Air University Review, January-February 1986
Colonel Thomas A. Fabyanic, USAF (Ret)
THE U.S. Air Force exists for one reason: war. Its immediate tasks are to understand war, prepare for it, and deter it. But the ultimate task of the U.S. Air Force is to wage war, appropriately and successfully, across the broad spectrum of conflict. Viewed at a basic level, this phenomenon of war probably is the most odious act a man commits against his fellowman; it is gruesome, inexplicably brutal, and horrendous in its cost of human life and other resources. But to cope with this persistent feature of man's history, it is insufficient merely understand war. At a minimum, the planning and conduct of war require one to approach it at the level of analysis, for only then can its essential elements and their interactions become reasonably clear.
The first step in such an effort should be to address the nature of war, but its enormous complexity defies all but rudimentary analysis. To obviate this complexity, war is often cast in simplified molds or equations; such efforts, however, produce not analysis, but the illusion of it. Some individuals attempt to grasp the essentials of war by examining it in isolation from political reality; but that approach is doomed to failure, since it ignores the basic logic of war--namely, the reasons for which it is fought. Others seek to understand war by reducing it to principles or precepts, yet such efforts can yield only abstractions, themselves of limited value, thus providing little real comprehension. The most dangerous outcomes, however, are reserved for those who try to examine war in quantifiable terms. Using a methodology that assumes the existence of determinant knowledge concerning war, these individuals arrive at conclusions that have enormous appeal because they are adorned in the guise of mathematical and scientific respectability. But when subjected to the uncertainties and nonquantifiable aspects of war as it actually unfolds in combat, the disastrous consequences of this approach become painfully evident. Thus, there are no quick and easy approaches to the study of war. If one wishes sincerely to make the essence of war an integral part of his thought processes, he must grasp it at two different levels. One of these is within the domain of rational intellectual thought; the other, which is of equal importance, is at the level of instincts and intuition. In psychological terms, both left and right brains must deal with this phenomenon. Only when both domains are probed can the necessary synthesis take place; only then can one truly "think war."
The effort to understand doctrine demands no less. It requires the Air Force officer to take a long and arduous journey to gain experience in war. Ideally, some of that experience will be acquired by direct combat, but much of it will be assimilated vicariously, with history serving as the primary medium. Also necessary will be exposure to bureaucratic influences, because only through it can one begin to appreciate the final shape and structure of official doctrine and the rationalizations offered for it. To their great credit, many professional officers take this doctrinal journey. But although they travel the same pathways, they do not always proceed in exactly the same sequence, nor, after completing the journey, do they agree on what they have seen. The result, predictably, is extensive and serious controversy.2
Currently, the meaning, substance, and output of doctrine are the subjects of a vigorous, vital, and necessary debate of enormous importance to the role of the U.S. Air Force in U.S. national security matters. Although not generally recognized, the stakes in the debate are enormous. Ostensibly the debate is about doctrine, but in reality the controversy centers on the meaning of war and its relationship to doctrine. War and doctrine are inseparable, and attempts to understand doctrine by isolating it from war as it occurs on the battlefield is likely to result in formulations that are (to paraphrase Will Rogers) neat, plausible, and wrong.
The complexity and importance of these two interrelated matters of war and doctrine are such that one would find it difficult to understand and assimilate them on an individual or independent basis. Although all military professionals study war, only some few are privileged to gain direct exposure to it; the remainder must rely exclusively on indirect exposure. With regard to doctrine, all military professionals concern themselves with it, but they do not necessarily agree on its meaning or importance. Part of the effort to overcome these shortcomings is made at the Air Force's senior service school, Air War College (AWC), by offering a structured approach to the study of war, doctrine, and their relationships to the broader concerns of national security affairs.
Although the need for this formalized study appears obvious, considerable disagreement seems to exist, even at the highest levels, about its intrinsic value for those who attend AWC and, by inference, its utility for the Air Force's future. The results are a continual introspection within AWC and periodic assessments at a higher level of authority in order to judge the overall effectiveness of an AWC education. The basic questions asked are who is being taught, what are they taught, and who does the teaching? Also probed, yet never really answered, is the basic question: namely, what is the purpose of an AWC education? Do we seek to graduate senior staff officers or senior combat commanders? Do we educate colonels or future generals? None of these groups, of course, are mutually exclusive; and therein lies the problem. Should the curricula be broadly based and, as a consequence, exhibit a measure of superficiality? Or, alternatively, should it have a relatively narrow focus with emphasis on depth of understanding and analysis? Arriving at answers, of course, is a far more difficult task than raising the questions. However, one might suggest, as a point of departure, that without a basic understanding of war and doctrine, valid answers are not possible.
The most fundamental and vital task for the professional officer is to understand war; this obligation takes precedence over all others. Although one can argue that the deterrence of war is the more immediate task faced by the professional officer, it should be relatively obvious that one cannot comprehend deterrence, let alone achieve it, without a clear grasp of what is to be deterred. The obligation of the professional officer to understand war, moreover, is universal; no officer qua officer can be exempted from this responsibility. Line officers in particular, but nonline officers as well, must demonstrate an understanding of war. Even junior officers, whose professional education and socialization are in the earliest of stages, must possess at least a basic knowledge of this phenomenon so central to the profession.
Regrettably, however, comprehension of war does not appear to be the sine qua non of the professional officer corps--a condition widely recognized by astute observers both within and without the officer corps. Not very long ago, for example, the editor of Air University Review reminded his fellow officers that "the basic function of the peacetime military is to prepare for war " and argued that today's officers do not view their combat responsibility with clarity. He further suggested that although a hallmark of the military professional is expertise at war, "today's Air Force officer corps seems to be regressing to the preprofessional status that prevailed in the American officer corps during the first half of the nineteenth century," when technical skills took precedence over the ability to conduct war.3
To these internal criticisms, one must add observations offered by competent nonmilitary analysts. Perhaps one of the most insightful comments in this regard was made by the late Bernard Brodie, who, in his last major work War and Politics, argued that "soldiers usually are close students of tactics, but only rarely are they students of strategy and practically never of war!"4
The key to understanding war is to begin with its nature. In that respect, no greater clarity and value exist for the professional officer than that offered by Carl von Clausewitz in On War, which was acclaimed by Bernard Brodie as "not simply the greatest but the only truly great book on war." On War provides an analysis of war whose relevance transcends time, weapons, and technology.5
At the outset, Clausewitz defines war as "an act of force to compel an enemy to do our will." The operative word is will. Clausewitz likens war to a duel on a grand scale, the objective of which is to impose one's will on the enemy. Reduced to its fundamentals, therefore, war in essence is a contest of wills.6 But to grasp fully this disarmingly simple notion, one must examine war in two separate and distinct ways. First, one must consider abstract or theoretical war. In such a war, no limits exist on the application of force; war escalates to the extreme as each side attempts to exceed the efforts of the other. This type of war is a perfect textbook war in every respect. The political objective for which the war is conducted is established in clear and unambiguous terms and is understood perfectly by every individual directly or indirectly involved. In this type of war, complete knowledge exists about one's will as represented in society, government, and the military. The capability of one's military force, having been quantified by analytical techniques, is known with precision. Space and time are known variables that can be factored into force alerting, deployment, and employment actions. Moreover, the outcomes of force employment can be determined with a high degree of certainty in advance because war, when reduced to valid fundamental principles, lends itself to quantification. Obviously, given these tools of measurement, one can determine whether a favorable force asymmetry exists. Should that be the case, it is then possible to exert increasing amounts of military effort and escalate the war to the extreme, with the certain knowledge that the adversary will crack first and thus lose the test of wills.
It should be obvious that such a war does not--indeed, cannot--exist. Because of its implausibility, Clausewitz defines this type of war as theoretical, i.e., it can exist only in the abstract. Such a war bears no relationship to reality; it is war on paper.
Real war, by contrast, is war as it unfolds on the battlefield or in combat operations in general. It is influenced and modulated by a variety of factors that collectively tend to reduce the effectiveness and efficiency of all military efforts. All of these factors, according to Clausewitz, can be grouped under the notion of general friction.
Much like the mechanical phenomenon, friction affects every effort in war, and as a result even the simplest of them become difficult. Stated differently, nothing in real war occurs as expected. For example, one can be assured that command, control, communications and intelligence (C3I) breakdowns will manifest themselves in any sizable combat operations because of systemic problems, equipment failures, and human errors. As those experienced in war know all too well, some participants will not "get the word," others will get in wrong, and some, for a variety of reasons simply will not--or cannot—respond. Such failures are what Clausewitz had in mind when he said that "countless minor incidents--the kind you can never really forsee—combine to lower the general level of performance, so that one always falls short of the intended goal."7 This persistent phenomenon of general friction, much like its mechanical counterpart, can be reduced but never eliminated. Thus it will always exist as an inherent characteristic of real war.
A component of general friction that distinguishes real war from war on paper is uncertainty. Defined as "a state of incomplete knowledge," it severely inhibits not only the conduct of war but the planning of it as well. Modern means and technology notwithstanding, one cannot know, for example, the actual disposition, capability, and readiness of one's own forces, let alone those of the enemy. One can draw some general conclusions about them, but there simply is no way to calculate these elusive characteristics accurately.
This phenomenon of uncertainty becomes particularly significant when one's approach to war places heavy emphasis on technology. At a given level of technological complexity and sophistication, it becomes virtually impossible (because of cost, environmental factors, and other reasons) to ensure a satisfactory level of technological certainty of new systems prior to their exposure to combat. Furthermore, the requirement to integrate such systems for offense, defense, and C3 will create additional difficulty and compound the problem of uncertainty; moreover, it will do so in a geometric rather than arithmetic fashion. The net result may be massive uncertainty about the actual, as opposed to theoretical, effectiveness of technological systems as yet untested in combat. Testing notwithstanding, however, the uncertainty will remain. It can be reduced but not eliminated. It too is an inherent characteristic of war.8
Other factors to contend with under the heading of general friction are chance and unpredictability. Modern-day warriors in the West, whose antecedents flow from the Age of Reason and whose educational backgrounds are dominated primarily by science and technology, tend to ignore or minimize subjective elements such as chance and unpredictability even though these profound influences are clearly established in military history. These elements often explain victory or defeat not only in single battles but in whole wars, (The history reader need think no further back than Vietnam.)
