The forthcoming issue of Contemporary Security Policy will contain, among a great many things, a review I wrote of Keith Shimko‘s latest book, The Iraq Wars and America’s Military Revolution (Cambridge University Press). The journal editors have kindly permitted the review to be reproduced, in advance and in full, here at Kings of War. By around December, the original will be published in volume 31, number 3 of Contemporary Security Review (which also, I should add, features an article of mine on ‘Peacebuilding After Afghanistan’).
Here is the review, courtesy of Contemporary Security Policy.
The Iraq Wars and America’s Military Revolution
, Keith L. Shimko. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2010, pp. 249. $27.99 (paperback).by David H. Ucko
Keith L. Shimko, associate professor of political science at Purdue University, makes the case that the US military has, since Operation Desert Storm, undergone a ‘revolution in military affairs’ (RMA) based on the emerging technologies of precision strike, communications, and reconnaissance. In a book published 2010, this claim is less novel than it is bold: to most, the RMA lost its appeal in 2003 when the promises of ‘transformation’ and ‘network-centric warfare’ proved largely irrelevant to the challenges facing the US military. Critics piled on, pointing out how the theories of RMA proponents had led to some of the grossest strategic missteps in recent American history.
If the RMA was the thesis, the insurgencies in Iraq and Afghanistan were the antithesis. What Shimko provides is a synthesis of the two, creating a middle ground between RMA proponents and critics. The result is a much-needed reworking of typical RMA assertions, informed by a decade of experience with insurgencies in various theatres. Thus, the RMA will not ‘lift the fog of war’ but significantly reduce it, and while Shimko still sees the associated capabilities as ‘revolutionary’, they are not, he explains, relevant to all types of war.
This attempt at reconciliation is the book’s strongest point. By placing the RMA in historical context, and by elaborating on the ‘newness’ of its related innovations, Shimko offers an assessment that is less hyperbolic than usual, yet that nonetheless gives commonly discredited concepts their due. Thus, charting a course between sales-pitches and diatribes, he astutely identifies ‘the limits as well as the promise of RMA technologies’ (p. 208).
The note of moderation relies on a dichotomy in the book between conventional warfare, where the RMA is said to fit perfectly, and stabilisation or counterinsurgency, where the RMA is less helpful. The bifurcation is evident structurally as well as conceptually. The book’s first half, covering the 1991-2003 period, largely ignores the challenges of insurgency, waxes lyrical about the RMA, and feels in its sources and content like it belongs (and may have been written) in the time-period it deals with. The second half, dealing with the Iraqi insurgency, leaves the RMA lexicon behind and focuses instead on the ascendance of a US counterinsurgency strategy. The implications of each isolated half are never carried over to inform the argument as a whole; nor does the concluding chapter convincingly integrate these two sides of the same coin.
Instead, the conclusion drawn from this bifurcation is that ‘the RMA was about a revolution in warfare, not postwar stabilisation’ (p. 145). This conclusion is commendable for flagging the ‘lower spectrum of operations’ and for its recognition that precision-guided munitions have only limited relevance in such settings. Nonetheless, the dichotomy between conventional and irregular wars is questionable, and even pernicious if it allows RMA advocates to dismiss the ‘lower end of operations’ as inconvenient exceptions to otherwise foolproof theories. This appears to be the tendency of the book: Shimko even refers to the conventional and insurgency phases of Operation Iraqi Freedom as two separate wars, and draws separate conclusions about the RMA from each. This allows for a glowing endorsement of the RMA on the basis of the war’s initial blows, and the ascription of subsequent trouble to unrelated factors.
Yet to judge the RMA solely on its ability to hit or reconnoitre targets, and conventional targets at that, is to mount an artificially bounded testing-ground in which these technologies can shine. Conclusions drawn on this basis are not wrong, but the context in which they are right is too limited to allow for broader statements about the nature of warfare. Furthermore, Shimko’s ‘two wars’ are not separate: from the number of troops deployed and lack of plans to the immediate ownership of seized territory and towns, the ‘post-war’ phase in Iraq overlapped with and stemmed directly from the manner in which the country was invaded. It follows that ‘revolutionary’ technology is never really ‘decisive for outcomes’, even in ‘conventional’ wars (p. 217), because conventional wars are themselves means toward political ends, and it is here that decisiveness comes into play. Even in World War II, where the conventional and post-war phases appear so distinct, planning for the occupation of Germany began as early as 1941 and related intimately to the manner in which the war was fought and also concluded.
