discussion of the RMA occurred in May 1998 at DND’s Defence Management Committee (DMC), the highest-level departmental decision-making body. 31 The DMC discussions bore the fruit of a RMA study, titled Canadian Defence Beyond 2010: The Way Ahead and the creation of a RMA Operational Working Group within the National Defense Headquarters that same year. 32 The Beyond 2010 study evaluated the impact of the RMA on a litany of topics, including operations, the CF and DND structure, scientific research, and defense industry. In 1999 the military released a RMA concept paper, Shaping the Future of Canadian Defence: A Strategy for 2020. 33 While both documents remained cautious in their pronouncements – there was, after all, no additional money or political direction for the foreseeable future – at the core of each was the notion that the Canadian Forces should be transformed into a light and agile force built on the precepts of the RMA and able to fight alongside the armed forces of the U.S.. 34 Criticism in some quarters, including from the former Chief of the Land Staff (CLS) – the army’s most senior officer – Lt. General Mike Jeffery, found that the RMA policy documents, due to their cautiousness, “lacked a coherent and compelling vision for the future” and were of little relevance for planning purposes.35 That being said, the CF had, on an individual service level, begun incrementally procuring those systems and equipment necessary to turn into a high-tech, interoperable force – in some cases before any direction was provided by command. The navy and air force – given their years of working alongside their American counterparts on operations – took a keen interest in developing RMA capabilities.36 In 1996 the air force pre- empted the pronouncements found in Strategy for 2020 and purchased its first ever precision-guided munitions (PGMs).37 These weapons, in line with the addition of new targeting systems to the CF-18 Hornet, allowed the air force to participate in Operation Allied Force, NATO’s air campaign against the Former Yugoslavia in 1999. During that conflict the Canadian air force dropped 360 PGMs in over 700 combat sorties, equating to 10% of all allied combat sorties; an achievement done with 58 Jeffrey Collins just 18 deployed CF-18s. 38 The air force also added the Link 16 data link to the CF-18s, enabling them to share tactical information and communications with U.S. aircraft.39 Likewise, in the early 2000s the CF proceeded with enhancing its intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance (ISR) capabilities, taking advantage of the building of the commercial Radarsat II satellite to install a Ground Moving Target Indicator that would allow the military to track mobile targets such as armored vehicles and tanks. This system went operational in 2008.40 The air force’s CP-140 “Aurora” patrol aircraft – based on the American P-3 “Orion” – also underwent several phases of a modernization project in the first decade of the 2000s, chief of which was the installation of a Ground Moving Target Indicator. Such upgrades provided the Aurora, tradition- ally a maritime patrol aircraft, with the capability to undertake a tactical air role with both ground and sea forces, something that would prove useful in operations against Qaddafi’s regime in 2011 and Islamic State forces in 2014–15. Thanks to its time operating within the U.S. Navy’s carrier battle groups, the Canadian navy emerged at the forefront of the CF in adopting the latest communications platforms and software. In the 1990s the Iroquois -class destroyers received new satellite communication upgrades, including the Link 16 data link, allowing the four ships to “fuse information from a wide range of sources, developing a single coherent picture that is then shared amongst the fleet and with others.”41 The navy’s 12 Halifax -class general-purpose frigates, procured in the 1990s, similarly received the latest ISR technology during their acquisition. 42 Such technology made it possible for the Canadian navy to be one of the few in the world to completely interoperate within U.S. carrier battle groups. In 2001, the navy even produced its own RMA-style strategy, titled Leadmark: The Navy’s Strategy for 2020 . Leadmark posited that the navy should develop the capability for both blue water and littoral operations, especially the capacity to strike land targets ashore.43 The army, with the least amount of experience interoperating alongside the U.S. began moving to a lighter, more mobile, networked force in the early-2000s. First, they retired their Grizzly armored personnel carriers (APC) and much of the tracked M113A1 APC fleet in favor of the wheeled, Canadian-built Light Armoured Vehicle (LAV) III. Similarly, the army brought into service the Canadian made Coyote recon and surveillance vehicle, an eight-wheeled machine capable of reaching 120 km/h speeds and obtaining visual, all weather surveillance up to 14 km away, day or night. 44 On the communications front, the Iris Tactical Command, Control and Communications System was introduced. The Perpetual Search for Efficiency 59

Relying upon hand-held and vehicle-mounted radios, this equipment provided the army with “secure communications systems that can be integrated with several subsystems.” 45 Impressive as these acquisitions were, such advances toward fostering an RMA-oriented force structure remained hampered by underfunding and operational burnout. Not only that, the haphazard service-by-service approach to the RMA occurred without an overarching operational command overhaul thus limiting any real progress on creating jointness in the CF. By the time Al-Qaeda terrorists struck the United States on September 11, 2001 the CF was weak in a number of capabilities including strategic lift, medium- heavy transport helicopters, sustainable ground force numbers, and a timely procurement system; all of which would be brought to bear as the country undertook its first major combat operation since the Korean War (1950–53).

Transformation and the General

As per Canada’s security alliances with the United States, through NORAD and NATO, Ottawa committed military forces to Operation Enduring Freedom in 2001. In October, the navy dispatched the first of 16 ships on a two-year deployment to the Arabian Sea and Persian Gulf as a part of coalition interdiction operations. 46 In December 2001, the first personnel from the CF’s elite counter-terrorist unit, Joint Task Force-2 (JTF-2) deployed to Afghanistan. They would be followed by the 3rd battalion of the Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry (PPCLI) and several Coyote recon vehicles in January 2002, dispatched on a six month deployment to Kandahar in southern Afghanistan. 47 However, due to operational overstretch, a battalion of the PPCLI was the most that could be spared although they suited themselves well in engaging Taliban and Al-Qaeda forces alongside American units during Operation Anaconda in the Shahi-Kot Valley. Following a decision to not participate in Operation Iraqi Freedom in 2003 – for mostly domestic political reasons – the Chretien government compensated by agreeing to dispatch 2,00048 troops and headquarters staff to lead the International Security Assistance Force (ISAF) mission in Kabul, Afghanistan.49 While these deployments to southwest Asia were occurring a new Prime Minister came to power, Paul Martin. Martin, Chretien’s former finance minister, was determined to rebuild the CF and make it, and the country, an active player in international affairs. He especially wanted to move beyond the budgetary cuts and downsizing characteristic of the 1990s. 50 In early 2005, he selected a new CDS, army General Rick Hillier. Hillier, 60 Jeffrey Collins an armoured officer, had recently spent a part of his career on exchange to the U.S., as deputy commander of the U.S. Army’s III Corps in Fort Hood, Texas. There, he became enamored with the latest conceptualiza- tion of RMA thinking, what the Americans were calling Transformation. In short, Transformation helped establish some parameters around RMA given that the word “revolution” implied “a definitive end-state, or a point at which the change had been accomplished. Military transformation, by contrast, captures the idea of ongoing change.”51 While Transformation shared RMA’s emphasis on jointness, PGMs, digitizing the battlefield, and flexibility it also stressed the need to rely on special operations forces (SOFs) to handle unconventional military threats. In 2002, Transformation became the stated policy of the Pentagon under Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld.52 For Canada, Hillier would become Transformation’s champion. While stationed with the III Corps in the late-1990s Hillier saw how the U.S. Army was moving away from its heavy armored divisions to lighter, more mobile brigade combat teams. Such experimentation resulted in the restructuring of the army around smaller, more deployable mechanized infantry units. The brigade combat team model saw the removal of the Main Battle Tank (MBT) in favor of an eight-wheeled “Stryker” Mobile Gun System (MGS); simply a LAV III chassis mounted with a 105mm cannon.53 In 2003 Hillier became Chief of Land Staff and began the process of turning Canada’s army into a light version of its American counterpart. In an article he authored for the army’s professional journal that year, he made the case that “transformation is about capturing and using the advantages of a variety of modern systems orchestrated in concert.” Thus, the army needed to move towards an integrated “system of systems,” key of which was adapting to a Canadianized brigade combat team. With the LAV III at the centre of the transformed Canadian army the 25-year old Leopard I MBTs would be replaced with the MGS. The army would also move to purchase an as-yet-undeveloped Air Defence Anti-Tank (ADAT) missile system, to be also mounted on the LAV III chassis. In Hillier’s characteristic blunt talk the ADAT would give the military the ability “to kill anything that appears up to 8km away” while maintaining the ability to be transported on the air force’s existing C-130 Hercules aircraft, unlike the Leopards.54 As a testament to his political suaveness Hillier was convinced that his transformed army would save the government money. In this area he pitched the Canadian Manoeuvre Training Centre (CMTC), based in Wainwright, Alberta, and a new Whole Fleet Management system as the type of vehicles that could deliver an efficient, effective support system The Perpetual Search for Efficiency 61 necessary to make Transformation work. Under the new Management system the army’s entire fleet of vehicles would be allocated in three groupings: one group, the “operational stock,” would be parked in Montreal or deployed overseas. There would be enough equipment to support one operationally deployable brigade combat team. Group one’s advantage was that it would prevent the first deployed units on an operation from having to leave their equipment behind once their tour of duty was completed. Group two had the same amount of equipment as group one, except that it would be positioned at the CMTC, this Hillier estimated would save $7 million per rotation as pre-deploying units would not have to move their equipment across Canada’s vast landmass via train and truck. Finally, there would be enough equipment positioned at home – units for training purposes with a greater reliance on simulation systems to reduce wear and tear. 55 The combination of both the new, more mobile hi-tech weapons platforms and reduced administrative overhead costs would theoretically produce a leaner, meaner fighting machine. When seen in the historical context it becomes clear that before Hillier became CDS in 2005, and even before Paul Martin became Prime Minister in December 2003, the army had already started the process of becoming a lighter, more-RMA like force. It was, in effect, playing catch- up to the other services and was making good progress: by 2003 half of the army’s Leopard I tank fleet had been scrapped or used as target practice. Just 66 tanks out of 114 remained. At roughly the same time, some 650 LAV IIIs had been introduced into service.56 On ascending to the position of CDS in February 2005 Hillier convinced Martin and Defence Minister Bill Graham of his bold vision to mold the entire CF into a transformational force. 57 With a mandate and financial backing in hand, Hillier and the CF began the simultaneous challenge of having to fight a counter-insurgency thousands of miles away while morphing the CF into a truly joint, transformed armed force.

The wars

The first challenge to Hillier’s Transformation plans occurred shortly after a new defense white paper was released in 2005, the Defence Policy Statement (DPS). The DPS, which Hillier largely authored, was the government-endorsed document that RMA advocates in the 1990s wished they had for Strategy 2020. Now, here was a white paper backed by a government committed to not only implementing the military’s vision but also making significant financial investments. Budget 2005 promised the CF 62 Jeffrey Collins

$13 billion over five years in additional funding.58 Personnel numbers would be boosted by 5,000 and the CF would acquire new Joint Support Ships, Chinook helicopters, drones, sea-to-ground missiles, new tactical lift aircraft, MGS and Multi-Mission Effect (a renamed ADATs) armoured vehicles, and satellite-guided air-to-ground bombs for the CF-18s. A new special forces “Tier II” unit would be stood-up, the Canadian Special Operations Regiment, to complement the “Tier I” JTF-2.59 As Jones and Lagasse have noted, at the core of the DPS were two propositions: (1) that the CF be transformed into a “rapidly deployable, contingency task force for short missions and emergencies”; and (2) that it be profi- cient in assembling mission-specific task forces capable of remaining deployed for extended periods of time.60 The DPS called for “one of the most significant re-organizational efforts in Canadian history,” replacing the service-oriented functional command structures of the post-1968 unification era with four mission-oriented commands: Canadian Expeditionary Force Command (CEFCOM), Canada Command, Canada Operational Support Command (CANOSCOM), and Canada Special Forces Command (CANSOFCOM). 61 The new command system became operational in February 2006. In October 2005, Hillier declared that the CF under Transformation would be “more effective, relevant, and responsive, and its profile and ability to provide leadership at home and abroad will be increased ... .” 62 In some ways, what Hillier was attempting to complete was the unification measures of 1968 by actually getting the three services to operate along joint lines.63 The problem was the perception that Hillier’s Transformation was too army-centric for the senior brass of the navy and air force. Unfortunately for Hillier he could not overcome the parochialism of the CF; the unification restructuring of the 1960s had not removed service identity and now flag officers began to see a challenge. Hillier did not make things any easier when, as Chief of Land Staff (2003–05), he stated that transformation measures should be funded through cuts to the navy and air force. Moreover, his promotion of army officers into the CF hierarchy did little to persuade his counterparts that he had their services’ interests at heart.64 As the DPS acquisition list made clear, the navy and air force interpreted their new Transformation role to be the army’s support system, something that led Hillier’s jointness plans to be referred to disparagingly as “jarmy.”65 In the post-9/11 security environment it was true that the army was bearing the brunt of the operational toll in Afghanistan and was in need of renewal. However, the DPS, and the Transformation plans contained within it, came at the expense of earning the trust of The Perpetual Search for Efficiency 63 the navy and air force.66 An internal 2007 study, titled, Report on the Validation of the Transformed Canadian Forces Structure, concluded that the Transformation efforts did little to alter the CF culture, which still contained a “considerable degree of parochialism and, in some cases, an even more serious lack of trust, confidence and respect.” 67 However, the Transformation agenda and the DPS both received another setback with the election of a new government in early 2006. The Conservative government of Prime Minister Stephen Harper was determined to distinguish itself from that of its Liberal predecessors. The Conservatives were committed to a strong, three-service military, something that they perceived as having been undermined by 13 years of Liberal rule. They also had a domestic security focus, especially as it related to exercising Arctic sovereignty. With a strong economy and a treasury flush with cash, the Conservatives concluded that the time was right for rebuilding the CF by replacing all of its platforms with essentially newer models. One of their first acts was to cancel the DPS’s capability plans and direct $17 billion in funding for new platforms in June 2006. 68 Still it was not a complete loss, much of what the Conservatives committed to were platforms that captured the spirit, if not the word of the capabilities spelled out in the DPS. For instance, the air force would obtain a rapid deployment capability in the acquisition of four C-17 strategic lift aircraft and 17 C-130J tactical transporters. Moreover, cash was allocated to acquire 16 Chinook helicopters while plans were unveiled for the purchase of the F-35 to replace the CF-18. The navy would still get three Joint Support Ships with a sealift and naval replenishment capacity, but also six to eight Arctic Patrol Ships. The sea-to-land missile requirement outlined in Leadmark and the DPS would also be acquired by modernizing the Halifax -class fleet with “Harpoon” missiles. The army would be getting M777 Howitzers with “Excalibur” GPS-guided artillery, 2,300 trucks, and a “Family of Future Combat Vehicles”; the latter being a selection of armored platforms in the 20 tons range that are light but “have the survivability of a tank.”69 A new white paper, the Canada First Defence Strategy (CFDS) was introduced in 2008 to provide a 20-year funding formula to ensure that all the platforms would be acquired in a predictable and planned way. Beginning with a 2008 budget of $18 billion, the CFDS planned for a 2% growth in defense spending capping off at $30 billion a year by 2028. The document further outlined plans to increase personnel numbers to 70,000 regulars and 30,000 reserves, in addition to purchasing 15 new destroyers/frigates to replace the Iroquois - and Halifax -classes, 10–12 new maritime patrol aircraft, and 64 Jeffrey Collins

17 fixed-wing search and rescue planes. 70 This represented the largest defense build-up since the early-1950s. By the time he retired in 2008, Hillier had become marginalized, his plans undercut by inter-service rivalry and a government that did not fully share in his vision for the CF nor appreciated his outspoken personality. Not only that, some of Hillier’s key Transformation ideas, such as the combat brigade team built around the LAV III chassis did not come to pass. The difficult terrain and counter-insurgency fight in Afghanistan exposed the LAV III as vulnerable to rocket-propelled grenades and roadside bombs. The plans to spend $3 billion on the MGS and MMEV were scrapped in favor of replacing the Leopard I MBTs with 100 Leopard IIs. The remaining Leopard Is had proven themselves well in the counter-insurgency role, both as a deterrent and as a “bunker- buster.” 71 The Afghanistan mission itself became a source of redirecting funds to non-Transformation equipment, such as Mine Protection Vehicles. In fact, the combat mission in Southwest Asia was absorbing much of the money allocated to, first, the DPS, and then the CFDS. Defense analyst David Perry states that “[o]perations in Afghanistan appear to have already affected the projected revitalization of the CF by consuming significant portions of the funding increases in budgets 2005 and 2006.” 72 The Parliamentary Budget Officer has placed the cost of the mission, from 2001 to 2011, in the $13 billion to $18 billion range.73 Other estimates place the purchase of mission specific equipment alone at $2 billion.74 The growth in special forces became a problem too, as the personnel needed to fill the new CANSOFCOM came largely at the army’s expense, whose combat units were on six-month rotations through Kandahar and experiencing attrition issues. With a global recession in 2008–09 the determinants of Canadian defense began to reassert themselves. Domestic pressure built on the government to respond with job stimulus programs and defense began to take a back seat, particularly after Prime Minister Harper made it clear in the fall 2008 federal election that Canada’s combat mission would end in 2011. Budget 2009 allocated some $47 billion in stimulus spending and the federal deficit rose to $50 billion. Protecting jobs in the auto industry trumped new high-tech systems for the CF. The stimulus response by-and-large protected the Canadian economy from the worst effects of the recession but added $100 billion to the national debt. As was the case in the 1990s, defense was singled out for cuts. A fifth of all spending reductions came from defense in Budget 2012, a quarter in Budget 2014. The CFDS has now become unsustainable and many of the projects – including the F-35, Joint Support Ships, and The Perpetual Search for Efficiency 65 destroyers/frigates – remain underfunded. Defense spending as a share of the GDP is exactly where it was at the height of the Chretien-era cuts in 1999–2000, 1.1%.75 In light of these drastic changes, Transformation has been redefined by the CF/DND to mean reducing administrative overhead and generating efficiencies in expenditures. DND now officially describes Transformation as being “about reducing headquarters overhead to produce more 21st century capability. The result will be a more efficient and agile organization that continues to be responsive to Government of Canada priorities in an unpredictable operating environment.” 76 Following a 2011 review, the command structure stood up by Hillier in 2006 has been reduced from four commands to three in order to shave off 25% of the headquarters staff. The review noted that the headquarters staff at DND/CF had grown 46% between 2004 and 2010 and that a repurposing of 3,500 military personnel to front line units while trimming the administrative fat had the potential to generate $1 billion a year in savings. Far from pushing through a technological-oriented agenda Transformation has returned to the standard Canada defense policy position of “doing more with less.”77

Conclusion

The Canadian Forces’ experience with both RMA and Transformation illustrates the difficulties of trying to implement institutional change in a society that does not consider defense a major priority. Even when the country’s finances are healthy, as they were in the first decade of the 2000s, the government will still aim to give the CF ‘just enough’ to carry out its duties. Unless there is an existential threat to the country or, perhaps, to one its close allies, Canada’s military will have to perpetually search for ways to generate savings and maximize its front-end resources. With both RMA and Transformation, the driver, from the CF’s perspective, was interoperability. The CF continuously needs those technologies and organizational ideas that would allow them to perform alongside their American counterparts. That being said there is another lesson in the Canadian experience that may be of value to other countries, and that is the challenge of achieving jointness. Canada’s unification efforts in the 1960s have often been held up as the standard for integrating a country’s armed services. But yet, individual service culture is a hard thing to overcome even when the need for integrating operational capabilities is rationally sound and it is the best way to both generate effects and save money. After almost five decades of 66 Jeffrey Collins unification, the CF’s three armed services still operate on a more or less functional line. There have been exceptions; the 2011 mission in Libya saw the air force’s CF-18s and CP-140s coordinate air strikes with the frigate HMCS Charlottetown during the Battle of Misrata;78 and, domestic training exercises still incorporate joint-planning. But, on the whole, the CF is not quite there. The nature of being a small military in a relatively secure geographical position means that neither the resources nor impetus exists to establishing a true joint military. Governments have a lot more to gain politically by creating jobs and economic growth than in equipping the CF with the latest technology. Furthermore, alliance and coalition operations often require, ad-hoc, niche responses to American-led operations. For example, the current Canadian deployment of six CF-18s, 69 special forces members, and support aircraft and personnel to the Middle East in the fight against the Islamic State was done at the request of Washington to complement its operations. This has been the standard for Canadian deployments since 1945. Unless the geostrategic reality of the country changes, jointness and similar RMA/ Transformation concepts will remain aspirations. Until then, the determinants of Canadian defense will dictate that any and all defense policy will be about doing just enough.

Notes

1 . Dan Middlemiss & Joel Sokolsky, “Canadian defence: decisions and determinants” , (Toronto: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich Canada, 1989) pp.121–22 &195; R.L. Sutherland, “Canada’s long term strategic situation,” International Journal , 17.3 (1962) pp.99–201 2 . Jeffrey F. Collins, “Reviving and revising the Canada First defence strategy,” C2C Journal , 8.3 (2014) pp.24–28 3 . Canada does share maritime boundaries with France and Denmark due to the location of the island territories of St. Pierre and Miquelon and Greenland, respectively. 4 . Sutherland, “Canada’s long term strategic situation,” pp.199–201 5 . William L. Dowdy, “The Canadian navy: torpedoed again,” Armed Forces & Society , 16.1 (1989) p.111. The author makes a poignant remark on Canadian defense, Canadians “ ... prefer daycare over destroyers, and socialized medicine over submarines. But they can afford both, and maybe they cannot afford not to provide both.” 6 . David Perry, “A return to realism: Canadian defence policy after the great recession,” Defence Studies , 13:3 (2013) pp.340–42 & 344–45 7 . Dan Middlemiss, “Defence procurement in Canada,” in David B Dewitt & David Leyton-Brown (eds.), “Canada’s International Security Policy”, (Scarborough: Prentice-Hall Canada Inc., 1995) p.407 8 . Andrew Richter, “Strategic ambitions and fiscal realities: give the navy priority,” Policy Options (April 2002) p.28 The Perpetual Search for Efficiency 67

9 . The abandonment of a Canadian indigenous jet fighter capability following the cancellation of the CF-105 “Arrow” in 1959 is a fascinating tale of Canada’s integration within the North American defense framework. Unfortunately it is outside the scope of this chapter. For more information see Donald C. Story and Russell Isinger, “The origins of the cancellation of Canada’s Avro CF-105 Arrow fighter program: a failure of strategy,” Journal of Strategic Studies, 30.6 (2007) pp.1025–50 10 . Tim Dunne, “A case for the F-35 Lightning ,” Canadian Military Journal, 11.4 (2011) pp.55–60 11 . Joel J. Sokolsky, “Canada, getting it right this time: the 1994 Defence White Paper” , (Carlisle Barracks, PA: Strategic Studies Institute, U.S. Army War College, 1995) pp.2–3 12 . Sean Maloney, “Are we really just peacekeepers? The perception versus the reality of Canadian military involvement in the Iraq war,” IRPP Working Paper Series no. 2003–02 (2003) pp. 1–31 13 . Sutherland, “Canada’s long term strategic situation,” p.220; Sokolsky, Canada, getting it right this time: the 1994 Defence White Paper , p.16; and Elinor Sloan, “The Revolution in Military Affairs: implications for Canada and NATO” , (Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2002) p.129 14 . Robert M. Farley, “Grounded: the case for abolishing the United States Air Force”, (Lexington: University Press of Kentucky, 2014) pp.174–77; Sloan, The Revolution in Military Affairs: implications for Canada and NATO” , p.129; Daniel Gosselin, “Hellyer’s ghosts: unification of the Canadian forces is 40 years old – part one,” Canadian Military Journal, 9.2 (2008) pp.6–15. A 1962 Royal Commission on Government Organization found that the military and the Department of National Defence were inefficient in their personnel and acquisition policies. This report became the driver for Defence Minister Hellyer’s unification reforms. Over the succeeding decades the three services eventually reasserted their identities by obtaining separate uniforms, environmental command structures (e.g. Mobile Command became Land Force), and their original names: RCN, the Canadian Army, and RCAF. 15 . Andrew Richter, “Forty years of neglect, indifference, and apathy: the relent- less decline of Canada’s Armed Forces,” in Patrick James, Nelson Michaud & Marc J. O’Reilly (eds.), “Handbook of Canadian Foreign Policy”, (Oxford: Lexington Books, 2006) pp.63–65 16 . Department of National Defence, “Canadian Defence Policy” , (Ottawa: Department of National Defence, 1992) p.6 17 . Graeme Cheeseman, “Canada’s post–Cold War military blues and the lessons for Australia,” Pacifica Review , 13.2 (2001) p.174 18 . A token force of pilots and technicians were rotated through Europe as part of Canada’s contribution to NATO’s Airborne Warning and Control System (AWACS) and Alliance Ground Surveillance (AGS) programs. These personnel were withdrawn in 2014, again, for cost saving reasons. See Murray Brewster, “NATO surveillance programs withdrawal will cost Canada contracts”, The Canadian Press (5 August 2013), http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/ national/nato-surveillance-programs-withdrawal-will-cost-canada-contracts/ article13598502/ 19 . Richter, “Forty years of neglect, indifference, and apathy,” pp.63–64 20 . Sokolsky, “Canada, getting it right this time: the 1994 Defence White Paper” , p.11; Robert Michael Hartfiel, “Planning without guidance: Canadian 68 Jeffrey Collins

defence policy and planning, 1993–2004,” Canadian Public Administration , 53:3 (2010) pp.327–28 21 . Philippe Lagasse & Paul Robinson, “Reviving realism in the Canadian defence debate” , (Kingston: Centre for International Relations, Queen’s University, 2008) p.32 22 . Sokolsky, “Canada, getting it right this time: the 1994 Defence White Paper” , p.14 23 . Elinor Sloan, “The Revolution in Military Affairs: implications for Canada and NATO” , (Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2002) p.123 24 . David Perry, “The privatization of the Canadian military: Afghanistan and beyond,” International Journal , 63:4 (2009) p.690 25 . Lagasse & Robinson, “Reviving Realism in the Canadian defence debate” , p.36 26 . Hartfiel, “Planning without guidance: Canadian defence policy and planning, 1993–2004,” pp.327–28; Douglas L. Bland, “A sow’s ear from a milk purse: abandoning Canada’s military capabilities”, International Journal (Winter 1998–99) p.158 27 . Sokolsky, “Canada, getting it right this time: the 1994 Defence White Paper” , p. 7 28 . David Bercuson, “Up from the ashes: the re-professionalization of the Canadian Forces after the Somalia affair,” Canadian Military Journal, 9:3 (2009) pp. 31–39 29 . Paul Mitchell, “A transformation agenda for the Canadian forces: full spectrum influence,” Canadian Military Journal , 4:4 (2003–04) p.55 30 . Sloan, “The Revolution in Military Affairs: implications for Canada and NATO” , p.142 31 . Ibid. p.124 32 . Cheeseman, “Canada’s post–Cold War military blues and the lessons for Australia,” p.177 33 . Sloan, “The Revolution in Military Affairs: implications for Canada and NATO” , p. 124; Cheeseman, “Canada’s post–Cold War military blues and the lessons for Australia,” p. 177; Richler, “40 years of neglect, indifference, and apathy,” p. 65 34 . Douglas L. Bland, “The fundamentals of national defence policy are not sound,” in Douglas L. Bland (ed.), “Canada without armed forces?” (Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2004) p. 22; Richler, “40 years of neglect, indifference, and apathy,” pp. 65–66 35 . Michael K. Jeffery, “Inside Canadian forces transformation,” Canadian Military Journal , 10:2 (2010) p.10 36 . Sloan, “The Revolution in Military Affairs: implications for Canada and NATO” , p.130 37 . Andrew Richler, “The Revolution in Military Affairs and its impact on Canada: the challenge and the consequences” , (Vancouver: UBC Press, 1999) p.9 38 . Elinor Sloan, “Canada and The Revolution in Military Affairs: current response and future opportunities,” Canadian Military Journal, 1.3 (2000) p. 9; Elinor Sloan, “ Military transformation: key aspects and Canadian approaches” (Calgary: CDFAI, 2007) p.6 39 . Sloan, “Military transformation: key aspects and Canadian approaches” , p.6 40 . Canadian Space Agency, “RADARSAT 2,” (accessed 31 March 2015), http:// www.asc-csa.gc.ca/eng/satellites/radarsat2/default.asp The Perpetual Search for Efficiency 69

41 . Sloan, “The Revolution in Military Affairs: implications for Canada and NATO” , pp.127–28 42 . Sloan, “Military transformation: key aspects and Canadian approaches” , p.6 43 . Sloan, “The Revolution in Military Affairs: implications for Canada and NATO” , p.137 44 . Ibid., p.134 45 . Ibid., p.127 46 . Department of National Defence, “The Canadian armed forces legacy in Afghanistan” , (accessed 2 April 2015), http://www.forces.gc.ca/en/operations- abroad-past/cafla.page 47 . David J. Bercuson & J. L. Granatstein, “Lessons learned? What Canada should learn from Afghanistan”, (Calgary: Canadian Defence & Foreign Affairs Institute, 2011) pp.1–2 48 . “Canada in Afghanistan: 2003”, The National Post, (accessed 2 April 2015), http://afghanistan.nationalpost.com/canada-in-afghanistan-2003/ 49 . For more information on the decision-making behind the Afghanistan deployments please see Janice Stein & Eugene Lang, “The unexpected war: Canada in Kandahar” , (Toronto: Penguin Canada, 2007); Kimberley Marten, “From Kabul to Kandahar: the Canadian forces and change,” American Review of Canadian Studies, 40:2 (2010) pp.214–36; Philippe Lagasse & Joel Sokolsky, “A larger ‘footprint’ in Ottawa: General Hillier and Canada’s shifting civil- military relationship,” Canadian Foreign Policy , 15:2 (2009) pp.16–40 50 . Paul Martin, “Hell or high water: my life in and out of politics” , (Toronto: McClelland & Stewart, 2008) pp.329–30 51 . Sloan, “Military transformation: key aspects and Canadian approaches” , p.3 52 . Donald Rumsfeld, “Transforming the military,” For eign Affairs, 81:3 (2002) pp.21 & 25 53 . Sloan, “Military transformation: key aspects and Canadian approaches” , p.7 54 . Rick J. Hillier, “Army transformation: punching above our weight,” The Army Doctrine and Training Bulletin , 6:3 (2003) pp.3–4 55 . Ibid. p.4 56 . Daniel Fitzsimmons, “Boy scouts no longer: a sociological institutionalist analysis of the Canadian forces,” Innovations: A Journal of Politics, 8 (2008–09) pp.16–17 & 19–20 57 . Devin Conley & Eric Ouellet, “The Canadian forces and military transformation: an elusive quest for Efficiency,” Canadian Army Journal, 14:1 (2012) p.78 58 . Daniel Schwartz, “What kind of military can Canada afford?” CBC News (12 November 2012) (accessed 2 April 2015) http://www.cbc.ca/news/politics/ what-kind-of-military-can-canada-afford-1.1230004 59 . Department of National Defence, Defence Policy Statement (Ottawa: Department of National Defence, 2005) 60 . Peter Jones and Philippe Lagasse, “Rhetoric versus reality: Canadian defence planning in a time of austerity,” Defense & Security Analysis, 28.2 (2012) p.143 61 . Sloan, “Military transformation: key aspects and Canadian approaches” , pp.9–10; Campbell Clark, “MacKay orders revamp of Canadian Forces command”, The Globe and Mail, (4 May 2012), http://www.theglobeandmail. com/news/politics/mackay-orders-revamp-of-canadian-forces-command/ article4104781/ 70 Jeffrey Collins

62 . Conley & Ouellet, “The Canadian forces and military transformation: an elusive quest for efficiency”, p.78 63 . Farley, Grounded: the case for abolishing the United States Air Force” , pp.177–78 64 . Allan English, “Outside CF transformation looking in,” Canadian Military Journal , 11:2 (2011) p.14 65 . Alexander Gordon Salt, “Cultural differences: transformation and the future of American-Canadian defence relations,” Canadian Foreign Policy Journal , 20:3 (2014) p.266 66 . English, “Outside CF transformation looking in,” p.14 67 . Conley & Ouellet, “The Canadian forces and military transformation: an elusive quest for efficiency”, p.80 68 . Sloan, “Military transformation: key aspects and Canadian approaches” , p.5 69 . Ibid. pp.7–10 70 . Department of National Defence, Canada First Defence Strategy, (Ottawa: Department of National Defence, 2008) 71 . David Pugliese, “The return of the Leopard”, The Ottawa Citizen (8 July 2006) 72 . David Perry, “Canada’s seven billion dollar war,” International Journal, 63:3 (2008) pp.716–22 73 . Parliamentary Budget Officer, “Fiscal impact of the Canadian mission in Afghanistan” , (Ottawa: PBO, 2008) p.8 74 . Perry, “Canada’s seven billion dollar war,” pp.716–22 75 . Collins, “Reviving and revising the Canada first defence strategy,” pp.24–28 76 . Department of National Defence, “Canadian Forces Transformation: New Operational Command and Control Structure,” Backgrounder (11 May 2012), http://www.forces.gc.ca/en/news/article.page?doc=canadian-forces- transformation-new-operational-command-and-control-structure/hgq87xte 77 . Ibid.; Andrew Leslie, “The Report on Transformation 2011” (Ottawa: Department of National Defence, 2011) pp. vii–ix 78 . David Perry, “Leading from behind is still leading: Canada and the international intervention in Libya”, (Ottawa: CDAI, 2012) p.13; Rachel Bryson, Katie Domansky, and Rebecca Jensen, “Canada in Libya: strategic lessons learned” , (Ottawa: Defence R&D Canada, 2012) p.21

4 The Interruption and Evolution of Australia’s RMA Rachael Bryson

As a close ally of the United States (US) during the Cold War and as a participant in the 1991 Gulf War, Australian defense planners turned their focus to the newest “revolution in military affairs” following the overwhelming show of technological supremacy by the US during Operation Desert Storm. Following years of informal discussion, the pursuit of extreme advancements associated with a revolution in military affairs (RMA) was identified as a top priority for the Australian Defence Force (ADF) in the 1997 Australia’s Strategic Policy document as a means to reorient the military in the post-Cold War era. 1 The pursuit of technological advancement was spurred by the rapid military growth of states in the Asia-Pacific region, and strongly motivated by interoperability with the United States. Over the course of more than a decade, the advancement of these military ambitions took many forms. In addition to major modernization and procurement projects, project Knowledge Edge – advanced capabilities in intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance – was outlined as one area where Australia could excel and be a valuable ally.2 The White Paper, released in 2013, however, outlined some drastic alterations to the initial plans laid out in the 1997 and successive documents.3 This chapter will provide a comprehensive update on what happened to the RMA discourse in Australia in light of the events and lessons learned that have shaped its pursuit since 1997: the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001, deployments to Timor-Leste, the Solomon Islands, and Afghanistan; the 2008 global financial crisis, and the growing military ambitions of various states in the Asia-Pacific, to name a few. This chapter begins with a discussion of the factors shaping Australia’s defense policies, and discusses the specific motivations behind pursuing an RMA in the same vein as the US. It examines the original scope of the

71 72 Rachael Bryson planned RMA before identifying the interruptions to these ambitious plans. Finally, the success in achieving one of the key elements of the RMA force – jointness – is discussed. Ultimately, this chapter demonstrates that Australia’s defense planning, like most other nations, is highly reactionary to the international environment and vulnerable to domestic political changes and fluctuating budgets. The events of the late 1990s, 2000s, and early 2010s led the ADF away from the discussions of RMA and network-focused capabilities, to simply replacing aging and obsolete mainstay capabilities. Despite multiple deployments and capricious finances, the ADF did manage to develop in several key areas identified in the RMA, such as jointness and force projection, although the evolution of those capabilities is still ongoing.