Since it is friction that largely leads to the occurrences of unpredictable events, one must be alert to any manifestation of friction within his own conduct of operations and be prepared to act accordingly. Moreover, the knowledge that friction on the other side will create unpredictable events should encourage one to take those actions that will generate additional, unpredictability for the adversary. Where, when, and under what circumstances these events will occur are uncertain because they are governed not by calculations but by the providence of chance. Whereas uncertainty feeds on itself in a manner that can never be precisely foreseen, chance is a more fundamental part of nature. As such, it is an inescapable aspect of reality and thus is essential to an understanding of real war. Clausewitz recognized the role of chance when he argued that:
. . . absolute, so-called mathematical, factors never find a firm basis in military calculations. From the very start there is an interplay of possibilities, probabilities, good luck and bad that weaves its way through the length and breadth of the tapestry. In the whole range of human activities, war most closely resembles a game of cards.9
Real war, therefore, is exceedingly complex. Consequently, the first essential step for all professional officers--and commanders, in particular--is to recognize that complexity and all of its implications. Education and training (in that sequence) are essential elements in this process. But--and this is a key point--they possess great potential for danger because they require order, structure, and method. War, by contrast, is bedlam. Uncertainty, chance, and unpredictability, to which one could add danger and exertion, all combine under the rubric of general friction to present conditions other than those expected. Under such circumstances, axioms, rules, and principles are of marginal utility, primarily because the confusion and chaos of war frequently are such that insufficient knowledge exists to suggest what to apply. War, in other words, is not a managerial enterprise. It is, as stated earlier, a test of wills; but more completely, war is a contest of independent wills dominated by friction. The task of the combat leader, therefore, is to impose his will on that of the enemy while contending with the effects of general friction. One cannot eliminate friction, but its adverse effects can be lessened by coming to grips with war at both the intellectual and intuitive levels. And it is the latter that Clausewitz refers to as the inward eye, which instinctively permits "the quick recognition of a truth that the mind would ordinarily miss or would perceive only after long study and reflection."10 But in addition to intellect and intuition, one must include such qualities as determination, courage, and spirit because only the collective weight of all these elements can limit the adverse effects of friction that can permeate every aspect of war. More significantly, they form the essence of one's effort in war. In a word, they constitute one's will. But their vital importance notwithstanding, "they will not yield to academic wisdom. They cannot be classified or counted. They have to be seen or felt."11
One can ignore this approach to war, however, and examine it in a more systematic, less complex, and almost quantifiable manner. From a historical perspective, the individual who perhaps best symbolizes this approach is General Antoine Henri Jomini. He and Clausewitz shared some common ground in that they were participants and interpreters of Napoleonic warfare. Both viewed war as an instrument of policy and wrote about its theory and practice in similar terms.12 Those similarities aside, however, they differed substantially on the substance and conduct of war. Whereas Clausewitz sought to explore the fundamental essence of war, Jomini attempted to reduce it to scientific principles; while Clausewitz emphasized chance, Jomini relied on calculation. In essence, Jomini argued that war could be abstracted into a small number of rules which could be applied in all situations. "There have existed in all times fundamental principles," he wrote, "on which depend good results in warfare. . . . Those principles are unchanging, independent of the kind of weapons, of historical time and place."13 With this line of reasoning, Jomini offered hope to warriors who found their previous notions of warfare shattered by the political, industrial, and managerial revolutions of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. But instead of making those warriors concerned about the complexity of total war as it emerged following these revolutions, he made them feel comfortable by providing "a small number of fundamental principles of war . . . . the application of which has . . . been crowned in nearly every case with success."14
Jominian thinking applied to battle, however, proved wanting. In the U.S. Civil War, for example, it had a disastrous effect as commanders waited in vain for the ideal battle based on Jominian assumptions. Only after extended campaigns and numerous casualties did battlefield commanders slowly recognize the nonutility of Jomini's maxims. Indeed, two of the most decisive events of that war--Grant's unorthodox maneuvering at Vicksburg and Sherman's march through Georgia--stand as outright rejections of Jominian principles. And although Jomini "recognized that every maxim has its exceptions, the fact remains that the battles of the Civil War were won by generals who wrote their own rules."15 (How the U.S. Air Force views this striking difference between Jomini and Clausewitz will be addressed further in the succeeding section on doctrine.)
But to understand the nature of war requires one to go beyond the Clausewitzian formulation of real war and his notion of general friction that brings it about. Necessary also is recognition of offense and defense as vital and interactive components of war. One might think that this relationship is sufficiently obvious to obviate more than the slightest mention of it, but that is not the case. Moreover, it misses the point: one can argue persuasively that defense possesses a natural superiority in war. From the philosophical standpoint, the evidence is rational. The objective of offense is to destroy, while the goal of defense is to preserve. From an operational perspective, defense appears intrinsically stronger since it is easier to defend than to attack, assuming equal forces on both sides.16 Furthermore, trends in the modern period suggest that defensive capability is becoming significantly more efficient. As examples, far fewer men are needed to defend a mile of frontal area today than were required in the Napoleonic period (or, for that matter, in World War II). In contemporary warfare, new defense systems with substantial degrees of accuracy and lethality suggest, at least theoretically, high one-shot-one-kill probabilities. (Admittedly, similar systems also improve the attacker's capability, but because his task is more difficult, greater advantage accrues to the defender.) Moreover, significant advances in surveillance and reconnaissance tend to make the "other side of the hill" reasonably clear to both attacking and defending commanders, the net effect of which is to improve the latter's situation, again for obvious reasons.
These trends notwithstanding, the centrality of both offense and defense as components of war remains. Although it can be argued that one or the other tends to dominate broad periods of conflict, neither can assert absolute primacy in combat. Rather, there exists in all combat operations a continuous interaction of both offense and defense (as anyone who has flown an "offensive" combat sortie over North Vietnam can attest).
Yet a further notion necessary to understand the nature of war is the relationship that exists between the objective of war and the means used to attain them. Clausewitz perhaps expressed it best with his analogy that war has its own grammar but not its own logic.17 Grammar refers to the military means and methods used in war, while logic is a reference to the objective or purpose of war. This link between means and ends has two crucial dimensions. The first is expressed in another oft-quoted statement by Clausewitz, namely, "that war is simply a continuation of political intercourse, with the addition of other means."18 The final phrase and its reference to "other means" is of utmost importance, since it makes clear that war is not an autonomous act that can be viewed in isolation from its political purposes. Clausewitz argued further that it would be absurd to subordinate the political point of view to the military; moreover, he extended this line of reasoning by stating that it is not sensible for governments to ask the military for "purely military advice."19 He could have added that "purely military advice" simply doesn't exist.
The second vital aspect of the relationship between means and ends is that they must exhibit a sense of proportionality and compatibility. Attempting to achieve a major political objective with less than adequate means or, alternatively, using excessive means must be judged impolitic and immoral. Consequently, no decision made in the process of establishing political objectives or the level of means to be used can be viewed as a pure political or military decision. In any circumstances that might involve the commitment of force, pure political or military decisions simply do not exist.20
Understanding that war has its own grammar but not its own logic has further significance for the military because there are different types of war, which exist across a spectrum. Although the terminology for specific points on the spectrum are neither consistent nor uniform, three basic levels of conflict are selected here for the purpose of discussion: total war, limited war, and low-intensity conflict. Each is distinct; the logics (or purposes) are decidedly different, and the grammars (means and methods) vary sufficiently to warrant separate consideration.
Total war, the modern intellectual origins of which can be traced to the Napoleonic period and not the atomic bomb, is the most clear-cut. It is fought between and among governments (and in recent time on a global scale) whose objectives are to destroy the means and will of the adversary and to eliminate it as a political entity. The means can be unrestricted and thus could include nuclear, biological, and chemical weapons.21 Historically, total war has resulted in mass mobilization of the respective economies and populations, but the possible use of weapons of mass destruction in future war may render such efforts impossible or irrelevant. Regardless of the weapons employed, but particularly if they are limited to conventional forces, the strategy for total war is rather straightforward. The primary military aims are to eliminate the military capability and potential of the opposing force structure; destroy the relevant economic capability, particularly any war-supporting capacity; and neutralize the ability of the political infrastructure to wage war. The goal, in short, is to destroy the adversary as a functioning political, economic, and military entity.
By contrast, the grammar and logic of limited wars are restrictive. Political objectives are intentionally limited (self-imposed or externally induced), few states usually are involved (the superpowers may or may not be included), and conflict is confined to a restricted geographical area. The adversary's will, however, remains the objective. But instead of crushing it, the goal is to change it, thus suggesting a bargaining approach. The means of limited war are similarly restricted in order to keep the conflict under control. Only relevant portions of the force structure are employed, but all types of conventional capability may be used. Much debate exists about the use of nuclear weapons, primarily because their employment may result in escalation to total war. However, where the grammar of limited war really differs from total war is in its methods of force employment at the strategy level. Although the focus might remain on the adversary's force structure, relevant economic base, and political infrastructure, the military objective would not be to destroy them. Rather, one's efforts would be directed toward reducing the capability or potential of some or all of these elements to function effectively. The post-World War II conflicts in Korea and Vietnam remain as excellent examples of limited political objectives sought by constrained military means and methods. Yet, despite these experiences, compatibility and proportionality between the grammar and logic of limited war remain elusive and thus frustrating to the military officers.22
Since no completely adequate terminology appears available for the next level of hostilities, it is referred to herein, somewhat reluctantly and almost arbitrarily, as low-intensity conflict. It is conflict that encompasses several distinct types of hostilities and would include wars of national liberation, insurgency, revolution, and guerrilla war. In addition to these more traditional types of combat, low-intensity conflict would include sabotage, counterterrorism, and hostage-taking and rescues.23 Thus there are several points on the spectrum at the level of low-intensity conflict, and each has its distinctive characteristics. Additionally, each has its own grammar and logic, although again considerable overlap exists. For example, wars of national liberation, insurgency, revolution, guerrilla war, and civil war normally would have a similar objective, i.e., overthrow an existing government, and thus they would employ similar means. The government's objective, by contrast, would be survival and elimination of the threat. Its means, however, could differ significantly from the opposing force simply because established governments do not ordinarily maintain irregular forces as central elements in their force structures. And unless a threatened government wishes to fight with dissimilar forces (i.e., conventional ones), modification becomes necessary.
Likewise, the methods for low-intensity conflict differ considerably from those of total or limited war. Concepts of employment for total war that might be suitably altered to fit the condition of limited war may be not only totally irrelevant but counterproductive if applied to low-intensity conflict. Although not readily apparent, it seems reasonably clear that substantially more differences exist between low-intensity conflict and limited war than between limited war and total war. The implications for the professional officer are far-reaching.
If one assumes that the contest of wills remains operative at the level of low-intensity conflict, then how to change or modify the adversary's will remains as a fundamental goal. However, a government attempting to resist insurgency, for example, must proceed with great care, since the wrong approach might escalate the situation from insurgency to revolution; moreover, if dealt with inappropriately, the domestic nature of insurgency could become international in scope, should other states accord belligerent status to the insurgents. Therefore, the concepts of employment become of prime importance, and the questions they raise have no easy answers.
Assuming the development of appropriate concepts, equally serious questions arise concerning the capability of one's force structure to conduct effective operations.
