Charm to the front: some thoughts on public order policing

 

The days that followed the general election did not lack for frustrated emotion, with dissatisfaction across the political spectrum. That Saturday London’s streets played host to two significant events, in North London and Whitehall. Responding to StrifeBlog’s piece on the 9th May’s anti-austerity demonstration at the latter location, I would like to amplify the points raised regarding behaviour, particularly focusing the attention on the police and the role of theirs within the swirl of protest. Recent research on crowd behaviour and perceptions of police legitimacy suggest this is an area ripe for critical attention.

 

Protest is a fraught event. The passions which drive citizens to the streets in common voice are not to be trifled with. However, while the emotions of distress are an expected part of such events, my observations from 9th May solidified the conceptualization of the tactical relevance of another emotion, charm, and I would like to discuss here a place for it in British public order policing. It is not news to suggest that polite chat – if not outright charm – is a feature of British policing. If current research is correct, that characteristic is a significant strength against the landscape of policing practice, an asset at the strategic and tactical levels. Moving forward into a period of uncertain funding and even more uncertain political and security challenges, the need to effectively use that strength exceeds that which is merely good practice. While putting a premium on charm in public order situations might accord with the best of emerging scholarship on the subject, in fact these more critical issues may argue for its necessity.

It is first necessary to set the terms of public order policing. For the British police especially, the emotional context of protest places their role on a knife’s edge. On the one hand, there is the policing standpoint on protest. Whether any individual officer or force agrees with those passions, British policing adheres to the standard that the first objective of their efforts is to facilitate the right to protest. Before going further I should point out that I think that this is an excellent starting point for the police role in protest. On the other, hand, the “toe to toe” tactical approach means that they do so at closest proximity to the participants. That is, British public order policing is designed to operate in the face of society’s distress. The challenges of such an approach are significant and it is not unexpected that the police at times struggle to get the balance correct. Much work has been done within policing in the last several years to refine their implementation of the facilitative approach as part of their public order doctrine in response to official critique and public concern. HMIC’s reviews following the 2009 G-20 demonstrations focused on the relationship of that approach with the culture of British policing. Within that framework, and in support of facilitation at close proximity to the protest, increasing consideration is being given to how force, communications, appearance, and other markers of the policing approach to protest influence events and rights. In sum – and it is no small task – British police aim to facilitate protest within the intimate emotional space of the protesters while balancing their actions against a culture which relies upon public consent. Influencing all of this is a growing body of literature regarding the police role in crowd behaviour. The damaging correlation between police hostility and discord or disorder is becoming clear, whereas the banner of respect is linked to positive shaping of events. [1] Events at Whitehall offer an excellent perspective on the role of demeanour – of all involved but especially for the police on the frontlines – as it was a dominant theme of what I saw over the last two hours of the day’s events. Through that frame I would like to consider a few key points which were defined by the interaction of police and protester emotion.

To begin, the onset of the disorder sustains the focus on the interaction between police and protester across emotion and action. From the videos widely circulated online it is possible to form several impressions. Key among them was that whereas the police intention at the start was to facilitate the march decrying the politics of austerity that aim was derailed by events. A minor incident which should not but does often alter the course of events, the “snatch,” (4:05), was the immediate spark to the day’s extant tinder, unleashing the disorder which rightly or wrongly has characterized impressions of the event. In itself, the arrest did not merit the response it invited. But this is the nature of such events and large groups, that simmering passions await the least inspiration. It is the sort of phenomenon which led the United States Marine Corps to imagine the character of the Strategic Corporal. That is, under the right circumstances even minor tactical actions can have significant strategic and political effect. I do not suspect that the officers involved in the arrest intended to unleash the havoc which followed, but rather were simply focused on the task at hand. And what the video fails to show is the act which had led these officers to decide this individual needed to be apprehended at that moment.

Omitting negativity and judgement, it is worth consideration of the balance of value in taking such actions during protest. There is very obviously a trade-off in costs and risks for certain activities in public order policing. Where crowd perceptions of legitimacy and police action matter, especially with regard to their behaviour in the moment and the hair’s breadth difference between calm and disorder, how arrests are carried out is a matter for discussion, with minimum distress a necessary element of success.

But if the early afternoon’s events sustained the negative consequences of the relationship between police behaviour and crowd dynamics in protest, the evening offered a glimpse at the potential of the positive influence. Having spent the afternoon trapped in the office, listening wistfully to the sound of NPAS London circling nearby, when my day’s writing completed at six I made it to Whitehall for final act of the day’s drama ending at Westminster Bridge.