The origins and ambition of the Australian RMA

The Australian warfighting experience has been shaped by many factors: it has rarely faced any direct physical threat; each of its military’s engagements have been expeditionary in nature, and as a former British colony these engagements have largely been in support of British causes; as an island nation it shares no borders, but must defend its vast territory against maritime and air incursions with a military drawn from a relatively small population; and despite its geographic location in the Asia-Pacific, Australia is considered a Western nation with a modern industrial defense complex. 4 These experiences have guided Australian defense policy over time toward a strong preference for expeditionary warfare and cooperation with Western allies. For the first 100 years of its military history Australia struggled with force projection and was not able to successfully participate as an expeditionary force without the assistance of allies.5 Following decades of prioritizing their relationship as regional allies to the US, the ADF was forced to focus on developing its own projection capabilities following the 1969 “Guam Doctrine.” Also known as the Nixon Doctrine, this US policy stated that the US would henceforth expect countries to take up more responsibility for their regional security and stability, depending less on the US to intervene in conflicts outside their own immediate area of concern. 6 For Australia, who had been attempting to strengthen ties with the US throughout the Cold War, this came as a warning sign: Australia could not depend on the response of the US should it face a direct threat. Self-reliance in terms of power projection quickly became a defense planning priority. 7 The Interruption and Evolution of Australia’s RMA 73

This new priority did not come at the expense of maintaining interoperability with the US. Interoperability has been, and remains, a major priority for the Australian military since the end of the Second World War. As a “Western” state isolated from all like-minded allies and surrounded by instability, Australia sought a security guarantor half a world away. The Cold War represented a period of rapprochement between Australia and the US. Together with New Zealand, the Australia, New Zealand, United States Treaty (ANZUS Treaty) was signed in 1951, a security agreement brought about in the wake of the Second World War in light of fears of future Japanese aggression in the area, and in light of the lack of consideration in defense planning by the United Kingdom toward the Asia-Pacific.8 Under the provisions of the Treaty, Australia committed troops to the Korean War, was the only western nation to send reinforcements to Vietnam, and allowed US military installations – primarily for intelligence gathering – on Australian territory. Beyond these physical manifestations of their commitment to the US, Australian policy also reflected US direction, such as with the non-recognition of the People’s Republic of China.9 A survey of academic writing on Australia’s defense policy stance during the Cold War found the state’s relationship with the US highly controversial, with descriptions of the relationship ranging from “servile” at one extreme to infinitely practical at the other. 10 Whether the authors agreed or disagreed with the various governments’ approaches to maintaining a strategic alliance with the US, the general consensus was that Australian forces were committed over and over to strengthen the relationship between the two states in hopes of ensuring US protection should the need arise.11 This motivation also explains why Australia was one of the first states to join the coalition force under the United Nations (UN) during the 1991 Gulf War. 12 The Royal Australian Navy (RAN) provided three ships to the naval blockade in the Persian Gulf, tasked with enforcing UN sanctions. Two frigates and a replenishment ship formed an anti-aircraft screen, and were accompanied by Royal Australian Air Force (RAAF) air defense support and a demolition and anti-ordnance dive team. The Australian Army attached soldiers to American and British ground forces, and analysts provided important intelligence capabilities. At the request of the US, four additional medical teams were also provided.13 While Australia contributed a significant military force and filled important capability gaps during the Gulf War, the technological disparity between the US and its allies was glaring. The US was far ahead of the field in terms of technological warfare as it had been pursuing its 74 Rachael Bryson own post-Cold War reorientation in the form of an RMA. The RMA has been defined as “a major change in the nature of warfare brought about by advances in military technology which, combined with dramatic changes in military doctrine and organizational concepts, fundamentally alter the character and conduct of military operations.” 14 It involves a “paradigm shift in the nature and conduct of military operations which either renders obsolete or irrelevant one or more core competencies of a dominant player, or creates one or more new core competencies, in some new dimension of warfare, or both.” 15 Rather than render obsolete any existing capabilities, the RMA of the 1990s introduced new core capabilities, particularly in the area of technological and information- based warfare. This eventually became the theme of the RMA discourse in Australia. Technology, however, does not lead to an RMA on its own. The after effects of the advances in technology demonstrated by US forces during Operation Desert Storm proved that a fundamental shift in the organization, doctrine, and training of the US Military had begun since the end of the Cold War. It also demonstrated that the landscape and conduct of warfare had been dramatically altered. The US RMA stemmed from a need to prepare not for an identifiable threat, but for a “spectrum of conflict.” For the US this meant more capabilities-based planning utilizing an expanded and flexible pool of capabilities, 16 and emphasizing jointness and modular units. 17 This change had a guiding influence on the RMAs undertaken by its allies, such as Australia, for whom interoperability with the US was a priority. Australia was facing its own “sea of instability,” “stemming from an unanticipated upsurge of insecurity in the Asia-Pacific region, including a fragile post-Suharto Indonesia, an outbreak of violence in Papua New Guinea, deployment of Australian forces to help pacify East Timor, and the ‘Africanization’ of South Pacific islands such as Bougainville, Fiji, and the Solomon’s.”18 Early defense planners, therefore, saw the advances in technology as potentially flexible platforms that would be force multipliers for the modestly sized ADF, and focused on Command, Control, Communications, Computers, and Intelligence (C4I) as one means by which the massive geography of the country could be overcome. This had the added benefit of being a capability that could prove to be invaluable to a strategic alliance with the US.19

Defining the Australian RMA

These early discussions of an Australian RMA were informal and largely conducted by officers and analysts mapping future military trends. The Interruption and Evolution of Australia’s RMA 75

During an address at a 1996 conference held by the Royal Australian Air Force, Defence Minister Ian McLachlan identified four key areas that while remarkable on their own, in combination heralded the beginning of an RMA: the increased precision and lethality of weapons, the ability to project force over increased distances, the speed of information processing capabilities, and the speed of gathering information. He cautioned that the spread of new technologies, such as unmanned aerial vehicles (UAVs), would require a reorganization of the ADF to both incorporate them and defend against them. 20 If this reorganization had occurred, along with changes in doctrine and training across the ADF around these new technologies, that may have been sufficient enough to qualify as a complete RMA. However, it wasn’t until the following year that discussions of an Australian RMA and the organizational and doctrinal changes that would follow became institutionalized. 21 Following these years of informal debate, the characteristics of jointness, integration, mobility, and expeditionary capacity were integrated into planning for the defense of Australia’s North and in projecting it’s military capabilities into the Asia-Pacific and beyond in the 1997 Australia’s Strategic Policy. 22 The Knowledge Edge, detailed in this document, was the height of the Australian RMA ambition. It represented “the effective exploitation of information technologies to allow [Australia] to use [their] relatively small force to maximum effectiveness.” 23 It specifically sought to leverage technology to improve maritime surveillance, positioning and targeting of ADF forces, and the integration of intelligence, command and support systems.24 Knowledge Edge fell handily under C4I, but also implied a deepening of the overall ADF intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance (ISR) capabilities. In this, Australia sought to be a particularly useful intelligence gathering ally for the US. Institutional support was thrown behind the new strategic policy, and the Office of the Revolution in Military Affairs (ORMA) was opened under the Military Strategy Branch of the ADF in 2001. 25 The Strategic Policy began a period of “institutional embrace” – Futures Directorates were opened in each service to identify trends and technology out to 2030 that would maximize operational effectiveness while working within a shrinking defense budget. The 2000 White Paper on defense confirmed Knowledge Edge as the number one priority and a way to manage the defense forces following massive budget cuts – from 2.9% of the Australian gross domestic product (GDP) in 1984 to 1.8% in 1999. 26 Even this early White Paper, however, did not attempt to place the future of the ADF solely within the intellectual confines of the RMA; it emphasized that “Australia will maintain maritime capabilities,” both 76 Rachael Bryson air and naval to defend Australia against hostile approaches. Land forces would also be maintained to deploy in protection of the interests of Australia and to be used in joint operations. Last on the list of capabilities was the ability to utilize land forces against “any armed incursion onto Australian soil,” a seemingly far-from-likely scenario.27 The capability development priorities identified in the 2000 White Paper closely echoed those of the RMA discourse: operational flexibility, integrated capability, interoperability, and sustainability, and technology focus, among others, while not relying solely on it for the future success of the ADF.28 Given all the institutional effort and buy-in to the idea of pursuing an RMA in Australia, one would have expected defense planning to be oriented around this high level of ambition for years to come. This direction did not manifest, however, due to over a decade of intense operational tempo, restricted budgets, and regular rewrites of Australia’s strategic future.

The interruptions

For all the attention the RMA received in the 1990s, it quickly fell out of the mainstream defense lexicon in the early years of the 21st century. Australia, as with every other US ally, suddenly faced a new world on September 11, 2001. Following the terror attacks on US soil Australia committed to the missions in Iraq and Afghanistan, fulfilling its respon- sibilities as per the ANZUS Treaty and strengthening ties with NATO. The ADF were heavily engaged in both Iraq and Afghanistan in combat roles for eight years. While certainly the most involved and costly, Iraq (at an estimated $2.5 billion total cost) and Afghanistan (estimated $9.3 billion by 2014), 29 proved to be just the beginning of operational deployments for Australia over the next thirteen years. Between 2003 and 2014, the ADF were also deployed to Timor-Leste on multiple occa- sions as part of the United Nations Integrated Mission in Timor-Leste (UNMIT) between 1999 and 2013. UNMIT coincided in large part with Operation Anode, an Australian led Regional Assistance Mission to the Solomon Islands. Beginning in 2003, and ongoing today, ADF forces have been on rotation with forces from New Zealand, Papua New Guinea, and Tonga to support security, law and justice, and economic and state development for the island nation. Most recently, Prime Minister Tony Abbott committed the Royal Australian Air Force and Special Forces units to deploy against the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant (ISIL) in September 2014. 30 The ADF The Interruption and Evolution of Australia’s RMA 77 also maintains an ongoing training and advisory role with the Afghan National Army.31 Running parallel to combat and stability operations, the ADF has responded to natural disaster emergency situations in the Asia-Pacific region. Recent responses include providing assistance to the Philippines following typhoon Haiyan in 2013 and Vanuatu after cyclone Pam in March 2015. 32 Missions in Iraq and Afghanistan and the persistence of the humanitarian aid model also shifted the focus of defense strategy to counterinsurgency operations (COIN) and state-building measures, against which the dramatic advantage previously offered by vastly superior technology proved to be almost useless. The wave of RMA was on its way out by the mid-2000s and COIN and joint operations were on their way in. The Office of the Revolution in Military Affairs lasted less than five years, and in 2006 it was replaced by a network centric warfare (NCW) Capabilities Development Group. The plans for the RMA were scaled back to focus on maintaining a regional advantage by developing networks to improve flexibility in command and control and decision- making, directed targeting, precision guided munitions, and the human dimensions of leadership, education, and doctrine. 33 The NCW Roadmap 2007 highlighted the strategic shift being undertaken. Yet another ambitious plan sought to “deploy a networked maritime task force by 2010 and to network the entire fleet by 2014.” The Army would also be networked, beginning with “the Special Forces at the unit and sub-unit label” starting in 2012, and reaching full capacity by 2014. Early evidence of the potential for the successful accomplish- ment of the Roadmap could be seen in the aerospace domain where “networked air combat capability via the provision of tactical data links between ANZAC frigates and F/A-18 aircraft and through the introduction into service of airborne early warning and control aircraft” had been tested. It was expected that this would be further enhanced by a Joint Command Support System, improvements in ISR, and new long-range maritime patrol aircraft by 2014. 34 These capabilities were identified as key to successfully engaging in coalition operations. In the midst of over thirteen years of heavy deployments and an increasing spectrum of responsibility in the Asia-Pacific region, Australia fell victim to much of the same fallout from the 2008 financial crisis as Europe and North America. While the overall impacts of the market crash were felt less in Australia than in many places around the world, growth was still slowed by half-a-percent by 2009, housing prices plum- meted, the Australian dollar lost value, and unemployment rose by almost 2%. 35 This was not reflected as much as would be expected in the 78 Rachael Bryson

2009 White Paper “Defending Australia in the Asia Pacific Century: Force 2030,” but was demonstrated in the actual approved defense budget for the 2009–10 fiscal year (FY). The 2009 White Paper laid plans for a 3% annual growth until fiscal year 2017–18 in order to equip and prepare Australian forces for the year 2030. It identified several major modernization and procurement projects that would need to be undertaken to avoid “block obsolescence” of many key capabilities and weapons systems. 36 This expensive list included acquiring twelve new submarines, land-attack cruise missiles, as well as setting up a “defence-wide information architecture” to develop ISR linkages with the US. 37 These well-laid plans fell victim to the whims of the financial markets, however, as the Treasury deferred the first 3% increase to the budget laid out in the White Paper by four years, and cut another $2 billion from the 2009–10 FY defense budget. The full effect of these cuts and delays was estimated at a loss of $8.8 billion between 2009 and 2015. Despite the deferrals, one of the highest percentage of GDP ever spent on defense in Australia was posted in 2009: 2.3%. This number is misleading, however, as the devaluation of the Australian dollar led to an emergency influx of $1.5 billion just to maintain its existing level of purchasing power to complete projects already under way. Increasing personnel costs and a need to increase the size of the permanent standing defense force would also come to impact the defense budget in the years following the 2009 White Paper.38 One difficult budget year, even following years of expensive expeditionary warfare, would not have been enough to completely derail the NCW plans for the future of the ADF. What followed was not one year of bad budgets, however, but five.

Budget beats ambition

The Australian Strategic Policy Institute publishes an annual edition of “The cost of defence” with every budget. In each of the editions reviewed for this chapter the cover of the report breaks down the defense budget to what it costs to run Australia’s military per day. For example, the most recent cover (fiscal year 2014–15) cites the figure as $80,281,391.78 per day.39 While the figure on the front page of each report seems shocking in terms of real numbers, the fact that defense budgets are not increasing enough to keep the ADF fully equipped given their operational tempo is a serious matter. These reports have proven to be very interesting in assessing the impacts of fluctuating defense budgets on the capability The Interruption and Evolution of Australia’s RMA 79 development plans, and therefore, the advancement of RMA/NCW capabilities for the ADF. The impacts of the global crisis on the implementation of Force 2030 was seen to be so significant by the Australian Strategic Policy Institute (ASPI) that an in-depth discussion of this topic warranted its own section in the annual analysis. The White Paper was seen to be overly ambitious – it sought to plan for the defense force of 2030, but only laid out concrete plans for four budgetary years, proposing an unreal- istically long list of procurement and modernization projects, as well as new directions for the training of the armed forces. As stated above, the White Paper was at immediate odds with the fiscal climate and the most ambitious plan in Australian defense history was responded to with some of the deepest cuts since the end of the Second World War. The analysis for the fiscal year 2009–10 budget focused on just nine of the major capital investments laid out in Forces 2030, the vast majority of which focus on extending the life of existing platforms and procurement projects to replace aging capabilities. The expensive proposed list included extending the operational life of the existing fleet of Hornet fighter jets while awaiting delivery of the F-35 Joint Strike Fighter Lightning II; purchasing new maritime surveillance aircraft, and acquiring tactical UAVs. Only one of the nine largest projects discussed technology driven acquisitions in the vein of Knowledge Edge. 40 By 2010 it was clear that Australia’s economy had escaped the worst of the reverberations from the global economic crisis. However, while it was able to avoid recession, the optimistic outlook was not reflected in the defense budget, which received $1.6 billion towards deployments, but no additional substantive addition funding. Additionally, the Department of Defence was told to absorb nearly $1 billion in security costs from Afghanistan. This scenario saw the further deferral of several key capability projects. 41 The 2011–12 and 2012–13 budgets placed the military in an even direr situation: the Department of Defence was ordered to return $1.5 billion to the federal government in unspent funds, $1.1 billion of which had been allocated for investment capital but had not been released due to ongoing procurement competitions and projects delays. The ADF braced for the interruption to those projects that were moving forward when the release of a new White Paper in 2013 was announced, all the while maintaining an “unrealistic” scale of deployments. 42 The cover of the 2012 ASPI report featured the image of a white paper airplane on fire and the lowest daily cost of defense ($66,167,831.58) since the release of the NCW Roadmap. By this point GDP spending on defense had fallen to 1.56%, the lowest Australia had 80 Rachael Bryson seen since before the Second World War. $3 billion was cut from equipment purchases and the ADF went into survival mode, allocating funds to the sustainment of the Collins submarines, the Navy fleet, and to information technology remediation – piecemeal solutions for bruised and battered capabilities.43 Discussions of major technological upgrades and new platforms were all but suspended. The 2013 White Paper did not offer a more realistic approach to setting the path for the future of the ADF. In addition to reiterating many of the themes and major investments laid out in the 2009 White Paper the latest edition included the procurement of twelve Growler- class Hornets, an extension of life project for the Super Hornet, and the continued pursuit of the F-35 fighter jet. It also eliminated the possibility of an off-the-shelf purchase to replace the Collins submarine, adding another expense to the replacement of the fleet.44 Good news did follow the release of the new strategic paper: the fiscal year 2013–14 saw the rate of project approvals increase slightly and the defense budget receive a significant boost, starting a financial recovery after years of cuts. 45 The most recent defense budget – fiscal year 2014–15 – increased to $29.3 billion, or 1.8% GDP, the first sign of a potentially more auspi- cious landscape for the renewal of the ADF in more than a decade. While much is required in order to repair the years of rust-out and over-extension of many major capabilities, defense spending is slated to remain stable for the next three years. The announcement of yet another White Paper in 2015, however, could have the same destabilizing effect of the previous two editions, leaving Mark Thomson, lead author of the ASPI publications, to ask what kind of defense this money will buy.46

An RMA by any other name ...

Although the RMA lost traction following the early attempts to institutionalize it across the ADF, not all aspects of this major innovation were lost. Technological advancement is a necessary part of the modern warfare, and various new capabilities were introduced as part of the long-running Afghanistan deployment, and years of warfighting has improved the ADF’s C4I and ISR capabilities. Large platforms are still being procured to replace the aging air and naval fleets, and they will include the most cutting edge technology.47 In addition to technological advancement, a large part of RMA, as discussed above, is organizational, doctrinal, and pertaining to training. The period during which the RMA was actively pursued in Australia coincides with the rise of force “jointness.” While a satisfactorily The Interruption and Evolution of Australia’s RMA 81 comprehensive definition of the term is missing from the literature on jointness, 48 it is characterized by cooperation and integration between and amongst the separate armed services in warfare environments and during the preparation for engagement within these environments. The evolution of joint operations by the ADF is important as it provides evidence that the characteristics of jointness, integration, mobility, and expeditionary capacity identified as key to the Australian RMA were not completely lost as different priorities and strategic trends overtook the RMA. Until the late 1970s, the military culture in Australia was one of three very separate and distinct services. Given the unique origins and histo- ries of the Royal Australian Navy, the Royal Australian Air Force, and the Australian Army this is not unexpected, but the differentiation between the services was so marked that the term “Australian Defence Force” was rarely used. Following the necessary inter-service cooperation during the Australian contribution to Vietnam, and the Nixon Doctrine introduced in 1969, the armed forces began undertaking major doctrinal change. Rising fiscal pressures and the sustainment of multiple peacekeeping/peace enforcement operations forced the military to consider organizational changes that would eliminate duplication and get the best use out of C4 and ISR capabilities. 49 Cooperation and pooling of financial resources was also the most logical way to be able to afford a procurement process for any new capability. Ironically, the very factors that caused a shift away from the RMA discourse were the very ones that pushed the ADF to accelerate and improve integration between the services. The move to independent force projection was not a smooth transition, in part because there was no significant force projection needed by Australia between 1972 and 1985. The primary responsibility of the ADF during this time period was regional maritime and air surveillance and the military was not engaged in any large-scale UN commitments. This period of relative stability allowed for certain institutional changes, including the introduction of a Chief of Defence Force Staff (CDFS) in 1973 (“Staff” was eliminated from the title in 1985) and the establishment of the Headquarters of the Australian Defence Force (HQADF) in 1984. The goal of the joint headquarters was to facilitate strategic level joint command capacity and to allow the CDF to command all joint- and single-service operations.50 The relative stability of the period, however, also led to stagnation in training. The ANZUS exercises, dubbed the Kangaroo series, simulated conventional operations in each of the service domains in the 1970s. 82 Rachael Bryson

Land forces practiced offensive and defensive maneuvers with close air support, while both maritime and air domains practiced defending against off-shore encroachment. 51 Despite the new structure being in place the ADF had no real or practiced experience utilizing the joint HQADF. Bob Breen details four case studies of Australian expeditionary missions in the 1980s and 1990s that represent the first efforts of the ADF to engage in fully self-reliant expeditionary missions. The fourth case study – Timor-Leste – is of particular interest to this chapter, but the first three provide important background information. The first test of the joint expeditionary capabilities of the ADF was Operation Morris Dance – the planned evacuation of Australian nationals following a 1987 coup in Fiji that led to widespread violence and instability. The second test was Operation Lagoon in October 1994 in Papua New Guinea to support a peace conference in an attempt to end the violence stemming from the secessionist war in Bougainville. Third, Operation Bel Isi in October 1997 was once again in support of the peace process in Bougainville, where Australia sought to take a smaller role in supporting New Zealand’s monitors during the peace negotiations.52 All three missions were characterized by an insistence on secrecy by the Australian government, a refusal to allow for early contingency planning at operational and tactical levels, insufficient intelligence support, no mechanism for identifying the appropriate chain of command, and logistical failures leading to problems in force sustainment. The first two missions were aborted before any real disaster could occur. The evacuation in Fiji was cancelled as the political situation stabilized and Australians were able to board commercial flights out of the country. Problems among participants at the Bougainville peace conference ended the 1994 talks after just one day. 53 The 1997 deployment to Bougainville, however, lasted far longer than was anticipated and highlighted a lack of coordination between the ADF and its New Zealand counterparts they were there to support. By mid-February 1998, resupply efforts were a disaster and New Zealand attempted to rapidly drawdown its forces while attempting to draw Australia into a larger commitment. The lack of a joint commander led to air and maritime support and resupply capabilities being re-tasked to other priorities, resulting in 40% of the force sustainment supplied being late, and 10% never making it to Bougainville at all. Bel Isi would be ongoing when Australia deployed to Timor-Leste in 1999, and wouldn’t end until 2003.54 There were important lessons to be learnt from these operations, and the ADF mission in Timor-Leste would be The Interruption and Evolution of Australia’s RMA 83 a test as to whether or not the ADF was capable of learning from its mistakes.

Timor-Leste

Timor-Leste (also known as East Timor) is a small nation occupying half of an island in the Indonesian island chain. A Portuguese colony until a 1974 coup in Portugal, the first independent Timorese government was established as part of a gradual decolonization process. This transition was short-lived, however, as the eastern part of Timor Island was invaded by Indonesia in 1975. From 1975–99 the Indonesian occupation was marked by violence and brutality against the native East Timorese. In 1999, following a regime change in Indonesia, the UN sponsored a referendum vote to determine if Timor-Leste would seek independent nationhood.55 Although the vote clearly passed in favor of self-determination, many of the Timor-Leste militia were pro-integration and began a campaign of violent intimidation against pro-separatists. Following the establishment of a UN mission to assist with the political transition, the Security Council authorized a multinational force led by Australia to restore peace and security to Timor-Leste and to assist with the transition and humanitarian mission. 56 This would be the first time Australia led a major UN mission. Recent experiences with deployments had provided harsh lessons at all levels of command, and the planning for Timor-Leste started very differently from Morris Dance, Lagoon, and Bel Isi. As soon as political interest was shown to be in favor of Timor-Leste unauthorized contingency planning began at various levels of the military. At the very minimum it was assumed that there would be an evacuation of Australian and allied nationals from the island, and the unanticipated commitment of Bel Isi following the drawdown of the New Zealand military indicated that Australia might be the only regional nation willing to support peace operations. Also different from the other missions was the availability of recent and reliable intelligence on Timor-Leste from Australian participants in the UN oversight of the referendum. While the chain of command still remained problematic, the improvements made to the supply chain management logistics system in light of the problems with force sustainment in Bougainville benefitted the contingency planning process for a long-term deployment. 57 As the political and humanitarian situation rapidly spiralled out of control, a series of missions in Timor-Leste were authorized by the Australian government. For the first time the Deployable Joint Force 84 Rachael Bryson

Headquarters (DJFHQ) was mobilized and a clearer chain of command was established. The evacuation mission became a reality for Australian nationals and non-essential UN personnel under the name Operation Spitfire between September 9 and 19, 1999. Operation Stabilize was the name given to the ADF component of the International Force East Timor (INTERFET), which was in place from September 16, 1999 to February 23, 2000, and Operation Warden was Australia’s larger joint deployment from September 16, 1999 to April 16, 2000.58 For many Warden, the logistical support and resupply mission, was the true test of the ADF’s joint capabilities. Ground forces would be deployed, supported by an air bridge for supply and logistics. Maritime contingents would patrol the waters surrounding Timor-Leste to defend again any incoming Indonesian vessels. Australia put up twelve C-130 Hercules transport aircraft and 16 crews to deploy the ADF’s 3rd Brigade as quickly as possible, and to supply the initial phase of the mission. With contributions from Canada, France, New Zealand, the Philippines, Britain, the US, and Thailand, an additional 16 C-130s and 21 crews were made available. However, the air bridge faced problems from the beginning. There was limited capacity at the airport seized by multinational forces and the first army companies to arrive faced resistance and intimidation tactics from the Indonesian militia. Once the first two Australian companies and Special Forces from the ADF had arrived, supplies were delayed as priorities were changed in Darwin and aircraft were reassigned to bring in non-essential UN staff and journalists before the remainder of the 3rd Brigade, vehicles, and essential supplies. Fortunately recent experience had taught senior officers that resupply flights could not be depended on for force sustainment and troops were ordered to carry as much water, food, and ammunition as possible. All day on September 20 and overnight the 1500 troops were able to carry out high priority tasks while coalition maritime support moved in to patrol coastal approaches.59 By the morning of September 21 drinking water had virtually run out when the rest of the 3rd Brigade arrived by sea with essential supplies. Despite only being given their Rules of Engagement (ROEs) while in transit, the ADF displayed admirable professionalism in the face of various confrontations with Indonesian militia during the initial eight weeks it took to fully set-up the DJFHQ. 60 The 1999 deployment to Timor-Leste has been hailed as a great success in demonstrating Australia’s joint capabilities. It becomes clear upon closer inspection, however, that contrary to this position much of the success of the mission came down to unauthorized orders issued by individuals, the ADF working ahead of political guidance, and sheer The Interruption and Evolution of Australia’s RMA 85 luck. Officially, there was still a major lack of coordination at the highest military levels when it came time to actually deploying. If it hadn’t been for the unauthorized advanced contingency planning, the ADF would have had mere weeks to prepare for the deployment. Likewise, if orders to carry only the bare essentials hadn’t been given prior to the deployment of the first troops to Timor-Leste they would have run out of food, water, and ammunition before the first ship arrived 24-hours later. The force sustainment initiatives in Timor-Leste benefitted greatly from the necessary supply chain management changes to support Bel Isi, and the entire mission was facilitated by the rapid-deployment notice that the 3rd Brigade had been put on to possibly support Bel Isi. 61 At the conclusion of Operation Warden these luck factors were called the successful application of lessons learned, but the true test of that would be the long deployment of ADF troops to Afghanistan in 2003.

Where is the “joint” discussion in Afghanistan?

As a contributor to NATO’s International Security Assistance Force (ISAF) in Afghanistan, Australia had ample opportunity to demonstrate and improve upon its force projection and sustainment abilities during its conventional force commitment as part of Operation Slipper. Despite shifting mission priorities, a change from stabilization to reconstruc- tion, and caveats placed on the ADF and its Rules of Engagement (ROEs) by Parliament,62 this mission was considered a success militarily. As the ISAF mission expanded out of Kabul, Australia took responsibility for the southern province of Uruzgan in 2006. Securing and recon- structing Uruzgan, a poor province with a flourishing narcotics base and a strong Taliban foothold, was seen as an ambitious undertaking for the ADF. 63 Though primarily an Army deployment, Operation Slipper was supported by joint commands in personnel and logistics, intelligence, operations, planning, and communications and information systems. 64 At its height there were 1550 personnel deployed in Uruzgan, not including Special Forces Task Groups, and two CH-47 Chinook helicopters, three C-130 Hercules, two AP-3C Orion supply and surveillance planes, and a C-17 Globemaster strategic airlift aircraft, all of which were providing tactical lift, resupply, and close air support. 65 Despite the impressive joint effort made in Afghanistan, and the institutional emphasis on jointness leading up to the deployment, discussions of it are conspicuously lacking from post-engagement analyzes and lessons learned. These lessons are still being formulated at the NATO and individual state levels, but those emanating from Australia are focused 86 Rachael Bryson on the application of COIN doctrine and combat experience.66 Even more concerning is the growing number of voices warning of the aversion to integrating these lessons into future training and education. 67 Today, Australian discussions of jointness coincide with those of military professionalism and education. A 2010 special edition of the Australian Defence Force Journal credits the shift in professional military education that began in the 1990s for engendering the concept of jointness into all areas of the military profession. 68 Rear Admiral James Goldrick, Commander at the Joint Education, Training and Warfare Command emphasizes that successful jointness does not come at the expense of the individual services, but rather by ensuring that officers are educated “not only in formal skills and knowledge but [are] in posses- sion of the right outlook and that these parallel requirements exist at every stage of continuum.”69 Professionalism in their given trade and within their given service is to be valued above all else as this training should coincide with the skills to successfully employ jointness. The outwardly successful pursuit of jointness has afforded the ADF the ability to be as mobile and versatile as the original RMA ambition had planned. While far from the perfect picture painted by the Australian Defence Force Journal, Australia has excelled – and continues to seek ways to improve – on jointness, making them a possible model for other middle powers. As some authors caution, however, the ADF must be careful not to revert back to pre-Timor-Leste/Afghanistan training and doctrine under the pressures of defense austerity.70

The current state of affairs

In February 2013 an article criticized the Gillard government’s $5.4 billion budget cuts to defense for “deferring or cancelling key weapons modernization programs in the process,” and risking the interoperability with the US that Australia so values by raising concerns that “the cuts would harm Australia’s ability to support the US pivot to Asia in the short to medium term.”71 This is a far cry from the ambitious tone of defense planning in Australia in the mid-to-late 1990s and once again demonstrated the devastating impact of changeable and unreliable defense funding. Objectively, however, this outcome is not surprising given the trajectory of the past fifteen years for the ADF. The international security environment can change in an instant and is highly sensitive to exogenous shocks. While many of these shocks require immediate reaction, militaries are not often equipped for such rapid change. As with other large institutions with many moving parts, The Interruption and Evolution of Australia’s RMA 87 large-scale change and reorganization takes time to filter through all levels of the Australian military. Added to this, militaries are highly impacted by changes in governments and budgets, neither of which Australia is a stranger to. It took six years after the demonstration of the US RMA in Desert Storm for the concept of RMA to even be formally introduced into planning within the ADF. Then, between 1997 and 2013, there were no less than five major strategic documents, each shifting the course of the future of the ADF (whether slightly or significantly) to which defense planners had to respond. The unexpected extended “boots on the ground” combat missions in Iraq and Afghanistan also necessarily changed the way defense was pursued for many years. A reorientation for low-tech desert warfare and “hearts and minds” style COIN operations diverted efforts away from the possibilities of the technological revolution. Military doctrine and training was drastically changed between 2003 and 2011, but not in the way that the defense planners of the 1990s had anticipated. This is not to say that nothing was learned or gained from these deployments. Years of coalition warfare undoubtedly embraced the core values of the initial thinking behind the RMA: jointness, interoperability, mobility, and expeditionary capacity. Australia proved to be a valuable ally to the US and to NATO, further advancing its interests given the continuing military ambitions of many states in the Asia-Pacific region, particularly China. Equally, it would be wrong to assume that the missions in the Middle East did not completely exclude technological advancement for the ADF. The use of advanced communications capabilities, UAVs, and other facilitating and life-saving technologies such as new weapons and improved body armor, are now core capabilities for the military. 72 The reduction in the operational tempo of the ADF presents an opportunity for Australia to re-engage with the RMA/NCW discourse, or at least the themes from within them. After years of deferred procurement projects the state of the many of core capabilities and platforms are fast approaching obsolescence. In fact, current efforts to replace major capabilities such as fighter jets and submarines are already including what used to be futuristic technology requirements without calling them “revolutionary.” The study of future trends and flexible planning has once again become a central focus for the US, NATO, and will most likely be reflected in the 2015 White Paper. In light of the employment of so-called “hybrid warfare” by Russian forces in Crimea, immigration flows, the emergence of ISIS and home-grown terrorist activities in Australia, and the continued growth and aggression of the Chinese military, anticipatory 88 Rachael Bryson planning may become one of Australia’s most valuable assets. The question now is how domestic, regional, and international security concerns will be balanced with the desire to retain a technological edge and interoperability with the US, to retain joint capabilities, and whether the defense budgets of the next few years will allow the ambitions of defense planners to be realized.