As these questions should make clear, low-intensity conflict possesses its own grammar and logic, and thus it differs significantly from other types of war. It also should be obvious that efforts to cope with low-intensity conflict that ignore this fundamental fact are unlikely to succeed. Indeed, it is precisely this point that Clausewitz had in mind when he argued that "wars can have all degrees of importance and intensity, ranging from a war of extermination down to simple armed observation." Indeed, it is this salient fact which leads to one of his most profound (and most ignored) conclusions that the first, the supreme, the most far-reaching act of judgment that the statesman and commander have to make is to establish . . . the kind of war on which they are embarking; neither mistaking it for, nor trying to turn it into, something that is alien to its nature.24
In light of the foregoing, what then can be said about the approach to war as exhibited by the U.S. Air Force? First, the evidence suggests that the Air Force is devoid of any real recognition of war's true nature. From the pre-World War II period to the present, it clearly has accepted notions of theoretical war, or war on paper, while simultaneously ignoring the dominant influences of general friction in war. The theory of daylight, high-altitude, precision bombing, formulated at the Air Corps Tactical School prior to World War II, and the actual conduct of strategic air operations during the war are clear examples of a Jominian, mechanistic view of war--a view of war as a mathematical equation whose variables can be selectively manipulated to achieve success.25
This penchant for ascribing magic to mathematics remains quite evident in current Air Force thinking, and one need not look much farther than the extended debate on MX basing. A few years ago, a small number of Air Force officers, whose competence in physics and statistics exceeded by several orders of magnitude their understanding of war, apparently convinced the senior leadership that there existed a "window of vulnerability." By using numbers to create "reality," these officers, specialists in Air Force uniforms, were able to demonstrate a high level of ostensible vulnerability for fixed-based ICBMS. But although their calculations suggested a mobile basing approach for the emerging MX, none of the thirty-some schemes devised were able to win congressional or public support. As it became obvious that MX deployment in fixed Minuteman silos presented the only attainable alternative (and, incidentally, one that could be justified on the basis of real war), the earlier vulnerability arguments based on numbers then called into question the advisability of procuring the MX in the first place. As a consequence, an extended debate on the MX ensued and has continued, and ironically the major argument used against MX procurement is the one provided by the Air Force, i.e., vulnerability.
The MX, of course, will be vulnerable to a certain extent, simply because all systems possess a degree of vulnerability. But there ought to be enough blue-suiters with Ph.D.'s in physics who understand the basic statistical arithmetic sufficiently well enough to demonstrate that a Soviet first strike against 1000 fixed-based silos will not result in the destruction of 80 percent to 99 percent of these, as frequently postulated by the Air Staff. By the same token, within the blue-suit community (particularly at the senior officer level), there should be enough understanding about the waging of war to distinguish between real war and war on paper. That there does not appear to be such understanding, should come as no surprise, but it remains, nonetheless, tragic. It is entirely possible that had one senior Air Force leader expressed a single, clarifying thought--that war is not numbers--the entire MX controversy might have been avoided.16
At a different operational level, additional evidence exists to demonstrate the Jominian, mechanistic thinking that prevails in the U.S. Air Force. Our notions of possible war in Central Europe, for example, require centralized command and control of Air Force assets, which, in turn, demand an elaborate C3I superstructure. In this system, combat decision making, which is the essential action in war, is tied to a perceived capability to assess--accurately, comprehensively, and continuously--the unfolding and constantly changing battlefield situation. This perceived potential for collecting and synthesizing relevant data from multiple sources, moreover, has led to the belief that "sufficient automation and intelligence 'fusion' can render future battlefields 'transparent’."27
This technological potential notwithstanding, these notions downplay significantly the reality of modern war and probable Soviet employment concepts. Fighting or deterring modern war in NATO (as much as some would like it to be otherwise) means adequate recognition and response to the probable effects of nuclear weapons on NATO's C3I systems. Despite ongoing and planned improvements to make high-frequency and ultrahigh-frequency systems in Western Europe more secure and reliable,28 the fact remains that NATO's C3I system and fixed-site facilities are highly vulnerable to nuclear effects. For example, transient radiation (including gamma and x-rays) can destroy integrated communications systems and large-scale integrated systems, thereby crippling communication systems, sensors, and computers. Furthermore, electromagnetic pulse is capable of destroying solid-state electronics, and those that might be spared would remain vulnerable to the relatively small overpressures generated by low-yield warheads. These effects can be limited to a certain degree (through the use of shielding, special filters, hardening, etc.), but they cannot be eliminated. Vulnerability of the system, therefore, is and will remain a fact of life; the only question is how much.
There exists an astonishing belief that one can calculate effects and results of nuclear weapons never tested, let alone used, in a combat environment; and it is here that the anti-Clausewitzian, Jominian approach becomes manifest. We are basing our C3I decisions on presumed knowledge about a type of conflict that has yet to occur and in the belief that our knowledge about outcomes of past conflicts offers an adequate basis for determining future outcomes. Although this approach is not without merit, the real value in examining previous conflicts lies in the proof they offer about the persistence and effects of friction in war. These factors would suggest the need for C3I systems that are extensive, redundant, and mobile. But more important, they would make clear the requirement for adaptability and creativity by commanders at all levels in order to cope with the constantly changing and unpredictable circumstances in war.
It is the Jominian view of war that encourages us to rely on elaborate and complex C3I systems in the belief that we can direct war with some measure of precision. The Clausewitzian view, by contrast, suggests that we should rely on commanders who understand war and who can respond instinctively in the absence of C3I. Our Jominian bias has led us to think that we can calculate answers; Clausewitz, by contrast, would have left us with difficult, perhaps unanswerable questions. Professionally, we have allowed ourselves to be comforted by ostensible knowledge and thus need to be reminded of a recent comment by the eminent historian Daniel Boorstin: "The great obstacle to progress is not ignorance, but the illusion of knowledge."29
In addition to its Jominian, mechanistic bias, Air Force thinking about war seems to lack the all-important quality of discernment. With one significant exception, there appears to be an inability or unwillingness (or both) to accept that war occurs at different levels and that each demands specific preparation and response. The exception, of course, is the recognition that strategic nuclear war differs substantially from other forms of war and hence has its own force structure and employment concepts. But beyond that obvious difference, there is little discernment about gradations--a point made all too clear by our combat history. For example, we went to war in Korea with the intellectual baggage and a force structure extrapolated from our World War II experience, only to find that we were mentally unprepared and physically ill-equipped to fight that kind of war effectively. Not learning the lesson caused us to repeat the course in Vietnam, and our failure to receive a passing grade there clearly raises fundamental questions about our professional competence.
If anything, our military concepts, procurements, and training policies prior to Vietnam demonstrated an even greater lack of discernment. For example, one highly respected and knowledgeable commentator on Air Force issues has described our tactical fighter outfits in the Pacific during the late 1950s and early 1960s as a "sort of bush-league Strategic Air Command."30 Because of the circumstances under which they would carry out their primary mission of nuclear delivery, assigned F-100 aircraft required 450-gallon drop tanks and electronic countermeasure pods.
Then came Vietnam, for which they were decidedly not ready. The huge 450-gallon tanks were useless in a tactical war, and the ECM pods emerged from classified storage only to prove equally useless against the radar in North Vietnam. As for the pilots, all their nuclear training was also useless. They were not ready for what they were being called to do, any more than the B-52s were ready for their conventional role.31
This unpreparedness for Vietnam (and Korea earlier) is not simply a matter of poor planning or bad judgment. Rather, it reflects a basic institutional inability to discern different levels of war, and it suggests a mistaken notion that the training and force structure requirements necessary for the most demanding level of combat are adequate for war at lower levels. One cannot take issue with the belief that maximum flexibility in the force structure can overcome a host of problems if one is called to fight under unexpected circumstances. But one can argue that maximum flexibility in the force structure may be totally irrelevant without a corresponding degree of mental dexterity about the type of war in which one is engaging.
Given the complexity of war, how we plan to wage it across a spectrum of conflict becomes a fundamental question. The real answer to that question cannot be found in existing or projected force structures, strategic plans, or tactics manuals. Nor can the answer be a definitive one, since war, at whatever level it occurs, will be profoundly influenced by friction and thus will not unfold as expected. How we plan to wage it, therefore, can be stated only implicitly, based on the collective wisdom expressed in our doctrine.
In his 1971 work Ideas, Concepts, and Doctrine, Robert Frank Futrell stated that from its creation the Air Force has been involved in "a never-ending quest for doctrine."32Approximately a decade later, a serving Air Force officer would continue this refrain by writing that "a fundamental problem with Air Force doctrine is the absence of any real consensus as to what doctrine is and just what it is supposed to do."33 Later yet, an editor of Air University Review would introduce two diametrically opposed articles on doctrine by referring to doctrine as "Unfinished Business. "34 This inquiry would persist as Air Force officers continued to produce articles questioning doctrine and challenging its process of formulation.35
A review of this literature indicates that two diametrically opposed doctrinal schools of thought exist. On the one hand, there is an abstract-Jominian view: it places emphasis on precise definitions of doctrine; argues for a formalized process for its formulation; categorizes doctrine by type or level of application; and tends to view war in mechanistic terms. In stark contrast, there exists an operational Clausewitzian view: its central focus is the reality of war and how professional officers respond to its uncertainty by relying on a set of shared assumptions and beliefs.
The abstract-Jominian view can be seen among statements published during the past several years in the Air University Review, which seek, as Jomini himself did, to reduce the degree of uncertainty. Jomini understood that the task of military schoolmasters after Napoleon would be to explain to lieutenants and captains, themselves lacking Napoleon's innate genius, how to go about things. The requirement then became, for Jomini but not for Clausewitz, to lay out the rules we should bear in mind.
This approach, it seems to me, is a mechanistic one. By implicitly assuming that war is characterized by structure and continuity, one is free to argue that what has worked best in the past is appropriate for the future. Doctrine can then be used to explain the best way for one to conduct military operations. The Clausewitzian approach, by contrast, would seek not to explain but to explore. It would not provide answers; rather, it would merely remind those who must fight what questions to ask of the situation, of existing plans, of resources, and--not the least--of themselves.
This operational-Clausewitzian approach to doctrine has been expressed recently by a small group of young officers. Among them are Lieutenant Colonel Barry D. Watts and Major James O. Hale, who have argued that abstract definitions "have turned the doctrinal enterprise into a sterile scholasticism too little related to the concrete activities of war itself."36 These officers argue persuasively that "a formal definition of doctrine that explicitly captures all its particulars and nothing more cannot be given."37 Their overriding concern is clearly with war-fighting competence. Consequently they characterize doctrine as "the implicit orientation with which a military culture collectively responds to the unfolding circumstances of war." Colonel Watts and Major Hale are Clausewitzians, strictly because they are persuaded that Clausewitz's ideas are more useful in coping with the uncompromising realities of battle than Jomini's or anyone else's.38
A similar view is expressed by Dr. Williamson Murray, a major in the Air Force Reserve, who argues that doctrine must give "commanders and subordinates on the battlefields a set of shared assumptions that enable them to know intuitively what others might be doing under the confused pressures of combat."39 Thus the central focus of the operational Clausewitzian school of thought is war and the uncertainty associated with it; and it is the latter, as evidenced on the battlefield under the reality of friction, that demands from doctrine a set of shared assumptions or an implicit orientation about the application of force in combat. There can be no best way or approved way to do a job in war; war's nature simply does not permit everything to be spelled out in advance.