In lesser ways too, the book’s defence of the RMA is problematic. Shimko argues that RMA theorists of the 1990s cannot be faulted for excluding from consideration the type of enemy that would eventually be faced, as no enemy presented itself at that time (p. 130). While this is doubtlessly true, does it justify the exceedingly narrow conception in RMA thinking of war essentially as a targeting drill, ending with the military defeat of fielded forces? Similarly, Shimko argues that it was not due to transformation fetishism that war planners failed to prepare for the stabilization of post-war Iraq, but because of the entrenched US military tradition to separate political and military thinking. Again, this is no doubt true, but does RMA theory look any better if it simply shares in, rather than exclusively own, this failing? The search for nuance is commendable but sometimes appears tendentious.
Still, the book is extremely readable and well researched, offering a detailed review of American defence modernisation over the last two decades. It is unfortunate that no primary research appears to have gone into the manuscript, as much of its content is therefore rather familiar. Also unfortunate is Shimko’s occasional tendency to highlight disagreements in the secondary literature without establishing where he himself stands. For example, the John Nagl vs. Gian Gentile polemic regarding counterinsurgency as a US military priority is recited in a few quotation-laden paragraphs, yet the author moves on before presenting his own take (p. 228). Indeed, upon finishing the book, it is unclear whether Shimko is advocating greater investment in RMA systems or a rebalancing of priorities toward ‘irregular war’.
Maybe the conclusion is just that RMA capabilities have some value, in targeting, reconnaissance and communications, in some settings, and against some adversaries. As a conclusion, this one is welcomingly moderate and well presented, but it nonetheless irks this reviewer, as it rests on a conceptual dichotomy of wars as either ‘conventional’ or not, which has not been helpful to the US military either in the past or today.

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I would suggest that the US military’s continuing attachment to the tools of RMA shows the truth of the thesis in the recently-cited (in a comment on here) paper “Alien: How Operational Art Devoured Strategy”: that the US military is interested in and good at winning battles, but not so interested in or good at winning wars.
Thanks so much for your thoughtful review of my book. I am glad that what you identify as tasks I perform well are largely the ones I set out to accomplish. The main issue you raise is, of course, a critical one — the distinction (or “bifurcation”) between conventional war and other military operations or forms of warfare. The problem with my analysis in your view is that “the dichotomy between conventional and irregular wars is questionable.” Since you correctly identify this dichotomy as central to my analysis, this gets to the heart of the matter. All of your points are well taken, and I am not sure I really disagree with anything you have to say. However, the general problem is always present when seeking to draw conceptual distinctions. In the real world lines are always more blurry than they are in the conceptual universe: wars can involve elements of many types of warfare or eventually transform from one into another. Can the distinction between conventional and irregular warfare be overdrawn? Absolutely. Am I guilty of overdrawing the distinction? I’ll leave that judgment to others for the time being. But I would continue to maintain that there is a meaningful, fundamental and important difference between waging war against a traditional, conventional military opponent and combating an insurgency. Of course the war against Iraq in 2003 was not completely separate from what came after. Nonetheless, I thought (and continue to believe) that it is useful to view the military challenges and lessons as sufficiently different to merit some significant level of differentiation. Again, are there dangers in this type of differentiation? Sure. But there are also potential dangers in the failure to draw any such distinctions. What exactly does it mean to say that the dichotomy between conventional and irregular warfare is “questionable”? Does this imply that there is no difference? That we should cease making such a distinction? I am open to the possibility that I may have been able to make and use the distinction better, but I am not sure how the debate proceeds without this or similar distinctions. I certainly do not know how I would have addressed both the merits of the RMA and its limitations without them.
Keith,
Thanks for taking the time to respond to my review of your book – that is exactly the type of exchange I was hoping to trigger by posting the review on the blog as well as in the journal.
The distinction between conventional and unconventional/irregular/low-intensity/stabilisation – you get the point – is an issue I’ve been thinking a lot about lately yet without coming to a clear answer. There can be – as you note – a heuristic value in distinguishing between these forms of war, even if they are often intimately related in practice, or overlap.
The reason this distinction, as presented in the book, elicited a strong reaction in me is because I felt it gave RMA proponency too much leeway, too much scope, to keep selling the ‘revolutionary’, ‘decisive’, ‘strategic’ effects of related capabilities while sweeping the messy realities of conflict as it presents itself under the carpet.