Things had gone to disorder earlier, but by this time in the day the mood had calmed considerably. Although many of the police were in public order kit at that point, this was not how the policing had begun the day. Despite the earlier disorder, there still remained on the streets officers in nothing more than their hi-viz jackets, stab vests and soft caps. Nevertheless, the tone along the lines was at least polite, if not friendly, most officers in helmets had the face shield up and were perfectly willing to engage members of the public. [2] I will admit that in support of my research I take full advantage of the opportunity this presents. But even some of the protesters were enthusiastic with their engagement, and these interactions of the police and protesters was instructive to watch. One exchange stands out. When challenged to confront what had happened there earlier in the day and whether what the police had done was right or fair, one officer smiled and replied “I don’t know, we came down from Walthamstow an hour ago.” The failed attempt to burden the officers with blame was poignant and defused somewhat the protester’s confrontation with the officer. It also was a moment to consider what sort of cognitive impression the day’s contrasting and similar activities would leave on some of the officers.

 

Protester chats with an officer.

 

After an hour or so, the decision was taken to end the protest in front of the MoD. I was made aware of this with a polite notification by one of the officers. Although tempers had moderated he did not expect the remaining protesters to take the news well. As I was stood in the path of the intended police movement, it was clear that members of the public wishing to do so would be allowed to pass around the police lines. The officer’s assessment of the temper of the crowd was not inaccurate, and in response to the effort to disperse the lingering crowds the police again had to contend with emotion. Meeting police instructions for the crowd to step back, the chants of “Fuck the Police” echoed down Whitehall. Finding myself behind the police line of march, as they began to walk the crowds west I was able to observe the process from this perspective. The struggle here was not only to move the protesters but to keep control over the metal barriers which had been deployed along the streets. Used by the protesters to confound police efforts to move them along, it was a mildly frantic effort to move the barriers to the rear. Of the many things which the public order leader on the street must consider in such moments, even when the disorder is minor, this is not likely to enter the mind of anyone save those with practical experience. This effort was handled by every officer present and possible, rank notwithstanding.

 

Following the police line.

 

Perhaps I followed a little too closely, because at one point, a rather flustered Chief Inspector turned and noticed I was right behind their lines. Finding that I was not a member of the press, she requested that move off to the side a bit. I am relentless about my research, but equally I do not wish to become part of the problem, so to the sidewalk I went. The view was just as good, if not quite as direct. From there I watched the last push to move the protesters towards Parliament Square. Not long after, with the remnants of the protest finally arrived at Westminster, the police quickly regrouped and dispersed them across the bridge.

Observing at close range, across a variety of interactions and emotions, the contours of British policing practice and scholarship on crowd psychology and public perceptions of legitimacy merged conceptually. Watching the exchanges between police and crowd, the strength of this culture of policing which provides ample space for individual diplomacy to shape events should be reckoned as a strength against the academic findings on legitimacy, compliance, and consent generally. [3] And it seems to me that public order policing specifically could harness the influence of this geniality. Without being flippant or unserious, it is worth considering what value there would be in the first line of action in public order policing was chat. Echoing the ancient Roman military principle of placing experience to the rear to shore up the resolve of less experienced troops, in this case we would call for charm to the front to minimize the friction between police and protesters, moderate the latter’s distress of the protesters and public, thus lessening the public order burden overall. The police position in close proximity with protesting crowds is a challenge, but it offers as well an opportunity. Arrayed as the face of protest policing in its first effort, chatters and charmers could do much to maintain the equanimity of those they confront. The most recent protest was not the first I had seen of the value of such efforts. During the Guy Fawkes demonstrations last November I stopped to watch a line of officers manage the flow of demonstrators. You cannot see it in the picture, but the officers have their visors up and are smiling [4] and talking to several of whom they are keeping from heading towards Westminster and Trafalgar Square. The effects were palpable. At the tactical level in the moment, although thwarted in their attempt to join the fray, the individuals were largely mollified to have at least an open “ear” to their sentiments and reasons for protest. More broadly, considering the terms of legitimacy, by treating these individuals with respect, explaining the police reasons for stopping their progress, and listening to their cause, these officers served the legitimacy and perception of policing.

 

Smiling officers chat with protesters.

 

Balancing the needs of protest and expression against those for order and safety has never been easy and seems only to be increasing in complexity. The British police will have to confront this, as well as the broader challenges to their relationships with communities and ability to work effectively as a function of that. Seemingly out of place within this world, it may be that charm is a necessary part of the public order kit.

 

 

Notes

1 See, eg, Lawrence Singer, “London Riots: Searching for a Stop,” Policing, V7, No. 1, pp 32-44.

2 The number of times I watched an officer ask politely several times for a protester to do something was remarkable. Nothing anyone was asked approached onerous, but the mood was simply to oppose.

3 See, eg, Andy Myhill and Paul Quinton, “It’s a fair cop? Police legitimacy, public cooperation and crime reduction,” NPIA, September 2011.

4 This accords with research on kit, as a reduction in force can signal positively to a protest crowd and facilitate communication. See, eg, Stephen Reicher, Clifford Stott, Patrick Cronin, and Otto Adang, “An integrated approach to crowd psychology and public order policing,” Policing, Vol 27, No. 4, 2004.