This striking contrast between the abstract Jominian and operational-Clausewitzian views forms a suitable backdrop for an assessment of the official Air Force approach to doctrine. That it clearly falls into one of these categories should not come as a surprise, but which category may come as a rude awakening to those who accept that the essential mission of the U.S. Air Force is to fly and fight.
By all measures of merit, the latest version of AFM 1-1, Basic Aerospace Doctrine of the United States Air Force, published in 1984, is a major improvement over its 1979 predecessor, Functions and Basic Doctrine of the United States Air Force. Gone are the comic-book style, quotations from prominent individuals whose doctrinal competence is not obvious, and irrelevant observations about managing people.40 More substantively, the entire thrust of the revision represents a serious effort to make AFM 1-1 the basis for thinking seriously about how to employ air power in war. Despite these obvious improvements, however, the document remains inadequate.
The first and most serious failure is its acceptance of war on paper as a suitable paradigm for the use of air power. Instead of confirming that general friction is the most crucial challenge ever to be faced by a combat leader, AFM 1-1 tells us that the "essential factors in warfare [are] man, machine, and environment."41 Instead of basing air doctrine on war as it unfolds in battle, AFM 1-1 argues that doctrine flows from the principles of war, "which have been proved successful in the art and science of conducting war."42 This emphasis on the principles of war clearly establishes the abstract-Jominian nature of AFM 1-1 and, regrettably, also provides evidence of its superficiality. The principles are important, but they are not war, and knowing them cannot ensure victory in war. Indeed, as military history makes clear, success on the battlefield is owed just as frequently to their violation. To its credit, however, AFM I -I does state that the principles of war "are not a series of checklist items" and that the understanding of war goes "far beyond mere principles."43 But since there is no attempt to provide that understanding, and in light of the extended treatment given the principles, we are left with a clear inference that indeed they are the basis for air power doctrine.
It appears, moreover, that the discussion of the principles of war serves as a vehicle to add further emphasis to the Air Force's penchant for centralized command and control in the conduct of war. Eleven principles of war are established, and in five of them the specific need for effective C3I is made clear. The C3I requirement notwithstanding, however, the net effect of this litany will be to drive us further into a centralized control mind-set that, realistically, may well be our first and most serious combat loss.44 Under such circumstances, those whose knowledge of war is limited to its principles had better hope that there are others around who understand war's nature and can act accordingly. If we expect success in battle, every Air Force officer must understand our basic views about war to the extent that even the most junior among us can conduct meaningful operations instinctively in the absence of C3. Real war demands no less.
An equally serious failing of AFM 1-1 is its nearly complete disregard for the conduct of war across the spectrum of conflict. No meaningful distinctions are made about the various levels of war and the differing challenges they present. Thus, AFM 1-1 ignores the Clausewitzian admonition that the profound act of judgment is to establish, at the outset, the type of war upon which one is embarking. Indeed, the entire document, like its 1979 predecessor, is written as though the Vietnam War never occurred. Why? Is it because we judge that war to have no relevance for Air Force doctrine? One way or the other, how would we know, since we have yet to complete a comprehensive analytical and conceptual study of air power application in that war? Do we basically ignore Vietnam because we believe the U.S. Air Force will not be called on to fight that type of war again? Or is it that we merely assume that should such a war occur, we can satisfy the conceptual requirement for fighting it by making straight-line extrapolations from conventional war? And would we assume further that the hardware requirements would be met simply by making the war fit the weapon? One would hope not, since we tried that approach in Korea and Vietnam and failed both times. With regard to Air Force planning before Korea, the preeminent air power historian, Professor Futrell, recently wrote that
the emphasis . . . was in making war fit a weapon--nuclear air power--rather than making the weapon fit the war. [It] was a weapons strategy wherein the weapons determined the strategy rather than the strategy determining the weapons.45
If we are inclined to rely on superior technology for that type of war, we should do so with the utmost caution.
Too little thought [is] given to the fact that strategy can outwit technology; . . . one may also speculate that for technology to be . . . decisive it must be a vast superiority, possibly on the order of Western gunboats versus aborigines in colonial times.46
With regard to low-intensity conflict, the current AFM 1-1 makes it reasonably clear that the U.S. Air Force has little serious interest in it and, moreover, views special operations primarily in terms of conventional warfare.47 This focus amounts to a modification in Air Force thinking, but one that is not universally accepted within the officer corps. Colonel Kenneth J. Alnwick, a knowledgeable officer with special operations combat experience, has argued recently that:
there has been a clear shift in Air Force thinking away from classic special operations of the past and toward a special operations force with a much narrower focus. Thus, either by accident or design, . . . . the U.S. Air Force no longer possesses a strong institutional capability to conduct effective counterinsurgency or psychological warfare campaigns.48
In a swift rejoinder, another officer speaking from an Air Staff perspective agreed that a shift in thinking had taken place but attributed it to a unified command strategy. And in that context, he suggested, "special operations forces are no different from other Air Force forces."49 But one can make that statement only by ignoring the conceptual and hardware demands of counterinsurgency, which is part of but not synonymous with low-intensity conflict. AFM 1-1 makes clear that a conceptual void exists with regard to counterinsurgency, and the paucity of the existing force structure visibly demonstrates a very limited capability. In combination, these two factors would suggest that the Air Force either does not intend to conduct counterinsurgency warfare in the near future or, if forced to do so, will "make the weapon fit the war."50
A shift has occurred in Air Force thinking about counterinsurgency, and it becomes quite evident if one examines past doctrinal expressions. As Air Force doctrinal manuals go, perhaps the best yet promulgated is the 1964 version written during General Curtis E. LeMay's tenure as Chief of Staff. The chapter titled "Employment of Aerospace Forces in Counterinsurgency" offers a valid conceptual base for developing a collective Air Force response to that type of conflict. Perhaps it should be reexamined in the light of events in such areas as the Philippines, all of Central America, parts of South America, and various countries in Africa and Southwest Asia. That we have yet to do so is evidence of a professional lapse of the gravest proportions. It is reasonably obvious that our current thinking is clouded by the "never again" syndrome of Vietnam, but, in that respect, we are confusing a poorly executed example with a valid concept of modern war. One would hope that sound doctrinal thinking could distinguish between the two.
As one moves to the opposite end of the conflict spectrum, to so-called strategic warfare, the new AFM 1-1 exhibits further shortcomings. For example, the statement that "aerospace forces have the power to penetrate to the heart of an enemy's strength without first defeating defending forces in detail" reflects an almost total disregard for the history of U.S. aerial warfare.51 In World War I, we learned that the first objective of air power is to "seek out, attack, and destroy the aviation of the enemy."52 Experience in that war suggested that this objective could be achieved best by using bombardment aircraft to attack airfields, while pursuit would engage the hostile force in air combat. Indeed, for a full decade after the war, we believed and taught that pursuit's "principal role, in fact its only role [was] to gain and hold control of the air by seeking out and destroying the hostile air force wherever found."53 Somehow, along the way to World War II, however, we forgot that lesson and accepted instead the notion that, in the main, an air force could ignore the hostile force and strike directly at the enemy's industrial base in order to destroy his means and will to resist. And despite evidence to the contrary during the first months of the U.S. air effort in Europe, we persisted in the belief that unescorted formations of B-17s were self-defending and consequently launched into a major air offensive against Germany. After we sustained staggering losses at Schweinfurt in August and October 1943, however, General Henry "Hap" Arnold intervened in the conduct of operations with a pointed message that clearly demonstrated his understanding of air warfare. Using language reminiscent of the World War I experience, he directed the Eighth and Fifteenth Air Forces to "Destroy the Enemy Air Force wherever you find them in the air, on the ground and in the factories."54
Even our most recent experience, Vietnam, would suggest the fallacy of the AFM 1-1 assertion that attacking aircraft can penetrate without first neutralizing or destroying the defenders. For example, during Linebacker II in December 1972, attacking B-52s experienced approximately a 4 percent loss rate. Although perhaps tolerable for an eleven-day operation, such losses compounded over many weeks probably would be unacceptable. Of greater importance, however, is that these losses were sustained despite an intensive suppression effort that, for all practical purposes, defeated "the defending forces in detail."
First, the raids were coordinated with attacks by other U.S. aircraft against the operating bases of MiG interceptor aircraft, and "the value of that one fact alone cannot ever be measured since an integral formation (of B-52s) proved to be . . . an essential element in a successful B-52 assault."55
Second, the attacking B-52s received strong defensive support from other U.S. aircraft. Tactical fighters flew escort for the B-52s, and other fighters patrolled certain areas for MiG interceptors; F-105 Wild Weasels and F-111 aircraft conducted defense suppression raids against SAM sites immediately before and during the B-52 raids; EB-66 aircraft provided ECM support by jamming enemy radar; and additional aircraft dispensed chaff to degrade the capability of enemy radar.56
Third, when the B-52 crews determined at the outset that their ECM capability against enemy SAMs did not provide the expected level of protection, hurried tests and evaluations conducted in the United States led to adjustments in ECM equipment. The "quick fix" reduced losses during the remainder of the operations.57
The final noteworthy characteristic of Linebacker II is that, after eleven days of attacks, the enemy depleted his reserves of SAMs and had no access to additional supplies. Thus, Linebacker II operations were conducted in a unique and not a representative environment, and consequently one should not conclude that he can penetrate sophisticated defense with acceptable losses.
The real lesson is that both offense and defense remain as interactive elements of war and that neither can assert absolute primacy. The AFM 1 -1 assertion that we can penetrate to the heart of the enemy without neutralizing defending forces, particularly when viewed in the context of World War I, World War II, and Linebacker II, is both bad history and faulty doctrine.
At least superficial and perhaps misleading is the AFM I1-1 approach of listing vital targets for a strategic offensive, while providing only a limited discussion of the need to destroy the war-fighting potential of the enemy.58 Calling for attacks against the means and will of the enemy is a statement of the obvious. Needed instead are some discussion of the difficulties of conducting such operations in the turmoil of real war and some acknowledgment of the limitations of air power under such circumstances.
In this regard, discussion of our basic assumptions and how they might be affected by the friction of real war would be of far greater value to those who might be called on to fight.
For example:
Moreover, what are the interrelationships among these assumptions? The mere fact that each of them, when viewed independently, may exhibit a fair amount of validity does not ensure their collective validity.
During our World War II air offensive against Germany, for example, B-17 availability turned out to be far less than that expected (largely due to diversions that were not unrelated to the realities of coalition warfare); bombing accuracy did not reach planned levels; and German defenses proved to be far more formidable than assumed at the outset. It is unlikely that any one of these factors, taken by itself, would have adversely affected the outcome of the bombing campaign; but when one compounds the effect of a reduced force structure with lowered bombing accuracy and then further compounds the outcome by an inability to penetrate defenses with acceptable losses, the entire concept then comes into question. How to deal with the collective nature of such factors, both in our training and planning for war and our subsequent execution of it, is one of the real issues of doctrine. Thus far, however, we have chosen to ignore serious study of it.