Notes

1 . “Australia’s Strategic Policy,” Australian Department of Defence (Canberra: Commonwealth of Australia, 1997). 2 . Andrew Tan, “East Asia’s Military Transformation: The Revolution in Military Affairs and Its Problems,” Security Challenges , 7:3 (2011) pp.71–94. 3 . “2013 Defence White Paper,” Australian Department of Defence (Canberra: Commonwealth of Australia, 2013). 4 . Allan Behm, R. Allen, M. Goodyer and James Tregurtha, “Joint Warfare – Australia’s Approach to Joint Operations,” Australian Defence Force Journal , 5:149 (2001) pp.15–26. 5 . Bob Breen, Struggling for Self–Reliance (Canberra: The Australian National University E Press, 2008). 6 . Behm et al., “Joint Warfare – Australia’s Approach to Joint Operations.” 7 . Breen, Struggling for Self–Reliance . 8 . The US and New Zealand suspended the treaty between the two nations in 1986. “Milestones 1945–1952,” US Department of State, https://history.state. gov/milestones/1945–1952/anzus 9 . David McLean, “Australia in the Cold War: A Historiographical Review,” The International History Review , 13:2 (2001) pp.299–321. 10 . Ibid. 11 . Ibid. 12 . “Iraq: the First Gulf War, 1990–91,” https://www.awm.gov.au/atwar/gulf/ 13 . Ibid. 14 . Elinor Sloan, “Canada and the Revolution in Military Affairs: Current Response and Future Opportunities,” Canadian Military Journal , 1:3 (Autumn, 2000) p.7. 15 . Richard Hundley, Past Revolutions, Future Transformations (Santa Monica CA: National Defense Research Institute, RAND, 1999) p.9. 16 . Peter Faber, “Our Most Recent Revolution in Military Affairs – A Thumbnail Historical Sketch,” Stratfor (2013), www.stratfor.com/the –hub.our–most– recent–revolution–military–affairs–%E2%80%93–thumbnail–historical– sketch 17 . Sloan, “Canada and the Revolution in Military Affairs: Current Response and Future Opportunities.” 18 . Michael Evans, “Australia and the Quest for the Knowledge Edge,” Joint Force Quarterly , 30 (Spring, 2002) p.41. 19 . Peter Hall and Robert Wylie, “The Revolution in Military Affairs and Australia’s Defence Industry Base, 1996–2006,” Security Challenges , 4:4 (2008) pp.57–80. The Interruption and Evolution of Australia’s RMA 89

20 . Hon. I.M. McLachlan, “Defence Challenges in the New Security Era” (paper presented at the RAAF in the Next Twenty–Five Years, Canberra, 1996). 21 . Michael Evans, “Australia and the Revolution in Military Affairs,” in Land Warfare Studies Centre Working Paper 115 (Duntroon, ACT: Land Warfare Studies Centre, 2001). 22 . Elinor Sloan, The Revolution in Military Affairs (Kingston: McGill–Queen’s University Press, 2002). 23 . “Australia’s Strategic Policy.” p.56. 24 . Ibid. 25 . Evans, “Australia and the Quest for the Knowledge Edge.” 26 . Ibid. 27 . “Defence 2000: Our Future Defence Force” (ed.) Department of Defence (Canberra: Commonwealth of Australia, 2000) p.xii. 28 . Ibid. 29 . Gareth Hutchens and Lisa Cox, “Iraq Deployment to Cost Australia about $400 Million a Year,” The Sydney Morning Herald (September 15, 2014), http:// www.smh.com.au/federal–politics/political–news/iraq–deployment–to–cost– australia–about–400–million–a–year–20140915–10h35o.html 30 . Brendan Nicholson, “Australia to Deploy Military to Help Fight Islamic State: Tony Abbott,” The Australian (September 14, 2014), http://www.theaustralian. com.au/national–affairs/defence/australia–to–deploy–military–to–help– fight–islamic–state–tony–abbott/story–e6frg8yo–1227058059347?utm_ source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A%20 TheAustralianNewsNDM%20%28The%20Australian%20%7C%20News%20 %7C%29 31 . “Global Operations.” 32 . “Global Operations,” Department of Defence. Accessed on January 15, 2015, http://www.defence.gov.au/Operations 33 . Hall and Wylie, “The Revolution in Military Affairs and Australia’s Defence Industry Base, 1996–2006.” 34 . Ibid., p.66. 35 . “The Global Financial Crisis and Its Impact on Australia,” Australian Bureau of Statistics . Accessed on March 14, 2015, http://www.abs.gov.au/AUSSTATS/ [email protected]/Lookup/1301.0Chapter27092009–10 36 . Australian Government, Defending Australia in the Asia Pacific Century: Force 2030 , ed. Department of Defence, Canberra: Commonwealth of Australia (2009). 37 . Tan, “East Asia’s Military Transformation: The Revolution in Military Affairs and Its Problems”. 38 . Mark Thomson, “The Cost of Defence: ASPI Defence Budget Brief 2009–2010” (Barton: Australian Strategic Policy Institute, 2009), https://www.aspi.org.au/ publications/the–cost–of–defence–aspi–defence–budget–brief–2009–2010 39 . Mark Thomson, “The Cost of Defence: ASPI Defence Budget Brief 2014–2015” (Barton: Australian Strategic Policy Institute, 2014). 40 . Thomson, “The Cost of Defence: ASPI Defence Budget Brief 2009–2010.” 41 . Mark Thomson, “The Cost of Defence: ASPI Defence Budget Brief 2010–2011” (Barton: Australian Strategic Policy Institute, 2014). 42 . Ibid. 43 . Ibid. 90 Rachael Bryson

44 . “2013 Defence White Paper.” 45 . Mark Thomson, “The Cost of Defence: ASPI Defence Budget Brief 2013–2014” (Barton: Australian Strategic Policy Institute, 2013). 46 . Thomson, “The Cost of Defence: ASPI Defence Budget Brief 2014–2015.” 47 . “2013 Defence White Paper.” 48 . Don Snider, “Jointness, Defence Transformation, and the Need for a New Joint Warfare Profession,” Parameters , 33:3 (2003) pp.17–30. 49 . For a more thorough review of the evolution of the three services toward joint warfare see Behm et al., “Joint Warfare – Australia’s Approach to Joint Operations.” 50 . Breen, Struggling for Self-Reliance . 51 . “Exercise ‘Kangaroo I’ an Outstanding Success ... a Landmark in Australian Defence Training,” Royal Australian Navy News, 17:12 (1974); “Kangaroo Two Underway,” Royal Australian Navy News, 19:12 (1976). 52 . Breen, Struggling for Self–Reliance . 53 . Ibid. 54 . Ibid. 55 . Australian Defence Forces deployed in support of UN voting monitoring, called Operation Faber. 56 . “East Timor – UNTAET Background,” United Nations. Accessed on April 3, 2015, http://www.un.org/en/peacekeeping/missions/past/etimor/UntaetB. htm 57 . Breen, Struggling for Self–Reliance . 58 . “ADF: Past Operations in Timor-Leste (East Timor),” Nautilus Institute for Security and Sustainability. Accessed on April 3, 2015, http:// nautilus.org/publications/books/australian–forces–abroad/east–timor/ adf–past–operations–in–timor–leste–east–timor/ 59 . Breen, Struggling for Self–Reliance . 60 . Ibid. 61 . Ibid. 62 . David Auerswald and Stephen Saideman, NATO in Afghanistan (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 2014). 63 . Capt. Gareth Rice, “What Did We Learn from the War in Afghanistan?” Australian Army Journal , 11:1 (2014) pp.6–20. 64 . “Headquarters Joint Task Force 633 – Middle East Area of Operations,” Nautilus Institute for Security and Sustainability. Accessed on April 3, 2015, http:// nautilus.org/publications/books/australian–forces–abroad/afghanistan/ hq–jtf633/ 65 . “Australia’s Military Involvement in Afghanistan since 2001: A Chronology,” Parliament of Australia. Accessed on April 3, 2015 http://www.aph.gov.au/ About_Parliament/Parliamentary_Departments/Parliamentary_Library/ pubs/BN/1011/MilitaryInvolvementAfghanistan 66 . Rice, “What Did We Learn from the War in Afghanistan?” 67 . Lt. Nicholas Barber, “Adapt and Overcome: Promoting Tactical Adaptation in the Post–Afghanistan Army,” Australian Army Journal , XI:2 (Summer, 2014); James Brown, “The Challenge of Innovation in the Australian Army,” Security Challenges , 7:2 (2011) pp.13–18. 68 . The first paper in the edition is Rear Admiral James Goldrick, “Thoughts on Joint Professional Military Education,” Australian Defence Force Journal, 181 (2010) pp.7–13. The Interruption and Evolution of Australia’s RMA 91

69 . Ibid., p.7. 70 . Brown, “The Challenge of Innovation in the Australian Army.” 71 . John Bruni, “ANZUS and the Asia Pivot: A Fork in the Road?” Stratfor , February 22, 2013. Accessed on February 20, 2015, https://www.stratfor.com/the–hub/ anzus–and–asia–pivot–fork–road 72 . “Enhanced Force Protection,” Department of Defence. Accessed on April 7, 2015, http://www.defence.gov.au/operations/afghanistan/factsheets/enhanced. asp

5 The Israeli Revolution in Military Affairs and the Road to the 2006 Lebanon War Raphael D. Marcus

In the aftermath of the 2006 Lebanon War, Israel launched an investi- gative committee known as the Winograd Commission to analyze the factors that contributed to the relatively lackluster performance of the Israel Defense Forces (IDF). The Commission identified three dominant trends that affected the IDF’s operational concept and modus operandi in 2006 and that may have contributed to the IDF’s shortcomings.1 (1) The influence of the “Revolution in Military Affairs” (RMA), the American- formulated military concept that emerged in the 1990s that espoused the perceived benefits of advances in military technology, intelligence, and precision targeting for military operations. The RMA was viewed in Israel as having unique attributes that correlated with the IDF’s distinct operational and social circumstances, and would improve its overall warfighting capabilities. (2) The prevalence of “asymmetric” opponents with access to technologically-sophisticated weaponry, embedded in dense urban environments, and focused on waging attritional warfare brought new operational challenges that made the achievement of traditional “battlefield decision” more difficult. (3) Deep societal shifts were affecting the IDF’s role in Israeli society as the “people’s army” – made up of conscripts and a large reservist force. Increased risk aversion in society and a lower tolerance for large-scale military operations due to fear of incurring casualties had a subtle but significant effect on the role of the army in society, the IDF’s fighting spirit, and willingness to utilize reservist units. The influence of the RMA on the IDF’s operational thinking in the decades leading up to the 2006 Lebanon War is the primary focus of this chapter, since the RMA was the most tangible of the three trends that influenced the IDF’s preferred “way of war” in the years prior to 2006.

92 The Israeli Revolution in Military Affairs 93

Without downplaying the importance of the two other trends, the RMA was viewed as uniquely suitable to the IDF as a way to cope with the effects of sociological shifts in Israeli society and dynamic changes in the nature of the enemies facing Israel. The RMA gained further traction in the IDF because it provided an elegant theoretical framework that fit with the existing precision technology of the IDF. While the IDF were the first to utilize the full capabilities of RMA-style precision weaponry on the battlefield, they were late to conceptualize a theoretical framework for its practical use.2 The RMA, haphazardly adopted by the IDF, became the vehicle that would shape much of the large-scale military innovation and organizational adaptation in the three decades leading up to the 2006 War. However, the RMA and associated technology was of little utility on the battlefield during the 2006 Lebanon War and was ultimately ineffective against Hezbollah. This chapter first analyzes the sources and origins of the RMA in Israel and its disjointed implementation throughout the 1980s and 1990s. It discusses the formal emergence of the RMA after the 1991 Gulf War and its influence on the IDF, and explains how RMA-inspired concepts were utilized with limited effectiveness against the Lebanese militant group Hezbollah amid ongoing protracted conflict in the 1990s. It elucidates the development of an alternative approach to asymmetric warfare led by officers on the ground dissatisfied with the IDF’s modus operandi in Lebanon in the late-1990s, which led to the creation of the short- lived “Limited Conflict” doctrine that impacted IDF preparedness in 2006. The chapter then assesses the influence of the RMA on the army’s senior command in the years leading up to the 2006 Lebanon War, and explores how the RMA affected the IDF’s operational conception and conduct during the war itself. It concludes with a critical analysis of the causes of the IDF’s shortcomings during the 2006 War and provides an appraisal of the utility of the RMA for Israel’s distinct operational environment.

The origins of the RMA in Israel

Since the 1973 Yom Kippur War and the failure of the Israeli Air Force (IAF) to cope with Egyptian surface-to-air missiles (SAMs), the IDF had become acutely aware of the importance of precision-guided weapons and associated technology. The battlefield surprise of the Egyptian SAMs and Sagger anti-tank weapons was especially damaging due to over- emphasis from the IDF on tanks and an initial lack of maneuver.3 In the surprise of the 1973 war, the implementation of the main pillars of 94 Raphael D. Marcus

Israel’s security concept – deterrence, intelligence warning, and rapid decision – had failed them. When seeking to learn the post-war lessons, instead of a strategic reconsideration of IDF doctrine, the IDF focused on the technical issues that arose during the war and the temporary shortage of manpower and hardware during battle.4 Following the 1973 national trauma, the IDF undertook massive military spending, expanding its army and acquiring new hi-tech weapons capabilities, which spurred the growth of the Israeli arms industry but also severely strained the Israeli economy. 5 These acquisition programs were partially influenced by visits of IAF delegations to the US in the 1970s to learn lessons following the Vietnam War, especially those which pertained to dealing with highly-mobile smaller forces, mobile missile launchers, and electronic warfare. 6 The technological upgrades carried out by the IDF at this time were facilitated by the microelectronics revolution, the rapid evolution of missile technology, and the invention in 1971 of the microprocessor (enabling precision-fire capabilities).7 According to Brig. Gen. (ret.) Shlomo Brom, one of the IAF delegates to the US, the IDF developed a three-tiered system following the 1973 war that greatly resembled the RMA-style technology that would follow in ensuing decades. First, the IDF battle system involved tracing and tracking an enemy; second, being able to simultaneously protect its own force using electronic warfare while launching long-range precision-guided munitions; and third, developing advanced command and control mechanisms to feed a real-time picture of the situation to relevant commanders involved: “And that is RMA, although we didn’t give it this name.” Gen. Brom elaborated,

The pioneers for using this were the IAF ... We developed these concepts after the 1973 War as a lesson of the war, and a lesson we learned was that we needed to deal with the enemy air defense systems [ ... ] By the 1982 Lebanon War we had quite a perfect system. 8

In the 1982 Lebanon War, the IDF (specifically, the IAF) overcame Syrian SAMs and other air defense systems by using precision-guided munitions and cutting edge technology, gaining air supremacy over Syria with astounding success. This marked the successful utilization and mastery of “next-generation” technology that would be a major enabler of the RMA in Israel. 9 The operation, which downed more than 82 Syrian MiGs (with no IAF losses) and destroyed more than 17 Syrian SAM sites, was described by Defense Minister Ariel Sharon as “One of the most brilliant, complicated, and intricate operations” ever launched by the IDF. 10 The IAF utilized precision and laser-guided bombs, electronic The Israeli Revolution in Military Affairs 95 warfare, real-time intelligence dissemination, radar/communications jamming, and UAVs, synced with standoff firepower and advanced warning systems, while sensors, shooters, and command and control systems operated in a networked feedback loop. 11 To some in the IDF, this overwhelming success signified the benefit of the IDF’s technological acquisitions and force modernization, and that they had learned the “right” lessons from the 1973 war experience. However, it must be noted that the familiar nature of the operational environment, IAF numerical and qualitative superiority, and the poor tactics and quality of the Soviet-supplied Syrian air force should put into perspective the sense of a “revolutionary” Israeli success in this specific case. 12 Basking in glory following the impressive IAF victory against the Syrians in the Bekaa, Israel further invested in qualitative technological improvements to military hardware because of its perceived utility. In order to maintain its qualitative and technological edge and to compensate for its force expansion and unsustainable military budget, IDF Chief of Staff Lt.-Gen. Dan Shomron called for a “slimmer and smarter force” during his tenure (1987–91). The innovative concept implied that by downsizing and streamlining command and organizational structures, this would “slim” down the IDF, improve efficiency, and facilitate its historical preference for quality over quantity. The IDF would become “smarter” by increasing its intelligence capabilities and incorporating new precision technology, which would enable the slimming process and facilitate a qualitative professionalization of the force.13 These principles were very much in sync with the nascent RMA, meant to enable IDF superiority in wars of short duration to be fought with long-range firepower. Lt.-Gen. Shomron acted as a key visionary and enabler of change, laying the foundations of the formally unde- clared RMA. The sources of the RMA in Israel emerged both from changes in the external strategic environment, particularly the proliferation of long- range and unconventional threats, as well as from the shock that followed the 1973 war. The seeds of the RMA were planted in Israel by the validation of such technology and the warfare style of the 1982 Bekaa Valley air battle. It is at this point that these budding concepts began to be more widely implemented, although they still lacked a clear theoretical formulation.

“Verification” of the RMA in Israel: the 1991 Gulf War

In the 1991 Gulf War, the comprehensive defeat of the massive but ineffective Iraqi army by the US-led coalition strongly reaffirmed the need 96 Raphael D. Marcus for Israel to maintain its “qualitative military edge” in weaponry and intelligence capabilities in the Middle East. 14 While demonstrating an acute awareness of the strategic and operational differences between the US and Israel, Defence Minister Yitzchak Rabin described the impact of the Iraqi defeat for Israel in a 1991 speech:

The American army conducted a remarkable war in the Gulf. The air force was utilized to the utmost, resulting in the decisive defeat of the enormous Iraqi force with minimum casualties – something we never managed to achieve in any of our wars. This is indeed true. 15

The dramatic success of the US military led to the proclamation of a “Revolution in Military Affairs,” epitomizing the ideal “Western way of war” embodied by the use of precision technology, a low tolerance for casualties, and low collateral damage.16 As Brig.-Gen. Shlomo Brom, Deputy-Head of IDF Strategic Planning at the time (1990–94) explained, “The First Gulf War verified our basic concept, which was already in place before that.” 17 This marks the period where the IDF began to formally adopt and implement newly validated RMA concepts on a larger-scale. As Adamsky illustrated, the IDF was the first military to develop, master, and integrate RMA-style technology during the 1980s and early-1990s, a time period he calls “the unconscious RMA” in Israel. The RMA was in full-steam after “verification” in the Gulf War, and throughout the next decade the IDF would actively implement several large RMA-inspired force structure programs partially inspired by the American success in 1991.18 Two years after witnessing the Gulf War, the IDF utilized its newly formulized RMA capabilities in Lebanon.

The RMA “in action”: IDF operations in Lebanon in the 1990s

Throughout the 1980s the influence of the RMA was minimal on the routine security operations being conducted against Hezbollah and the plethora of militant groups in Lebanon. It was not until the targeted assassination of Hezbollah’s Secretary-General Abbas al Musawi in February 1992 that his successor Hassan Nasrallah witnessed “first- hand” the IDF’s technological capabilities. Musawi, while traveling in his motorcade in southern Lebanon, was located by optical surveillance technology and tracked by the IAF as a “time-sensitive mobile target,” and using the “find-fix-kill chain,” IDF Northern Command made the improvised decision in real-time to assassinate him. The helicopter strike The Israeli Revolution in Military Affairs 97 that killed Musawi was one of the first notable occurrences where RMA capabilities were utilized directly against Hezbollah.19 Amid the continuous cycle of attritional tit-for-tat violence, a major escalation erupted in July 1993. In retaliation for a Hezbollah roadside bomb attack, the IDF launched a seven-day operation (July 25–July 31, 1993), called Operation “Accountability,” which involved a massive air and artillery campaign, as standoff-based precision firepower was utilized effectively against Hezbollah targets. The precision strikes, artillery shelling, drones, and air power that utilized elements of the RMA became the means of choice for the IDF. The increasing societal expectation and preference for minimal casualties in wars of short duration, coupled with the fear of casualties in Israel was evident, as one IDF commander said at a press conference during the 1993 operation: “The less casualties we suffer on our side, the more successful we consider the operation to be [ ... ] We have methods by which we can inflict intoler- able damage on the other side, while minimizing the casualties on our side.” 20 Illustrating the preference for air operations, the IDF launched 1,000 air-to-surface rockets and 22,000 artillery shells throughout the operation, including 57 air raids and the firing of 10,000 artillery shells in less than 10 hours on the third day of the operation.21 Hezbollah had prepared for an Israeli ground offensive in 1993 and were surprised at the destructive potential and effective use of such heavy air and artillery firepower. This would impact Hezbollah’s preparations for conflict and motivated them to operationally adapt and develop its fortified defensive positions and enhance its firepower projection capabilities. Col. Ronen Cohen, an intelligence officer based in Lebanon during this period who later became head of the Terrorism Bureau, IDF Military Intelligence, explained Hezbollah’s perceptions at this time:

Hezbollah thought that the IDF would enter Lebanon with infantry and tanks like in the 1982 operation. They didn’t believe we’d carry out an operation like the 1993 operation, but many of the IDF generals were fascinated with the 1991 Gulf War. It’s part of the story of the RMA ... 1993 was our first operation in which we didn’t enter with infantry. Hezbollah expected that we’d use infantry [ ... ] They started to understand that we prefer the kinds of wars which are in the style of the 1993 Operation and the Gulf War. 22

Less than three years later, in response to another cyclical round of violence that resulted in the death of soldiers in the security zone, the IDF 98 Raphael D. Marcus launched Operation “Grapes of Wrath” (April 11–April 27, 1996). During the 16-day operation, the IAF relied heavily on precision capabilities and flew over 1,000 sorties, carried out over 600 air raids, and fired 25,000 artillery shells.23 The IAF utilized UAVs, tight sensor-to-shooter technology, network centric capabilities, and sophisticated precision munitions to ensure accurate and lethal strikes against Hezbollah targets. Despite the best efforts of the military and politicians, Israel suffered condemnation in the international arena for the inadvertent civilian deaths caused by the strikes, most notably, after artillery shells hit a UN camp in the Lebanese village of Qana. Following the 1996 operation, the long-time head of the Israel Weapons Development Authority Zeev Bonen warned that war “will remain bloody and destructive. The dream that [the RMA] based on precision firepower will lead to clean, surgical war with little collateral damage and minimal casualties will remain, in most cases, only a dream.” Bonen argued that advanced weapons are often of little use without a readiness to accept casualties on both sides, and a certain margin of error. Based on IDF experiences in Lebanon since the 1980s and crystallized during the 1993 and 1996 operations, Bonen prophetically noted that Hezbollah’s irregular tactics were “blunting and perhaps even overturning the advantages of [the RMA]. Unless these [guerrilla] areas can be bypassed, they must be attacked primarily by infantry forces.” Therefore, he proclaimed, the RMA is “largely irrelevant to this kind of warfare,” and Israel’s enemies will resort to asymmetric means because of IDF’s superior techno-centric capabilities. 24 While the IDF haphazardly incorporated various RMA technologies in the 1993 and 1996 operations, including precision fire, advanced information technology, UAVs, sensor-to-shooter and command and control systems, they were of limited effectiveness in curtailing Hezbollah’s militant activities in the 1990s. Brig.-Gen. Shlomo Brom, head of IDF Strategic Planning during the 1996 operation reflected on the shortcomings of the RMA:

The RMA was not so relevant to three Hezbollah fighters who lay an IED in the middle of the night along a route that the IDF used. RMA wasn’t relevant to the rockets that were launched at our cities because these rockets were short-range and very small and launched from improvised launchers. It wasn’t something we could engage with our very sophisticated systems. 25

Overall, the technological and conceptual revolution being carried out under the banner of the RMA still had little utility on the Lebanese The Israeli Revolution in Military Affairs 99 battlefield. This realization spurred a small number of frustrated intelligence officers from IDF’s Lebanon Division to seek an alternative approach for dealing with Hezbollah, which led to the development of a new, innovative doctrine for asymmetric conflict.

The rise and fall of “The Limited Conflict” doctrine

Amid intractable conflict with Hezbollah, the IDF slowly adopted a new paradigm for dealing with asymmetric conflict in the late-1990s. Developed in the years leading up to the 2000 Israeli withdrawal from Lebanon, these ideas marked a dramatic transformation of the IDF’s traditional security conception. This new doctrine would represent the IDF’s reconceptualization of asymmetric conflict, and reframed the way the IDF viewed military engagement, attritional warfare, and the achievement of “battlefield decision.” The doctrine was codified by a handful of intelligence officers who spent a significant portion of their careers based in Lebanon. In particular, the free-thinking Col. Shmuel (“Samo”) Nir wrote a series of articles published in open-source IDF journals and classified army publications about how the IDF should conceptualize asymmetric warfare. Based on his analysis of Hezbollah’s operations throughout the 1990s, Nir outlined a common system of theoretical ideas and new terminology, coining the concept of “The Limited Conflict.”26 He made significant efforts to institutionalize lessons learned from the Lebanese battlefield, even though the IDF had not yet developed a formal system for operational lesson-learning at this time. 27 In a new classified IDF monograph series established by Col. Nir in 1999, he described a lack of theoretical knowledge on the nature of non-state opponents like Hezbollah and provided a broad, but innovative construct that outlined the strategic and operational paradigm by which such non-state organizations operate.28 Col. Nir elucidated Hezbollah’s strategic concept, which was based on a “strategy of fatigue,” and aimed to exhaust Israel militarily and socially. This strategy allowed Hezbollah to preserve its strength, enable protracted fighting, and maintain battlefield initiative, thus preventing the IDF from bringing its military strength to bear. 29 In his writings, Col. Nir proposed a fundamental change to how Israel should achieve “battlefield decision,” historically enabled by rapid offensive action, physical destruction of enemy capabilities, and capture of enemy territory:

The definition of decision between unbalanced forces is changing the consciousness of society, changing the belief of society in the 100 Raphael D. Marcus

necessity of the cause, its ability to persist in fighting, and its ability to pay the price of the conflict ... In conflict between unbalanced forces, each side is to decisively reach decision by achieving “a consciousness of decision.”30

By targeting the “consciousness” of the opponent, this would affect the determination of the enemy to continue fighting. Marking a major adaptation to the notion of decisive military engagement for the IDF, Col. Nir wrote about the importance of a gradual, sustained conflict that would have deep psychological effects on the enemy. Unlike the RMA’s notion of rapid, decisive culmination of victory, the “Limited Conflict” doctrine emphasized planning a “gradual attack” in order to “fatigue” the opponent over the long-term to erode enemy determination. Col. Nir outlined the doctrine:

The strategy of fatigue is a method of practicing the conflict that gradually exhausts the resolve of society and its fighters by constant physical, and emotional, cumulative attacks. 31 [ ... ] In order to reach high effectiveness in attacking the determination of the enemy, there is a need to plan the process of fighting for the long-run as much as possible (and not 24–36 hours like in a regular war) ... We must focus on the accumulative influence and not on physical attacks. The results of the fighting are tested by the measure of time because the loss of determination is not a result of a one-time move, but a result of a gradual fatigue . 32

The notion of “Limited Conflict” was very influential on the IDF’s strategic and operational conception for dealing with asymmetric threats throughout the late-1990s, and Col. Nir’s writings were eventually formally codified into doctrine in 2001. Quoting from the doctrine itself, Col. Nir summed up the differences between the achievement of battlefield decision in conventional war and Limited Conflict:

Israel’s past wars were existential wars, and the way to deal with them was through deterrence and decision. Limited Conflict is, by contrast, a battle over consciousness, and the side that can exhaust its adversary will win by wearing down the adversary’s resolve to pay the heavy price of a prolonged confrontation.33

This conceptual framework for battlefield decision and military engagement marked a major shift away from the IDF’s traditional approach of The Israeli Revolution in Military Affairs 101 minimizing the possibility of attrition. Notably, the central reason that the RMA and associated technologies were enthusiastically adopted into the IDF in the 1980s and 1990s was because it was believed the RMA would enhance the IDF’s very ability to achieve a rapid, decisive victory. RMA-inspired technology enabled improved situational awareness and intelligence gathering that was meant to facilitate short wars with minimal casualties that would have a limited effect on the Israeli home front. Sustained operations in protracted conflict to “fatigue” Hezbollah over the long-term were, therefore, diametrically opposed to the swift and one-sided victory sought by Israel’s adoption of the RMA. Despite the massive technological investments made and the force structure designed for high-intensity war under the banner of RMA, by the early-2000s and less than five years since the ideas first emerged, “anybody considered an up-and-coming somebody in the IDF hierarchy seemed to be chanting the mantra of the Limited Conflict.” 34 This shift to LIC was accelerated out of operational necessity, triggered by the erup- tion of suicide bombing and terrorism during the Second Palestinian Intifada in September 2000. Illustrating the IDF’s shift in conceptual focus, the proportion of all articles dealing with LIC in the IDF’s official journal between 2000 and 2006 rose to 20%. 35 The IDF hosted its first international conference on “The Limited Conflict” in March 2004, and that same year the IDF released an edited volume of articles covering numerous aspects of the Limited Conflict and asymmetric warfare. 36 Despite its popularity and its influence in some IDF circles, the Limited Conflict doctrine was criticized by a small number of senior officers for being unsuitable for the Israeli context; they argued that it was inappropriate that the IDF be expected to “fatigue” and “outlast” its opponent using defensive means and superior determination. The most vociferous critic was Col. (res.) Yehuda Wegman, a long-time lecturer at the IDF Staff College who contended that a fundamental erroneous assumption is that the IDF is unable to “win” or achieve a clear battlefield decision against asymmetric opponents. He argued that this false “pessimism” regarding the IDF’s ability to win adversely affects society’s ability to endure hardship and maintain resilience in conflict, and augments societal risk aversion. Most critically, the Limited Conflict doctrine “does not derive its logic from the security doctrine of which it is part,” since in this case, the IDF sought to wage a protracted “war of fatigue,” which contradicts the basic assumption of the IDF’s traditional doctrine calling for decisive, rapid culmination of victory. 37 Despite the criticism from segments of the IDF, the Limited Conflict doctrine enjoyed significant support in the early-2000s as senior figures 102 Raphael D. Marcus from the IDF Training and Doctrine Department met several times with US Department of Defense (DOD) officials from the Office of Net Assessment. DOD was reportedly interested in relevant lessons to be drawn from the “Limited Conflict” doctrine and from the IDF’s strategic confrontation with Hezbollah in the Lebanese security zone, for US operations in Afghanistan. 38 In 2004, IDF officials met again with US Army counterparts to discuss strategic and operational implications of the Limited Conflict doctrine. Maj.-Gen. Israel Ziv, head of the Operations Branch, and Maj.-Gen. Eyal Ben-Reuven, head of Military Colleges (who was later involved in battle-planning for the 2006 war) discussed theoretical and practical lessons from the IDF’s days in Lebanon and its experiences fighting Palestinian militant groups that might be relevant to US operations against the Iraqi insurgency. 39 Despite the influence it enjoyed in some segments of the IDF, the Limited Conflict faded “out of fashion” in the mid-2000s amidst its relative ineffectiveness in dealing with widespread Palestinian militancy and suicide terrorism. This became most evident when, contrary to the principles of the Limited Conflict that advocated for a defensive, slow-tempo approach, the IDF launched a large-scale, high-tempo, offensive urban warfare campaign in the West Bank in 2002 (Operation “Defensive Shield”), which deci- mated Palestinian militant groups.40 Importantly, the meetings during these years between the IDF and DOD also involved several in-depth knowledge exchanges in relation to the RMA and associated technological developments, illustrating the convergence of several parallel conceptual streams. Elements of the IDF enthusiastically sought to emulate many of the structural and doctrinal components of the US RMA and the associated “US Defense Transformation.”41 Many IDF planners were intrigued by Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld’s new “way of war” and emulated many of the conceptual and operational principles, often in a blanket fashion without critical scrutiny.42 The IAF showed a special interest in aspects of the new American “way of war,” particularly regarding the role of space, satellite, and missile technologies on the future battlefield.43 Gen. Dan Halutz, formerly head of the IAF, assumed the position of Chief of Staff in 2004, the first in Israeli history to emerge from the air force. Highlighting the influence of the RMA on his thinking and the trajectory he sought for the IDF, he said in a speech after his appointment:

The American coalition forces operating in Iraq in the First and Second Gulf Wars demonstrated the advantage of high technology The Israeli Revolution in Military Affairs 103

and air power. Kosovo proved to be the first military victory achieved by air power alone. What kind of capabilities will the Israel air force need in the future in order to cope with the challenges? First of all, precision strike and long-range capabilities are needed.44

This airpower-centrism and fascination with the US version of the RMA was accelerated by supportive officers like Halutz, despite the IDF having pioneered the use of RMA-inspired technology in the 1980s, and the muted utility of the RMA or air force operations on the Lebanese and Palestinian battlefields. Gen. Halutz’s subscription to these ideas would significantly influence his operational decision-making during the 2006 Lebanon War.