I do strongly agree with the main argument in the book: that RMA-related capabilities can have a lot of value in some, but not all, settings. However I think this argument could have been made without talk of the ‘RMA’, or of ‘revolutionary capabilities’, or of the ‘decisiveness’ they bring, even in conventional settings. The delineation you provide of what the RMA truly does is helpful, but for me the logical follow-on is to eschew the notion of an ‘RMA’ and to talk instead in less grandiose terms. For example, by integrating different facets of war, you might end up with the conclusion that the precision and capabilities associated with the RMA are tactically and operationally significant in some circumstances, even in counterinsurgencies, but that they are not strategically decisive or even ‘revolutionary’ in warfare, even ‘conventional wars’.
That is not too far from the conclusion in the book, though I felt it was still too ‘RMA-happy’, based in part on this (I’d say overly convenient) bifurcation of war into different and distinct types of phenomena. That last part is still problematic, because it leads to a misleadingly truncated understanding of what wars are truly about in the first place.
Perhaps the best analogy I can come up with is that if a doctor prescribes a guillotine as a precise, swift and decisive cure for a headache, he may be at once be perfectly correct, and perfectly wrong, depending on the narrowness of ones analytical framework.
The concept of RMA is as old as that of conflict itself – the first instance of it was probably when one of our ancestors realised that rocks could be used to crack skulls as well as nuts. And to that effect, an RMA is no more than a General Strategy, (or a Strategic Doctrine) being the answer to the question:
how can we best apply the attributes of our current or emerging means of coercion to create an untenable situation for our opponent (presumably in the next war we have to wage).
The ‘R’ of RMA refers to the extent that this Strategic Doctrine differs from the one that had preceded it. But in the end, the main distinction to be had between the modern infantryman assaulting an enemy position and his caveman ancestor is that the modern soldier can kill more enemy quicker and over a longer range. Everything else remains more or less the same. The point is, we do not wage wars for the sake of RMA’s, we wage them as the attempt to prescribe values to a foreign society. The RMA merely represents the collection of thoughts on how best to achieve this.
For my part, the argument on the nature of the Iraqi War (whether it is the same war with different phases or two wars), harkens back to a previous post about Jeremy Black and his observations on the end of wars. Since that post, I’ve been determined to understand the concept of the end of wars better and this is what I’ve come up with so far:
Drawing on the Clausewitzian dictum that:
war is the mere continuation of politics by other means,
and drawing on definitions of politics, as well as taking the nature of conflict into account, I’ve produced the following definition of war:
the attempt to prescribe own values for a foreign society by means of coercion.
The above has caused me to argue about the nature of a successful war being one of the ways of ending a war. As a result, I’ve produced this definition for such a concept:
the acceptance of such values prescribed by coercion for a foreign society by that society.
Upon analysis, I’ve determined that this acceptance should occur at three levels within the foreign society:
a. The foreign armed forces should accept these value prescriptions as binding by ceasing their contribution to the conflict dialectic.
b. The foreign political system should accept these value prescriptions as binding by ceasing to prescribe values native to the foreign society, for that society.
c. The foreign society itself, lacking alternative authority from which it could accept values, should accept these value prescriptions as binding.
If this is the definition of a successful war, then the peace that follows on such a war should adhere to the same definition.
The acceptance of the above definitions at face value drives off some observations – for instance, a more appropriate name for World War 2 should probably be World War 1.1… but this in itself is not breaking news and I bow to the Clausewitzian dictum that:
the result of war is never absolute.
When we apply the above to the Iraqi War, we can place check-marks against the first two levels of acceptance, but not conclusively against the final level of acceptance. One could counter with the argument that within the chaotic conclusion of conventional combat, there was some element of acceptance by the Iraqi society and that leads us to the question:
how long should a post-war peace last before it can become known as such?
Unfortunately this question is an instance of the Heap Paradox and there is no accurate way of telling.
Similarly, it could be argued that a war could be concluded by a number of means, for instance by the commencement of another war: this much is true, but not for a successful war. From this perspective, wars conclude by adhering to one element of a trinary state: success, failure or undetermined. By maintaining the position that the Iraqi War is in fact two consecutive wars, we have to conclude that the first war of the series therefore had a failed or an undetermined outcome – a conclusion that bodes ill for the anticipated supremacy that any RMA should introduce within the war that was based on it.