In yet another area, AFM 1-1 does us a disservice. On the all-important issue of offense and defense as elements of war, overwhelming emphasis is given to offense, despite the fact that each aspect inseparably permeates the other. The limited discussion of defense in AFM 1-1 is almost apologetic;59 and when defense is discussed as a principle of war, the word security is used as a euphemisms.60
It is entirely possible that this doctrinal shortcoming is extracting a price in a way perhaps not fully realized yet. For example, although almost three years have passed since the President announced his Strategic Defense Initiative (SDI), we apparently have yet to offer a sound conceptual argument for SDI based on the nature of war and the inherent requirement for both offense and defense. Instead, and as a consequence, we are debating the issue on terms dictated by the opposition. Ironically, we are fighting for SDI in a defensive mode by answering charges about its effect on deterrence, arms control, stability, technology, costs, and other related factors. These considerations are of enormous importance, but in the larger scheme of things, they are second-order issues. The preeminent factor is war. We should be arguing that even imperfect ballistic missile defenses would magnify considerably the friction that the Soviets would face in attempting to execute a strategic attack against the United States. We should be arguing further that this increased uncertainty, in turn, contributes not to a greater probability of war but to its deterrence. A rudimentary understanding of war, therefore, provides a clear rationale for SDI. Could we say the same for our Basic Aerospace Doctrinal Manual? The answer is no, and as a consequence we are fighting our force structure battles by relying on marginal rather than substantive issues. (And, one might add, with individuals and groups who know those types of issues at least as well as we do.)
Another unfortunate aspect of AFM 1-1 is its continuation of the artificial, illogical, and confusing distinctions between strategic and tactical operations. AFM I -1 tells us that "strategic and tactical actions are not necessarily tied to specific geographic areas, operating environments, or types of vehicles.61 The basic problem with these types of explanations is that they make little sense when viewed in the context of war. Strategy and tactics are essential elements of war, and they can be defined with a measure of precision. By contrast, the words strategic and tactical (adjectives, no less!) possess little operational relevance. Consider the World War II example offered to us by Dr. Williamson Murray. In an attempt to determine whether the German breakthrough on the Meuse in May 1940 would be a strategic or tactical victory, he asked the following question:
What set of missions would have enabled the Luftwaffe to further overall German strategy best in May 1940? Supporting the army's breakthrough efforts along the Meuse or bombing France's industrial base and cities? In the classical definition of strategy and tactics the answer is crystal clear. In terms of Anglo-American air power theories, the question and answer are thoroughly muddled.62
Of greater significance, however, is the effect that this artificial distinction has had on the scope of our forces' doctrinal views. We publish what we refer to as basic doctrine, operational doctrine, tactical doctrine (to include, as further examples, strategic and space doctrine), joint doctrine, and combined doctrine. It appears that everybody has a doctrine. But for what purpose? There is only one real issue, and that is war; and the sole purpose of doctrine is to convey our collective and institutional response to it. But these stacks of doctrine manuals, over which we agonize with predictable frequency, are almost devoid of any substantive discussion of war. Indeed, if one examines many of the so-called doctrine manuals, their real purpose becomes clear. They are not about doctrine but about procedures; they are the military variant of the how-to books that proliferate in the commercial market on every conceivable subject. Procedures are important (indeed, one can argue that they are vitally important), but they are not doctrine. For proof, visualize yourself fighting in a war, a real war (as distinct from war on paper) in which various frictions--the play of chance, distortions and uncertainties inherent in the information on which action in combat must be based, imminent risk of death or mutilation, and the enemy's unpredictability--are the dominant factors. Since nothing will go according to plan, intuitive judgment and mental flexibility will be absolutely essential, and improvision and risk-taking will be the only way to contend with the constantly changing conditions of battle. Under these circumstances, what would be the utility of the knowledge found in a procedures manual disguised as doctrine? For those who understand war, the answer is obvious.
By now it should be reasonably clear that our abstract-Jominian approach to doctrine, from which the current AFM 1-1 is an outgrowth, is totally inappropriate for an institution that claims a responsibility to fly and fight. There is only one, ostensible advantage to the existing approach and that is the value which its abstract nature offers in a competitive institutional setting. It makes bureaucratic agreement relatively easy and thus promotes internal harmony. It also frees us from thinking too hard about war.
Those who write and coordinate doctrine within the Air Force might take exception to this assertion, primarily because considerable staff work is required to produce a doctrine manual. Admittedly, the coordination process necessary in assembling the final product is difficult and sometimes bitter. Nonetheless, even the most vigorous arguments are about how to keep the issues sufficiently abstract to ensure ambiguity.
The greatest failing of the abstract approach is that it tends to view doctrine as a fundamental source when, in fact, the real fountainhead is war. If one understands war, he implicitly understands doctrine; without an understanding of war, doctrine becomes an army of abstract words and phrases searching for a unifying idea.
This lack of central focus in Air Force doctrine extracts a heavy price, and nowhere is it more evident than in the Air Force's efforts to educate its senior officers. The relationship of an Air War College education to the phenomenon of war and the way in which the Air Force intends to fight should be an obvious one. But if, as argued here, the Air Force's concept of war is deterministic and mechanistic (and thus is simply war on paper), and if its doctrinal views advocate an abstract-Jominian approach, then is it not logical to assume that these views will be operative at Air War College (AWC) as well?
As the first step, one might begin by examining the AWC mission statement. Although frequently passed off as boilerplate, carefully crafted mission statements usually convey not only an institution's basic purpose for being but also its sense of values and vision for the future. Moreover, the mission statement for a professional school such as Air War College should also reflect the values and vision of the institution at large, the U.S. Air Force.
The current mission of the AWC is "to prepare select officers for key command and staff assignments where they have responsibility for developing, managing, and employing air power as a component of national security." By design, the statement is sufficiently broad, general, and abstract to ensure collective agreement. Officers are prepared not for war but for assignments, and apparently it is equally important for them to develop and manage air power as it is for them to employ it. This emphasis, of course, defines a broad value system that ultimately manifests itself in the school's curriculum, which, as one might expect, exhibits a lack of clear focus.
For an alternative mission statement, one might consider a more definitive approach, one that clearly identifies a set of values and offers a breadth of vision. Perhaps the mission for the school should be to provide professional officers with a comparative understanding of war, doctrine, and relevant security policies across a spectrum of conflict. Understanding is the minimum desired level of learning; war, doctrine, and security policies are specific focal points that would permit officers and others at the school to express their views on the grammar and logic of war; a comparative methodology would avoid ethnocentrism and demonstrate that the approach to war by others may not be (indeed, almost certainly is not) identical with our own; and study across the spectrum of war should help to ensure comprehension of conflict at various levels.
Fortunately the current AWC curricula is not totally inconsistent with this approach. As it should, Air War College places primary emphasis on the grammar of war as found in the United States, its NATO allies, and the Soviet Union. However, war as practiced in much of the Third World is largely ignored. As one might expect, this pattern of teaching the grammar of war establishes the parameters for teaching its logic; the net result, of course, is little attention to war in the Third World. There exists, however, a commendable effort to teach regional studies, but it suffers primarily because the focus is on the current political, economic, and military situation instead of the more relevant historical and cultural aspects that largely determine why wars occur and how they are conducted.
Despite such shortcomings, the current AWC curriculum clearly can serve as a basis for a significantly modified program. The strength and substance of this program should be based on four pillars of wisdom: the grammar of war, the logic of war, the school's research and writing program, and, finally, the AWC faculty. The first two, the grammar and logic of war, must be addressed on a comparative basis and across the spectrum of conflict. These pillars are vital, for without them no relevant education about war is possible. Fortunately, much of the current program can serve as an excellent foundation. But before these two pillars can be erected, some of the existing superstructure must be removed and discarded or relocated. The task will not be easy, but the choice is clear. Either we focus on the central issue--real war--and develop a program that prepares officers to conduct it, or we accept a war-on-paper approach that will provide us not with understanding and preparation but the illusion of it.63
The revised program should address the first pillar of wisdom, the grammar of war, from several vantage points. At the outset there is the nature of war, without which no understanding is possible. Clausewitz must be the guide. On War has been used at AWC since 1978 because of the foresight of Lieutenant General Raymond B. Furlong, Commander of Air University at that time, who knew that without Clausewitzian concepts the school's programs would be severely lacking. Since then, however, the potential of Clausewitzian thought has not been fully exploited, despite its obvious value for amplifying our understanding of the nature of war and its purposes. Although Clausewitz says nothing about the development and management of air power, he has no peer on the subject of war.64
The second vantage point would be military history, studied on a far wider scale than at present. It is history that prevents us from viewing war in a vacuum, alerts us to its nonquantifiable aspects, and provides a breadth of understanding that is essential for any comprehensive critical analysis. As Bernard Brodie reminds us, "the only empirical data we have about how people conduct war and behave under its stresses is our experience with it in the past, however much we have to make adjustments for subsequent changes in conditions."65 History, moreover, would permit us to contrast theorists from Sun Tzu to Brodie with practitioners from Alexander to LeMay. History would provide a view of war across the spectrum and thus confirm that the grammar of war at one level, for the most part, is not applicable to war at another. In the all-important field of logistics, history would indicate the types of uncertainty that have occurred and how logisticians have dealt with them in the past; more important, it would drive home the point that each war, each campaign, and each battle comes with its own fair share of nasty logistical surprises.66
The final vantage point is wargaming, an area in which the AWC has made some improvements over the past several years. Far greater wargaming capability will be available in 1986 when the Command Readiness Exercise System (CRES), operated by the Air Force Wargaming Center, begins operations. CRES will provide a real-world gaming capability that can stimulate wartime decision making and thus provide realistic education and training for officers at all levels.67 At the outset, however, it should be recognized that an enormous potential for danger exists in wargaming. The first danger surfaces because the easiest but worst thing to do in war games is to make them manageable by focusing on war on paper instead of real war. To be productive, war games must incorporate the general notion of friction, regardless of the frustration it will generate among players. It is the existence of friction in war games that will serve to challenge the courage, character, and determination of those who wish to be commanders. War games should encourage flexibility, innovation, and, above all, risk. Moreover, since we tend to learn more from our failures than from our successes,68 war games that prevent one from winning might be the most productive.69
Explicit in the life cycle of all war games, from their definition to analysis, should be an operational-Clausewitzian framework. Such an approach would de-emphasize the "management of war," while simultaneously teaching combat leadership and the often ignored matter of tactics. On the all-important topic of combat leadership, it should seem obvious that we need to teach commanders at all levels how to make decisions under the worst circumstances of war. Combat decision making is the single most important responsibility of a commander. And as history teaches us, such decisions are made almost by instinct, inasmuch as "the process by which a decision is reached. . ., in most instances, remains insoluble even to the person who has arrived at the decision.... A decision, therefore, is not a problem of simple arithmetic, but a creative act."70
An operational-Clausewitzian view explicit in war games, moreover, would teach combat leaders the need to understand the nature of war as the sine qua non of leadership. Additionally, it would make clear that a decision in combat—any decision—is eminently preferable to no decision. Furthermore, it would inculcate aggressiveness in combat commanders so that, other things being equal, they will always opt for the bolder choice.71