The 2006 Lebanon War: RMA-inspired warfare?

The concepts inspired by the RMA had diffused within the IDF and significantly affected IDF force structure and Israel’s preferred “way of war” in the lead-up to the 2006 Lebanon War. Upon the outbreak of war on 12 July, Chief of Staff Gen. Dan Halutz was presented with a number of innovative battle plans that had been designed to deal with Hezbollah. Some of these operational plans developed in the years prior to the war were air force-centric and influenced by the RMA; others were planned using traditional methods and resembled larger-scale ground operations; while others involved the innovative combination of air, ground, and commando forces using innovative operational design concepts.45 Some of these plans had been adopted but were poorly synthesized into the IDF; others were disregarded by Gen. Halutz due to political considerations; while others were prematurely or haphazardly implemented at various phases of the war.46 Partially due to a reluctance to embark on an extensive ground offensive due to fear of incurring casualties, Gen. Halutz opted for a large-scale air operation in the opening stage of the war to destroy Hezbollah’s strategic weaponry, known as Operation “Specific Weight.” During this operation, in 34 minutes on the first night of war, the IAF destroyed hundreds of Hezbollah’s high-value targets and crippled its long- and mid-range missile capability, including Iranian Fajr and Zelzal rockets. The success of the IAF operation was based on six years of painstaking intelligence gathering and enabled by the advanced synchronization of intelligence with air power assets, described by one IDF general as “a case study in operational perfection.”47 During this early air operation and throughout most of the war, the IDF’s RMA technology, 104 Raphael D. Marcus especially its precision weaponry and sensor-to-shooter networks, worked impressively and effectively in hitting a high number of significant targets. The performance of IDF ground forces throughout the 2006 war was relatively mediocre when confronted by Hezbollah, as troops made numerous sloppy tactical errors with fatal consequences that had a damaging strategic impact on Israeli societal perceptions of the war. 48 Ground troops often performed bravely but with muted results, largely due to a lack of preparedness and training for intensive ground warfare. The IDF’s acquisition of expensive standoff weaponry and RMA systems had diverted necessary funds and training programs away from ground units over preceding decades. Largely due to the attempted transformation towards a RMA-inspired “slimmer and smarter” force in preceding years, the air force and special forces benefitted from Israel’s military transformation and enjoyed qualitative and technological improvements. Meanwhile, ground and reservist units called up to fight in 2006 had been neglected in favor of increased force professionalization and remained under-funded, under-trained, and ill-prepared logistically or operationally to confront Hezbollah.49 Amir Peretz, Defense Minister during the 2006 war reflected:

There were [reserve] units that had not conducted exercises in years. Commanders who had not physically seen their soldiers for long periods of time. A drop in the competence and fitness of the reserve soldiers. We had to devote time to training exercises in the midst of the [2006] War.50

Shortcomings associated with the performance of ground forces were also the result of an operational focus on LIC by a large number of units during the campaign to quell Palestinian terrorism in the Second Intifada, as well as the brief but influential focus on Limited Conflict in the years prior to the war.51 Given the scale of fighting with Palestinian militant groups in the 2000s, ground units were operationally consumed with LIC and had little time and few resources to focus on high-intensity war training. Due to the residual effect of the “Limited Conflict” era, soldiers who had been engaged in policing and counterterrorism prior to 2006 were not operationally ready to fight Hezbollah. Coupled with the diversion of funds away from the ground forces due to budgetary shortages caused by expensive RMA acquisition programs, ground units were left poorly prepared for the intensity of fighting. The Israeli Revolution in Military Affairs 105

The Winograd Commission summarized the IDF’s flawed operational concept during the 2006 war, which reflected the confluence of both its prior focus on LIC and an over-emphasis on the air force due to the impact of the RMA:

It is true that the new operational concept’s emphasis on the characteristics of a low-intensity Limited Conflict, and on the use of counter-fire mainly from the air based on precise intelligence information, was not unambiguous. But it contributed to the feeling that there is a correct theoretical basis to expect a battlefield decision following an aerial move alone and consequently, to avoid a ground operation even under the conditions which, according to the IDF’s plans, made such a move mandatory. 52

Once the IDF decided to launch ground operations in Lebanon in the second and third weeks of the war, many of the ground units deployed only had experience with protracted policing and counterterrorism. Training of ground forces and reservists for major combat operations “or even those elements that addressed a confrontation with Hezbollah, which was significantly different than the conflict on the Palestinian front, were neglected” in favor of LIC.53 Out of operational necessity, the IDF had focused on the Limited Conflict doctrine and combatting Palestinian terrorism, and inadvertently neglected its traditional warfighting skills. On the other side of the spectrum, the conceptual approach of Gen. Dan Halutz and like-minded officers during the war, partially influenced by the RMA, emphasized air operations, standoff firepower, and precision technology at the expense of large-scale ground maneuver, which was inappropriate for Hezbollah’s low-signature asymmetric fighting. Unprepared for high-intensity ground warfare, the IDF’s operational concept in 2006 was ineffective against Hezbollah, whose own warfighting plans were designed to invalidate IDF conventional superiority.

Conclusions

Upon assuming the role of Chief of Staff in 2004, Gen. Dan Halutz inher- ited an IDF in the midst of change, part of a two-decade process of innovation and institutional transformation, whose seeds were first planted in the mid-1980s under the helm of Gen. Dan Shomron’s “slimmer and 106 Raphael D. Marcus smarter” plan, and nurtured by successors under the banner of the RMA. The Winograd Commission noted:

A significant part of the responsibility for the failures and flaws we have found lies with those who had been in charge of preparedness and readiness in the years before the war [ ... ] These weaknesses resulted in part from inadequacies of preparedness and strategic and operative planning which go back long before the Second Lebanon War. 54

While not downplaying Israel’s flawed political strategy in 2006 and the IDF’s numerous tactical errors, the “blame game” that emerged post- war, seeking to pin culpability for the IDF’s mediocre performance on specific theoretical concepts, operational blunders, or the leadership of specific generals, is therefore not justified or accurate. The root of the operational problems in 2006 emerged from the two-decade process of institutional transformation that preceded the war, in which the IDF implemented inappropriate concepts for its operational reality. The RMA was only one piece of the much greater (albeit muddled) process of change. The IDF was in conceptual disarray for much of the 1990s and 2000s, grappling with various RMA concepts and attempting to synthesize and adapt them for use in various operational arenas. The IDF’s inability to devise a theoretical or conceptual construct to harness the benefits brought by the massive technological adaptations associated with the RMA left the IDF conceptually confused, most evidently, on the Lebanese battlefield. Significantly, voices in Israeli society discontent with IDF involvement in the “Lebanese mud” eventually culminated in a process that led the IDF to over-emphasize firepower at the expense of maneuver.55 Israeli society’s increasing intolerance for casualties, especially in wars launched without national consensus and asymmetric wars, was a pivotal trigger that led the IDF to accelerate the incorporation of precision technology, standoff firepower, and other innovative concepts under the helm of the RMA. The adaptation of the IDF’s operational concept over the last three decades can best be described in extremes. In the 1980s, the IDF’s focus was primarily on conventional threats and high-intensity warfare, especially from Syria, having emerged from a period of lesson-learning following the 1973 Arab-Israeli War. During this period, the IDF underwent massive growth and adopted technological elements of the nascent RMA in an unsystematic manner to maintain an edge over its opponents. Despite its conventional focus, the IDF easily managed to The Israeli Revolution in Military Affairs 107 maintain operational and tactical superiority over the newly formed Hezbollah, who were utilizing crude and relatively ineffectual tactics throughout the 1980s. However, as Hezbollah adapted and readjusted its fighting-style, the irrelevance and ineffectiveness of the RMA became apparent. The 1990s was a period marked by uncoordinated efforts to adapt the IDF to the changing operational environment, which included a plethora of clashing personalities and different reformist streams related to officer education, operational art, systemic operational design, and “effects-based” concepts. The IDF was infused with technology-minded officers who were influenced by the perceived success of the RMA during the 1991 Gulf War and Kosovo operation, and increasingly relied on standoff firepower and technical solutions for the IDF’s operational problems. Despite these well-intentioned efforts, these different streams of innovation remained uncoordinated and unsystematic, and lacked unifying direction from senior staff, who themselves were often split between where to focus their efforts and where to give support. In contrast, the late-1990s marks a transition period in the IDF, from its focus on “traditional” high-intensity warfare, to an era of dispropor- tionate focus on LIC and the Limited Conflict. Given the rising threat from Hezbollah and Palestinian terrorism, the pendulum swung heavily towards LIC, as the IDF’s RMA-inspired programs were not relevant to solve its operational predicaments. Paradoxically, in the run-up to 2006, the IDF’s force structure, force size and weapons procurement was focused on RMA-inspired warfare, but the army itself had been operationally focused on LIC and counterterrorism through much of the previous decade. By the time the pendulum in the IDF swung towards LIC, Hezbollah had adapted its military strategy and refined its operational approach based on its own lesson learned, centered on low-signature operations that circumvented the IDF’s conventional superiority. Furthermore, the discarded Limited Conflict doctrine that had proposed a gradual and defensive confrontation with Hezbollah was irrelevant and unus- able by 2006, since it was crafted based on IDF experiences in the late- 1990s and was largely outdated after Hezbollah’s massive acquisition of longer-range rockets between 2000 and 2006. Hezbollah’s military paradigm exposed a fundamental flaw with the conceptual underpinnings of the Limited Conflict’s “strategy of fatigue,” damningly illustrated when the Israeli home front was bombarded with short-range Katyusha rocket fire throughout the conflict, which made any sort of “consciousness of victory” tenuous. Notably, this operational challenge related to 108 Raphael D. Marcus

short-range rocket fire sparked the IDF’s accelerated development of the innovative “Iron Dome” short-range missile defense system, utilized with astounding success in subsequent conflict with Hamas in Gaza. The IDF encountered external friction due to Hezbollah’s adaptability, which prevented the effective implementation of various RMA-inspired battle plans in 2006. This was due to a flawed conception of the enemy, or as Captain B.H. Liddell-Hart wrote, the IDF didn’t adequately examine what was occurring on “the other side of the hill.”56 The IDF was prepared to fight a totally different war than the one it faced, as Hezbollah had adopted a unique operational paradigm tailored to challenge the IDF’s RMA-inspired, casualty-averse “way of war.” 57 Hezbollah utilized concealment, deception, and fought amongst the local population in order to deny the IDF the opportunity to target its centers of gravity with precision firepower. Hezbollah prevented the IDF from achieving “decisive victory” by adopting an attritional mode of warfare that included irregular elements and asymmetric tactics, hit- and-run guerilla attacks, and indiscriminate and persistent rocket fire that targeted Israeli population centers. This was coupled with conventional elements that sought to hold ground in an attempt to prevent, or at least delay, the IDF from capturing Hezbollah’s rocket-launching areas. 58 Despite some significant IDF achievements in part due to its RMA capabilities, 34 days of rocket fire on the Israeli home front made it impossible to proclaim any sort of decisive victory in the immediate aftermath of the war. 59 The IDF’s shortcomings on the Lebanese battlefield were due to training cuts, caused by the diversion of funds and resources towards expensive RMA-inspired programs. The concerted operational focus on Palestinian LIC in the previous decade meant that units had neither the experience with high-intensity ground warfare nor the time to train for it. The success of the air force, RMA-inspired sensor-to-shooter capabilities, and precision targeting systems ultimately did not adequately factor in the adaptability of Hezbollah and the group’s ability to dampen some of the IDF’s technological prowess with simple methods, while successfully targeting the Israeli home front with low-tech rocket fire. Hence, as Eliot Cohen noted, “The enemy never really figured very much into the RMA debate, and this may have been the worst mistake of all.” 60

Notes

1 . Winograd Commission: The Committee to Investigate the Events of the 2006 Lebanon Campaign (Final report), State of Israel (January 2008), chapter 7 (paragraphs 9–10) pp.269–70 [Hebrew]. The Israeli Revolution in Military Affairs 109

2 . Dima P. Adamsky, The Culture of Military Innovation (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2010), chapter 4. 3 . On these battlefield surprises see, Meir Finkel, On flexibility (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2011), chapters 8–9. 4 . Uri Bar-Joseph, “RMA: the View from Israel,” paper presented at the conference “Modern Military Thought in the Post-Cold War Era: A Critical Approach” (Norwegian Defence University College: Oslo, July25, 2009) p.3. 5 . Martin Van Creveld, The Sword and the Olive: A Critical History of the Israeli Defense Force (New York: Public Affairs, 2002) pp.253–57. 6 . Author interview with Brig.-Gen. (ret.) Shlomo Brom, Head of IDF Strategic Planning 1995–8 (January 18, 2012). 7 . Zeev Bonen, “Sophisticated Conventional Warfare,” in Zeev Bonen and Eliot A. Cohen (eds) Advanced Technology and Future Warfare, Mideast Security and Policy Studies no. 28, (Begin-Sadat Center for Strategic Studies, 1996). 8 . Author interview with Brig.-Gen. (ret.) Shlomo Brom. 9 . Maj.-Gen. Isaac Ben-Israel, “The Revolution in Military Affairs and the Operation in Iraq,” in Shai Feldman (ed.) After the War in Iraq: Defining the New Strategic Balance (Brighton: Sussex Academic Press, 2003) pp.63–70. 10 . Quoted in Henry Kamm, “Israel Reports Its Aircraft have Wrecked Syria’s Antiaircraft in Lebanon,” New York Times (June 10, 1982). 11 . David Ottaway, “War and Missiles: Israel said to Master New Technology to Trick and Destroy Soviet-made Rockets,” Washington Post (June 14, 1982); Adamsky, Culture of Military Innovation, p.95; Rebecca Grant, “The Bekaa Valley War,” Air Force Magazine , 85:6 (June 2002) pp.58–62. 12 . Matthew Hurley, “The Bekaa Valley Air Battle, June 1982: Lessons Mislearned?” Airpower Journal, 3:4 (Winter, 1989). 13 . Stuart A. Cohen, Israel and Its Army: From Cohesion to Confusion (Milton Park: Routledge), p.85. 14 . Eliot A. Cohen et al., “Israel’s Revolution in Security Affairs,” Survival, 40:1 (Spring, 1998) p.50. 15 . Defense Minister Yitzchak Rabin, Speech, “After the Gulf War: Israeli Defense and Its Security Policy,” Begin-Sadat Center for Strategic Studies (June 10, 1991). 16 . Freedman, The Revolution in Strategic Affairs, pp.14–17. 17 . Author interview with Brig.-Gen. (ret.) Shlomo Brom. 18 . For details see, Anthony Cordesman, Peace and War: The Arab-Israeli Military Balance Enters the 21st Century (Westport CT: Praeger, 2002) pp.199–213. 19 . Author interview with Lt.-Col. (ret.) Roni Amir, Head of IAF Doctrine Branch (January 29, 2013). 20 . Quoted in Avi Kober, “Western Democracies in Low Intensity Conflict: Some Postmodern Aspects,” in Efraim Inbar (ed.) Democracies and Small Wars (London: Frank Cass, 2003) p.10. 21 . Human Rights Watch, Civilian Pawns: Laws of War Violations and the Use of Weapons on the Israel-Lebanon Border (May 1996), footnotes 199–200; also, “Hizballah Vows to Resist,” AFP (July 28, 1993). 22 . Author interview with Col. (ret.) Ronen Cohen, Deputy-Head, Research Division, IDF Military Intelligence (2006–07) (January 27, 2013). 23 . Human Rights Watch, Operation Grapes of Wrath: The Civilian Victims (September 1997), footnote 17. 110 Raphael D. Marcus

24 . Bonen (1996) uses the term “Sophisticated Conventional Warfare” (SCW) to describe the RMA. For consistency, the term “RMA” will be used. 25 . Author interview with Brig.-Gen. (ret.) Shlomo Brom. 26 . Cohen, Israel and Its Army, pp.48–49; Tamir Libel, “David’s Shield: The Decline and Partial Rise of the IDF Command and General Staff College,” Baltic Security and Defence Review , 10:2 (2010) pp.66–67. 27 . For more on lesson learning, Raphael D. Marcus “Military Innovation and Tactical Adaptation in the Israel-Hizballah Conflict: The Institutionalization of Lesson-learning in the IDF,” Journal of Strategic Studies (August 2014) pp.1–29. 28 . Col. Shmuel Nir, “The Fighting in the Lebanese Arena as a Conflict between Unbalanced Forces: Simple Truths,” Zarkor no. 1 (February 1999) [Hebrew]. 29 . Ibid ., p.5. 30 . Ibid., p.9. 31 . Ibid., p.7. 32 . Ibid., p.11 [emphasis added]. 33 . Col. Shmuel Nir, The Limited Conflict (IDF, 2001), quoted in Yoram Peri, Generals in the Cabinet Room: How the Military Shapes Israeli Policy (Washington, D.C.: US Institute of Peace Press, 2006) p.125. 34 . Cohen, Israel and Its Army, p.48. 35 . Ibid. 36 . Eado Hecht, “Low-intensity Wars: Some Characteristics of a Unique Conflict,” in Hagai Golan and Shaul Shai (eds) The Limited Conflict (Tel Aviv: Maarachot, 2004) pp.45–68; Col. Shmuel Nir, “The Nature of the Limited Conflict,” in Golan and Shai (eds) The Limited Conflict , pp.19–45 [Hebrew]. 37 . Col. (res.) Yehuda Wegman, “Israel’s Security Doctrine and the Trap of ‘Limited Conflict,’” Jerusalem Viewpoints no. 514, Jerusalem Center for Publics Affairs (March 1, 2004). 38 . Amir Oren, “IDF to Share Its Anti-terrorism Expertise with Pentagon,” Haaretz (October 14, 2001). 39 . Amos Harel, “Disquiet on the Eastern front,” Haaretz (August 20, 2004). 40 . Col. (res.) Yehuda Wegman, “Israel’s Security Doctrine and the Trap of ‘Limited Conflict,’” Military Technology , 29:3 (March 2005) pp.88–96. 41 . Adamsky, Culture of Military Innovation, pp.103–04. 42 . Author interviews with senior IDF officers, January 2013; also, Col. Meir Finkel and Eitan Shamir, “From Whom Does the IDF Need to Learn?” Maarachot , no. 433 (October 2010) pp.28–35 [Hebrew]. 43 . Lt.-Col. (res.) Ron Tira, The Limitations of Standoff Firepower-based Operations, Memorandum no. 89 (Tel Aviv: INSS, March 2007). 44 . Gen. Dan Haloutz, “21st Century Threats Facing ISRAEL,” Jerusalem Issue Brief , 3:16, Jerusalem Center for Public Affairs (February 3, 2004). 45 . Author interviews with IDF officers, (January–July 2012). 46 . For a good narrative of the war, Amos Harel and Avi Issacharoff, 34 Days: Israel, Hezbollah, and the War in Lebanon (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2008). 47 . Benjamin Lambeth, “Air Operations in Israel’s War against Hezbollah ” (Santa Monica, CA: RAND, 2011) pp.29–30; Harel and Issacharoff, “34 Days ,” pp.91–92. The Israeli Revolution in Military Affairs 111

48 . Marcus, “Military Innovation and Tactical Adaptation in the Israel-Hizballah Conflict,” pp.20–23. 49 . Cohen, Israel and Its Army, pp.50–52. 50 . Mazal Mualem, “Former Israeli Defense Minister: IDF Must Cut Its Ground Forces,” Al-Monitor (June 6, 2013). 51 . Winograd Commission , chapter 7 (paragraph 4) pp.267–68. 52 . Ibid., chapter 11 (paragraph 58) p.407. 53 . Ibid., chapter 7 (paragraph 20) p.273. 54 . Winograd Commission , English Summary (paragraphs 8–12). 55 . Brig.-Gen. Itai Brun, “Trends in the IDF Maneuver Concept,” Lecture at the conference “Land Warfare in the 21st Century,” Institute for Land Warfare Studies: Latrun, Israel (September 16, 2008). 56 . Brig.-Gen. Itai Brun, “‘While You’re Busy Making Other Plans’: The ‘O-RMA,’” Journal of Strategic Studies , 33:4 (August 2010) pp.535–65. 57 . Lt.-Col. (res.) Ron Tira, The Nature of War: Conflicting Paradigms of Israeli Military Effectiveness (Eastbourne: Sussex Academic Press, 2010) pp.109–23. 58 . Author interview with IDF officers. For two perspectives on Hezbollah’s mode of warfare, Frank Hoffman, Conflict in the 21st Century: The Rise of Hybrid Wars (Arlington, VA: Potomac Institute for Policy Studies, 2007); Stephen Biddle and Jeffrey Friedman, The 2006 Lebanon Campaign and the Future of Warfare: Implications for Army and Defense Policy (Carlisle, PA: Strategic Studies Institute, 2008). 59 . A longer-term analysis based on nine years of near-total silence from Hezbollah since the war may yield a more positive assessment of the 2006 War. 60 . Eliot A. Cohen, “Change and Transformation in Military Affairs,” Journal of Strategic Studies , 27:3 (September 2004) p.402.

6 The Russian Response to the RMA: Military Strategy towards Modern Security Threats Andrey Sushentsov

While the conceptual seeds of the so-called Revolution in Military Affairs (RMA) were actually planted in the 1970s in the Soviet Union – and known as the “Military Technological Revolution” or MTR 1 – the Russian response to changes in (largely Western) military strategy have been mixed. This is because Russia has spent the past two decades seeking to balance the importance of stable strategic relations with the United States, NATO and increasingly China, while at the same time addressing myriad “unconventional” military problems along its extensive land borders, particularly in the Caucuses and Central Asia. The result has been a continuity in Russian military doctrine since 1987 and especially since 1993, which has sought to emphasize both the importance and modernization of its strategic forces – particularly nuclear weapons – for deterrence purposes, while at the same time deal with a number of conflicts and problems within its “sphere of influence.” Since the first demonstration of RMA-type thinking during the 1991 Gulf War, Moscow has grown increasingly concerned about the increasing sophistication of Western military forces, and the worry that Russian forces are lagging behind. Russian military reform over the past two decades has, therefore, been driven by a desire to close the gap between Russian and Western military capabilities, in order to minimize these concerns and ensure credible deterrence. At the same time, Russia has sought to transform to new standards of warfare based on the principles of high mobility, high speed, and precision-guided capabilities as well as pursuing military tactics aimed at disorganizing, confusing and attacking an enemy’s will to fight, rather than seeking total destruction. The recent crisis in the Ukraine – and particularly the use of “hybrid”

112 The Russian Response to the RMA 113 or “information warfare” techniques – provides a perfect example of this transition. However, this alteration has also undoubtedly further complicated relations between Russia and NATO, although it seems that concern in the West is as much about how Russia has acted in the Crimea – and as some suspect, is currently acting in Donbass – and not necessarily about the underlying motives of Russia policy. Accordingly, the combination of Russian military history, the Soviet legacy, growing concerns about NATO conventional forces – particularly in the wake of the 1991 Gulf War, and the increasing security requirements along Russia’s extensive land borders – not to mention the economic problems of the 1990s – have all been central dynamics shaping the Russian response to the Revolution in Military Affairs. The result is that while Russia has sought – and is seeking to adopt much of the RMA logic and transformation, this currently remains unfulfilled, and has been over- shadowed by other more pressing requirements. In order to assess how Russia understood, thought about and ultimately responded to the burgeoning Revolution in Military Affairs, this chapter proceeds in three sections; (1) considers the key drivers of Russian military thinking, including its national history, the growth of problems across its long land borders and the concern about the US, NATO and China; (2) traces the evolution of Russian military thinking from the Gorbachev era to the present, and explains how this has remained largely consistent over time; and (3) considers Russian military modernization plans and the new embrace of “hybrid warfare.”

The context of Russian military thinking and policy

Russian approaches to the RMA have been shaped on the basis of the historical experience of its own conflicts, especially the activities of the guerrilla movement in the Great Patriotic War, counteractions against guerrilla tactics in Afghanistan and Chechnya, as well through observations of the Color revolutions in Georgia, Ukraine and Kyrgyzstan in 2000s. Contrary to perceptions held in the West – especially with the ongoing crisis in the Ukraine – Russian military strategy, including its latest edition, has been focused on defense and avoidance of any military conflict. The unique characteristics of the Russian state are a key factor of its fragility and vulnerability, and this distinguishes it from its European and North American counterparts. This is perhaps where the core of mutual misunderstanding lies. In order to clarify the logic of Russian military strategy, a brief overview of the objective conditions on the state of development in Russia is needed. 114 Andrey Sushentsov

Russia has its own military tradition that differs from general European experience. The country has the longest land borders and one of the lowest population densities in the world. Throughout history these factors have forced Moscow to rely both on large manpower and the most advanced far-reaching weapons of the time. Indeed, in Russia the military-industrial complex has tended to be far more advanced than the overall economy, and therefore Moscow quickly learned how to mobilize people and resources for defense. The absence of natural obstructions against invaders historically pushed Russia into creating artificial barriers (for example, the Zasechnaya Cherta or Great Abatis Border in the Middle Ages). In places where this was not possible, Russia relied on the concept of “buffer zones” through abstaining from set-piece battles, exercising tactical retreats and imposing exhausting marches along boundless plains in order to win time for a coup de grace . Russia is a European country, but a not typical one. Indeed, the Russian center of gravity is in its European part, where 78% of the population shares 23% of the country’s territory and produces around 70% of the GDP. 2 But if we compare Russia to other countries in Europe, we will note a number of distinguishing features. Among all the developed countries Russia has an extremely low population density (8.4 people per square km against an average 130 people per square km in Europe). 3 Historically, long distances between built-up places, absence of natural barriers against invasions, vulnerable communications, a northern climate and short sowing time have been common in Russia. Large parts of the territory are not suitable for farming, and key production centers are far from energy resources. At the same time the Russian government has to ensure security and common social standards in healthcare and education throughout 11 time zones – from Magadan to Kaliningrad. Finally, Russia’s industrialization took place between the 1920s and the 1940s on conditions of a planned – not market – economy. And the economic transformation back to the market model has been slow and painful for today’s Russia. These factors make the state of the country inherently fragile, complicates production of marginal product, and slows down social changes. As Russian historian Vladimir Soloviev rightly noted in the 19th century “geography is a step-mother of Russian history.” 4 Russia’s statehood, with an emphasis on the centralization of resources shaped through centuries, is quali- tatively different from the classic market states of Europe. As such, Russia’s concern over security is more intense than that of European states, and this concern is exacerbated by the threats emerging from its neighboring states. The Russian Response to the RMA 115

Since the early 2000s, the risk of Russia’s involvement in low-intensity military conflict has been on the increase. Destabilization of numerous parts of the lengthy Russian border has led Moscow to assert its military presence in its neighborhood more vigorously. There are Russian military bases in regions with a high potential of conflict, such as South Ossetia, Abkhazia, Moldova, Armenia, Azerbaijan, Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan. Russia is involved in domestic processes in Afghanistan and Ukraine and cannot afford to let the situation in the latter run its course. An outbreak of a conflict on the Korean peninsula or in Iran would inevitably lead to Russian limited participation as well. Indeed, in recent times, the Russian leadership has been expanding into the regions where Moscow sees the necessity of its military presence to secure national interests. Not only does it cover the neighborhood areas, but also the regions that were indirectly in the Soviet political and economic sphere of influence during the Cold War. In 2013, the Russian leadership suggested placing Russian peacekeeping forces in the Golan Heights on the Syrian-Israeli border.5 There have been talks about opening an air force base on Cyprus close to the Russian naval base in the Syrian port city of Tartus. In addition to that, Nicaragua and Venezuela have suggested that Moscow install military bases on their territory. Russian peacekeeping troops participate in many United Nations operations, and have operated in the zone known as the Commonwealth of Independent States; a region which saw intense military and civil conflicts in 1990s, and where Russian troops assisted in securing the peace in these still “frozen” conflicts. Any reduction of Russian military presence in the neighboring countries is highly improbable. On the contrary, there is a general trend towards increasing its presence beyond Russia’s immediate neighborhood. Thus, the spectrum of opportunities for Russian involvement in a military conflict as a peacekeeper or a status quo guarantor is growing. Lastly, Russia watches the development of US and leading NATO members’ military programs with great anxiety. Along with the quantita- tive asymmetry of capabilities between itself and the Western countries, Moscow is experiencing great concern about the potential qualitative superiority of Western armaments over the Russian ones. In the course of conflicts in Yugoslavia, Iraq, and Libya, NATO forces achieved total superiority over their adversaries mostly due to their technologically more advanced arms and command and control systems. This has encouraged Russia to reform its own military forces so that they are adequate to face the challenges of modern wars, characterized by high mobility, high speed, precision-guided capabilities, and pursuing aims 116 Andrey Sushentsov not of total destruction of the opponent, but of disorganizing the adversary’s powers, and demolishing their will to resist through affecting their control and communication systems. The first and foremost goal for Moscow in these circumstances is to prevent military superiority over Russia by means of maintaining its strategic nuclear forces at a state of high readiness and increasing the quality of its conventional forces and their combat potential. In the state rearmament program for 2012–20, whose approximate cost is planned to be $600 billion (US), modernization of the strategic missile forces stands as the second highest priority. In 2015 four new missile units equipped with 50 modern missile systems were placed on duty. Two strategic ballistic missile submarines “Vladimir Monomakh” and “Alexander Nevskiy” have been introduced into the Navy’s standby force, and in the long-range aviation capability of the air force, the serviceability of the air fleet has reached 80%.6 In response to the US and NATO development of new types of weaponry capable of efficient precision-guided strikes on targets deep inside an adversary’s territory, Russia has been working on creating precision-guided munitions and Global Strike capabilities of its own. 7 Apart from that, Moscow has initiated the establishment of a joint air defense system with Minsk. The program is to be implemented by uniting forces with Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan as well so as to cover all the states of the Collective Security Treaty Organization (CSTO) in the future. According to the senior military leadership, preparatory work on creating a collective anti-missile defense system within the CSTO space is also underway.