In summary, we are left in the undesirable situation where we have to choose one of the following:
a. Two wars scenario: The RMA did not deliver on the promise of superiority for the first war and the result of this war necessitated an immediate second war.
b. Single war scenario: The RMA only survived the rigors of war at the onset of the war and then (in the manner of the Schlieffen Plan – another example of a Strategic Doctrine), crumbled under the weight of the friction of war.
c. Piggy-in-the-middle scenario: The RMA secured the rapid and successful conclusion of the Iraqi War, but we’ve been fighting the Iraqi Peace ever since.
Whichever way, my interest is sufficiently piqued by this review and discussion to buy this book.
Interesting thoughts. I like your, well I can only call it ‘ratiocination’.
The Jeremy Black post, for those concerned, can be found here. Incidentally I thought back to it as well this morning, particularly this quotation:
On your three options, as the aim of the ‘first’ war was regime-change, you’d have to say that the application of RMA-related capabilities failed to achieve the strategic objectives even of this ‘first war’.
What they did was to facilitate the first stage of the war by helping to neutralise the standing forces of the Saddam Hussein regime. Then what?
Going further, RMA literature promised a bunch of stuff: decentralised command, power to the edge, network centered capabilities, total battlespace dominance, lifting the fog of war, shock and awe… beyond the advances that Shimko identifies in his book (precision, recce, comms) the rest of the advantages that were to come into play were largely peripheral at best (BFT may be the one exception I can think of).
I agree with Keith Shimko in his response to this review that there is a potential heuristic value in separating the phases, but it must be remembered at all times that politics and political ends run through the conduct and conclusion of both.
For these reasons, I would tentatively go with the second of
your three options:
David:
I like the quote from Black. I voiced a similar sentiment in discussing the limits of the RMA: “A final limitation of the RMA is that most wars will continue to waged by nations and other actors that possess few if any RMA capabilities. The United States is not the world and its wars do not exhaust the category of modern warfare” (p. 219)
And I go with option 3:
c. Piggy-in-the-middle scenario: The RMA secured the rapid and successful conclusion of the Iraqi War, but we’ve been fighting the Iraqi Peace ever since.
I dissliked option 1, since the military campaign was clearly so very successfull, but the more I think about it, it seems to most accurately describe events…
…I think the problem is that RMA addresses “battle” fighting, rather than “war” fighting.
We won the battle very quickly, but didn’t know what to do next.
If I might be so bold, I have a theory on why this is so:
Let us consider that a war consists of “battles” (that we are good at) and “the rest” (which we are poor at). Suppose that our battle-fighting has been wildly successful, and our military has destroyed the enemy military, and any police / government targets we want, and has then “done its job”, such that we do not need it any more.
Now, using just our goverment, and police – possibly expeditionary police – in the absence of any hostile military or police, what else is needed to win the war?
In the case of WW 1…
nothing.
We have won, the moment the Germans lose their ability to impose upon other countries.
In the case of WW 2…
nothing.
Again, we win by default.
In the case of the Cold War…
nothing.
Again, once Communist Expansion is rendered toothless, we win by default.
The annexation of East Germany, liberation of Eastern Europe, break up of the USSR, NATO expansion – all a bonus, but not why the war was being fought.
And, again, all these good things come about “by default” once global communism becomes toothless.
So, for the last 4 (?) generations, we have been fighting essentially defensive wars, in which there is no need for a non-military component to the war.
(Furthermore, the value system that we champion is the default behaviour of any secular society, in the absence of any “forced” government: so it works in Taiwan, South Korea, Japan, etc. as well, without needing any non-military strategy to “impose” it upon them.)
In summary: we have forgotten how to fight the non-battle part of wars, because for so long, we have been fighting defensively, where it was not needed.
Mike,
Thanks for your input. Interesting idea. I wonder, however, if if I can agree with your central premise. What of the expansive consolidation phase in Germany, in the whole of Western Europe really, following WW2? It might not be as exciting as the war phase, but the Marshall Plan, reconstruction of Germany, Berlin airlift, Truman Doctrine, etc., etc., etc., are all critical to the ‘result’ of WW2 in the Atlantic Theatre as we remember it, i.e. the liberation of Europe. And as in the review, planning for this post-war phase began as early as 1941.
‘Winning by default’ in this one instance would mean that victory equalled the death of Hitler, or the surrender of Japan, which in a sense of course it did, but I think that the war is better thought of as including the consolidation phase, as this is where the gains made in combat are sustained, and in a favourable manner (if all goes well).
WW1, on the other hand, despite the flow of cash to the Weimar Republic in the 1920s, is an instance where the consolidation of battle gains did not go so well, for many reasons. This raises the question posed by Quintin: “how long should a post-war peace last before it can become known as such?”.