The operational-Clausewitzian approach also would require knowledge and use of tactics because of its inherent relationship to combat decision making. In the way we have practiced war, outcomes have depended heavily on tactical results, despite the inordinate emphasis on strategy. As stated by a former editor of Air University Review, a heroic rescue helicopter pilot and noted military historian:
No matter how much time, effort, and energy we put into strategy, the cutting edge is tactical effectiveness. A military organization incapable of tactical success is strategically irrelevant . . . . Yet compared to strategy, tactics has received remarkably little attention from the theorists--in part because of condescending attitudes among all too many analysts toward the messy details of "mere tactics."72
War games with an operational-Clausewitzian orientation, finally, would train officers to distinguish between tactics and the techniques of battle, i.e., routine actions that must be performed in a consistent manner. In essence, tactics are the application of a variety of techniques tailored for a specific battle. Thus, the "difference between techniques and tactics is significant: to instill techniques requires inflexibility and repetition; to develop a sense of tactics requires flexibility, good judgment, and creativity."73
Another danger associated with computer-assisted war games is the potential lack of authenticity in adversarial play and the implications of such a lack. Those adversaries whose history, culture, and operational practices differ significantly from our own present especially serious challenges for war game design. For example, the Soviets' combined-arms concept and their attitudes on attrition are fundamentally at odds with U.S. operational views on air power employment, and understanding and incorporating these differences are formidable tasks. All too often, the tendency is to simply cast the Soviets in our own mold. But unless game designers avoid this "mirror-imaging" and instead represent Soviet concepts authentically in gaming software, the outcome will be at best irrelevant and perhaps even counterproductive. The irrelevancy will exist because we will play against an adversary we already know--ourselves. More serious in consequence, the counterproductive aspect will most likely manifest itself when experienced gamers can afford it least--when they engage the Soviets in combat.74
The second pillar of wisdom for a senior military school is the logic of war, or the purposes for which war is fought. Currently, AWC conducts for its students an analysis of the logic of war as formulated by the United States and the Soviet Union. Although worthwhile, this analysis is insufficient. We need to understand the purposes for which other potential adversaries resort to war, and such comprehension can occur only if one includes in the analysis their respective cultures, political and economic preferences, and societal characteristics. In particular, the relationship of war and society deserves far greater attention than it has received in the past. British historian Michael Howard noted its significance several years ago:
Although the technological dimension of strategy has certainly become of predominant importance in armed conflict between advanced societies in the second half of the twentieth century--as predominant as the logistical dimension was during the first half--the growing political self-awareness of those societies and, in the West at least, their insistence on political participation have made the social dimension too significant to be ignored.75
The war and society interrelationship in the Third World is especially important for us. We Americans understand those societies least, yet they are the very ones that are most likely to involve us in war. In addition to our experience in Vietnam, the disastrous outcome of the more recent U.S. Marine Corps' stay in Lebanon should teach us a lesson about the need for all professional military officers to recognize the nonuniversality of the grammar and logic of war as we military would like to conduct it. The societies and cultures of the Third World, for the most part, are profoundly different from our own; and as a consequence, they approach war with a different set of perceptions and assumptions about means and ends. Viewed in that light, our problems and losses in Lebanon did not result primarily from an inability to establish clear and attainable objectives. (Indeed, if one stops to consider what constitutes clear and attainable objectives in the context of the world as it exists, it becomes fairly obvious that they will be the exception rather than the rule.) Our failure in Lebanon occurred primarily because we who claim to be professionals at the art of war have yet to learn how to cope with war as others practice it. And in that regard, the shadow of Vietnam looms large. So does the ghost of Clausewitz, who has never ceased to remind us that "war can have all degrees of importance and intensity, ranging from a war of extermination down to simple armed observation."76 Since motives are less intense in the latter, Clausewitz argued, "the less will the military element's natural tendency to violence coincide with political directives."77
Thus Clausewitz's remarkable trinity of the people, the army, and the government is operative across the spectrum of war. The task, therefore is clear: understand, to the extent possible, the values and assumptions inherent in one's own trinity, that of the adversaries, and, lest we forget, our allies. With regard to the last of these, our experience in Vietnam clearly stands as an example of our ignorance and offers us a vital lesson; whether we have learned the lesson, of course, remains to be seen.
This recommended emphasis on the grammar and logic of war as central pillars in the AWC program does carry a price but not a terribly demanding one. It requires only that we take the final step in our long-term and steady effort to reduce the emphasis on the teaching of peacetime management. By now, it should, be clear that far too many "senior officers have taken on the mentality of business managers rather than being centrally concerned with the nasty business of sending the enemy to his ancestors."78 It should be equally clear that our past fascination with management has had serious and adverse consequences for U.S. national security. By relying on management instead of history, the nature of war, and conceptual thinking, we have tended to base our military program decisions mostly on irrelevant but easily measured numbers, rather than on the very relevant but largely unquantifiable demands of war. Instead of decisions being made in a framework based primarily on war and strategy, with management serving as one of several evaluative tools, management has tended to become the driving force, leading to the increasing domination of programs over purpose in the Pentagon, the domination of program managers over strategists.79
The third pillar for Air War College is its research and writing program: without such a program, there can be no in-depth understanding of the grammar and logic of war. The primary objective of research and writing is to put war in clearer focus so that efforts to deter or fight can be made consistent with war as it occurs. A constant reexamination of war is essential for the professional officer for several reasons, the most important of which is that "every age [has] its own kind of war, its own limiting conditions, and its own particular preconditions.80
However, although there is clearly a need for officers to continually reassess war, the U.S. Air Force officer corps is not known for its contribution to military thought. Colonel Noel F. Parrish commented in 1947, "Air activities have most often attracted men of active rather than literary learnings." Some civilian observers have been less kind, referring to the Air Force as the "Silent Service."81 But the situation has changed to some extent, and a few bright spots exist. For example, the founding of the Airpower Research Institute, which is committed to in-depth research efforts on a range of issues directly related to the grammar and logic of war, speaks well for the Air Force. (Nevertheless, it must be recognized that it took the personal, active efforts of General Bennie L. Davis and Colonel Haywood S. "Tony" Hansell III, to bring it about.)
At Air War College, research and writing could be far more productive than has been the case. Indeed, when one considers that all but a few students there are representatives of the U.S. Air Force's best and that they come to the school at a time when the combination of their background, experience, and maturity lends itself to serious thinking, it is quite unfortunate that so little is accomplished. This scarcity of achievement is not surprising, however, because even though they are at the top of their very competitive peer group, they are products of an officer system that does not value professional research, writing, and conceptual thinking. Those attributes simply are not included as essential parts of the career-long socialization process. To expect the majority of AWC students to plunge enthusiastically into research, therefore, is to expect them to modify an inherent behavior that, regrettably, is not challenged seriously by the service leadership.
But there is a more direct reason to explain the paucity of research and writing, and in two words it is unwarranted censorship. No one contests the right, indeed the duty, of the Air Force to conduct rigorous security review of material written by its members or employees. But as is well known by almost everyone involved in research, writing, and publication, far too many efforts are rejected or watered down for alleged "policy" reasons that are not at all obvious. One perceptive officer cautiously wrote recently, "Perhaps we have allowed ourselves to bank slightly in the direction of unwarranted censorship. And if so, why?"82 The system simply needs reform.83
But perhaps this particular failing of the Air Force may be symptomatic of a much deeper difficulty, which is a problem of institutional self-confidence. The Air Force officer corps seems to exhibit a sense of caution that is far in excess of what would be required by professional prudence. For a host of reasons (among them the ghost of the Zero Defect mentality of a decade ago), few Air Force officers appear willing to take risks in the pursuit of their professional responsibilities. And if they are unable or unwilling to do so in peacetime, what is to be expected of them when the klaxon sounds? If risk-taking, which is essential in war, is not an acceptable practice in peacetime, are there many who can expect to conveniently find it in the heat of battle? Again, Vietnam provides too many unwelcome answers.
A thought-provoking statement of this underlying problem appeared in the title of an article by Lieutenant Colonel Timothy E. Kline a few years ago: "Where Have All the Mitchells Gone?" Kline's central thesis bears repeating:
The Air Force must preserve a way to the top that permits room for its prophetic nobility to take a stand, suffer a shoot down, and rise like a Phoenix toward a vision like Mitchell's. The alternative? No more Mitchell’s, no more Eakers, no more certain trumpet for air power.84
The fourth pillar essential to a high-quality senior service school, like top civilian institutions of higher learning, is the faculty. Air War College currently has fine students, but needed to complement them are more faculty who can ensure that the institution is the best of its kind. Competent military faculty are essential in this process, since only they can provide the necessary military perspective in the grammar and logic of war. To a large extent, adequate resources are available within the officer structure, but the problem is one of assignment motivation. It takes an extremely dedicated professional officer to serve at Air War College if that officer has promotion potential to general officer rank. Officers know all too well that "professional reputations today are not made in the schoolhouse. "58 Unless the Air Force initiates a fundamental change to make faculty assignment a prize of the first order, attracting competent military faculty will remain difficult. When the Air Force acts as though lieutenant colonels on the faculty are performing at roughly the equivalent level of a squadron commander while faculty colonels are at the level of a Pentagon division chief, then it will have little difficulty recruiting military faculty for its war college.
By the same token, however, Air War College must add breadth to the competence of its military faculty by appointing more first-rate civilian scholars. The fact of the matter is that too few officers can attain the required academic credentials for the academic program recommended herein. Consequently, civilian scholars whose competence, reputation, and personalities would contribute to academic superiority should be used to complement the military faculty to a far greater extent than presently is the case.
Air War College has some of the Air Force's finest officers as its students, and the school can develop, if it wishes, a far more substantive academic program. But without a competent faculty, these two elements become insignificant. Until the Air Force recognizes the intrinsic value of Air War College, perceiving the school's direct relationship to future military success or failure, AWC, for the most part, will continue to be just another assignment for many of its students and a source of disappointment for its faculty. Quick fixes and short-term solutions are not the answer. If AWC wishes to be a war college in a meaningful sense, then it must teach the grammar and logic of war, conduct serious research on those issues, and attract a blend of soldiers and scholars who can teach. If it is willing to do these things, then it will produce graduates whom Clausewitz would recognize and with whom he would be satisfied.86 No greater compliment would be possible for a professional officer.
IF our tasks in the U.S. Air Force are to prepare for war, deter it if possible, and fight it successfully across a spectrum of conflict, then we must understand war, make war the basis for our doctrine, and teach war to our officers. That we have not done so in the past is abundantly clear, prompting us to recall again Bernard Brodie's comment that "Soldiers usually are close students of tactics, but only rarely are they students of strategy and practically never of war!"87 Brodie is right, of course, but we have an opportunity to prove him wrong.