The evolution of Russian military doctrine

The two common features of the Russian Military Doctrines of 1987, 1993, 2000, 2010 and 2014 is their defensive nature and the growing attention paid to the so-called Revolution in Military Affairs (RMA) phenomena. Despite widespread belief in the West, the key thesis of Russian Doctrine is to avoid conflicts and manage disagreements peacefully. In cases where a conflict cannot be prevented, the Doctrine states that Russia localize and neutralize military threats. Political, diplomatic and other non-military settlement is defined as preferable at both global and regional levels. The current Russian Military Doctrine can be traced back to documents of the late Soviet era, and particularly to the military strategy that was outlined by Mikhail Gorbachev in 1988. A key component of this The Russian Response to the RMA 117 is Russian reliance on its status as a leading nuclear weapons power to contain aggression against itself and its allies – the CSTO states (Belarus, Armenia, Kazakhstan, Tajikistan and Kyrgyzstan) as well as Abkhazia and South Ossetia. There are also informal security guarantees that Russia provides for Transnistria and Donbass. Among its highest priorities in international relations, Russia sees ensuring equal dialogue on European security with the EU and NATO, and supporting construction of a new security model in the Asia-Pacific based on the principles of collectivity and nonalignment. Local border conflicts are considered the main causes for use of Russian military forces. Indeed, as Russian Joint Staff Head Valeriy Gerasimov has pointed out: “Large-scale wars may not be denied, and we cannot afford to be unprepared for them. But today the highest threat for the country is coming from conflicts in our neighbourhood.”8 The distinguishing feature of Russia’s understanding of defense in the last twenty years has been the realization of the existing asymmetry of capabilities between itself on the one side and NATO states on the other. For this reason, Moscow has been consistently, and notwithstanding any circumstances, modernizing its strategic nuclear forces, allowing for the ability to deter a potential conflict between Russia and the West. The maintenance of strategic parity with the west, and particularly the US, is the key element of the Russian Military Doctrine. Accordingly, recent efforts by the US and its allies to pursue and build regional anti- missile defense systems or to implement the concept of (a potentially disarming) Global Strike program are perceived with real concern and strong resistance in Russia. The contemporary Russian military concept is rooted in the Military Doctrine of the Warsaw Pact states of 1987 . 9 This document took shape in conditions of roughly equal parity in military capabilities between NATO and the Warsaw Pact. However, unlike previous Soviet doctrines, it proclaimed the renunciation of confrontation, reflecting the international political environment at that time, as well as the commitment of the Soviet leadership of Mikhail Gorbachev to “new political thinking,”10 which called for fundamental revision of the problem of war. In 1985 the Soviet-US negotiations on limiting nuclear and space weapons met with great success, which encouraged the two states, first, to restrain and then – to bring an end to the arms race. Later, in 1986, during the 27th convention of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union, Gorbachev’s initiative on creating a universal system of international security was also received with strong support.11 In these circumstances the Soviet leadership proposed the complete abolition of nuclear weapons. The 118 Andrey Sushentsov

1987 Intermediate-Range Nuclear Forces Treaty was a step towards this goal.12 With the ongoing decrease in the intensity of confrontation between the Western and the Socialist blocs the objective of reaching a strategic balance at the lowest level possible was set. The 1987 Soviet Military Doctrine for the first time stressed its defensive character – unprecedent- edly, it lacked the term “potential enemy.” It also set as its main objective “to prevent war.” The text read that under no conditions would the Warsaw Pact states initiate a war against any other state or a group of states, unless they themselves become a victim of military aggression. Additionally, the Warsaw Pact states declared their commitment to not using nuclear weapons first. International disputes were to be settled peacefully and by political means exclusively. Soviet military defense was established on the principle of “sufficiency” to prevent leaving a nuclear attack unpunished. The “sufficiency” principle for conventional weaponry involved having military forces and equipment in sufficient quantity and quality to ensure collective security. The limits of “sufficiency” were set by the US and NATO actions. The Warsaw Pact states did not seek more security than NATO, however, they did not want to put up with any less security than that of NATO and opposed any military superiority over themselves. The Doctrine stated that the strategic military parity remained the key factor in preventing war. In the 1970’s and 1980’s, Soviet scholars were the first ones to identify that a new range of technological innovations presents a fundamental discontinuity in the nature of war. In the USSR this phenomenon was labeled Military-Technical Revolution. Later, the Soviet approach to these transformations in military affairs would be analyzed by the US, becoming the intellectual inspiration for the Revolution in Military Affairs concept. 13 Soviet and Russian strategists thus had an unparal- leled advantage in reviewing the 1991 Gulf War and the American talk of a RMA. A new Russian Military Doctrine was adopted in 1993 – two years after the collapse of the Soviet Union. 14 The document was a product of a different epoch, when Moscow started showing its first signs of dissatisfaction with the results of the way the Cold War had ended. The international environment, as well as the internal conditions in Russia, went through fundamental and largely negative changes. Most notably, by 1993, Moscow’s hopes for equal participation in the major apparatus of international security regulation slowly faded away, and the Russian leadership returned to considering its military forces as an instrument for The Russian Response to the RMA 119 implementing policy. Russia was left alone to face an escalation of local conflicts in its neighborhood – in Abkhazia, South Ossetia, Transnistria, Nagorno-Karabakh and Tajikistan. However, the 1993 Doctrine was still based on the key principles of Gorbachev’s 1987 Doctrine; for instance, the term “potential enemy” was not used. Moreover, shortly before the adoption of the 1993 Doctrine, Russia and the US signed the Strategic Arms Reduction Treaty (START) I 15 and START II 16 nuclear arms control treaties. The focus of the new Russian Military Doctrine shifted towards internal threats with nationalist and separatist organizations, whose actions aimed at internal destabilization. The 1993 document, the same as the current Military Doctrine, stated that the key threats for international peace and stability are local and armed conflicts. Another threat mentioned in the Doctrine was the enlargement of military blocs and alliances to the disadvan- tage of Russian military security. In other words, Russian disapproval of NATO expansion was explicitly mentioned for the first time. Still Russia intended to respond to these challenges by means of preventing war. The 1993 Doctrine retained the defensive nature proclaimed in 1987 and made clear its intention of not starting military actions first, and instead taking the first hit from an adversary on its territory. Apart from that, Russia’s regional priorities, which would later become far more important, were set for the first time. These were, namely, “securing stability in the Russian neighborhood ... and in the world in general.” 17 Meanwhile, the Doctrine abandoned the nuclear no-first-use principle and proclaimed its right for a first nuclear strike should such a need arise. Nuclear weapons were seen not as an instrument to be used in military actions, but as a political containment tool against the growing threat from the West. Still the “reasonable sufficiency” principle remained – the Doctrine claimed the need to maintain the military potential on the level that could allow Russia to adequately react to the existing and developing threats. Seven years later – in 2000 – a new edition of the Military Doctrine was approved.18 The document preserved its defensive character, but at the same time reflected Russia’s growing concern over its vulnerability in the face of emerging conflicts within its immediate neighborhood. For the first time Russia stated its position on RMA, which Moscow had been observing for some time from afar, particularly since the 1991 Gulf War. The unfavorable international and internal environment was weighing heavily on the country’s leadership. With the First Chechen War lost and a new one beginning, Russia was struggling to prevent the state from collapsing. In the meantime, NATO started its 120 Andrey Sushentsov expansion and launched a military operation in Yugoslavia, which was strongly opposed by Moscow with the Russian leadership experiencing for the first time what it is like to be an object of Western aggression. Nonetheless, as Vladimir Putin came to power, Russia initiated a number of proposals on cooperation with NATO.19 It started to look like – at least for a short time – Russian membership or at least greater participation in the Alliance was a likely possibility. Indeed, the 2000 Military Doctrine remained essentially defensive in character. It read that, Russia

... is consistently committed to peace, however, [the country] is prepared to take decisive measures to secure its national interests and guarantee military security for the Russian Federation and its allies. 20

The key objectives for ensuring Russia security, according to the Doctrine, were in prevention, localization and neutralization of military threats with political, diplomatic and other non-military instruments. The document reiterated Russia’s right of the use of nuclear weapons in response to the use of nuclear and other weapons of massive destruction against itself and its allies, in addition to a large-scale aggression carried out by means of conventional weapons “if it poses a threat to the national security.”21 The main military threats for Russia in the new Doctrine were essentially a restatement of the theses of the 1993 document. The most prominent of these being the enlargement of military alliances’ that endanger Russian military security (i.e. NATO) as well as the activities of extremist, nationalist, religious, separatist and terrorist movements and organizations. The US and NATO policies towards European security were criticized and defined as destabilizing factors. In particular, Moscow saw the NATO operation in Yugoslavia as an effort to weaken the existing mechanisms for ensuring international security, namely the UN and the Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe (OSCE), and to ignore the universally accepted principles and norms of international law – the notion that later became the leading idea in Russian foreign and defense policies. The 2000 Military Doctrine was the first one to give a detailed overview of the Russian stance on RMA. It stated the current international trend of enhancement of means and instruments of armed fighting, its increasing spatial scope and spread into new spheres. In this context, new threats were identified that consisted of aggressive actions aimed at hindering the functioning of strategic nuclear capabilities, and the building of missile warning, missile defense and space control systems. The Russian Response to the RMA 121

In addition to this, the term “information aggression” was introduced. 22 These ideas became an integral part of the Russian Military Doctrine that would be developed in other later military documents. In order to counter these threats, the 2000 Doctrine set the priority of implementing a complex program of military reform that would concentrate on the introduction of innovative command and control systems, as well as precision-guided munitions and mobile non-nuclear weaponry. Russia’s commitment to its sovereignty in weapon production and its intention to strengthen its scientific, technical and resource independency in developing and producing major types of armaments were also reflected in the Doctrine. The contemporary Military Doctrine was adopted in 201023 and then specified in parts in 2014.24 These two documents belong to the period of revival for Russian military forces and their first use in twenty years, which happened in the Georgian-Ossetian conflict in 2008. This war provided another painful experience for the Russian military since the brief conflict showed many shortages in military organization, equipment and outdated concepts of warfare. In fact, 2007, when the Russian military first started to receive new armaments, is considered to be the date of reference for the new epoch, but in 2008 the impact of this change was still to be fully felt. Previously, the only equipment the military received were intercontinental ballistic missiles – the step aimed at maintaining combat-ready Russian strategic nuclear forces for the last resort containment of possible conflicts. The gradual increases in Russian military capabilities did not change the defensive nature of its military doctrine, even as the focus of the new documents shifted towards unconventional threats and new ways of responding to them by means of the RMA-type thinking. The sources of these unconventional threats are both terrorist activities and acts of aggression, including latent forms of these on the part of unfriendly states. The new Doctrine points out that military dangers and threats are likely to emerge primarily from the information space and within Russian territory itself. At the same time, the list of military threats proposed by the 2014 edition of the Doctrine remains almost unchanged, and includes the classic theses on aggravation of the military-political situation in the neighboring states and the hindering of state and military control systems and strategic nuclear forces. Special attention is drawn to the main characteristics and distinguishing features of the modern military conflict largely influenced by RMA. The Doctrine argues that today’s wars are waged with the complex use of military, political, economic, 122 Andrey Sushentsov information and other non-military instruments, including the use of the protest potential of the population and special operations. 25 Among the main features of military action, the documents mention massive use of precision-guided munitions, hypersonic weapons, electronic warfare, and weapons based on new physical principles, compa- rable to the nuclear weaponry in its effectiveness, as well as unmanned aerial and autonomous marine machines and controlled robotic weapons and military equipment. 26 The doctrine clearly states its priority in the sphere of military building, which is strengthening centralization and automation of military command and transforming the exclusively hier- archical system of command into universal network automated control systems. The 2010 and 2014 documents for the first time state Russia’s readiness for “hybrid armed conflicts” and the use of indirect and asymmetric modes of action. For instance, they point out the potential of creating permanent war zones on the territories of adversary states and the participation of irregular armed groups and private military companies. The Doctrine also mentions the phenomena of the widespread use of political groups and social movements financed and controlled from outside among the main characteristics of the modern conflict. 27 The concrete military threats for Russia are seen in the US policies of realizing the Global Strike concept, Washington’s intention to place weapons in outer space, in addition to the deployment of strategic non- nuclear systems of precision-guided weapons. Moscow considers these actions as damaging to global stability and the existing balance of power in the missile and nuclear field. 28 The Color Revolution experiences in the post-Soviet space are also reflected in the documents. The Doctrine states that there is a possibility of the use of information and communication technologies for political and military causes in order to undermine the sovereignty and territorial integrity of states. Among the listed threats, the documents mention establishing unfriendly regimes in the Russian neighborhood in the result of toppling legitimate authorities of states.29 The latest 2014 edition of the Military Doctrine for the first time includes the term “non-nuclear deterrence,” which implies measures to prevent aggression against Russia by means of non-nuclear instruments and, mainly, the use of precision-guided munitions. 30 At the same time, it points out that mutual nuclear containment and strategic parity have not lost their urgency. Russia reiterates its right for the first nuclear strike in response to the use of nuclear and other weapons of massive destruction against itself and its allies, as well as aggression carried out with the The Russian Response to the RMA 123 use of conventional weaponry in cases when “it poses a threat to the existence of the state.”31 The Doctrine has the most detailed overview in twenty five years of the Russian approach to military development and the modernization of military forces guided by the notions of “a new face” and the RMA. The technological independence of Russia in the sphere of arms production, the preservation of state control over the defense industry and its objects of strategic importance, development of military and civil critical technologies that will encourage technological breakthroughs to create fundamentally new kinds of weapons – are set as priorities.

The rearmament program, 2010–20 and “Hybrid warfare”

Russia’s State Armaments Program 2020 was approved in December 2010.32 Its main objective is to increase the amount of modern arms and military equipment in the Russian forces by up to 70% by 2020. To meet this requirement, a sum of 20.7 trillion RUB (approximately $600 billion (US)) was assigned, with 19 trillion aimed at re-equipping the army, the navy and air force. Almost 70% of the expenditures will cover the purchase of arms and the other 30% will be distributed among scientific research and weaponry repair organizations. According to former Deputy Defense Minister Vladimir Popovkin, in the early 2010s modern equipment accounted for less than 10% of all weapons platforms. 33 In contrast, for the militaries of leading western states, the share of modern weaponry is much higher, often between 30% and 50% of the total. The other two main objectives of the armament program (apart from increasing the share of modern equipment to 30% by 2015, and to 70% by 2020) are the development of nuclear deterrence forces, air and space defense systems, communication systems, unmanned aerial vehicles, robotic strike systems, precision-guided munitions and the means to counter it, as well as the development of the naval forces in the Arctic and the Far East. If this rearmament program is implemented in full by 2020, Russian military forces are to receive the following replenishment 34 : (1) ground forces – 2300 tanks, 2000 artillery systems, 10 brigade sets of “Iskander-M” tactical missiles, nine brigade sets of S-300V4 army air defense systems, more than 30 thousand units of automotive vehicles; (2) the Navy – eight “Borei” SSBN and 120–130 “Bulava” SLBM’s, eight multi-purpose “Yasen,” submarines, eight non-nuclear submarines, 51 surface ships, including 14 frigates and 25 corvettes; (3) the Air Force – 600 aircraft and 1000–1100 helicopters; (4) the Strategic Rocket Forces – 270–280 IDB “Yar’s” missiles; (5) new solid-fuel ICBMs 124 Andrey Sushentsov and new liquid heavy ICBMs will also be developed, and; (6) Space Defense Forces – 56 battalions of S-400, 38 battalions of S-500, an integrated management system of aerospace defense will be created, four “Voronezh” radars and about 100 spacecraft will be commissioned. If the plans are implemented in full, the existing Russian tank fleet of 31 infantry brigades and four armored brigades of ground troops, as well as a significant part of the army aviation helicopters will also be fully renovated. The deployment of 10 brigades of Iskander tactical nuclear missiles will allow for the removal from service of roughly 100 of the existing obsolete “Tochka-U” missiles and a threefold increase the total number of tactical missiles. Accordingly, the goals of the rearmament program 2020 suggest creating arms aimed at waging noncontact wars and increasing mobility of general-purpose forces. Geographically, wars of this kind are possible in the zones of highest priority to Russia, which is the country’s neighborhood. The key objective of developing nuclear deterrence forces indicates Moscow’s desire to preserve the strategic parity with the US and to prevent the occurrence of parity with China. The tactics employed by Russian troops in Crimea in March 2014 sparked debates in the western media and among experts about the new “hybrid war strategy” that Russia has mastered and is allegedly using. Observers noted the outline of a conflict involving non-military methods, which are outside the scope of a classic military confrontation. However, it seems that Western experts rushed into giving the Russian troops credit they did not necessarily deserve. In January 2013 in Moscow a general meeting of the Academy of Military Sciences was held, where Chief of the General Staff of the Russian Armed Forces, General Valeriy Gerasimov delivered a speech presenting the Russian stance on modern wars and the RMA. 35 His speech has been widely cited to illustrate the new Russian approach to “hybrid war” – although these citations started to spread only after the Crimean events 2014. Clearly, the Western observers quoting “Gerasimov’s Doctrine” are missing the point, for after his outlook on the existing approaches to the RMA in the world the General concluded:

We have to admit that with our deep knowledge of conventional warfare with participation of regular forces – we know little about asymmetric forms and methods of conflict.36

Gerasimov’s report was to a large extent an outlook of the Western experience of military actions in Europe and the Middle East, as well as the Color Revolutions in the post-Soviet sphere. It emphasized the The Russian Response to the RMA 125 increasing role of non-military methods in achieving political and strategic goals, and stated that in a number of cases these were considerably more efficient and powerful than conventional use of arms. It also stressed that the emphasis of military actions had shifted towards wide exploitation of political, economic, information, humanitarian and other non-military methods aimed at sparking protest potential of population.37 Using NATO operations in Yugoslavia and Libya as an example, in addition to the Georgian and Ukrainian Color Revolutions to make his point, Gerasimov explained that non-military pressure campaigns are frequently combined with covert military activity, such as information confrontation and use of special operations forces. He especially stressed the spread of asymmetric actions that help to compensate for an adversary’s superiority in the armed struggle, which he identified with the use of special operations forces and the inner opposition aimed at creating a permanent battle front on the adversary’s territory.38 Special attention was drawn to information confrontation that offers great opportunities to reduce the combat potential of the enemy. Gerasimov noted that in the course of the Arab Spring in North Africa technologies affecting state structures and population by means of information networks were used. He called for the Russian armed forces to “enhanc[e] their actions in the information space” in order to protect their own institutions. 39 Russian Defense Minister Sergey Shoygu had also mentioned the use of “information” as a weapon: The day has come when we all have to admit that a word, a camera, a photo, the internet and information in general have become another type of weaponry, another branch of armed forces. In different periods in the past this kind of weaponry played different roles in various events of our country – both in defeats and victories.40 The prime goal of Valeriy Gerasimov’s report was to raise the question of what should be the Russian armed forces’ response to the perceived achievements of the western RMA. While he did not answer these questions directly, he was essentially asking – What is modern war like? What should the army be prepared for? What equipped is required? Interim answers for Russia were formulated in a rather modest manner with Gerasimov basing his explanations on the guerrilla experiences of the Great Patriotic War and fighting irregular units in Afghanistan and the North Caucasus. He also mentioned some of the disappointing results of the peace enforcement operation in Georgia in 2008. Basing his arguments on the facts of the American consulate attack in Benghazi in September 2012, intensifica- tion of pirate actions and hostage taking in Middle Eastern countries, 126 Andrey Sushentsov

Gerasimov stressed the necessity to build a system of armed defense on state interests abroad.41 However, the greatest concern for the Chief of General Staff was caused by the perception that the military front had shifted to the information and outer space dimensions. The use of precision-guided munitions, weapons based on new physical principles and robotic systems make up the core difficulty for the reform of the Russian military. Gerasimov identified the completion of building of the US global anti-missile defense system and the implementation or the Global Strike concept among the points of major concern, as permanent disposition of combat-ready groups of NATO states in the key regions of the world enables them to launch strikes on any part of the globe in a very short time. As a way to deter and prevent modern and “hybrid” military conflicts, Gerasimov outlined the concept of “strategic deterrence measures.” It is based on political, diplomatic and foreign economic activity closely connected to the military, information and other existing actions. The program’s main objective is to enforce the idea of futility of any forms of pressuring Russia and its allies on potential adversaries. Today Russian groundwork in the sphere of RMA is not advanced and does not exceed the foreign experience. The Russian leadership itself feels the asymmetry of capabilities between Russia and NATO acutely, and strives to level it out with the Russian military doctrine. At least part of this is by developing “hybrid threats” to preserve its defensive nature, but it is also dependent upon modernizing its strategic nuclear forces.

Conclusion

Contrary to Western assessments, Russian Military Doctrine remains essentially defensive at its core and stems from Russia’s realization of its vulnerability to external pressure; particularly concerns about the US and NATO. Current Russian discussions regarding future conflicts with Moscow’s participation are reflected in the 2014 Military Doctrine, a massive rearmament program (2010–20) and technological and organizational changes to the Russian military. The aim is to maintain Russia’s independence in global affairs mainly through deterring conflict with NATO and building a constructive partnership with China. This secures Russia’s position as a guarantor of stability in its neighboring regions, especially in the Caucasus’ and Central Asia. At the same time, facing low-intensity conflicts in the North Caucasus’s, on the Tajikistan border with Afghanistan and now on the Ukrainian border, Russia is also The Russian Response to the RMA 127 developing its rapid-response forces and precision-guided munitions systems. Since the main opportunities for its own development are within Russia, and the key threats to its security are coming from within its immediate “neighborhood,” Moscow’s principal objective is to block any external negative influence from the West and China, and abstain from involvement in lengthy confrontation with these “strategic” rivals. The key sources of external threats to Russia remain unchanged; they include Islamism stemming from Syria and Iraq, drug trafficking from Afghanistan, potential escalation over Nagorno-Karabakh, North Korea or Iran, and the civil war in Ukraine. However, the concurrent priorities of maintaining strategic stability in relations with the US while addressing these problems is forcing Moscow to modernize its military forces, military industries, global navigation and space communication systems. With the response to external threats taking much of its resources, Russia needs to preserve its ability to project power and influence developments in its neighborhood – otherwise its national development is in danger. By 2020 Russia will cease its efforts to salvage the “Soviet legacy” within the Commonwealth of Independent States (CIS) countries. After the collapse of the Soviet Union, the core infrastructure elements vital to Russia (pipelines, railways, sea ports, military bases, spaceports and manufacturing facilities) were left in Ukraine, Belarus and Kazakhstan. In the last twenty years, Russian foreign policy has been driven by the goal of securing key Soviet critical infrastructure and taking these out of the control of states unfriendly to Moscow. In contrast, friendly countries – like Belarus, Kazakhstan and Armenia – have become pref- erential partners and allies. Meanwhile, Russia has been striving to weaken its dependence on Ukraine through building alternative pipelines bypassing the Ukrainian territory, a new navy base for the Black Sea fleet in Novorossiysk and transferring military procurement orders from Ukrainian to Russian factories. After taking back Crimea, Russia no longer has any vital interests beyond its borders – Baikonur spaceport in Kazakhstan, cargo ports in the Baltics, railway lines in Belarus are not objects for Moscow claims. The only reason for Russian intervention in the post-Soviet-space states may be the threat of extermination of Russian communities abroad. In all the other cases Russia will try to avoid getting involved in conflicts in its neighborhood. Moscow trusts its investments in developing the military forces and their adaptation to the guiding principles of the RMA to preserve the strategic parity with the US and NATO states in the future. Essentially, by deterring 128 Andrey Sushentsov confrontation with the West, Russia is trying to free up some resources to counter more urgent threats to its security coming from within its immediate neighborhood.

Notes

1 . Adamsky, “Through the Looking Glass,” pp.257–94. 2 . Russian Federation. The World Bank World Development Indicators. http:// data.worldbank.org/country/russian-federation 3 . Population density (people per sq. km of land area). The World Bank World Development Indicators. http://data.worldbank.org/indicator/EN.POP.DNST 4 . S.M. Soloviev, “History of Russia from Earliest Times,” Volume 1. M., 1959. 5 . Ivan Zakharchenko, “Churkin: Rossiia mozhet napravit,” na Golany okolo 300 mirotvortsev [Churkin: Russia may send around 300 troops to the Golan],” RIA Novosti , June 8, 2013. Accessed on July 10, 2013, http://ria.ru/ arab_riot/20130608/942203812.html 6 . “Kollegiia Minoborony: mery po razvitiiu Vooruzhennykh Sil pozvoliat ne dopustit,” voennogo prevoskhodstva SShA i NATO nad Rossiei [Defense Ministry board: measures on military forces development will allow to avoid the US and NATO superiority over Russia],” Ministry of Defense of the Russian Federation. Accessed on April 16, 2015, http://function.mil.ru/ news_page/person/more.htm?id=12006755@egNews 7 . “Kollegiia Minoborony: mery po razvitiiu Vooruzhennykh Sil pozvoliat ne dopustit,” voennogo prevoskhodstva SShA i NATO nad Rossiei [Defense Ministry board: measures on military forces development will allow to avoid the US and NATO superiority over Russia] 8 . “Rossiiskaia armiia gotova k krupnomasshtabnym voinam [Russian army is prepared for large-scale wars],” Academy of Military Sciences of the Russian Federation. Accessed on April 15, 2015, http://www.avnrf.ru/index.php/ vse-novosti-sajta/497-rossijskaya-armiya-gotova-k-krupnomasshtabnym- vojnam 9 . “O voennoy doctrine gosudarst-uchastnikov Varshavskogo dogovora, Berlin, 29.05.1987 [On Military Doctrine of Warsaw Pact States, Berlin, 29.05.1987].” Accessed on April 14, 2015, http://russia.bestpravo.ru/fed1991/data02/ tex13851.htm . 10 . “Vystuplenie General” nogo sekretaria TsK KPSS M. S. Gorbacheva na 43-i sessii General” noi Assamblei OON (7 dekabria 1988) [Speech of Secretary General of the Central Committee of the Soviet Union Communist Party M.S. Gorbachev, 43rd session of the UN General Assembly, December 7, 1988],” United Nations Radio. Accessed on April 16, 2015, http://www. unmultimedia.org/radio/russian/archives/60834/ 11 . Mikhail Gorbachev, “Politicheskii doklad tsentral” nogo komiteta KPSS XXVII s”ezdu kommunisticheskoi partii Sovetskogo Soiuza [Political Report of the Central Committee of the Soviet Union Communist Party, 27th Convention of the Soviet Union Communist Party],” in Izbrannye rechi i stat”i [Selected speeches and articles], Vol. 3, Moscow: Politizdat, 1987. Accessed on April 16, 2015, http://www.lib.ru/MEMUARY/GORBACHEV/doklad_xxvi.txt The Russian Response to the RMA 129

12 . “Dogovor mezhdu Sovetskim Soiuzom Sovetskikh Sotsialisticheskikh Respublik i Soedinennymi Shtatami Ameriki o likvidatsii ikh raket srednei del”nosti i men”shei del”nosti [The Treaty Between the United States of America and the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics on the Elimination of Their Intermediate-Range and Shorter-Range Missiles],” United Nations Documents. Accessed on April 16, 2015, http://www.un.org/ru/documents/ decl_conv/conventions/pdf/treaty.pdf 13 . Adamsky, “Through the Looking Glass,” pp.257–94. 14 . “Ukaz Prezidenta Rossiiskoi Federatsii ot 2 noiabria 1993 g. No 1833 «Ob Osnovnykh polozheniiakh voennoi doktriny Rossiiskoi Federatsii» [Decree of the President of the Russian Federation “On fundamentals of Military Doctrine of the Russian Federation,” November 2, 1993, No. 1833],” Consultant Plus document base. Accessed on April 16, 2015, http://base. consultant.ru/cons/cgi/online.cgi?req=doc;base=EXP;n=226933 15 . “Dokumenty, sviazannye s dogovorom SNV-1 [Documents connected to the START I],” Center for Arms Control, Energy and Environmental Studies. Accessed on April 16, 2015, http://www.armscontrol.ru/start/rus/docs/ start-11.htm 16 . “Dogovor mezhdu Rossiiskoi Federatsiei i Soedinennymi Shtatami Ameriki o dal”neishem sokrashchenii i ogranichenii strategicheskikh nastupatel”nykh vooruzhenii (SNV-2) [Treaty between the United States of America and Russia on the Reduction and Limitation of Strategic Offensive Arms (START II)],” Center for Arms Control, Energy and Environmental Studies. Accessed on April 16, 2015, http://www.armscontrol.ru/start/rus/docs/dogovor.htm 17 . “Ukaz Prezidenta Rossiiskoi Federatsii ot 2 noiabria 1993 g. No 1833 «Ob Osnovnykh polozheniiakh voennoi doktriny Rossiiskoi Federatsii» [Decree of the President of the Russian Federation “On fundamentals of Military Doctrine of the Russian Federation,” November 2, 1993, No. 1833].” 18 . “Voennaia doktrina Rossiiskoi Federatsii. Utverzhdena Ukazom Prezidenta Rossiiskoi Federatsii ot 21 aprelia 2000 g. [Military Doctrine of the Russian Federation. Approved by decree of the President of the Russian Federation, April 21, 2000],” Nezavisimaia Gazeta, April 22, 2000. Accessed on April 16, 2015, http://www.ng.ru/politics/2000–04–22/5_doktrina.html 19 . “V. V. Vystuplenie, Putina na sovmestnoi s Dzh. Bushem press-konferentsii. Shankhai, 21 oktiabria [Vladimir Putin”s Address at the joint press-conference with George Bush. Shanghai, October 21],” Diplomaticheskii Vestnik [Diplomatic Bulletin] (November 2001). Accessed on April 16, 2015, http:// www.mid.ru/bdomp/dip_vest.nsf/99b2ddc4f717c733c32567370042ee43/f4f 77b7fd65c4225c3256b290041b257!OpenDocument 20 . “Voennaia doktrina Rossiiskoi Federatsii. Utverzhdena Ukazom Prezidenta Rossiiskoi Federatsii ot 21 aprelia 2000 g. [Military Doctrine of the Russian Federation. Approved by decree of the President of the Russian Federation, April 21, 2000],” Nezavisimaia Gazeta, April 22, 2000. Accessed on April 16, 2015, http://www.ng.ru/politics/2000–04–22/5_doktrina.html 21 . Ibid. 22 . “Voennaia doktrina Rossiiskoi Federatsii. Utverzhdena Ukazom Prezidenta Rossiiskoi Federatsii ot 21 aprelia 2000 g. [Military Doctrine of the Russian Federation. Approved by decree of the President of the Russian Federation, 130 Andrey Sushentsov

April 21, 2000],” Nezavisimaia Gazeta, April 22, 2000. Accessed on April 16, 2015, http://www.ng.ru/politics/2000–04–22/5_doktrina.html 23 . “Voennaia doktrina Rossiiskoi Federatsii. Utverzhdena Ukazom Prezidenta Rossiiskoi Federatsii ot 5 fevralia 2010 g. [Military Doctrine of the Russian Federation. Approved by decree of the President of the Russian Federation, February 5, 2010],” Official Site of the President of Russia. Accessed on April 16, 2015, http://www.kremlin.ru/supplement/461 . 24 . “Voennaia doktrina Rossiiskoi Federatsii. Utverzhdena Ukazom Prezidenta Rossiiskoi Federatsii ot 26 dekabria 2014 g [Military Doctrine of the Russian Federation. Approved by decree of the President of the Russian Federation, December 26, 2014],” Rossiiskaia gazeta , December 30, 2014. Accessed on April 16, 2015, http://www.rg.ru/2014/12/30/doktrina-dok.html 25 . Ibid. 26 . Ibid. 27 . Ibid. 28 . Ibid. 29 . Ibid. 30 . “Anatoly Antonov: poborot” terrorizm mozhno tol”ko kollektivno [Anatoly Antonov: terrorism can only be defeated by joint effort],” RIA Novosti, April 11, 2015. Accessed April 16, 2015, http://ria.ru/interview/20150411/1057976975. html 31 . “Voennaia doktrina Rossiiskoi Federatsii. Utverzhdena Ukazom Prezidenta Rossiiskoi Federatsii ot 26 dekabria 2014 g [Military Doctrine of the Russian Federation. Approved by decree of the President of the Russian Federation, December 26, 2014].” 32 . “Podpisan Ukaz o realizatsii planov razvitiia Vooruzhennykh Sil i moderni- zatsii OPK [Decree signed on realization of plan for the development of the armed forces and modernization of the military industrial complex],” Official site of the President of the Russian Federation. Accessed on April 17, 2015, http://kremlin.ru/events/president/news/15242 33 . “V novoi Gosudarstvennoi programme vooruzheniia prioritet otdan vysoko- tekhnologichnym obraztsam [In the new state armament program the priority is given to precision-guided munition],” Natsional”naia oborona : 3, March, 2015. Accessed on 17 April 2015, http://oborona.ru/includes/peri- odics/maintheme/2011/0314/21345724/detail.shtml 34 . Alexander Mozgovoi, “Bolezni rosta i kurs na Tsusimu [Developmental disorder and a path to Tsusima],” Nezavisimoe Voennoe Obozrenie [Independent Military Outlook] , June 14, 2013. Accessed on April 17, 2015, http://nvo.ng.ru/concepts/2013–06–14/1_tsusima.html , Alexey Arbatov, “Protivoraketnaia filosofiia [Anti-missile philosophy],” Nezavisimoe Voennoe Obozrenie [Independent Military Outlook] , May 31, 2013. Accessed on April 17, 2015, http://nvo.ng.ru/concepts/2013–05–31/1_contr_rockets.html, Alexey Arbatov, “Vooruzhat”sia rachitel”no i s umom [To arm zealously, but reason- ably],” Voenno-promyshlennyi kurier [Military industrial Courier]: 14 (482), April 10, 2013. Accessed on April 17, 2015, http://vpk-news.ru/articles/15337 , Mikhail Barabanov, “Po samoletam plany grandioznye [Our plans for planes are huge],” Voenno-promyshlennyi kurier [Military industrial Courier], 2 (470), January 16, 2013. Accessed on April 17, 2015, http://vpk-news.ru/articles/13976 , “Programma vooruzheniia RF do 2020 g reshit problemu PRO The Russian Response to the RMA 131

SShA – Minoborony [Russian armament program until 2020 will solve the US ABM problem],” RIA Novosti, October 7, 2012. Accessed on April 17, 2015, http://ria.ru/defense_safety/20121007/768567589.html 35 . Gerasimov, “Tsennost” nauki v predvidenii [The value of science is in foreseeing],” Voenno-promyshlennyi kurier [Military industrial Courier]: 8 (476), January 27, 2013. Accessed on 17 April 2015, http://www.vpk-news. ru/articles/14632 36 . Ibid. 37 . Ibid. 38 . Ibid. 39 . Ibid. 40 . “Shoigu nazval zhurnalistiku moshchnym vidom vooruzhennykh sil [Shoigu called journalism a strong type of military power],” Interfax , March 27, 2015. Accessed on April 17, 2015, http://www.interfax.ru/russia/432737 41 . Valeriy Gerasimov, “Tsennost” nauki v predvidenii [The value of science is in foreseeing],” Voenno-promyshlennyi kurier [Military industrial Courier]: 8 (476), January 27, 2013. Accessed on 17 April 2015, http://www.vpk-news. ru/articles/14632

7 RMA and India: Nothing Revolutionary about It Harsh V. Pant & Yogesh Joshi

The anarchic nature of international politics foments both competition and socialization among the constituent units. States in geo-strategic competition with the United States are developing asymmetric capabilities to counter American advantages; states with no major conflicts with the US are largely emulating the American model for establishing supremacy in local and regional contexts. At the same time, unlike the first two decades after the end of the Cold War when the international political structure was largely unipolar, US power is now under strain. A number of emerging powers in the world are competing with the US for economic, geo-strategic and military influence. Therefore, examining how individual states are transforming militarily is critical to understanding war and peace in the 21st century. The response of emerging powers to the changing nature of warfare also helps us understand their evolving thinking on the use of force in international and regional politics. Based on an extensive analysis of the Indian military elite’s thinking on the subject and structured interviews with key Indian defense planners, this chapter examines India’s response to the changing nature of contemporary warfare. There has not been a systematic study on how Indian thinking on this issue has evolved in recent decades. This chapter strives to fill this vacuum, especially as India is now considered as one of the emerging powers in the world. It is the world’s third largest economy and is among the top five global military spenders, with a total defense budget for the year 2013–14 of $36.3 billion. 1 Between 2007 and until 2017, it is expected to spend approximately $220 billion on defense modernization; $100 billion between 2007 and 2012 and another $120 billion between 2012 and 2017.2 India boasts an impressive military profile with the world’s second largest standing military force and

132 RMA and India: Nothing Revolutionary about It 133 possesses a nuclear capability with intercontinental ballistic missiles and nuclear submarines. It is also a major power in space, possessing an advanced capability in ballistic missile defense. A study conducted by the US National Intelligence Council in 1999 predicted that India, along with Russia and China, would be the first to emulate the US-led change in modern warfare.3 Given India’s military profile and its penchant for various accoutrements of modern military power, Indian military commanders and thinkers have accepted the necessity of adapting to the new face of warfare, arguing that “it is futile –and indeed, self-defeating – to attempt to remain unaffected by a revolution.” 4 There is hope that given the rapid changes in India’s polity, economy and society, “it is entirely in the realm of possible for India to graduate to the new concept” of warfare and to “acquire and exploit the technologies/resources required for the same.” Though India may not be able to emulate the US fully, it may just be at the cusp of its own version of a “revolution” which may be “typically Indian” in construction.5 This chapter is divided into three sections. (1) We delineate the debate in India over the Revolution in Military Affairs (RMA) with a special focus on the implications of the advent of nuclear weapons for the South Asian military environment. Indian military strategists have sought in RMA an escape from South Asia’s nuclear parity following the nuclear weapons tests in 1998. (2) Investigate how the Indian military has sought to avail the opportunities provided by the changing character of warfare in redesigning its military doctrines, postures, modernization plans and organizational structures to tip the balance of power in India’s favor. (3) We conclude that despite India’s nascent steps towards adapting to the changing nature of Western warfare, the process remains slow and far from producing any significant change the in Indian military’s way of operating.