As to the Cold War, can we really call this a war of battles and if not, does it fit within the model?
We can argue about whether the consolidation phase is part of ‘why the war was being fought’, but to say that victory came about by default is to obscure, in the case of WW2 particularly, a massive effort on the part of the US to ensure that what it had achieved 1941-1945 did not unravel in 1946 and onward.
Firstly, you are quite right to pick me up on the Cold War not being a war of battles. At least within the main theater (Europe) I would cite it as an example of Sun Tzu’s dictum that “the Acme of [military] success is not in winning 100 battles of 100 battles fought, but in winning the war without fighting any battles”.
However, the “grand strategy” was (as far as I can see) aimed at defeating the military and para-military (guerrilla) forces of “Global Communism”.
Whilst quite a bit of money was spent economically propping up anti-communist governments, this included both existing democrating and existing dictatorial governments, with very negative consequences in the latter case.
I.e. I would argue that is was (a) not done well, and (b) defensive – we weren’t exporting (attacking for) democracy, but rather resisting (defending against) communism.
One of the difficulties in the analysis, is that WW 2 went into the Cold War (WW 3, even if it was Cold,) at an indeterminate date, but very quickly.
[If I knew how to write, I'd take the meat of Eric Hobsbawm's "The Age of Extremes: The Short Twentieth Century, 1914-1991", write it in the style of the Chinese epic "The Three Kingdoms", and entitle it "The Three Ideologies".] [And then sell the film rights.]
So, no, I don’t think the Truman Doctrine was critical to winning WW2, (in it’s consolidation phase,) I think it was part of the Cold War by then.
As to America’s rebuilding of West Germany (and Japan) – you raise the question “did it consolidate the West’s gains?”
I would certainly say it provided the means to resist Communism.
But given how pro-American East Germany and Poland are, I have concluded the the motive to support the West was provided more by Soviet foreign policy, than by America’s.
Another example: South Korea seems a better US ally than Japan, which I again ascribe to its greater proximity to hostile Communist foreign policy.
In addition, WW2 was started in part, (in my understanding,) because the empires of the other European powers restricted access to raw materials, to Germany and Japan.
Since the fighting removed that Imperial control, and it remained absent even after the Axis lost, this itself provided stability to the post-war situation.
Now, if the US had deliberately engineered the British post-war bankruptcy, with a view to giving a loan, on the condition of an end to Exchange Rate Controls, then I’d give them 10/10 for Sun Tsu strategic warfighting.
But I don’t think they did: it seems more of an (albeit perceptive) oportunistic act, than grand strategy.
(Hmm, it’s hard to talk about WW2 & the Cold War adequately in a single blog post…)
Thanks a lot for this very interesting review and discussion.
Of course some technologies associated with the “IT-RMA” are useful in unconventional campaigns. You will find lots of experts criticizing too much reliance on technology, but much less officers willing to say that technology is essentially irrelevant to COIN, especially when a country wages a COIN campaign with only limited stakes in the conflict – as our countries do. An important part of the problem lies with the assumptions behind the RMA. Basically, RMA-style warfare performs well in targeting and destruction, shortening of the OODA loop, etc., but it has nothing to do with politics. Even worse, actually, as it led armies waging COIN campaigns to focus on tactical measures of effectiveness without being aware of the political costs that could be associated with them – for an obvious example, think of civilian casualties.
So, I really think the most important critics against RMA do not have to do with associated technologies taken separately, but with RMA as a general orientation for Western armed forces. As you rightly point out David, “revolutionary” assumptions had severe consequences in terms of training, planning, tactical behavior, etc. And I do believe theorists that encouraged embracing an Army model which makes armed forces unable to cope with some previously well-known contingencies (or least not as unknown as it seems), as well as leaders who actually embraced such a model, can be blamed for advocating and taking such decisions…
I’ll admit that I’m no expert and that my words should not carry any extra weight. With that disclaimer out of the way I’d like to argue that this book may be missing the entire point of a Revolution in Military Affairs (RMA). The point of such an RMA is not to become more technologically advanced, indeed if creating a technologically advanced military force leads one to lose a conflict I would say that there is evidence that the advanced military force didn’t have an RMA to begin with. To me at least an RMA is simply a change in how the military acts in a conflict using new ideas and possibly new technology to bring about victory. If we accept that idea then it is entirely possible for counterinsurgency theory to also create an RMA.