St. Petersburg, Florida
Notes
1. Dr. Horst Boog, Air Power and Warfare, edited by Colonel Alfred F. Hurley and Major Robert C. Ehrhart (Washington: Government Printing Office, 1979), p. 156.
2. One of the more encouraging and instructive aspects of this substantive and prolonged debate is that it is being conducted by officers from across the rank spectrum. In particular, the contributions to this debate by officers in the grade of major should be applauded by Air Force leaders. Some examples of the debate are: Colonel Kenneth J. Alnwick, "Perspectives on Air Power at the Low End of the Conflict Spectrum," Air University Review, March-April 1984; Lieutenant Colonel Dennis M. Drew, "Informal Doctrine and the Doctrinal Process: A Response," Air University Review, September-October 1984; Lieutenant Colonel Dennis M. Drew, "Of Leaves and Trees: A New View of Doctrine," Air University Review, January-February 1982; Major John W. Fal, "Deficiencies in Air Force Doctrine Education," Air University Review, January-February 1985; Major General I. B. Holley, Jr., USAFR (Ret), "Concepts, Doctrines. and Principles," Air University Review, July-August 1984; Major General I. B. Holley, Jr. USAFR (Ret), "The Doctrinal Process: Some Suggested Steps," Military Review, April 1979; Major General I. B. Holley, Jr., USAFR (Ret), "Of Saber Charges, Escort Fighters, and Spacecraft," Air University Review, September-October 1983; Colonel Clifford R, Krieger, "USAF Doctrine: An Enduring Challenge," Air University Review, September-October 1984; Williamson Murray, "A Tale of Two Doctrines," Journal of Strategic Studies, September 1983; Dr. Williamson Murray, "British and German Air Doctrine between the Wars," Air University Review, March-April 1980; Lieutenant Colonel David C. Schlachter, "Another Perspective on Air Power at the Low End of the Conflict Spectrum," Air University Review, July-August 1984; Lieutenant Colonel Barry D. Watts and Major James O. Hale, "Doctrine: Mere Words, or a Key to War-Fighting Competence," Air University Review, September-October 1984.
3. Editorial and Lieutenant Colonel Donald R. Baucom, "The Air Force Officer Corps in the 1980s: Receding Professionalism," Air University Review, September-October 1983, inside front cover and pp. 52-53. For further discussion of this lack of combat orientation, see Watts and Hale; Major C. Anne Bonen, "Professionalism from Lieutenant to Colonel," Air University Review, January-February 1982; Captain James H. Slagle, "The Junior Officer of the 1980s: The Situational Professional," Air University Review, November-December 1991; and Frank R. Wood, "Air Force Junior Officer: Changing Prestige and Civilianization," Armed Forces and Society, Spring 1980.
4. Bernard Brodie, War and Politics (New York: Macmillan, 1973), p. 11. Although Brodie's statement applies to all officers, one could argue that it is more reflective of the U.S. Air Force than the other services. Intellectual pursuits, which are essential for an understanding of war, do not appear to be valued highly by the Air Force. See, for example, comments in Robert Frank Futrell, Ideas, Concepts, Doctrine: A History of Basic Thinking in the United States Air Force, 1907-1964 (Maxwell AFB, Alabama: Air University Press, 1971), pp. 1-2.
5. Carl von Clausewitz, On War, edited and translated by Michael Howard and Peter Paret (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1976), p. 53.
6. Clausewitz, p. 75. Those unfamiliar with On War will derive much value and avoid the confusion that generally results from a first encounter with Clausewitz by reading Lieutenant Colonel David MacIsaac, "Master at Arms: Clausewitz in Full View," Air University Review, January-February 1979, pp. 83-93. In that article is" One Man's Version of Clausewitz in One Page," probably the shortest and possibly the best précis of On War available.
7. Clausewitz, P. 119; for a further discussion of friction and its effect on U.S. strategic bombing in World War, II, see Lieutenant Colonel Barry D. Watts, USAF, The Foundations of U.S. Air Doctrine (Maxwell AFB, Alabama: Air University Press, 1984), pp. 47-53 and 59-85.
8. For a further discussion of uncertainty, see Colonel Robert R. Lochry et al., "Final Report of the USAF Academy Risk Analysis Study Team," USAF Academy, 1 August 1971. For its implications for war, see Colonel Thomas A. Fabyanic, "The Grammar and Logic of Conflict," Air University Review, March-April 1981.
9. Clausewitz, p. 86; cf, p. 134, "Limitation to Material Factors," and p. 149, "Difference."
10. Ibid., p. 102.
11. Ibid., p. 184.
12. Michael Howard, editor, The Theory and Practice of War (London: Cassell and Company, 1965), pp. 5-20.
13. "Jomini" by Crane Brinton, Gordon A. Craig, and Felix Gilbert in Makers of Modern Strategy, edited by Edward Mead Earle (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1944), p. 84.
14. Ibid., p. 85.
15. Jay Luvaas, "The Great Military Historians and Philosophers" in A Guide to the Study and Use of Military History (Washington: Government Printing Office, 1979), p. 74.
16. For an illuminating discussion of these points, we Clausewitz, pp. 357-59 and 372.
17. Ibid., p. 605. There exists, however, a valid challenge to the analogy by those schooled in the formal languages of modern mathematical logic. They can correctly demonstrate that formal languages, like natural languages, have both grammars and logics but that neither is an end in itself. Sufficient evidence exists, therefore, to reject the analogy. Nevertheless, the thrust of the Clausewitzian argument remains quite valid. In war, there exist military means and political ends; these are distinct but inextricably related, and the former always must be directed to achieve the latter.
18. Ibid., p. 605.
19. Ibid., p. 607.
20. On the issue of ends and means, Clausewitz (especially book eight, chapter 6) remains the essential source. See also Bernard Brodie, War and Politics (New York: Macmillan, 1973), chapter 1; Philip A. Crowl, "The Strategist's Short Catechism: Six Questions without Answers," The Harmon Memorial Lectures in Military History, Number Twenty, USAF Academy, Colorado, October 1978; Lieutenant General Raymond B. Furlong, "On War, Political Objectives, and Military Strategy," Parameters, December 1983, pp. 2-10; and Fabyanic, "The Grammar and Logic of Conflict," op. cit.
21. In World War II, despite some local tactical violations and use of toxic agents against some prisoners, the major powers were deterred from conducting chemical warfare against one another. See John Ellis van Courtland Moon, "Chemical Weapons and Deterrence: The World War II Experience," International Security, Spring 1984, pp. 3-35.
22. A rich body of literature exists for limited war, much of it directly related to the possible use of nuclear weapons (either for limited nuclear options or use in limited wars). Some of the more relevant writings are Bernard Brodie, War and Politics (New York: Macmillan, 1973); Morton H. Halpern, Limited War in the Nuclear Age (New York: John Wiley and Sons, 1963); Henry A. Kissinger, Nuclear Weapons and Foreign Policy (New York: Harper and Row, 1954); William V. O'Brien, "Guidelines for Limited War," Military Review, February 1979; Robert E. Osgood, Limited War (Chicago: University of Chicago, 1957); and Robert E. Osgood, "The Reappraisal of Limited War," Problems of Modern Strategy, Adelphi Papers, No. 54 (London: Institute for Strategic Studies, 1969).
23. Serious problems of definition exist in these areas. The term low-intensity conflict is too imprecise, but traditional notions even less so. Terrorism presents a particularly serious challenge because it is basically a civil matter. However, one would find it difficult to defend that point by using the example of terror and counterterror activities of the Palestine Liberation Organization and Israeli Defense Forces. All of these types of conflict are different, although overlaps exist. For example, wars of national liberation are generally wars of insurgency, but the former are distinctive because of their anti-Western or anticapitalist flavor and their Communist origins. For further distinctions, see Jack C. Plasso and Roy Olton, The International Relations Dictionary (New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1969).
24. Clausewitz, pp. 81 and 98.
25. For a brilliant and incisive analysis of this point, see Watts, The Foundations of U.S. Air Doctrine, particularly chapter 6, "Friction in 20th Century Warfare," and chapter 7, "Toward a Less Mechanistic Image of War."
26. For the vulnerability argument, see General Robert T. Marsh, USAF, "Strategic Missile Debated: Missile Accuracy--We Do Know! " Strategic Review, Spring 1982. The opposing view is presented by J. Edward Anderson, "First Strike: Myth or Reality," the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists, November 1981, and J. Edward Anderson, "Strategic Missiles Debated: What You Can't Know!" Strategic Review, Spring 1982. A trenchant and incisive argument is found in Arthur G. B. Metcalf, "The Minuteman Vulnerability Myth and the MX," Strategic Review, Spring 1983. How real war would affect vulnerability is explored in Thomas A. Fabyanic, "Strategic Analysis and MX Deployment," Strategic Review, Fall 1982. In April 1983, the "Report of the President's Commission on Strategic Forces" provided a weak justification for the deployment of MX in Minuteman silos. Moreover, it called for the development of a single-warhead, mobile ICBM (Midgetman); such a missile is about twenty years too late and show severy promise of compounding the Air Force's budgeting, force structure, and strategy problems in the next several years. The mere creation of the commission, moreover, is a prime example of the utter folly that can occur when an institution responsible for the defense of the nation is unable to cope with its central reason for being.
27. Lieutenant Colonel Barry D. Watts, OSD/NA, Memorandum, "Innovative Air Force Thinking on Conventional Air Power," 27 August 1984.
28. Caspar W. Weinberger, Annual Report to the Congress, Fiscal Year 1986 (Washington: Government Printing Office, 1985), pp. 221-22.
29. "History Teaches 'We Don't Know What We Think We Know' " (a conversation with Daniel Boorstin), U.S. News and World Report, 5 March 1984, p. 73.
30. General T. R. Milton, USAF (Ret), "Readiness and the Critics," Air Force, October 1984, P. 101,
31. Ibid. The PACAF F-100 pilot training manual for 1961 stated in part that "nuclear training will in every instance take precedence over nonnuclear familiarization and qualification. It is emphasized that conventional training will not be accomplished at the experience of the higher priority nuclear training required by this manual. Non-MSF units will restrict conventional familiarization to the accomplishment of only one event per aircrew per year." Aircrew Training Manual for F-100D/F, PACAFM 51-6, 1 March 1961, quoted in Benjamin S. Lambeth, "Pitfalls in Force Planning Structuring America's Tactical Air Arm," International Security, Fall 1985, p. 105, note 38.
32. Futrell, p. 7.
33. Major Robert C. Ehrhart, "Some Thoughts on Air Force Doctrine," Air University Review, March-April 1980, p. 30.
34. Editorial, Air University Review, September-October 1984, pp. 1-3.
35. See note 2.
36. Watts and Hale, p. 10.
37. Ibid., p. 11.
38. Ibid., p. 12.
39. Murray, "A Tale of Two Doctrines," p. 84. Emphasis added.
40. For a scathing critique of the 1979 version, see Murray, "A Tale of Two Doctrines. "
41. Air Force Manual 1-1, Basic Aerospace Doctrine of the United States Air Force (Washington: Government Printing Office, 1984), p. 2-4.