India and the RMA – the initial debate

The 1991 Gulf War had a significant impact on the Indian military mind. The lessons of the war, such as battlefield transparency, use of PGMs and information dominance through communication and software integration, as well as the impact of globalization and privatization in logistics outsourcing, were and are readily debated by high-ranking officials in the military. 6 That the technological revolution in warfare dominated the military’s thinking was evident in countless articles in military journals as well as dissertations written at the National Defence 134 Harsh V. Pant & Yogesh Joshi

College. Indeed, the lessons of the Gulf War were clear for most Indian observers: “sooner or later, it is the side having the technological edge in war which is going to win.”7 Notwithstanding India’s slow progress in military R&D and limited financial resources, it was hoped that the West’s technological advantage would inevitably be assimilated due to globalization, “it was not possible to isolate one part of the world from the influence of global technological development.”8 Financial limitations could also be overcome by approaching the RMA selectively: rather than copying the West in its entirety, India should look towards a “home-spun” version of the RMA, “tailored to meet our needs and within our resources” which should be able to “give us a distinct decisive edge over our adversary.” 9 However, much of this debate and optimism remained confined to the military, with little impact on official policy. It was only in 2004 that the Indian Ministry of Defence first acknowledged the new reality in global military affairs:

The US-led wars in Kosovo, Afghanistan and Iraq have demonstrated US military power and willingness to use it unilaterally ... and heralded a worldwide revolution in military affairs using new technologies, notably information and communication, sensors and satellites and precision guided munitions. 10

The Indian Army’s new doctrine also underscored the need to incorporate elements of the RMA. In the foreword to the Indian Army Doctrine 2004 , then Indian Army chief, Gen N.C. Vij, accepted that: “Like all other major modern armed forces, the Indian Army has been considerably influenced by the Revolution in Military Affairs.” 11 In fact, this doctrine contained a separate section on the RMA and explicitly discussed the role of information warfare, increased battlefield transparency as well as situational awareness, reduction in reaction time, and enhanced mobility on future battle space. The following year the Indian Ministry of Defense suggested that the RMA should be viewed as an attribute of great power status in the world. 12 Approximately fifteen years after the first Gulf War, the Indian defense establishment was waking up to the impact of RMA in global balance of power. It had taken a lot of time for the Indian defense establishment to accept the reality of the changing nature of war. There were several reasons for this. (1) Even as much changed in the Western practice of warfare, India’s primary security challenges remained the same: defending Indian Territory by conventionally deterring RMA and India: Nothing Revolutionary about It 135

Pakistan and dissuading China. Being a status quo power, India’s strategic culture has always prioritized defense over offense. 13 The notion of an RMA, therefore, didn’t fit very well in India’s military posture, at least for the political decision-makers. Moreover, for the political leaders, India had fared well in all its military campaigns since its defeat in the Sino-Indian war of 1962, so there was no real need to re-examine the basic tenets of India’s warfighting doctrine or strategy. (2) The Indian military was also extensively involved in inherently manpower-intensive counter-insurgency operations. The demands for manpower, especially in policing troubled frontiers, had always conflicted with the necessity to make the force leaner and lethal by incorporating elements of ongoing technological revolution. For example, even when the Indian military was considering cutting force levels in the late 1990s to create funds for modernization, it had to increase manpower by adding six light infantry divisions to tackle insurgency in Kashmir. 14 As a high-ranking Indian army official wrote in 2002, “two decades of low intensity conflict has ushered in a back to basics syndrome in the army ... the dominant credo is to ‘forget the fancy stuff and focus on section level fire and movement.’” 15 In fact, many in the military were arguing that tasking the defense forces to deal with the entire spectrum of conflicts ranging from high-intensity conventional wars to counterinsurgency and internal conflicts as well as peacekeeping operations, “adds complexity to moving towards building an RMA enabled military.” 16 (3) Resources for modernizing the military were at a premium. In the first decade after the end of the Cold War, India’s defense budget shrank from 3.17% of the GDP to 2.31%.17 Most of the defense budget was consumed by non-capital expenditure such as salaries and pensions; there were hardly any funds available for modernization. India’s primary source of military technology – the Soviet Union – had also vanished, and India was yet to find new sources. All these factors hindered India’s adaptation to the changing nature of warfare. However, this was soon to change as India conducted a series of nuclear tests in 1998 that had far-reaching consequences for the manner in which Indian defense planners were forced to re-conceptualize warfighting.

The nuclear revolution

By the end of the 20th century a number of events motivated the Indian military to initiate a process of adapting to the changing nature of 136 Harsh V. Pant & Yogesh Joshi warfare. (1) The 1998 nuclear weapons tests changed India’s deterrent calculations. For many strategic thinkers, India, by overtly declaring itself a nuclear weapon state, had relinquished the advantage of its conventional military superiority over Pakistan as “conventional deterrence had been subsumed by nuclear deterrence.” 18 The nuclear deterrent in the absence of effective delivery vehicles provided little comfort for India’s national security needs. (2) The Kargil War of 1999 validated these criticisms. Emboldened by the nuclear umbrella, Pakistan’s military became even more risk prone than usual, initiating a limited land- grab exercise in the Kargil sector of Indian Kashmir.19 Fought under the nuclear shadow, India confined its military action to within its borders and successfully pushed out the infiltrators in a two-month-long military campaign, but only after incurring substantial casualties. This conflict laid bare the technological, doctrinal and organizational deficiencies plaguing the Indian military: its chronic shortage in cutting edge technology such as night vision equipment, laser range finders, weapon locating radars or the precision-guided munitions (PGMs); a lack of jointness of operations between the army and the air force; and the nation’s ineffective system of higher defense decision-making.20 Therefore, if for some military analysts, Kargil was an apt reminder of the fact that India had not put “the revolution (in military affairs) to good use,”21 while others expressed disappointment at debating RMA when even “Indian armed forces cannot induct relevant equipment and weapons in the right time.” 22 In the aftermath of the conflict, an official investigation revealed many serious deficiencies in India’s war machinery.23 (3) Just over two years after the Kargil War, a major crisis erupted again when Pakistan-sponsored terrorists attacked the Indian Parliament in December 2001. In an act of coercive diplomacy, India amassed more than half a million of its troops along the international border in what was called Operation Parakram .24 This “mobilization model” was prem- ised on an expectation that India’s large conventional power could be leveraged against Pakistan. However, slow mobilization not only allowed Pakistan to counter-mobilize, but also meant that international diplomatic pressure grew for India to retract. The logistics behind mobilization also revealed major lacunae in India’s defense preparedness: India lost close to 800 soldiers during mobilization.25 The cost to the exchequer was also colossal: approximately $2 billion was spent on the mobilization alone.26 Nine months later, India demobilized with only a rhetorical assurance from Pakistan not to support terrorism against India. 27 RMA and India: Nothing Revolutionary about It 137

In search of a strategic response

The nuclear revolution in the sub-continent ended up tying Indian strategy in knots. Even though conventionally stronger, India could not bring to bear its power on Pakistan for fear of nuclear escalation. Pakistan, on the other hand, was effectively using the nuclear shadow to foment sub-conventional war in India’s troubled region of Jammu and Kashmir. Operation Parakram laid bare the fact that the “mobilization model” as an answer to Pakistan’s proxy wars had failed miser- ably. India was clearly struggling to provide an answer to the reality of nuclear weapons in the sub-continent.28 Pakistan had effectively created a triad of asymmetry against India: “asymmetry in strategy (use of religious ideology to wage war against India), target (territorial integrity of India) and force (religiously indoctrinated jihadis and other specialist elements).” 29 Punishing Pakistan for its sub-conventional adventurism without allowing the conflict to graduate to a nuclear war gained priority in Indian military thinking.30 In the wake of the Kargil War, Indian defense planners started arguing for the possibility of a limited conventional war as the only resort to punish Pakistan for its sub-conventional adventure in Jammu and Kashmir.31 If traditional military practice of large standing armies and wars of attrition had been subsumed by nuclear deterrence, the threat of use of nuclear weapons has also become less and less credible, especially once the “RMA had created conventional asymmetries that can be exploited on the battlefield.”32 Limited wars, therefore, necessitated incorporating elements of the RMA. In 1999, in an attempt to upgrade its conventional fighting capabilities, the Indian army conceptualized a plan called “Model 4B” for the modernization of all of its 350 infantry battalions in order to be better equipped for counterinsurgency operations. Simultaneously, through a more ambitious analysis of its future trajectory, titled “Force Structure 2015,” it aimed to transform the service into a “lean, mobile and technologically oriented force” through induction of Network Centric and Electronic Warfare capabilities in the next fifteen years.33 This increased appetite for conventional superiority was not only intended for conventional deterrence and dissuasion of the enemy. It was also related to the Indian army’s nuclear strategy as the Indian army wanted to enhance its conventional edge so as to raise the threshold of a nuclear confrontation with both Pakistan and China. 34 The experience in mobility differential during Operation Parakram further strengthened this idea: the need for the Indian army was to increase its conventional asymmetry vis-a-vis Pakistan by “ushering 138 Harsh V. Pant & Yogesh Joshi in the next RMA in the sub-continent.”35 The RMA was to “help India to be more punitive” in a nuclear environment and was also considered an answer to China’s growing conventional military strength. 36 Insofar as India’s aim was only to defend the status quo, the RMA would allow balancing China at low force levels.37 This entailed rapid military modernization with a focus on acquisition of modern platforms and network centric capabilities. Doctrinally, it demanded a clear depar- ture from prioritizing attrition to effects-based warfare. It also entailed closer integration of the three services and joint operations leading to “parallel wars” or “swarming” the enemy, rather than each of the three services fighting their own individual battles. This necessitated restructuring of India’s higher defense organization leading to more efficient decision-making and a reduction of friction among the three services. As the Indian Army Doctrine of 2004 argued, the RMA had “necessitated a transformation in strategic thinking along with a paradigm shift in organization and conduct of operations.”38 However, it is important to acknowledge that even when reflections on the Kargil War and other conflicts pushed the Indian military towards incorporating elements of the RMA and forced it to rethink its military priorities, three other factors prodded India to open up to new possibilities in warfare: (1) was the new-found wealth of the Indian state. If economic liberalization pursued after the end of the Cold War had dried up the funds for military modernization in the last decade of 20th century, by the middle of the first decade of the new century the Indian economy was growing at over 9%.39 This allowed India to invest in rapid military modernization. (2) Post-1998, India’s ties with the US gathered momentum and defense cooperation between the two states became increasingly important. In 2004, the two states signed a defense cooperation agreement followed by a maritime cooperation agreement in 2006. The defense cooperation agreement entailed wide ranging defense partnerships in areas such as missile defense, space and nuclear. 40 After the Next Steps in Strategic Partnership (NSSP) was signed, this defense partnership increased manifold and in the last decade the US has sold Harpoon missiles, Poseidon maritime patrol aircraft and transport lift aircraft such as the C-130J Super Hercules tactical airlifter and the C-17A strategic airlifter. Growing defense cooperation with the US also entailed socializing with accouterments of American power including its military and the way US fought its wars. 41 (3) China’s military modernization, especially its efforts to modernize its military to fight “local wars under informationized conditions,” also forced India’s military planners to adapt to the RMA. 42 The “asymmetry RMA and India: Nothing Revolutionary about It 139 of technology” in the field of cyber space, missiles and space warfare necessitated an Indian response. India took a considerable amount of time to wake up to the reality of the changing nature of warfare. However, over the last decade, the RMA and its implications have received sustained attention from Indian military planners, in fact, there is now a senior level officer of the level of Deputy Assistant Director of Integrated Defence Staff who solely focusses on the RMA within the Headquarters of the Integrated Defence Staff. 43 This focus is also evident from the changes in capabilities, doctrines and organizational structures of the Indian military.

Assessing India’s response – military modernization

India’s defense modernization plans gathered pace after the 1999 Kargil War and Operation Parakram ,44 and since 2002, all defense plans have emphasized the need to incorporate major platforms as a first step towards an RMA. India is buying most of these off-the-shelf from foreign vendors with conditionality of technology transfers for future indigenous production. Recent defense acquisition patterns suggest that the military has moved away from a threat-based approach to capacity-based approach. This capacity-based approach to defense planning has emphasized building necessary capabilities, not only to operate and dominate the entire spectrum of conflict, but also to provide flexibility to decision- makers in selecting an optimum military strategy while facing multiple contingencies.45 However, specific threats vis-a-vis Pakistan, China and internal security still inform military preparedness and therefore, India’s current approach can be called “a partial capability based defense planning system.”46 In 2007, F-INSAS (futuristic infantry soldier as a system) – one of the biggest programs ever in infantry modernization – was undertaken by the army with the objective of transforming the force “into fully networked, digitized, self-contained 21st century warriors,” similar to the US Army’s Future Force Warrior initiative. 47 The aim is to convert the “future infantryman” into a “sensor” rather than a “deliverer of firepower,” with indirect precision firepower from a variety of sources providing the latter.48 The process involves not only meeting the long- lasting demand for an innovative rifle system for India’s infantry but also equipping it with night vision capability, thermal, chemical and biological sensors, allowing combat in a Nuclear, Biological, Chemical (NBC) environment, helmets integrated with heads-up display, palm top GPS systems and cutting edge communications enabling battlefield 140 Harsh V. Pant & Yogesh Joshi transparency.49 Modernization of the army’s armored forces is gaining pace with the induction of two regiments of indigenously built Main Battle Tanks (MBT) Arjun as well as import of 310 T-90 MBTs from Russia. Although artillery performed well in the Kargil War, the conflict also underscored the need to refurbish artillery guns for its aging fleet. Acquisition of self-propelled 155-mm ultra-light guns is also underway and will enhance the army’s firepower delivery considerably. The navy’s modernization program, like that of the army, is also platform centric. In the last two decades, the navy’s size has increased by 30% making it the third largest in Asia after Japan and China. Under the five year defense plan for 2012–17 and the Long Term Integrated Plan (LTIPP) 2012–27, the “Indian navy is aiming to induct more than 90 fighting platforms in the next ten years.” 50 It aims to move towards a three aircraft carrier force: INS Vikramaditya (previously Admiral Gorshkov) joined the force in 2013 and India’s first indigenously built aircraft carrier is expected in 2017. Yet another indigenous aircraft carrier – INS Vishal – is on the drawing board. In addition, India is also planning to build six indigenously developed nuclear submarines over the next decade. Airborn maritime surveillance platforms, especially the P-8I Poseidon, have been acquired from the US, with the Indian Navy becoming the first force in the world to do so. However, additional modern platforms notwithstanding, major technological changes have also accompanied the Indian Navy’s transformation from a brown- water navy to a blue-water navy. The Indian navy has been constantly upgrading its missile capabilities and marine propulsion technology used in indigenously designed ships. 51 Development of sea launched missiles such as Sagarika, BO-5 and K-15 will add further to the Navy’s current missile capabilities. With the launch of its first nuclear submarine, nuclear propulsion may be replicated not only for attack submarines currently under development but also in future surface ships of all classes. Though the sanctioned strength of the Indian Air Force is 40 fighter squadrons, the force level currently stands at 34. 52 This disparity is mainly the result of decommissioning older aircraft like the MiG-21s and MiG-27s. However, the acquisition process has been initiated to raise the strength to 42 squadrons by 2022. It has been suggested that if India has to make a transition to 21st century warfare, it must have an air force of around 60 squadrons with mostly 4th and 5th generation fighters. Currently, French-built Mirage and Jaguars and Russian MiG-29s and Su-30 MKI are the workhorses of the air force. France’s Rafale fighter aircraft will join the force as the aircraft was selected for RMA and India: Nothing Revolutionary about It 141 the Medium Multi-Role Combat Aircraft (MMRCA) contract by India, and India’s indigenously built Light Combat Aircraft (Tejas) will replace the ageing fleet of MiG-21s. In 2007, India signed an agreement with Russia for joint development of 5th generation fighter aircrafts.53 The Air Force’s strategic lift capability has been augmented by the purchase of C-130J Super Hercules and C-17 Globemaster aircraft from the US. Early warning radar systems have been procured from Israel. Unmanned Aerial Vehicles (UAVs) have attracted the attention of the Indian defense establishment and all three services are investing in them. 54 UAVs such as Searcher 1 and 2 and Heron, Harpy and Harop were acquired in the 1990s from Israel and employed by both the army and the navy, while the first indigenously build UAV – Lakshya – was inducted into the air force in 2000. 55 India’s Defence Research and Development Organisation (DRDO) is presently involved in developing a number of indigenous UAV systems.56 Beyond the reconnaissance and surveillance that they are currently tasked with, in the future UAVs are also likely to be used “for asymmetric application in dealing with terrorists, militants and left wing extremists.” 57 However, given the sensitivity of democracies towards the use of such platforms, doctrinal clarity will be a must. Networks have come to define the character of war in the 21st century and ideas pertaining to NCW have gained traction among Indian military thinkers. 58 Five years after the Kargil War, the Indian Army created the Director General Information Systems in May 2004 tasked to “meet the challenges of modern battlefield.” 59 This initiated development of multiple levels of command, control and information systems: Army Strategic Operational Informational Dissemination System (ASTROIDS) for communications between command headquarters and operational commands; Tactical Command Control Communication and Information System (TACC3I) for field formations and Command Information Decision Support System (CIDSS) for communications between corps and divisional commanders. These systems are designed to enable collecting, collating, filtering, processing, formatting all levels in a field force. Additional systems such as Battlefield Surveillance System (BSS) are being employed to “enable commanders to take decisions within a time frame” which will “provide the decisive edge between victory and defeat.” Artillery Combat Command and Control Systems (ACCCS) required for “automating the operational aspects of artillery functions from crops down to the battery” and Situational Awareness and Tactical Handheld Information (SATHI) that included Geographical Information System, Global Positioning System and wireless networking 142 Harsh V. Pant & Yogesh Joshi for the infantry especially in Counter Insurgency Operations are also being planned.60 The army claims that “all Operational Information System Projects” are in various stages of implementation and by 2017, the army will be fully “net-enabled.” 61 Simultaneously, the air force has also been working hard to evolve in this age of NCW. In 2003, plans were drawn for Integrated Air Command, Control and Communication System (IACCCS) and the existing Air Defence Ground Environment System (ADGES) was upgraded. 62 The same year the Navy Wide Network, to ensure data and connectivity across surface vessels, was initiated and was completed in 2006.63 Integration of these individual service networks through a Defence Communication Network – “a prestigious tri-service project has also been initiated and is at an advanced stage.” 64 Space is also now an important part of the operational thinking of the Indian military. The air force received its first experimental surveillance satellite called the Indian Remote Sensing Technical Experimental Satellite (IRS-TES) in 2001.65 This was a result of navigational problems it had confronted during the Kargil War. The Navy and the Indian Space Research Organisation (ISRO) have developed a Naval Communication Satellite – GSAT-7 – intended for maritime surveillance of the Indian Ocean Region. 66 For navigation precision, India has begun working on a dedicated satellite-based augmentation system called GPS-Aided Geo-Augmented Navigation (Gagan) that enables greater region specific accuracy and provides significant capability for military operations.67 India is also developing a number of space assets such as military reconnaissance satellites of SANJAYA series. Some military analysts have also suggested creating a specialized “space force” for India’s defense needs.68 Indian Special Forces too have garnered the attention of all three services mainly due to the fear of 4th generation warfare fomented by Pakistan inside Indian territory. India’s experience of using Special Forces has been primarily limited to counterinsurgency.69 Taking a cue from their employment during the 1st and 2nd Gulf wars, as well as in Afghanistan, many in the Indian defense establishment have started arguing for their role in all kinds of conflict scenarios including limited strikes against terrorist hubs and other conflicts outside of Indian territory.70 All three services have their own specialized commando units, over and above those that exist within the central police forces and state police. The combined strength of India’s Special Forces is actually much greater than the US Special Forces.71 Even as the focus of Indian military planners has been on augmenting capabilities, debates on its doctrinal implications could not be ignored. RMA and India: Nothing Revolutionary about It 143

Doctrinal evolution: the army versus the air force

The most eloquent expression of the changing nature of Indian military thinking can be located in the doctrinal debates over the last decade and a half. In general, one major doctrinal push argued by the vota- ries of change in India’s military strategy was to move away from the logic of defense to one of offense. “An army that wishes to fight a fully defensive battle,” as a noted Indian strategist observes, “cannot utilize the RMA.” 72 The critique of this defensive mind set reached fever pitch after the Kargil War, and especially the 2002–03 Operation Parakram . In fact, the Force Structure 2015 plan discussed earlier had suggested major force restructuring through infusion of offensive capabilities in the Indian Army’s holding corps.73 Pakistan’s use of nuclear cover to foment sub-conventional/proxy war by holding India’s conventional superiority hostage to its nuclear capability led to an official articula- tion for the need to fight limited wars in order to punish Pakistan for its intransigence. Given that it privileges offense and initiative over defense and reactionary policies, a limited war approach was considered alien to India’s strategic culture as well as its military history. Limited wars would therefore “demand of India a new style of war-fighting that it has been uncomfortable with and which historically it has been relatively incapable of.”74 The answer to India’s new-found military needs were to be found in speed and technology. And as has been aptly pointed out, “if India is to prosecute such wars – fast, decisive yet limited – it will have to invest in new technology and new operating skills from new doctrines and concepts.”75 It was against this background that the Indian Army announced its new doctrine in April 2004. The three strike corps based in India’s hinter- land were now to be converted into eight division-sized Integrated Battle Groups (IBGs). 76 The IBGs were a combination of mechanized infantry, armor and artillery with emphasis of integrated firepower and swift manoeuver. It also sought close air support from both the air force and the navy for firepower mobilization. Rather than fighting a full-scale conventional war, IBGs would make a shallow territorial ingress into Pakistan. The limited nature of these offensives would allow India not to cross the nuclear threshold while simultaneously punishing Pakistan for its proxy wars. If the doctrine intended to change the structure of army’s offensive force, it also suggested infusing elements of offense in its defensive formations called the pivot corps. One of the major changes that accompanied the defense formations was making them firepower-intensive rather than manpower-intensive: additional armor 144 Harsh V. Pant & Yogesh Joshi and artillery was sought for these formations so as to relieve manpower for offensive operations. This doctrine later came to be known as the “Cold Start.” The new doctrine sought to address the problems confronted by the army between 1999 and 2003. (1) By converting its lugubrious and unwieldy strike corps into smaller integrated battle groups (IBG’s), the army addressed the problem of the “mobilization differential” it had confronted in Operation Parakram . By mobilizing quickly, as the IBG concept intended to, India could press for surprise both against Pakistan and also the international community. (2) This new doctrinal push suggested that the Indian Army had now institutionally accepted the logic and necessity of a limited war. And (3), it also meant that the defense dominated strategic culture had undertaken an offensive make- over.77 As far as integration and jointness of operations with other services was concerned, the Indian Army was moving towards some of basic principles embedded in the concept of the RMA, which was mentioned explicitly in the 2004 doctrine. Notwithstanding the army doctrine of 2004, the air force promulgated its own doctrine first in 1995 and later revised it in 2007; although neither of these are in the public domain. In 2012, a revised doctrine was made public which clearly underscored the air force’s preference for effects-based operations over attrition-based warfare as it underlined that “functional paralysis is more desirable than the physical destruction of target systems.” 78 The focus is on “air power’s ability to create strategic outcomes without transiting territories on ground” which allows it to be the “primary instrument of choice” for punishing the enemy.79 This is in opposition to the army’s “Cold Start” doctrine that emphasizes narrow thrusts across the enemy territory and privileges holding of territory. For Indian air strategists, “deterrence against large scale conventional and nuclear war is best provided by the air force.” 80 Even in terms of deterring Pakistan from initiating a sub-conventional war against India, the air force considers itself the primary instrument of punishment, providing various options to Indian decision-makers. As one chief of air operations puts it, the air force “provides greater flexibility in choice of operating bases, selection of targets, target systems and geographical area of operations,” especially when the need is to “carry the conflict across the border or the Line of Control.”81 Moreover, even some in the army have accepted the fact the air force does not suffer from a “mobilization differential” vis-a-vis options offered by the army.82 Among all the three services, the Indian Air Force has learned and argued the implications of the RMA most clearly, articulating its niche RMA and India: Nothing Revolutionary about It 145 in all offensive operations. Reminiscent of the “shock and awe” strategy, the thrust is around producing “effect-based operations” around an enemy’s centers of gravity, which are increasingly coterminous with its government machinery, informational and communication nodes, and power production facilities: “air power has transcended the levels of attrition and maneuver warfare to effects-based operations to inflict strategic dislocation and achieve strategic effect.” 83 For the Indian Air Force, any underutilization of the air assets in producing these strategic effects and from waging an “effects-based operation” would be highly undesirable. These doctrinal differences between the services, however, remain largely unresolved.

Integration and jointness

Issues related to integration and jointness in military effort took center- stage among the Indian defense planners after the Kargil War. The RMA cannot occur substantively unless it is accompanied by a joint and integrated approach as it necessitates integration of effort and resources among the military services as well as fosters efficiency especially when financial resources are at a premium. 84 For many in the Indian defense establishment, the US is an apt example of this integrated approach to military operations, where integration among the services was heralded by the US Congress through Goldwater-Nicholas Act of 1986. In the wake of the Kargil War, the Indian government had constituted a group of ministers to review the national security system in its entirety. Their report, titled “Reforming the National Security System” was submitted to the Prime Minister in February 2001. Fostering integration and jointness among the three services was one of the major recommendations of this report and accordingly, the Headquarters Integrated Defence Staff (HQ-IDS) headed by the Chief of Integrated Staff to the Chairman, Chiefs of Staff Committee was set-up in October 2001. Its mandate was to “coordinate long range plans, five year plans and annual budgetary proposals for the three services, rendering advice to the government on prioritization for developing force levels and capabilities through restructuring acquisition programs and budget proposals and formu- lating joint doctrines in consultation with service headquarters, policy and programs on joint employment and joint planning and military education, and ensuring required jointness in armed forces.”85 India’s first tri-service command – the Andaman and Nicobar Command – established in October 2001 was followed up by a strategic forces command to supervise India’s nuclear arsenal in 2003. 146 Harsh V. Pant & Yogesh Joshi

In 2006, the HQ-IDS issued the military’s first-ever joint doctrine. Though the doctrine is a classified document, Indian strategists argued that “evolution of the joint doctrine could not have been but influenced by the RMA.” 86 A number of joint doctrines were released subsequently: Joint Doctrines for Defence Forces in 2007; Joint Doctrine for Amphibious Operations in 2008, and Doctrine for Joint Employment of Special Forces 2008. Since then more than ten joint doctrines on areas such psychological operations, sub-conventional warfare and space have been promulgated.87 The HQ-IDS, to put into practice these joint doctrines, had also started conducting joint exercises. In 2007, the HQ-IDS launched the Joint Space Defence Vision 2020 to create a single point contact for all space related activities of the tri-services. In August 2007, the first-ever joint think-tank of the Indian defense forces – the Centre for Joint Warfare Studies – came into existence. The Indian military has, in recent years, taken some nascent steps towards improving jointness but it will need a much more concerted attempt to exploit the full value of the RMA. A restructuring of the higher defense organization is needed to take this forward.

Higher defense organization

After the Kargil War, the Indian government constituted a high level expert committee called the Kargil Review Committee (KRC) to look into the causes and lessons of the conflict.88 Among other things, the KRC found many loopholes in India’s higher defense organization and strongly recommended the need to initiate major reforms in the defense structure. The KRC report underscored two major lacunae in the higher defense structure. (1) As service headquarters were only attached offices to the MoD, it made the civilian bureaucracy act as an intermediary between the political decision-makers and military officials leading to inefficient defense policy-making. (2) The Chief of Staff Committee was not able to reduce the turf war between the three services. Following the KRC, a Group of Ministers (GoM) also made similar recommendations.89 It recommended that armed forces headquarters should be integrated with the Ministry of Defence for better formulation of planning and execution of policies, and the formation of the Chief of Defence Staff (CDS) to provide a single point for military advice to the prime minister and defense minister as well as synergize operations between the three services. So far none of these recommendations have been implemented. In fact, in 2003, two years after the GoM report, the then government had put the issue of CDS into cold storage RMA and India: Nothing Revolutionary about It 147 suggesting lack of political consensus.90 The institution of CDS has seen no major progress since then. In 2011, the Government of India constituted another committee to suggest reforms for higher defense management of the country. The Naresh Chandra Committee mostly reiterated recommendations made by the KRC and the GoM. Yet the government failed to give the go ahead for both the integration of service headquarters and the creation of the post of CDS.91 If India wants to effectively adjust to modern warfare, it will have to streamline its higher defense policy-making. Without this, some of the major problems in adjusting to contemporary warfare will persist. This is evident in India’s compartmentalized defense modernization program where individual services have a penchant for modern platforms without thinking through how they could be used in an integrated fashion. For example, the air force and the army remain at loggerheads over the issue of military aviation.92 Whereas the army is inclined to have an air wing of its own including transport and attack helicopters and also some versions of fixed wing aircrafts, the air force is vehemently against it. For the air force, such acquisitions by the army impinge on its domain of operations and would also chip into its share of defense budget. Due to such bureaucratic bickering, close air support in conventional and anti-insurgency operations has suffered substantially. It has also hurt India’s operations in high altitude areas such as the Siachen glacier.93 At present, there is no machinery to prioritize defense procurement as each service feels its needs are the most crucial, and the Ministry of Defence bureaucracy lacks any expertise to mediate the differences. Similarly, doctrinal dissonance between the services emanate out of a lack of direction from the highest echelons of defense planning.

RMA’s limited impact on Indian defense dilemmas

As the above discussion underlines, the western debate on the changing nature of warfare has had an influence on India’s military posture. The Indian military saw in the changing nature of war an opportunity to escape the strategic imbroglio of a nuclear South Asia. The Indian Army Doctrine of 2004 was inspired by the mobility, integration of firepower and battlefield domination that could be obtained through the application of RMA. The air force, on the other hand, was equally inspired by the “effects-based operations” under the RMA to make its presence felt as the most versatile and flexible strategic option available for Indian decision-makers. However, as is evident from the discussion on doctrinal dissonance, the lessons of modern western warfare have 148 Harsh V. Pant & Yogesh Joshi been internalized differently by the individual services. This has led to serious inefficiencies, crippling Indian defense policy. Doctrinal dissonance is having a deleterious effect on the overall strategic direction of the Indian military. Both the army and the air force do not see eye to eye on their major priorities. Whereas the army still believes in the importance of holding territory, the air force intends to act as a flexible strategic force that could both deter and punish the enemy without much direct contact. Consequently, close air support (CAS) has been an issue of bitter debate between the army and the air force. Whereas the army, as is evident in its “Cold Start” doctrine privileges holding of ground and therefore seeks air assets in support of its ground offensive, the air force prides itself in its strategic role: prioritizing counter air operations and battlefield interdiction over close air support. Doctrinal dissonance sends a message of strategic incoherence within the military. Since much of India’s defense modernization plans are motivated by these doctrinal debates, much like the individual doctrines promulgated by the three services, defense modernization is also highly compartmentalized. Army acquisition plans have little in common with those of the air force, or the air force with those of the navy. Each of the three services wants their own space assets, UAVs and Special Forces with no plans to efficiently use such national resources in a collective fashion. Integration and jointness have also suffered. For example, there is an acute need to integrate India’s Special Forces under a single command. 94 Such a proposal has been under consideration since the early 1990s but no integration has taken place resulting in a policy paralysis and confusion in their employment during security contingencies, as was evident during the 2008 terrorist attack in Mumbai. But modernization has suffered most because of a bureaucratic stranglehold on defense planning and decision-making, the non-delivery by indigenous weapons developers, and issues of corruption.95 Since the 1980s, the army has inducted no new artillery guns, and after long bureaucratic delays of over a decade, BAE system’s M-777 ultra-light howitzer was finally selected in 2013 to replenish the Army’s dwindling inventory, although allegations of corruption have put the deal on hold.96 INSAS – the flagship program of the Army to modernize its infantry – is also not on track. Technical problems had surfaced in the indigenously developed rifle systems, with the Defence Minister suggesting in 2013 that the new rifles will be purchased from abroad.97 The air force has been feeling the pinch in the decreasing number of its fighter jets. Even though the French made Rafale fighter jets were selected in 2011, the MMRCA deal has yet to be signed due to lack of funds. The much talked RMA and India: Nothing Revolutionary about It 149 about indigenously built Light Combat Aircraft – Tejas – is far from operational. These delays in modernization have been crippling. In fact, in February 2014, the IAF, deposing before a parliamentary panel on defense, accepted its inability to fight a two front war simultaneously against Pakistan and China.98 Though the formation of the HQ-IDS was a positive step and many initiatives in terms of joint doctrines and military exercises are now a regular feature of the Indian military, much still remains to be done. Integrated Theatre Commands (ITCs) have long been considered important for efficient conduct of military operations, but ITCs have not seen the light of day even when, according to senior defense officials they should have been the logical consequence of the recommendations made by the Group of Ministers after the Kargil War.99 Currently, each service has been divided into a number of operational commands that are led by three star generals of the individual service. In the total of 17 commands, with seven led by the army and air force and three by the Navy, there are only two integrated command structures in the Indian military at present: the Strategic Forces Command (SFC) responsible for India’s strategic nuclear forces and the Andaman and Nicobar Command for the defense of the far eastern islands of Andaman and Nicobar. Proposals to establish more integrated commands have been in the offing for some time but the three services appear to be unenthu- siastic about such a prospect. Surprisingly, none of these 17 commands are located at the same place as if, in the words of retired general, “a conscious effort has been made to stay away from each other and not tread on each other’s toes.” 100 This, however, leads to duplication of effort, inefficient logistics, under utilization of resources and delayed decision-making. The integrated theater command, by putting all available resources of the three services under the theater command, helps to eradicate some of these inefficiencies. Moreover, existing integrated theater commands suffer from neglect from the individual services as none of them like to place their best personnel and assets under someone else’s command. One of the main reasons behind institutional resistance to integrated theater commands is that it eclipses the air force completely, with the ITCs either going under the army or the navy. The air force also feels that ITCs would require the air force to be junior partner to the army tasked only with close air support, overshadowing the strategic offensive role it envisages for itself. 101 On the other hand, each service is involved in developing its own command and control, ISR capabilities and logistics without necessarily leading to integration of efforts across the three 150 Harsh V. Pant & Yogesh Joshi services. Much of this dissonance in terms of doctrine, modernization and integration can be attributed to India’s sloppy higher defense management. Both the military and the strategic community have been disappointed at the halting pace of reforms in the higher defense organization. For all the problems associated with modernization of the armed forces, the turf wars between the three services or the lack of jointness and integration of the defense forces, India’s higher defense structure is often viewed as the culprit. Since service headquarters remain largely outside the MoD, civilian bureaucracy’s stranglehold on defense decision-making in the country continues with serious implications for the management of defense budgets and procurement. The needs of the military are filtered through the bureaucracy who not only delay but also sometimes neglect various necessities of the defense forces seriously affecting their capabilities.102 The Chiefs of Staff Committee, which works on the principle of consensus, has failed singularly in creating an integrated defense force and cannot resolve the turf wars between the three services. The result has been that individual services have carried on with their expansion plans without any joint planning and procurement policies.