42. Ibid., p. 2-4.
43. Ibid., p. 2-5.
44. For a superb discussion of existing and emerging challenges concerning C3I and its relationship to combat, see Major George E. Orr, Combat Operations C3I: Fundamentals and Interactions (Maxwell AFB, Alabama: Air University Press, 1983). Note especially pp. 85-87.
45. Robert Frank Futrell, "The Influence of the Air Power Concept on Air Force Planning, 1945-1962," paper presented at the Eleventh Military History Symposium, USAF Academy, 12 October 1984, p. 19. This type of thinking continued for the Vietnam War. F-105s, designed to carry up to 8000 pounds of nuclear weapons internally on high-speed nuclear strikes, were almost totally unsuited for conventional operations against targets in North Vietnam. They were used, however, because we had precious little else. After a critical shortage of conventional bombs ocurred early in the war, Lieutenant General Albert Clark commented that "all of the emphasis had been on strategic weapons for so long that everybody had forgotten that we might need tactical weapons again." See John Morrocco, Thunder from Above (Boston: Boston Publishing Company, 1984), p. 121. For an excellent analysis of tactical air doctrine development problems before Korea, see "Orphan of Unification: The Development of United States Air Force Tactical Air Power Doctrine, 1945-1950," unpublished Ph.D. dissertation by Joseph William Caddell, Duke University, Department of History, 1984.
46. Futrell, "The Influence of the Air Power Concept on Air Force Planning, 1945-1962," p. 19.
47. Ostensibly the Air Force is expected to operate "throughout the spectrum of conflict," to include "special operations." It is clear, however, that the term special operations as used in AFM 1-1 is quite limited and does not include, for example, counterinsurgency. And it is in this light that one must interpret the statement that "virtually all aerospace forces have the potential for employment in special operations." See AFM 1-1, p. 3-4.
48. Alnwick, p. 28.
49. Schlachter, pp. 87-88.
50. Increased emphasis on low-intensity conflict is emerging, but it is instructive to note that the impetus is coming from outside the Air Force. Recently the role of air power in low-intensity conflict has undergone significant debate. See the interview of Noel C. Koch, Principal Deputy Assistant Secretary of Defense for International Security Affairs, Armed Forces Journal International, March 1985, pp. 36-52; Noel C. Koch, "Is There a Role for Air Power in Low-Intensity Conflict?" Armed Forces Journal International, May 1985, pp. 32-42; and Colonel Alan L. Gropman, "Air Power and Low-Intensity Conflict: An Airman's Perspective," Armed Forces Journal International, May 1985, pp. 32-42. The ninth Air Power Symposium held at Air War College in March 1985 addressed the topic "The Role of Air Power in Low-Intensity Conflict."
51. AFM 1-1, p. 2-6.
52. "Fundamental Concepts of the Air Service," Air Service Field Officer’s School, Langley Field, Virginia, 1923, p. 2.
53. Thomas H. Greer, "The Development of Air Doctrine in the Army Air Arm, 1917-1941" (unpublished manuscript, Air University, Maxwell AFB, Alabama, September 1955), pp. 8-9.
54. Futrell, Ideas, Concepts, Doctrine, p. 78.
55. Brigadier General James R. McCarthy and Lieutenant Colonel George B. Allison, LINEBACKER II; A View from the Rock (Maxwell AFB, Alabama: Airpower Research Institute, 1979), p. 151.
56. Gordon Nelson and Norm Wood, editors, The Battle for the Skies over North Vietnam (Washington: Government Printing Office, 1976), pp. 176-77.
57. McCarthy and Allison, p. 80.
58. AFM 1-1, p. 3-2 and pp. 2-10 through 2-13.
59. Ibid., pp. 2-15 and 2-17.
60. Ibid., p. 2-6.
61. Ibid., p. 2-1 1.
62. Murray, "A Tale of Two Doctrines," p. 88.
63. Notwithstanding the critique offered in these pages, considerable substance exists in the present curriculum, much of it the result of plain hard work by a succession of commandants, deans, and faculty. Primarily responsible for the current emphasis on the grammar and logic of war is Lieutenant General Raymond B. Furlong, USAF (Ret), who served as Air University commander. In addition to the fundamental improvements that General Furlong brought about at the Air War College, he further enhanced the Air Force's ability to conduct war by establishing the Combined Air Warfare Course within AWC and by taking the initial steps that led to the establishment of the Airpower Research Institute and, two years later, to the incorporation of it into the Center for Aerospace Doctrine, Research, and Education.
64. Any reader as yet unconvinced about that point is referred to Bernard Brodie, "The Continuing Relevance of On War," in Carl von Clausewitz, On War, edited and translated by Michael Howard and Peter Paret (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1976), pp. 45-58.
65. Ibid., P. 54.
66. An excellent work is Martin L. van Creveld, Supplying War: Logistics from Wallenstein to Patton (Cambridge, England: University Press, 1977). See also Martin L. van Creveld, Commander in War (Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 1985). For a treatment of logistics in Vietnam, see the prize-winning study by Lieutenant Colonel John T. Quirk, "An Analysis of Air Force Logistics Shortfalls of the Vietnam Buildup of 1965-68 as an Indicator of Shortfalls in Future Conflicts," Air War College Research Report, 1980.
67. For a fuller description, we the Air University Catalog, 1984-1985 (Maxwell AFB, Alabama: Air University Press, 1984).
68. A clear exception well worth studying is the German case following its defeat of Poland. See Williamson Murray, "The German Response to Victory in Poland," Armed Forces and Society, Winter 1981, pp. 285-89.
69. It is perhaps significant that three senior officers, all of whom are quite familiar with wargaming, have published near simultaneous articles in which they argued for emphasis on the Clausewitzian notion of friction in war games. See Lieutenant General Raymond B. Furlong, USAF (Ret), "Clausewitz and Modern Wargaming," Air University Review, July-August 1984, pp. 4-9; General William R. Richardson, USA, "Officer Training and Education," Military Review, October 1984, pp. 22-34; and Colonel Huba Wass de Czege, USA, "How to Change an Army," Military Review, November 1984, pp. 32-49. General Furlong went so far as to suggest that "it might be worthwhile for all those involved with developing war games, including the programmer, to take a special, intense course on the thoughts of Clausewitz." (p. 5)
70. Translation of The Command Decision, Department of the Army, Office of the Chief of Military History, Washington, D.C., undated (but probably 15 March 1947). This document was most likely written by a German general officer at division commander level who fought on the Russian front. It is available at the U.S. Army Library at the Pentagon.
71. I make this assertion while fully recognizing that boldness is not a prized attribute in today's Air Force. I would add that qualities, such as boldness, not encouraged in peacetime will not be conspicuous when the time comes for combat.
72. See editorial "Toward a Theory of Tactics . . . With an Assist from Clausewitz," Air University Review, March-April 1982. For the United States (and probably other Western nations), the argument appears valid. The Soviets, however, appear to be an exception. In World War II, their superior performance at the operational level and their reliance on mass tended to offset tactical incompetence. Consequently, German tactical superiority became largely irrelevant. This approach by the Soviets offers further justification for a comparative approach to the study of war.
73. Timothy T. Lupfer, The Dynamics of Doctrine: The Changes in German Tactical Doctrine during the First World War (Fort Leavenworth, Kansas: U.S. Army Command and General Staff College, Combat Studies Institute, 1981), p. 56.
74. For an iconoclastic and instructive view of computer-assisted war games, see Barry D. Watts, "Diagnostic Observations on Theater-Level War Gaming," Thinking Red in War Gaming Conference, National Defense University, 23-25 April 1985.
75. Michael Howard, "The Forgotten Dimension of Strategy," Foreign Affairs, Summer 1979, pp. 983-84. For a succinct and provocative essay on the subject of war and society, see Wing Commander Nigel B. Baldwin, RAF, "Strategy and the Social Dimension in the 1980s,"Air University Review, January-February 1982, pp. 112-15.
76. Clausewitz, p. 81.
77. Ibid., p. 88.
78. Arthur G. B. Metcalf, "Where Have All the Warriors Gone?" Strategic Review, Summer 1985, p. 5.
79. Lieutenant General Daniel O. Graham, USA (Ret), "The Decline of Strategic Thought," Air Force, August 1977, pp. 24-29.
80. Clausewitz, p. 593.
81. Futrell, Ideas, Concepts, Doctrine, p. 1.
82. Major Denny R. Nelson, "Seeking a Forum for the Mitchells," Air University Review, July-August 1984, p. 86.
83. For a brief treatment of this problem and the recommendations offered by an officer knowledgeable in this area, see Lieutenant Colonel Dennis M. Drew, "Beware of Simplistic Solutions," Air University Review, January-February 1985, pp. 102-04. Drew was responding to William S. Lind, "Reading, Writing, and Policy Review: The Air Force's Unilateral Disarmament in the War of Ideas," Air University Review, November-December 1984, pp. 66-70. Not everyone was pleased with Colonel Drew's response to Lind's challenge. Note the ensuing uproar in the July-August 1985 issue of the Review, in particular the views expressed by Lieutenant Colonel Lorenzo M. Crowell, Jr., pp. 104-06.
84. Kline, p. 31.
85. The U.S. Army has a similar problem. See General William R. Richardson, USA, "Officer Training and Education," Military Review, October 1984, pp. 22-34. The phrase quoted appears on P. 29.
86. This reference to Clausewitz is based on conversations at AWC between faculty members and then Group Captain R. A. Mason, RAF, October 1978.
87. Brodie, p. 11.
Author's note: The nature of this article prompted me to seek a wide review. I am especially indebted to Lieutenant Colonel Barry D. Watts and Dr. David MacIsaac for their extensive and detailed critique. Responsibility for the article, obviously, rests with me.
T.A.F.
Contributor
Colonel Thomas A. Fabyanic, USAF (Ret) (B.A., Syracuse University; Ph.D., St. Louis University), teaches national security affairs at the University of South Florida in Tampa. During his Air Force career, he completed a combat tour in the F-4 Phantom, flew C-130 tactical airlift, and served as a faculty member at U.S. Air Force Academy and Air War College, a staff officer at USSTRICOM/USREDCOM, and a research associate at Columbia University. A Distinguished Graduate of Air War College, he also was the first director of the Air Power Research Insitute. Dr. Fabyanic’s articles have appeared in Strategic Review, Armed Forces and Society, and other journals, including previous issues of the Review.
Disclaimer
The conclusions and opinions expressed in this document are those of the author cultivated in the freedom of expression, academic environment of Air University. They do not reflect the official position of the U.S. Government, Department of Defense, the United States Air Force or the Air University.
Home Page | Feedback? Email the Editor