Conclusion

Three conclusions can be drawn from the above discussion. (1) The debate on the changing nature of war and the RMA has received serious attention in Indian strategic circles, and the reasons, constituents and consequences of the Western-led RMA have been debated at length by India’s military planners. (2) It was the experiences of Kargil and Operation Parakarm in the late 1990s that made the Indian military realize the opportunities offered by the RMA. Since then, it is clear that the RMA has been driving India’s defense modernization plans, doctrinal debates, and its efforts to infuse integration and jointness among various services and higher defense restructuration. However, inter-service rivalries, strong bureaucratic undercurrents and lack of political will have ensured that the pace of adaptation to the changing nature of warfare is slow and inefficient. As a consequence, even when India appears to be listening to the Western debate on warfare keenly, it seems unable to proactively imbibe important facets of such a change. If some have labeled the Indian experience in adapting to the changing nature of warfare as one of “many expectations and little outcomes,” 103 others have claimed that the “ongoing revolution in military affairs has passed the Indian armed forces by.” 104 Such conclusions may not be entirely accurate as is outlined RMA and India: Nothing Revolutionary about It 151 in this chapter. India’s response to the changing nature of war has been undermined by the lack of reform in the higher defense structure and political apathy but it has had some notable impact on both its military strategy and capability. For sure, it is not a revolution; India appears to be responding to the changing nature of contemporary warfare at its own pace, perhaps best described as “gradual incrementalism.”

Notes

1 . International Institute for Strategic Studies, The Military Balance (London: IISS, 2014) pp.213–14. 2 . CII-Deloitte Report, Prospects for Global Export Industry in Indian Defense Market (2010) pp.5–6. 3 . National Intelligence Council, Buck Rogers or Rock Throwers: Conference Report (October 1999), http://fas.org/irp/nic/buck_rogers.htm . 4 . Gautam Bannerjee, The 21st Century Army: Strategies for Future (New Delhi: Manas Publications, 2012), p.22. 5 . Srikanth B. Kesnur, “Effects Based Operations (EBO): A Joint Approach in the Indian Context, Integrated Defence Headquarters, New Delhi: http://ids.nic.in/ art_by_offids/articles.html . 6 . Stephen Cohen and Sunil Dasgupta, Arming without Aiming: India’s Military Modernization (New Delhi: Penguin Viking, 2010) pp.78–85. 7 . Capt. A.N. Matalik, “Impact of Technology As a Battle Winning Factor,” United Service Institution Journal , CXXIV: 517 (July–September 1994) p.305. 8 . D. Bannerjee, “Emerging Technologies and Their Impact on War: Lessons of the Gulf War,” The Combat Journal: College of Combat, 20:1 (April 1993) p.29. 9 . Brig. B. S. Grewal, “The Emerging Revolution in Military Affairs and Strategic Options for India,” Unpublished Dissertation Vol. 36, National Defence University: New Delhi, 2003. 10 . Ministry of Defence, Annual Report 2003–04 , p.6 11 . Headquarters Army Training Command, Indian Army Doctrine 2004 (Shimla: Indian Army Press, 2004). 12 . Ministry of External Affairs, Annual Report 2004–05, p.8. 13 . Authors’ private interviews with senior officials of the Indian Ministry of Defence, New Delhi. 14. G.D. Bakshi, The Rise of Indian Military Power: Evolution of an Indian Strategic Culture (New Delhi: Knowledge World, 2010) p.209. 15 . G. D. Bakshi, “The Revolution in Military Affairs and Its Impact on Training: The Indian Context,” The Combat Journal: Army College of Combat , 31:2 (April 2002) pp.30–39. 16 . Vinod Anand, “Application to Revolution in Military Affairs and Information Warfare: A Perspective,” United Service Institution Journal, CXXVI:556 (October–December 2006). 17 . Gurmeet Kanwal, “Management of India’s Defence Expenditures: Getting the Best Bang for the Buck,” Indian Defence Review , 15:1 (January–March 2000) pp.10–19. 152 Harsh V. Pant & Yogesh Joshi

18 . This view was expressed repeatedly by senior officers of the Indian Army in author’s personal interactions with them. 19 . See V.P. Malik, Kargil: from Surprise to Victor (New Delhi: Harper Collins, 2009) and Kartik Bommakanti, “Coercion and Control: Explaining India’s Victory in Kargil War,” India Review, 10:3 (2011). 20 . These factors were underlined in author’s interviews with senior officers of the Indian Army, Navy and Sameer Srivastava, “Operation Vijay: Problems Faced and Lessons Learnt,” Combat Journal: Army Training College Mhow, 29:1 (March 2000) pp.127–28. 21 . Prakash Menon, “Conventional Dilemma in the Nuclear Age,” Combat Journal: Army College of Combat , 28:2 (September 1999) p.74. 22 . Raja Menon, “View to a Clean Kill,” Outlook (June 7, 1999). 23 . From Surprise to Reckoning: Kargil Committee Report, Executive Summary (February 25, 2000), http://www.fas.org/news/india/2000/25indi1.htm 24 . On Operation Parakram see, Lt. Gen V. K. Sood and Praveen Sawhney, Operation Parakram: The War Unfinished (New Delhi: Vision Books, 2003). 25 . “Indian Army Lost 798 Soldiers,” The Times of India (July 31, 2003), http:// timesofindia.indiatimes.com/india/Op-Parakram-claimed-798-soldiers/arti- cleshow/104948.cms 26 . David Slungaard, “Revisiting Cold Start: Weighing Strategic Shifts in South Asia,” Center for Strategic and International Studies (February 1, 2012), http:// csis.org/blog/revisiting-cold-start-weighing-strategic-shifts-south-asia. 27 . A.G. Noorani, “Vajpayee’s Pakistan Policy,” Frontline , 20:11 (May–June 2003), http://www.frontline.in/static/html/fl2011/stories/20030606000907500. htm . 28 . G.D. Bakshi, “Interface between Conventional and Nuclear Deterrence: A Case for the Indian Sub-Conitnent,” Unpublished Dissertation Vol. 7 (New Delhi: National Defence College, 2003) pp.34–42. 29 . Ibid., p.21. 30 . Authors’ interviews with members of the National Security Council. 31 . The Hindu, “Fernandes Doesn’t Rule Out Conventional War with Pakistan” (January 6, 2000); V.P. Malik, “Indo-Pak Security Relations: Kargil and After,” The Indian Express (June 21, 2002). 32 . Bakshi , The Rise of Indian Military Power , p.24. 33 . W.P.S. Sidhu and Chris Smith. Indian Defence and Security: Industry, Forces and Future Trends (Surrey: Jane’s Information Group, 2000) pp.40–41. 34 . Ibid., p.41. 35 . Bakshi , The Rise of Indian Military Power , p.295. 36 . Menon, “Conventional Dilemma in the Nuclear Age,” p.74. 37 . Author’s interviews with senior members of the Indian military. 38 . Headquarters Indian Army Training Command, Indian Army Doctrine 2004 (April 2004) 39 . World Bank, India Economic Update (June 2010), available at http://siter- esources.worldbank.org/INDIAEXTN/Resources/2955831268190137195/ India_Economic_Update_June_23_2010.pdf . 40 . United States – India Joint Statement on next steps in strategic partnership (17 September 2004), http://2001–2009.state.gov/r/pa/prs/ps/2004/36290. htm RMA and India: Nothing Revolutionary about It 153

41 . Stephen Burgess, “India’s Strategic Culture, Foreign and Security Policy, and Relations with the United States,” American Political Science Association Convention (September 3–6, 2009) pp.13–15. 42 . This clearly comes out in India’s Annual Defence Reports. For India, its security environment remains particularly influenced by China’s military modernization and its assistance to Pakistan. See, Ministry of Defence, Annual Report 2006–07, p.6 and 2008–09 , p.6; Srikant Kondapalli, “China’s Military Modernisation: Dragon Fire on India,” in Harsh V. Pant (ed.) The Rise of China: Implications for India (New Delhi: Foundation Books, 2012) pp.85–103. 43 . Headquarters Integrated Defence Staff, http://ids.nic.in/dot/dot.htm . 44 . See Cohen and Dasgupta, Arming Without Aiming . 45 . Bakshi, The Rise of Indian Military Power , p.246. 46 . N. K. Khanduri, Defence Planning and Capability Development in India: A Critical Examination, Unpublished Dissertation (New Delhi: National Defence College, 2013) p.38. 47 . “Future Infantry: Unravelling the Indian Army’s F-INSAS Programme,” Army Technology (February 21, 2012). 48 . Dhruv C. Katoch, “Transformation of India’s Infantry,” CLAWS Journal (Winter, 2011) p.53. 49 . Ministry of Defence, Annual Report 2007–08, p.17. 50 . David Scott, “India’s Aspirations and Strategy for the Indian Ocean – Securing the Waves?” Strategic Studies , 36:4 (2013) p.495. 51 . K. Raja Menon, “Technology and Indian Navy,” in Harsh V. Pant (ed.) The Rise of Indian Navy: Internal Vulnerabilities, External Challenges (Surrey: Ashgate, 2012) pp.83–84. 52 . A.K. Sachdev, “Is the IAF Equipped for a Two Front War,” Indian Defence Review , 29:2 (April/June 2014) pp.36–43. 53 . Ministry of Defence, Annual Report 2007–08, p.39. 54 . Sandeep Singh, “Unmanned Systems and Their Future Implications for Warfare in the Indian Context,” Unpublished Dissertation, Vol. 64 (New Delhi: National Defence College) p.35. 55 . Ministry of Defence, Annual Report 2003–04, p.53. 56 . Joseph Noronha, “An Increasingly Unmanned Future,” Indian Defence Review , 29:1 (January/March 2014) pp.21–28. 57 . Singh, “Unmanned Systems and their Future Implications for Warfare in the Indian Context,” p.48. 58 . Gurmukh Singh, Information Technology: The Weapon of the Future , Unpublished Dissertation, Vol. 1 (New Delhi: National Defence College, 2010) p.xi. 59 . Ministry of Defence, Annual Report 2004–05 , p.35. 60 . Ibid., pp.35–36. 61 . Ministry of Defence, Annual Report 2012–13, p.25. 62 . Ibid., p.53. 63 . Ibid., p.47. 64 . Ibid., p.21. 65 . Ibid., p.45. 66 . Dilip Kumar Mishra, “Eyes in the Sky,” Force , 11:2 (April 2014) pp.36–37. 67 . V. Anoop kumar, Space the Fourth Dimension of Warfare: Requirement of a Separate Space Force in the Indian Context, Unpublished Dissertation, Vol. 16 (New Delhi: National Defence College, 2012). 154 Harsh V. Pant & Yogesh Joshi

68 . Ibid., p.59. 69 . P.C. Katoch, “Indian Special Forces: 2030,” CLAWS Journal (Winter, 2011) p.40. 70 . Authors’ interviews with senior Indian defence officials. 71 . Katoch, “Indian Special Forces: 2030,” p.40. 72 . K. Raja Menon, “The RMA and the Indian Armed Forces,” Indian Defence Review (2002) p.81. 73 . Katoch, “Indian Special Forces: 2030,” p.40. 74 . Ashley Tellis, “Future Fire: Challenges Facing India’s Defense Policy in Twenty First Century,” India Today Conclave (March 13, 2004) p.6, http://carnegieen- dowment.org/files/futurefire.pdf 75 . Ibid. 76 . Walter C. Ladwig III, “A Cold Start for Hot Wars? The Indian Army’s New Limited War Doctrine,” International Security , 32:3 (2007) pp.158–90. 77 . Author’s interviews with senior Indian defence officials. 78 . Headquarters Indian Air Force, Basic Doctrine of the Indian Air Force 2012 (New Delhi: Vayu Sena Bhawan, 2012) p.11. 79 . Ibid., p.10. 80 . Vinod Patney, “Air Power and Joint Operations: Doctrine and Organizational Challenges,” United Service Institution Journal, CXXXVI:553 (May 2003) p.366. 81 . Ibid., p.374. 82 . Bakshi, The Rise of Indian Military Power , p.239. 83 . Sumit Mukherji, “The Changing Nature of War and Integrated Theatre Commands,” CLAWS Journal (Summer, 2013) p.65. 84 . Arun Sahgal and Vinod Anand, “Revolution in Military Affairs and Jointness,” Journal of Defence Studies, 1:1 (2007) pp.113–32. 85 . Ministry of Defence, Annual Report 2001–02 , p.21. 86 . Sahgal and Anand, “Revolution in Military Affairs and Jointness,” p.116. 87 . Ministry of Defence, Annual Report 2001–02 , p.15. 88 . From Surprise to Reckoning: Kargil Committee Report , Executive Summary (February 25, 2000), http://www.fas.org/news/india/2000/25indi1.htm 89 . See Arun Prakash, “National Security Reforms: Ten Years after the Kargil Committee Report,” United Service Institution Journal, CXLI:590 (October– December 2012) pp.504–22. 90 . Ministry of Defence, Annual Report 2004–05 , p.10. 91 . Pranab Dhal Samanta, “Govt. Rejects Chandra Panel Proposal for a Four Star General,” The Indian Express (May 3, 2014). 92 . For Army’s point of view see Vijay Oberoi, “Air Power and Joint Operations: Doctrinal and Organisational Challenges,” United Service Institution Journal , CXXXIII:551 (January–March 2003) pp.3–22. For an Air Force perspective see, R.S. Bedi, “Joint Operations in Indian Context: Role of the Air Force,” United Services Institution Journal, CXXXIII: 554 (October–December 2003) pp.579–91. 93 . Manu Pubby, “Crisis in Siachen: Two Crash in Nine Months, Army Faces Transport Crisis,” Indian Express (June 2, 2014). 94 . Katoch, “Indian Special Forces: 2030,” CLAWS Journal (Winter, 2011) p.39. 95 . R. Venkataraman, India’s Higher Defence: Organisation and Management (New Delhi: Knowledge World, 2011). RMA and India: Nothing Revolutionary about It 155

96 . Special Correspondent, Indian Defence Review , 29:2 (April/June 2014) pp.24–30. 97 . Pravin Shawney and Ghazala Wahab, “At the Crossroads,” Force , 11:5 (January 2014) p.25. 98 . Sachdev, “Is the IAF Equipped for a Two Front War?” p.43. 99 . Gen. Deepak Kapur, “Need for Integrated Theatre Commands,” CLAWS Journal (Summer 2013). 100 . Ibid. 101 . Ibid. 102 . Authors’ interviews with senior Indian defense officials. 103 . A.K. Tiwary, “Indian Experience in RMA,” Indian Defence Review , 18:1 (January–March 2003) pp.65–73. 104 . Gurmeet Kanwal, “Indian Army: Low Defence Budget Hampering Modernisation Plans, India Strategic (March 2010), http://www.indiastra- tegic.in/topstories546.htm .

8 RMA, European Militaries and the Limits of Modernization David J. Galbreath

Introduction

The Revolution in Military Affairs (RMA) is synonymous with the US Military and its transformation following the end of the Cold War, which would see operational platforms networked, flexible and for use in joint operations. The role of technology in general and information and communication technology (ICT) in particular meant that the deployable platforms and possibly even networks would transform the way that the US went to war. This chapter looks at those who stand beside the US military most often in combat: the European allies. The focus here is on how RMA, as it was understood and conveyed in the US, shaped the thinking and doctrine of European militaries. In Europe, the term RMA and even the concept are seen as belonging to the US, grand power and an overwhelming reliance on technological superiority to achieve military victory. European militaries have focused more on the notion of transformation, innovation and modernization to mean how any such benefits of RMA could be adapted or utilized in European military operations and in connection to European military operations with the US where compatibility is an important command factor. If RMA points the way towards military victory on the battlefield, why then have Europeans not taken the opportunity to follow their North American ally? European military modernization naturally varies from state to state. We can see, however, that modernization has been ordinarily slow, limited and contested in Europe. This is not to say that European militaries themselves do not like new systems, kit and weapons. Rather, the limitations of modernization can be seen as cultural, political and at times operational. This chapter argues that Europeans see RMA as an

156 RMA, European Militaries and the Limits of Modernization 157 extension of the way that Americans progress and change rather than a distinct path to military victory. In as much as RMA should be internalized or even Europeanized, there is distinct resistance to the notion of using an American approach to war in Europe. Further, the changing relationship between European societies and their militaries changes the foundation on which capabilities, and with them budgets, are based. Finally, modernization challenges established institutions, actors and structures within European militaries. Change always comes at a cost to the established. As a result of these factors, as we shall see, there has been a limit to military modernization in Europe. This chapter seeks to address the central question in three ways. The first section examines the nature of military modernization in Europe. If the Europeans have not done a RMA at home, how then have they changed? I look specifically how this is linked to RMA innovations in strategy and operations. Secondly, I look at ways to understand the US-European relationship around RMA, paying particular attention to learning and norm transfer. Finally, I look at how the Europeans have sought to understand RMA as an American form of modernization and in relation to their own militaries. I pay special attention to the way European defense decision-makers see the US and its war machine in relation to modernization. The chapter teases out the factors that limit military modernization in Europe.

European military modernization

During the Cold War, European militaries on both sides of the Iron Curtain maintained large, mass armies, navies and air wings to respond to what many thought would be yet another World War between the United States and its allies against the Soviet Union and its allies. Once the Cold War was over, there was a growing tendency to retreat , reduce and review . For many, but in particular the major powers, the change in geo-politics meant bringing forces home from international postings in Western Europe for the United States and from Central and Eastern Europe for the Soviet Union then Russian Federation. Many foreign military bases closed, for instance, in the newly unified Germany. There was a strategic assumption then that the distribution of force through mass armies was no longer necessary. Despite the challenges in the Former Yugoslavia and Soviet Union, base troop numbers have remained relatively stable since the mid-1990s. At the same time, there was a decision to do away with the mass militaries, especially armies, altogether.1 This tactical thinking came in the 158 David J. Galbreath

United States prior to the end of the Cold War, with the rise of technological projections of power that did not rely on or require force by numbers. In some ways, despite keeping large-scale mass armies, the martial conceptual thinking was impacted by the accumulation and planned use of nuclear weapons. The so-called “strategic balance” meant that it was nuclear weapons (and ways to deliver them) that mattered. Not mass armies. Another factor, illustrated by Anthony King is the effect of the Vietnam War on American tactical thinking.2 The age-old problems of motivating and mobilizing mass armies as an effective way of war was openly being called into question. The result was specifically the Revolution in Military Affairs and a more generally a move towards smaller, professional, combat forces. 3 As the European security landscape was changing, Western European militaries found themselves playing the part of peacemakers and then peacekeepers. Herein, we see an identity crisis as European militaries built and maintained to fight a Soviet front, were now acting as third parties in the Former Yugoslavia. While the nature of Western Europeans’ participation in these conflicts was at odds with their raisin d’etre , they also gave new life to what were significant cuts in European defense. Figure 8.1 illustrates the changes that occurred in European defense

450 430 410 390 370 350 330 310

Military ($bn) expenditure 290 270 250 1992 1993 1994 1995 1996 1997 1998 1999 2000 2001 2002 2003 2004 2005 2006 2007 2008 2009 2010 Axis title

Figure 8.1 Post-Cold War European military expenditure and combined euro zone GDP Source : Data taken from SIPRI Military Expenditure Database (August 29, 2011). RMA, European Militaries and the Limits of Modernization 159 budgets, where drops in budgets began to change following intervention in the former Yugoslavia, especially in the case of the UK, France and Germany as they continued to reduce the size of their military. As the general trend in European defense budgets continued to increase, the European states found themselves at war in Kosovo (1999), Afghanistan (2001–) and Iraq (2003–11). Much can be made of the general increase in defense as many European countries found themselves participating in more than one war at once. At the same time, given that wars are generally paid for by treasuries rather than militaries, the finances can become difficult to pick apart. Is it possible to distinguish a defense budget from a war budget? If we look at Figure 8.1, it highlights that the campaigns in Iraq and Afghanistan had a significant impact across the board in terms of military expenditure, although it peaks at around 2008–09 for many. European militaries have been pushed from two sides to change. The first push comes from changing strategic objections (which in hindsight have little to do with strategy) and the subsequent changes in funding associated with such objectives. For instance, following the end of the Cold War there was a transition from “third generation warfare” militaries towards new concepts that could execute combat operations against a lesser foe (rump Yugoslavia) and then keep the peace afterwards. The number of combat troops across the board changed, leaving many armies a shadow of their Cold War selves, though the end of conscrip- tion further reduced their size, presence and cost. While the number of combat troops fell, so did the assets associated with field presence. This includes heavy tanks and artillery as well as the assets to get them in and out of theater (“heavy lift”). At the same time, many European states maintained their air and naval forces, though in the latter case the total number of vessels has declined, especially in the German, British and French navies. Fighter aircraft (and their support) remained, however, an important part of the West’s wars in Iraq, Yugoslavia, Afghanistan, and Iraq still further. At the same time, the move towards modernization, the act of integrating the most recent science and technology into military concepts, tactics and operations, was significant. The US move towards modernization dates back from the late 1970s and continued apace following the end of the Cold War where experimentation could be afforded now that the Soviet Union was no longer a threat. Modernization, also understood in part as transformation, became a mantra amongst Allied forces though the degree and fashion to which that nature of change that happened varies between states (and definitely between services). 160 David J. Galbreath

All of this was coming at a time when the demands of the battlefield, as discussed already, were changing. As new light armored vehicles came into use in the former Yugoslavia and were eventually employed (for a time) in Afghanistan and Iraq, there was an opportunity to work on modernizing new assets. Not only was the very fabric of the assets changing to become lighter, more connected, more responsive, etc., but further new (or renewed in some cases) concepts like network centric warfare, effects-based operations and expeditionary forces were changing also. Of these, only network enabledness is particularly new and even then has precedents in earlier Soviet martial thought. Nevertheless, they all became part of modernization as a result of the developments in information and computer technologies (ICT) such as processor power, memory storage and bandwidth speed.4 In this new era, force is being transformed as the spatial, temporal and informational elements of contemporary warfare also change. Yet, herein lies a problem for a study such as this. (1) Not all states have the potential to modernize/transform either because their militaries are challenged by national civil-military relations (i.e. Belgium, Austria) or they simply do not have the depth and breadth of forces to make it a definable feature of change. Anyway, only a few countries have full spectrum capabilities and none of them are any longer in Europe, though the UK, France, (and Russia) could more easily step up on the basis of their existing forces. (2) Not all states have transformed at the same time. In fact, the transformation, largely communicated from the United States, its officer schools and NATO programs, appears to have come to different states at different times. The UK and France have been quick to adopt a program of transformation earlier than most other states, while Germany has been far slower in following suit. 5 For other states, Germany included, transformation has come about through specific assets, such as communication equipment or through the NATO commanded International Security Assistance Force (ISAF) program, which determines the use of certain concepts and tactics to deploy in operations. All of this is to say that we have not seen a regular program of change, modernization or otherwise, in European militaries. We have seen that the number of combat soldiers have been falling, that Navies have been increasingly reliant upon regional partnerships, while Air Forces are persistently relied upon to project force beyond Europe, though as the Libyan operation showed, even then sorties were dependent on US intelligence, surveillance, refueling, and complex coordination. Before we talk ourselves out of a worthwhile topic of study, let us remember that RMA, European Militaries and the Limits of Modernization 161 combined (and they are often combined it appears), European forces still provide one of the most robust fighting forces in the world, though no doubt this is changing. So the question is: Why have European militaries changed the way they have? For this we look at two fundamental constraints: budgets and tactics. Despite our earlier look at budgets as they have fallen, risen and fallen again since the end of the Cold War, what we are trying to see here is whether the pattern of change is a result of budgetary constraints, whether that be from disinclination to fund militaries or specifically the Global Financial Crisis that has hit nearly every country (Poland, Turkey, and Norway being exceptions). What we argue here is that decreasing budgets will have a specific impact on the pattern of change in European militaries. The defense economics literature would suggest that budgets have a profound impact on militaries through procurement and restructuring. This change would then have an impact on concepts, tactics and operations. These assumptions in turn demand that we ask the question of what are militaries’ key objectives under budget cuts. The answer would be to maximize force intensity and utility while politically preserving as much of the status quo as possible as they “weather the financial storm.” Nevertheless, financial storm or no, the propensity to spend money on militaries in the majority of European capitals has not been a feature of the Global Financial Crisis (with the UK, France and Greece) being the exceptions. We can generally make the assumption that European militaries are poorer and this may indicate why they have changed in the way they have. The tactics hypothesis harks back to the transformation discussion we have seen here. We might assume alternatively to the resource hypothesis that the impact of combat experience and the transformation agenda will have a greater impact on the way European militaries are changing. The assumption here is that while militaries may have been poorer over time, the driving force behind how they have changed has less to do with available resources and more to do with the opportunities and restraints of modern military thought and practice. For instance, this would suggest that the overwhelming draw down in numbers of combat troops has less to do with budgets but instead more to do with the growing move away from the deployment of mass armies. Naturally, combat soldiers are still necessary 6 but at the same time the martial environment has changed and continues to do so.7 This leaves us with a tactical hypothesis that suggests that despite the popular rhetoric of militaries being “hollowed-out”8 militaries are changing to meet the 162 David J. Galbreath contemporary martial context based on the battlespace conditions as interpreted by defense planners. An important caveat presents itself in testing these two hypotheses. We do not preclude that the answer is EITHER resources OR tactics, as we should expect that defense planners will be thinking of what they have at their disposal as they assess what is needed for a future battlespace. Rather, we are particularly interested on where (and when) the emphasis lies, when resources and tactics matter more or less, and how defense choices are rationalized. As a result, we seek to have a complex picture as to why European militaries are changing. This chapter is predicated on the notion that militaries do not modernize in a vacuum. More specifically, there are shared structural, strategic challenges, defense industrial bases and in many cases alliance politics. While there is a bigger challenge in teasing out the key factors and the drivers of military modernization in Europe, there is a specific task to examine the relationship between the US approach to military modernization and that taken by European militaries. But before we get there, we need to have a sense of the way in which one would seek to untangle the US effect on European military modernization. Prior literature on the US-European military relationship can be put into three categories: (1) social learning (2) industry developments and (3) alliance politics. As we shall see, few have looked at the wider sociological understandings of reform and modernization, nor have many looked at the bottom-up pressures of reform during and derived from combat operation, where in both cases the US has played an important if not hegemonic role in defining the scope and function of modernizing actions. Let us look at this literature in more detail.

Learning Militaries are different than many other organizations of social affairs. As the great military historian, Sir Michael Howard, said during his acceptance speech at Chesney Memorial Gold Medal Lecture given on October 3, 1973,

... the military are a hierarchy which is, for perfectly good functional reasons, exceptionally rigid, where subordination is exceptionally strict; and one where promotion depends on a great many factors other than intellectual insights and originality of concepts. Therefore the problem of encouraging and rewarding those outstanding original thinkers – men like Bony Fuller 9 who have insights of near genius into the nature of their profession and the problem of war but who RMA, European Militaries and the Limits of Modernization 163

do not combine these insights with other professionally desirable qualities – presents genuine problems of a kind which laymen tend to underrate.10

In other words, change through learning is difficult in a rigid, top-down organization. Yet, the global military establishment shares a great deal of information, education and training with alliances, allies and contract militaries. As a result, officers have the ability to socialize with and learn from those with different processes, perspectives and kit. Two areas of inter-military learning have received a great deal of attention in the war studies literature. Counterinsurgency (COIN) was a mainstay of the Iraq and Afghan campaigns but has had a far greater history. In his book on COIN, John A. Nagl (2005) highlights the need to learn from other’s experiences but also from across time, focused as he is in the book on the British experience in Malaya as well as the US experience in Vietnam.11 This is static learning whereby the analysis is on past events, their effects, then applied to contemporary and emerging circumstances. Elliot Cohen (2004) goes further to say militaries are “learning organizations,” though he was speaking specifically at the rough and tumble of American perceptions of success and failure in wider society.12 For Cohen, transformation was about building smart systems that allowed for a constant adjustment or flux in relation to the changing needs of a military. This is what Howard refers to as “a constant interplay between experience and thought.” 13 Without a doubt, the US military has the most resources to take on the notion of perpetual learning in military affairs. European militaries, in comparison, are both far less able to resource such dynamism but also have less of a scope for responsiveness envisaged for their militaries. Yet, much of the learning around transformational change comes not from static learning but instead from dynamic or agent learning. Agent learning is about individual or group learning that brings about transformation, either as a process or an event. In her book on Germany’s path to network enabled capabilities (NEC), Ina Wiesner looks at how individuals learn and influence others in the Bundeswehr and German Ministry of Defence.14 Wiesner illustrates how Germany was relatively slow to come to NEC, but German officer placement at ACT Norfolk led to a greater realization that German combat operations would need a networked approach to joint and combined warfare. Where the US military concept of Network Centric Warfare (NCW) was to supplant the notion of operational platforms, the German approach was similar to the UK and French positions of using networks to make existing platforms 164 David J. Galbreath more resilient in the face of changing operational effects. Where the theory and doctrine around NCW had originated in the US and had been employed in Iraq and Afghanistan (to some effect), the practice of European operations meant focus on networks but a different interpretation around how they would be used. German NEC took a leap when two US brigades were deployed to Regional Command North under German Command (2013, 117 note 37).15 Yet, what made this interoperability possible was the fact that German officers had taken ideas away from their experience in the US and employed them on their return as the Afghan operations began to shift to COIN and Counterterrorism. Learning here is the start because we can see that learning is seen throughout social relations and should not be excluded from other forms of the US effect on European military modernization. However, it is necessary to point out is that learning is often impactful on individuals with actionable authority or legitimate input into actionable authority. Herein lies social learning, as a function of norms, even if specifically military norms. 16 We also can see that learning is the starting point of many of the actions identified by Theo Farrell as adaptation and innovation, though Farrell is talking about transformation within rather than across militaries. 17 As we go through the next three explanatory factors, we need to keep learning in mind as the basis of social communication in a norm driven environment like military affairs.

Industry The global defense industry is both international in nature but also an important element of national industrial bases with strong links to militaries. The biggest defense firms are all US based: Lockheed Martin, Northrop Grumman and Boeing. The Military Balance, published by The International Institute for Strategic Studies (IISS) indicates the year on year reported spend on procurement and research and development (R&D). The US is a behemoth in relation to its European allies. Thus, it is unsurprising that the largest defense firms are in fact US based. Nevertheless, like the US military can generate learning, so too can US defense firms. The defense industry has gone through considerable consolidation since the end of Cold War. In their chapter on defense firm mergers, Derrick J. Neal and Trevor Taylor look at the driving factors behind how these mergers occurred, with a particular eye to commercial and defense explanations. The importance of the US defense industry and how it relates to Europe and further afield is summed up by Neal and Taylor: RMA, European Militaries and the Limits of Modernization 165

On the one hand, the US pursues a doctrine of maintaining technological superiority in terms of delivering fighting capability. On the other hand, their goal of shortening development cycle times and cost reductions is being supported by the use of commercial off the shelf (COTS) technologies in both hardware and software categories. However, the fact that these are COTS means that they are available to a wide range of markets with the possible effect of technology levelling, thus threatening the very basis of competitive advantage that military doctrine uses in scenario building for future conflicts. 18

The US military relies on the defense industry to maintain their technological superiority over their rivals (and as a consequence also their allies). Thus, the technological development and the doctrinal and tactical changes that come with it are likely to evolve out of/from the US as a factor of both the US military’s policy and practice but also the role of US defense contractors in the global defense market. European defense firms, such as BAE-Systems and Thales, have a direct interest in maintaining some degree of (relative) parity with their US counterparts though their access to the US market is restricted. Such technology transfers were originally controlled during the Cold War period by the Coordinating Committee for Multilateral Export Controls (CoCom). Since then, the Wassenaar Arrangement has replaced it but “has not been particularly successful and highlights that multilateral technology controls have little utility in the post-Cold War era outside the weapons of mass destruction arena.” 19 Not only is this sort of transfer likely, but there is the added feature that for the sake of breadth and competition regulations, some European defense firms are allowed into the US defense market, again such as BAE and Thales. If we add onto this that the US defense industry has a problem with oversupply, as a legacy of high defense spending during the 1980s, we can see that the US has the incentive to compete in the European market and beyond. At the same time, this oversupply cannot be easily recognized as a result of RMA in the US. We can though see that a shared market place will result in shared and learned behaviors. Finally, it may make sense to look beyond the big defense contractors towards commercial firms more associated with transformation and modernization such as Microsoft and Google. In their book, Buying Military Transformation , Peter Dombrowski and Eugene Gholz, set out to test the theory of how technological innovation leads to military transformation. 20 They start with the hypothesis that we should expect that the application of RMA, increasingly IT orientated, would be coming 166 David J. Galbreath from hardware and software developers rather than traditional defense contractors. After all, Microsoft and Google are global companies with global reach that have the ability to change norms and behavior far beyond the military. Yet, Dombrowski and Gholz show that military transformation in the US is still overwhelmingly driven by traditional defense firms whether step-change developments or even transformational technologies. They also point to another interesting feature around defense contractors and US military procurement, namely:

... [T]he military customer’s interest in controlling the characteristics of the weapons that they buy often leads them to reject systems prof- fered by contractors when government- determined requirements did not define the original specifications.21

This means that the link between the defense firms and the US government are distinctly connected to a US military posture. This connection is a brake on the reach of emulation, innovation or adaptation in the European context. Nevertheless, the US defense industry remains an important agent of European military modernization, though they may not be the instigator of transformation, as we shall see.

Alliance politics NATO provides a natural framework for military cooperation and presumably learning. In his chapter on RMA and Europe, Yves Boyer argues that RMA was made in America, for America. Nevertheless, the US has not been short of evangelizing RMA in the former Yugoslavia and then in Afghanistan and Iraq. 22 At the same time as RMA is developing, so too is a European Security and Defense Identity (ESDI) to be followed up by the European Security and Defence Policy (ESDP) to then be replaced after the 2007 Lisbon Treaty with the Common Security and Defence Policy (CSDP). As RMA was about force transformation in the US, so has been the ESDI-cum-CSDP initiative in the European Union. The US used NATO to push elements of the RMA, while maintaining relative technological superiority (though this hardly matters in comparison). At the Washington NATO Summit in 1999, NATO allies agreed to the NATO Defence Capabilities Initiative (DCI) as a way to push the RMA agenda through NATO. However, as Boyer states, “the ambitions rapidly faded away, however, and the goals set by the DCI were, for the most part, never met by the Europeans.” 23 Boyer suggests that the 2001 Nice Treaty setting out what would become the ESDP was a leading factor in the diversion away from the US RMA agenda. After RMA, European Militaries and the Limits of Modernization 167 the NATO Prague Summit (1992) however, NATO allied states agreed to transition Allied Command Atlantic into NATO Allied Command Transformation (ACT), located in Norfolk, Virginia. ACT was born into a world of RMA though it has become more a training ground for effective alliance cooperation in combat operations, made more urgent by NATO operations in Afghanistan. We can see the core elements of the RMA in the US Military’s Joint Vision Doctrine 2010, which focuses on the flexibility and mobility that “full spectrum dominance” would require. 24 Key to this flexibility and mobility is the communication and maneu- verability between services of personnel, expertise and equipment. Overall, the ability for NATO to act as a conduit for RMA has been limited. Building on Boyer’s work, I argued previously that there are three limitations on NATO to act as a transformative alliance.25 The first factor is one we have discussed, whereby initiatives within the EU itself appeared to be more relevant to European governments, though not necessarily to European militaries. As Simon Duke suggests, ESDP has been founded on a principle of Europe as a peacekeeper rather than as a co-belligerent. 26 The EU provided an alternative to RMA, not in terms of military doctrine or strategy, but in terms of political objectives as it conflated security with defense. The second factor characterizing NATO as an insufficient transformative agent is that the transformation agenda appeared to go far beyond this to represent the future of Europe’s continued military alliance with the US. Keep up or give up. Not only was Europe being told to keep up, but it was also being told that the rules of the game had changed. The US transformation agenda was taken in military circles in Europe much as it had been taken in much of the American military: as a passing fad. The final reason was the breakdown in trust between European governments and the George W. Bush administration especially in the first term (2000–04). The unre- ciprocated European response to the US after September 11 and the subsequent fallout over Iraq are well documented. As Boyer states “the problem is that these efforts at change and ‘Alliance transformation’ no longer coincide with an automatically agreed vision of the international scene between the US and many of its European allies.” 27 He goes on to say “[NATO’s] eminent task is so vague that indeed it authorizes every type of action and opens the possibility that the Alliance address every type of problem that could be seen as threatening [its] values.” 28

Learning on the job As mentioned several times, combat operations in Afghanistan and Iraq have been important for bringing about changes in European militaries. 168 David J. Galbreath

Theo Farrell has written on militaries learning on the job as a form of innovation, often technological in character.29 The assumption here is that the changing battle space requires a responsiveness to maintain momentum in the war but also to protect soldier’s lives. This is what Farrell refers to as transformation “from the bottom-up.” His focus is on innovation specifically and looks at this in terms of rapid “revolutionary innovation” and slower “evolutionary innovation.” He argues that both can happen in combat operations. Farrell states,

Military organisations can adapt in two ways to underperformance and environmental change. First, they can exploit core competencies in refining or modifying existing tactics, techniques and/or technologies. Second, they can explore new capacities by developing new modes and means of operations.30

For Farrell, the focus here is on the co-belligerent rather than allies. In the chapter, the British would indeed need to respond to Taliban tactics in Helmand Province. The unseen aspects are how US combat operations are seeping into British and other allies’ tactics. One way that this happens on the ground is off-the-shelf (COTS) procurement. For instance, V-shaped MRAP (Mine-Resistant Ambush Protected) vehicles were being supplied by the US to American troops although the British Army was slow in commissioning equivalents. An additional way of “learning on the job” is through working directly with US forces. British and French forces were able to rely on their own satellite networks for command operations while others had either to buy into the US system (such as the Danish) or buy off-the-shelf communications systems such as in the Germany case already mentioned. Such borrowing or emulation can also be seen in COIN operations. Having rediscovered COIN in Iraq, Afghanistan became increasingly a counterinsurgency operation in 2007–08. The result was the establishment of a new doctrine on COIN propagated by the US military that, while borrowing on the UK experience in Malaya, was all intents and purposes an American approach to COIN.31 Overall, these approaches all concern social communication and learning. Yet research shows us that ideas are linked to power relationships and the relationship between the US military and its European allies is one of asymmetric power. 32 This is not to say that European militaries do not rely on their own cultures or norms of preparing for and fighting wars. Rather, that the amount of resources devoted to the RMA, European Militaries and the Limits of Modernization 169

American way of war is hard to ignore in the martial world. At the same time, while the US military is perhaps the finest contemporary military force in the world, even they and their allies have been unable to win in Afghanistan and seemingly Iraq. We can go further than this though in terms of understanding how this relationship works between the US military transformation and European military modernization. How is this relationship perceived by the recipient states? This chapter examines the strategic, cultural and economic interpretations of European understandings of RMA.

European understandings of RMA

In my study on European militaries and force transformation,33 borrowing from Farrell, Rynning and Terriff,34 I focus on three areas of modernization. These are networked centricity, expedition forces and effects-based approaches to operations (EBAO). All three areas are central to the RMA in making the US military a “leaner, meaner” fighting force. I show how, through changes in operations, organizations and personnel, the UK, France and Germany sought to adapt transformative features into their militaries. The evidence, there and elsewhere, is that the adaptation was at times slow, locally determined and specific to the adapting states operational needs. Modernization has been variable in terms of the level of changes and the timeliness of change. As we shall see, the strategic, cultural and political interpretations of the “RMA effect” are key to our understanding. European militaries were aware when force transformation first began to be discussed in the US military during the 1970s and 1980s. At this time the focus was on changing the battle space in a confrontation with the Soviets. Reflecting on the lofty heights of RMA during the Cold War, one interviewee states,

So once you develop those high-intensity systems, you use them even for operations that normally would not require those systems, but those systems, or not necessarily the systems themselves but the intellectual atmosphere that saw the ground work laid for what later became the Revolution Military Affairs (RMA)/Transformation really gets us back to 70s and 80s that was only for high-intensity conflict. You never would have imagined back then that those capabilities would be used to chase insurgents and things like this. It does not make any sense. So it is not warfare itself it is a real mixture 170 David J. Galbreath

of environment, geopolitical changes, and political constraints in terms of casualties, not just your own troops but civilian casualties as well.35

Here, the notion that RMA was meant to be a response to something much larger than what was seen in Iraq and Afghanistan but because these systems exist, they get used for the needs on the ground: chasing insurgents but also preventing combat fatalities. Another interviewee suggests that some advancements can be useful in theory but when it comes to strategic outlook, with what a state may operationally engage, the issue changes. In relation to Network Enabled Centricity (NEC):

As a matter of fact NATO realised very quickly that having all the nations on that first level was simply impossible, I mean with all the defence resource constraints and reductions, I mean ... but also take for example [identifies own country]. We do not have the need to be fully NEC organised and NEC equipped, so as we have no need, why should we invest in a system we will never use. So NATO came to this conclusion very quickly and it came up with their own approach of the three levels, which is very convenient for all the NATO countries and even the partner countries.36

Several things come out here. The implementation of network centricity was important for the interviewee’s military, even though it is not a major NATO contributor. However, there is a realization that while NEC makes sense tactically, it does not make sense operationally as there is a limit as to what the military could do with such a function. Furthermore, the issue was highlighted by NATO (and thus the US) for being a challenge for the alliance in terms of transformation. NATO then responds by asking states to sign up to respective levels of compli- ance and introduces the Federated Mission Network (FMN). The same interviewee states,

But this is the neat thing about FMN, it is usable in every kind of scenario and all kind of situations. You can even use it for homeland defense and use it for crisis response operations, deterrence operations. You only need one system or interface and you can do everything you want it to do. One system, one concept, one approach and that is the great thing. RMA, European Militaries and the Limits of Modernization 171

Network centricity is the major challenge for many militaries in operations with the US military. As another interviewee states,

So doctrinal standards are different but so are technical standards too. So when you operate under a US umbrella in a way it is easy because the US will extend to you their communications for example. So if you are a French or Italian unit the American will extend to you their communications technical standards, but if you are US coming into a NATO operation then they are not compatible. Then you have to create all these gateways and it gets very complicated.37

Yet here also is the crux of the problem for RMA: “Afghanistan has certainly shown the limits to a conventional approach to operations that are trying to be quicker than your enemy, which is of no interest if they are interested in being slow. We did not entirely buy the RMA but we took advantage of its pragmatic advances. ” (emphasis added) Finally, the question of the relationship with the US comes to the front often. It is not just about the operational revolution that comes from RMA but something more because it comes from the US. As one interviewee states,

... it has a lot to do with coalition warfare and coalition politics and things like this between Western nations. So it is rather how would one conduct operations in a way that would allow you to get the maximum diplomatic benefit from your [military], and because the US was insisting on this and because you needed to be interoperable with US forces who were on the front line, it made a lot of sense to invest in a lot of so-called Transformational technology or forces, whether that is for [intelligence, surveillance or reconnaissance] or NEC, etc., but it was something that you wanted to do but you could also do without. 38

A further French interview ponders the long term of effects of following the US driven RMA mold:

The French military were obsessed with not disappointing the Americans and they did not. I think it is fair to say, [the French] are one of the very few militaries that were not ridiculed in Afghanistan and the Americans didn’t feel that they had to provide everything for them. But who cares, that is a purely military stake and the political 172 David J. Galbreath

authorities ... say they don’t care, it is not their [problem], that they did what was required of them as a good ally of NATO, but the sort of who is a good ally, who is effective, they couldn’t care less ... . I mean it is gone and there is nothing left of it. Except the very good nature between the military cooperation which because it is now back at the political level, much more so than ten years ago, now is why they extend a lot of information and why the US [helps] out in Mali and even in [Central African Republic]. So they are positive side effects but these were not intended . (emphasis added)39

Operationally, the European militaries sought to implement what elements seemed to (1) be required for working with US forces and, (2) elements that would add to their own operational capabilities but, (3) would be permitted politically back in the capital. In some cases, especially in the context of network enabledness within the RMA notion of a flexible, inter-connected battlespace, it worked well as it did with COIN. Yet, questions and required resources around other transformative technologies were more challenging, especially the deeper and more transformative they have become. Even in the US experience of Network Centric Warfare, the network did not replace the platform.40

Conclusion

The chapter sets out to look at the how the US experience and practice of RMA affected the European military modernization that followed the Cold War. As we saw in the first section, European militaries have gone through a considerable transition since 1990, with the Germany military perhaps being the most severe. At the same time as this change, the US was experiencing RMA, a new platform of ideas for what an American battlespace would look like. Originally meant for the Soviets, RMA came home to roost in Iraq and Afghanistan; neither fitting operational theaters for RMA. Beside the US military were the British, French, German, Spanish, Italian and many more in one or the other, or both. Where the challenge of avoiding and surviving IEDs and the renaissance of COIN had their hold on both wars, the slow train of RMA continued though the term and many of these that came with it, such as effects- based operations, fell out of fashion. Of the biggest impacts of RMA on Europe, there is network enabled operations. As networks, sensors and processing power improve, so too, do their relevance to military operations. We have seen here that the relationship between Europe and the RMA, European Militaries and the Limits of Modernization 173

RMA is one of learning, of adaptation and at times local innovation that is inherently made more complicated by the relationship that Europe has with the US in general.

Notes

The author would like to thank the Economic and Social Research Council whom has funded the research (ES/K010190/1) in this chapter. I would also like to thank Simon Smith for his research support during this project as well as the patience of the editors. 1. See Anthony King, “The Origins of the RMA,” The Adelphi Papers, 38:318 (1998) pp.19–32. 2 . Anthony King, The Combat Soldier: Infantry Tactics and Cohesion in the Twentieth and Twenty-First Centuries (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013). 3 . King, “The Origins of the RMA”. 4 . For a comparative review of network-enabled forces in Europe see Galbreath and Guha forthcoming 2015. 5 . Theo Farrell and Sten Rynning, “NATO’s Transformation Gaps: Transatlantic Differences and the War in Afghanistan,” Journal of Strategic Studies, 33:5 (2010) pp.673–99. 6 . King, The Combat Soldier . 7 . In 2002, NBC News calculated that a single US Marine cost the US Department of Defense $44,887 from the start. One would need to add salaries, pensions, and deployment costs as they arise. Officers would cost over $300,000 by their calculations. ( http://www.nbcnews.com/id/3072945/t/army-one- carries-high-price/#.VAHH6FbIZuY Last checked 30 August 2014). 8 . Caroline Wyatt, “Top General Warns Over “Hollowed Out” Armed Forces, BBC News (September 19, 2013), http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-25440814 9 . Major-General John “Boney” Frederick Charles Fuller (1899–1933), was a military strategist in the British Army and military historian known for his unconventional views on strategy (and on the spiritual world). 10 . Michael Howard, “Military Science in an Age of Peace,” The RUSI Journal , 119:1 (1974) pp.3–11. 11 . Nagl, John A. Nagl, Learning to Eat Soup with a Knife (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2015). 12 . Eliot A. Cohen, “Change and Transformation in Military Affairs,” Journal of Strategic Studies, 27:3 (2004) pp.395–407. 13 . Cohen, “Change and Transformation in Military Affairs,” pp.395–407. 14 . Ina Wiesner, Importing the American Way of War? Network-Centric Warfare in the UK and Germany (Baden-Baden: Nomos Publishers: 2013). 15 . 16 . Margaret E. Keck and Kathryn Sikkink, Activists Beyond Borders: Advocacy Networks in International Politics ( New York: Cornell University Press, 1998). 17 . Theo Farrell, “Introduction: Military Adaptation in War,” Chapter in Military Adaptation in Afghanistan , eds. Theo Farrell, Frans P.B. Osinga, and James A. Russell. Stanford, California: Stanford University Press, 2013) pp.6–7. 18 . Derrick J. Neal and Trevor Taylor, “Globalisation in the Defence Industry: An Exploration of the Paradigm for US and European Defence Firms and 174 David J. Galbreath

the Implications for Being Global Players.” Defence and Peace Economics, 12:4 (2001) p.344. 19 . Ibid., p.345. 20 . Peter J. Dombrowski, and Eugene Gholz, Buying Military Transformation: Technological Innovation and the Defense Industry (New York: Columbia University Press, 2006). 21 . Ibid., p.21. 22 . Yves Boyer, “The Consequences of U.S. and NATO Transformation for the European Union,” chapter in Daniel S Hamilton (ed.), Transatlantic Transformations: Equipping NATO for the 21st Century (Washington, D.C.: Center for Transatlantic Relations, 2004), pp.75–90. 23 . Ibid., p.77. 24 . See Jim Garramone, “Joint Vision 2020 Emphasizes Full-Spectrum Dominance”, American Forces Press Service, (June, 2 2010), http://www. defense.gov/news/newsarticle.aspx?id=45289; Office of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Joint Vision Doctrine, (Washington DC: Department of Defence, 2010). 25 . David J. Galbreath, “Western European Armed Forces and the Modernisation Agenda: Following or Falling Behind?” Defence Studies, 14:4 (2014) pp.394–413. 26 . Simon Duke “The Future of EU-NATO Relations: A Case of Mutual Irrelevance Through Competition?” Journal of European Integration, 30 (2008) pp.27–43. 27 . Boyer, “The Consequences of U.S. and NATO Transformation for the European Union,” pp.81, note 6. 28 . Ibid., p.82. 29 . Theo Farrell, “Improving in War: Military Adaptation and the British in Helmand Province, Afghanistan, 2006–2009,” Journal of Strategic Studies, 33:4 (2010) pp.567–94. 30 . Ibid. 31 . Sergio Catignani, “‘Getting COIN’ at the Tactical Level in Afghanistan: Reassessing Counter-Insurgency Adaptation in the British Army,” Journal of Strategic Studies, 35:4 (2010) pp.513–39. 32 . Michael C. Williams, “Why Ideas Matter in International Relations: Hans Morgenthau, Classical Realism, and the Moral Construction of Power Politics,” International Organization, 58:4 (2004) pp.633–65. 33 . David J. Galbreath, “Western European Armed Forces and the Modernisation Agenda.” 34 . Theo Farrell, Sten Rynning, and Terry Terriff, Transforming Military Power since the Cold War: Britain, France, and the United States, 1991–2012 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013). 35 . Interview, November 13, 2014. 36 . Ibid. 37 . Interview, November 8, 2013. 38 . Interview, November 13, 2014. 39 . Interview, April 2, 2014. 40 . Manabrata Guha, Reimagining War in the 21st Century: From Clausewitz to Network-Centric Warfare (London: Routledge: 2012).

Conclusion: Reflecting on the RMA Concept Andrew Futter

In the last decade, the notion of a Revolution in Military Affairs (RMA) has largely disappeared from both the academic and policy debate and literature, and is now far removed from its heyday after the First Gulf War and during the 1990s. At least part of this can be explained by the experience of military conflict since this time, which has overwhelmingly been characterized by unconventional and asymmetric warfare that appear far removed from the hi-tech traditional battles envisaged by the RMA, planned for the last decades of the Cold War, and embodied by Operation Desert Storm in 1991. However, as the chapters in this book show, the RMA concept – and particularly its main tenets and central dynamics – continues to affect the way that a wide variety of states think about military strategy and doctrine, and many of these actors are still wrestling with RMA-inspired changes that they made in the past, or that were made by others. As a result, this book has sought to reflect on these developments, evaluate how (if at all) things have changed, consider the wider implications of this apparent shift in the military art, and finally to consider what – if any – implications there are for the future. Perhaps the most important thing to remember about the Revolution in Military Affairs is that it was not simply an inherently and exclusively America idea – in fact, the antecedents of the RMA can be found in the Soviet Union and the notion of a “Military Technological Revolution” that first emerged in the 1970s.1 Likewise, the experience of the RMA has not been purely American either, as the impact and legacy of these developments has naturally spread far and wide to a multitude of different actors. While the RMA has appeared to become almost synonymous with the massive power and sophistication of the United States military, these developments also had important implications for other actors within the international system, including US allies, peer competitors

175 176 Andrew Futter and so-called rising powers, as well as those that might be classified as adversaries – whether state-based or not. That said, the impact has been different and diverse. Notwithstanding a decade of unconventional conflict in the Middle East, RMA-type themes – especially the use of hi-tech weaponry – remain central to US military planning. Likewise, key allies such as the UK, Canada and Australia sought to adopt RMA-type technologies and doctrine at least in part to ensure continued interoperability with the US – and many of these actors continue to live with the implications of these decisions. Russia – seeing US and NATO conventional military modernization as a potential threat has sought to focus on strategic nuclear-level relations with the west – primarily through mutual deterrence – as it devises new strategies for conflicts and distur- bances along on its considerable land borders – particularly the notion of “hybrid warfare”. Israel has vacillated between RMA-based conceptions as it has engaged various unconventional enemies and threats over the past two decades – and it remains uncertain where this will develop in the future. India consciously chose a different path given its perceived security requirements and the delicate nuclear balance with Pakistan. While it must be assumed that the adoption of guerrilla and unconventional tactics by non-state actors or other western adversaries, is at least partly due to the (perceived) supremacy of western RMA-based conventional doctrine. All of these actors reacted to, understood and internalized the dynamics of the RMA in different ways, for different reasons, and with different implications and therefore legacies for military policy. A second key dynamic that emerges from these case studies is the central question of whether the developments in military strategy of the late 1980s and early 1990s are best thought of as a “revolution” or something less transformative and permanent. By implication, the word revolution suggests that something has shifted fundamentally and perhaps irreversibly, and that has transformed the nature of certain phenomenon (in this case the military art). While developments in precision weapons, battle management systems, and particularly the incorporation of myriad new developments from information technology and the “information revolution” have certainly changed the way that states can approach and fights wars, this is perhaps best thought of as an evolution in military tools or even context , rather than a revolution in military affairs more generally. Likewise, the coinciding changes in military doctrine and tactics – particularly “jointness,” network centric and effects-based operations – that accompanied these technological developments has struggled to cope with the realities of post-Cold War and Conclusion 177 especially post-9–11 warfare. The result is that while certain capabilities and military thinking have undoubtedly evolved, it has been far from straightforward to match these with real-world military requirements and experience. As such, the past two decades have been less a revolution and more a period of flux as militaries have sought to balance a new suite of supply-side capabilities with a set of fresh demand-side requirements; that said, and despite disappearing from mainstream academic and policy literature, the ideas and central dynamics embodied by the RMA remain central in modern military thought. Arguably a key reason why the RMA concept became so prevalent in the 1990s and at the same time why it has fallen away in recent years, is the significance of domestic drivers of policy, and in particular the importance of key personalities in shaping strategy. In this regard, the first thing to note is the extent to which RMA thinking was and remains bound up with the notion of an idealized “western way of warfare” that maximizes hi-tech capabilities and minimizes civilian and military casualties. In this sense, at least for the United States, the RMA was about avoiding the type of attritional warfare confronted in Vietnam and utilizing US comparative advantages in hardware and technology. Indeed, the 1991 Gulf War was memorably summed up by then President George H.W. Bush: “ ... by God, we’ve kicked the Vietnam syndrome once and for all.”2 Such cultural pressures were also very important for various US allies – notably the UK, Canada, Australia and Israel – who sought both greater efficiency and efficacy in military operations, and at the same time, a way to remain interoperable with the United States that would be palatable to voters at home. A third important dynamic is the extent to which military strategy has been driven by domestic internal variables and personalities; in each of the case studies addressed in this book there has been a key figure associated with the RMA; it began with Marshal Nikolai Ogarkov in the Soviet Union; in the US it was Andrew Marshall and Andrew Krepenivich and the Office of Net Assessment; 3 Sir Nigel Bagnall was the key figure in the UK; General Rick Hillier in Canada and Brigadier General Shlomo Brom in Israel. These figures, and others like them, were integral in formu- lating national strategy during the 1990s and early 2000s, and their legacy and influence remains a key component of military thinking in these countries. More broadly, the chapters in this book also show that domestic and bureaucratic politics – and especially budgetary pressures and inter-service rivalry – were at least as important to how states responded to and incorporated RMA thinking as any external factors and the types of wars that these militaries might have to fight. As Eliot 178 Andrew Futter

Cohen presciently remarked with regard to the Israeli RMA debate: “The enemy never really figured very much into the RMA debate, and this may have been the worst mistake of all.” 4 Evidence suggests that this holds true for other actors too. Idealized visions of how war might be fought appeared to supersede the realities of the type of wars they were likely to be involved in, and what troops on the battlefield would face and actually require. While the RMA concept has largely disappeared from the canon of modern military thinking, it would be erroneous to assume that the central ideas and concepts have too; in fact, many developments in the military field bear strong correlation with the ideas of the early 1990s. The advent of “cyber” capabilities and new methods of information warfare – especially Chinese anti-access area-denial (A2AD) and “infor- mationalization” strategies – clearly link with RMA-type conceptions – and may in fact be a direct response to perceived developments in US doctrine starting in 1991 and the move towards an ever-more digitized battlefield. The same might be said for the proliferation and univer- salization of “drone” technology or unmanned aerial vehicles, and the concurrent developments in “remote control warfare.” This also holds true on the strategic level where advances in air and missile defenses, ever-more capable ballistic and cruise missiles – increasingly for conventional global strike operations – alongside advances in battle management and command and control systems, and the ongoing quest to control space, continue to progress unabated. This desire to rely increasingly on high technology for military operations and security is unlikely to diminish. Planning for future military operations is a fundamentally difficult task and by its very nature will rely to some extent on hedging and attempting to cover all bases, but it is important not to take the military experience of the past two decades as a blueprint for the future. Indeed, and while it may be somewhat cliché to accuse militaries of preparing to fight and learning the wrong lessons from the last war, there is no reason to suggest that a possible return to traditional interstate geopolitical competition might also see a return to traditional symmetric types of conflict too. In this sense, it would be imprudent to assume that just because the last two decades have been characterized primarily by guerrilla and unconventional conflict that warfare will primarily remain like this in the longer term. Indeed, in such an uncertain global environment, it is not inconceivable that we might see RMA-type technologies and thinking return to prominence again sometime in the future. Conclusion 179

Despite much hype about the transformative impact of new technologies, tactics and doctrine, we have not escaped the inherent logic of war first theorized by Carl von Clausewitz nearly 200 years ago. That is not to say that things haven’t changed – they certainly have – only that the label of a revolution is too strong for the changes experienced over the past two decades. Perhaps the biggest reason for this is the inherently inward-looking and ethnocentric nature of the RMA concept – it was essentially based on an idealized type of war that militaries wanted to fight, and therefore focused rather less on the enemy being fought and particularly on how they might respond. In this sense, the First Gulf War was the exception that proved the rule. As conflict in Africa, Afghanistan, Iraq, the Caucuses, Lebanon, Libya, Ukraine and elsewhere has shown, adversaries have adapted and sought to counteract the central tenets of RMA-based thinking. That said, the strong desire to limit casualties, rely on hi-tech systems and weapons and pursue an idealized “western way of war” means that the central tenets of the RMA are never likely to be far away. The result is that we may now in fact be back to stage one when it comes to thinking about military strategy, but this may be no bad thing as military strategists plan for the requirements and conflicts of an uncertain future.

Notes

1 . See Adamsky, “Through the looking glass,” pp.257–94. 2 . George Bush, “Remarks to the Legislative Exchange Council” (March 1, 1991), http://www.presidency.ucsb.edu/ws/?pid=19351 3 . See Krepinevich and Watts, The Last Warrior, chapter 8. 4 . Cohen, “Change and Transformation in Military Affairs,” p.402.

Index

Note: The use of bold in the index page numbers represents a chapter on that topic Afghanistan, 7, 9–12, 16, 22, 30, Germany, 34, 35–36, 37, 38, 41, 42, 33, 45–46, 51–52, 59, 62, 64, 71, 44, 53, 55, 157, 159–160, 163, 168, 76–77, 79, 80, 85–86, 87, 102, 169, 172 113, 115, 125–126, 127, 134, Gulf War (1991), 2, 3, 4, 5–7, 8, 9, 142, 159–160, 164, 166, 167–168, 10, 19, 22, 23, 34, 41, 44, 45, 71, 169–170, 171, 172, 179 73, 93, 95, 96, 97, 102, 107, 112, Air-Land battle, 3, 18, 20, 21, 23 113, 118, 119, 133, 134, 142, 175, Al-Qaeda, 7, 59 177, 179 Australia, 10, 11, 71–88, 176, 177 Australian Defence Force (ADF), 10, Hezbollah, 8, 11, 93, 96–99, 101, 102, 11, 71, 72, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 103, 104, 105, 107, 108 80, 81, 82, 83, 84, 85, 86, 87 Hillier, Rick, 52, 59, 60, 61, 62, 64, 65, 177 Bagnall, Sir Nigel, 35–36, 37, 38, 39, Hussein, Saddam, 1, 22, 23 40–41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 177 hybrid warfare, 87, 113, 123, 176 Brom, Shlomo, 94, 96, 98, 177 India, 12, 13, 132–151, 176 Canada, 51–66, 84, 176, 177 Iraq, 1, 6, 7, 8, 16, 19, 22–23, 24, 25, Canadian Forces (CF), 4, 10, 51, 52, 26, 27, 28, 29, 33, 34, 45, 46, 54, 53, 54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59, 61, 62, 59, 76, 77, 87, 95, 96, 102, 115, 63, 64, 65, 66 127, 134, 159, 160, 163, 164, 166, China, 12, 73, 87, 112–113, 124, 126, 167, 168, 169, 170, 172, 179 127, 133, 135, 137–138, 139, 140, Israel, 6, 8, 11, 35, 92–108, 115, 141, 149 176, 177, 178 Clausewitz, Carol von, 5, 7, 30, 179 Israeli Defense Forces (IDF), 11, 92, COIN (counter-insurgency), 77, 86, 93, 94, 95, 96, 97, 98, 99, 100, 101, 87, 163–164, 168, 172 102, 103, 104, 105, 106, 107, 108 Cold Start doctrine, 144, 148 cyber, 139, 178 Kargil War (1999), 136, 137, 138–142, 145, 146, 149, 150 deterrence, 53, 94, 100, 112, 122, Knowledge Edge, 11, 71, 75, 79 123–124, 126, 136–137, 144, Kosovo, 9, 11, 22, 30, 102–103, 107, 170, 176 134, 159 effects-based operations (EBO), 8, Lebanon, 1, 8, 11, 92–94, 96–99, 102, 144, 145, 147, 160, 176 103–105, 106 Libya, 1, 66, 115, 125, 160, 179 France, 53, 84, 140, 159, 160, 161, 169 Limited Conflict Doctrine (LCD), 11, 93, 99–103, 105, 107 Georgia, 113, 121, 125 Low Intensity Conflict (LIC), 9, 11, Gerasimov, Valeriy, 117, 124, 12, 101, 104, 105, 107, 108, 115, 125–126 126, 135

181 182 Index

Marshall, Andrew, 4, 5, 11, 17–18, 24, Rumsfeld, Donald, 8, 16, 60, 29, 38, 177 102 Military Technical Revolution (MTR), Russia, 5, 12, 21, 87, 112–131, 133, 3, 4, 11, 112, 175 140, 141, 157, 160, 176 military transformation, 7–8, 16, 60, 102, 113, 156, 159, 165 shock and awe, 12, 18, 23, 145 Solomon Islands, 11, 71, 74, 76 NATO, 3, 9, 12–13, 18, 34, 35–37, Soviet Union, 3, 4, 17–21, 26, 29, 38–41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 52, 53, 35–37, 39–41, 44, 45, 53, 95, 112, 55, 56, 57, 59, 76, 85, 87, 112, 113, 113, 115, 116, 117, 118, 122, 127, 115–116, 117, 118–120, 125, 126, 135, 157, 158–160, 169, 172, 175, 127, 160, 164, 166–167, 170, 171, 177 172, 176 network centric warfare, 12, 77, 160, Timor-Leste, 11, 71, 74, 76, 82, 163–164, 172 83–85, 86 nuclear weapons, 3, 12, 13, 17, 35–37, 41, 43, 45, 112, 116, UAV, 19, 27, 75, 79, 87, 95, 98, 122, 117–120, 121, 122, 123, 124, 126, 123, 141, 148 133, 135–139, 140, 143, 144, 145, Ukraine, 1, 12, 112, 113, 115, 127, 147, 149, 158, 176 179 United Kingdom (UK), 6, 33–50, 53, offset strategy, 3 73, 159, 160, 161, 163, 167, 168, Ogarkov, Nikolai, 3, 177 169, 176, 177 Operation Allied Force, 57 United States (US), 3–4, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, Operation Desert Storm, 1, 4, 16, 16–32, 44, 52, 53, 54, 55, 59, 71, 22–25, 29, 52, 71, 74, 87, 175 73, 112, 132, 157, 158, 160, 175, Operation Iraqi Freedom, 22, 23, 26, 177 28, 29, 59, 159 Operation Parakram, 136, 137, 139, Vietnam War, 3, 6, 17, 73, 81, 94, 143, 144 158, 163, 177 precision guided munitions, 3, 6, Winograd Commission, 92, 105, 8, 57, 77, 93, 94, 112, 115, 116, 106 121–122, 123, 126, 127, 134, 136 prompt global strike, 57, 116, 117, Yugoslavia, 13, 58, 116, 120, 125, 122, 126, 178 157, 158, 159, 160, 166