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The Salvage and Repair of Army Boots, Somerset, England, 1943 Rows of shiny army boots await distribution after their repair and rebuilding at this shoe factory in Somerset.

Colonel Panter-Downes: The Army Foot

Our Colonel returns this week to inspire the conversation. In this installment he considers the decline and fall of the foot inspection. Once a regular part of British Army leadership practice, he views its demise against the backdrop of the changes it represents for service and officership. As well as any soldier, the military historian is familiar with the practice, as well as the foot’s larger influence in war. The Romans built their empire upon the Legion’s march. And even in this age of high speed travel, the foot manages to retain its influence upon events. However, as a metaphor for the creeping technocracy within the armed forces, the changing terms of its care as a matter of military concern is illuminating. Read the post, consider the questions, join the discussion on Twitter at #CCLKOW. — JSR 

 

The Royal Military Academy Sandhurst issued us many things in our year long sojourn there. Some would prove invaluable (our copy of Sidney Jary’s book “18 Platoon”), some would prove tragic (our unfeasibly bulky purple polyester track suits) and some just muddled in between. In this latter category there sits a slim blue pamphlet that still haunts a box in my attic, “The Army Foot: Its Conditions and Cures”.

I do not think that I have ever had recourse to use said pamphlet although the subject is one of acute interest to most infantry officers, for the infantry foot in particular is both an ugly and indispensable object. I have however carried out an inordinate number of foot inspections. Sandhurst was very good at foot inspections, and feet were inspected after exercises and after road marches and this habit carried through to when I was a platoon commander. Feet inspections were the norm and the platoon commander carried them out. When I left my last command some seven years ago however, foot inspections were not the norm. Indeed when, after our first road march, we warmed down and I briefed my command team “Right – foot inspection! I’ll do the HQ you do your teams, let me know when you’re done!” I was met with incredulous looks by the assembled officers. Foot inspections it seems are no longer the norm in the British Army.

This passing of an era seems to me a great shame on a number of fronts. It also seems to me to reflect something of a gradual change in command ethos within the British Army. The reasons for this change are complex but ultimately boil down to two primary factors.  Primarily changes in the character of the society we are drawn from and whom we serve, exacerbated by the steady erosion of the British regimental system in successive defence reforms since 1990.

When I joined it seems to me that the leadership ethos was somewhat paternalistic in nature. As junior officers we were expected to care for our men and it was made clear to us that their problems were very much our problems. I advised on finances and relationships as well as courses and careers, the approach seemed almost Edwardian in character. Despite being a mere slip of a lad myself, my soldiers were referred to affectionately as “my boys”. Not only was I expected to know what was happening in their lives I was expected to be actively involved. I would attend court if they were up on charges (officers still do), write to the bank manager on their behalf if needed and consult (or console) on their marriage plans as required. If the leadership ethos was strongly paternalistic, the character of the unit and sub-unit was equally familial.

This familial character was reinforced by the nature of my battalion, a close knit county regiment with strong local and family links amongst both officers and men.  In my first platoon I found myself commanding one distant cousin, one school friend and two men from my village. People had grown up together and families had served together over generations. Not only did the regiment have a history and character, but it shared regimental families in both the Officers’ and Sergeants’ Messes; families who had grown up and then served alongside each other over the generations.

It is the case today that not only have the geographical and familial links been strained by successive eroding of the British regimental structure (which has been most acutely felt in the line infantry units), but also that the ethos of command has moved away from its former paternalistic nature. Partly this is as a result of legislative change (I am not qualified to give financial or relationship advice and therefore would be liable if I did so) and partly because society has changed; the Baby Boomers generation has given way to Generation X and now we in turn are ceding to the Millennials. Perhaps today’s soldiers see a clearer delineation of responsibilities than they did 20 years ago and what was appropriate then is no longer appropriate now? I sense that today junior officers still care for their men, but that perhaps their willingness and definitely their latitude to get actively involved in providing care is more limited than in my time.

Now barring National Guard and Reserve units US Army units have no geographical affiliations for recruiting, and so while there are a great many ‘Army families’ where generations have served in turn this is not necessarily expressed in unit character for Active Component units. Bearing this in mind there is not a direct read across from my experiences of the familial nature of the command care relationship to the US Army.  However US officers will have seen the changes over the years over what they used to do and what they do now, between what was appropriate and what is no longer appropriate.

So my questions for this week are:

What are the parameters of care to which a leader should adhere?

How has the practical application of leadership care changed since you joined and what does this say about your organisation and people?

When did you last do a foot inspection?

Despite the changing times, I remain a firm fan of foot inspections, not only on a pragmatic basis but as a tangible demonstration of care to those under command.  You can learn a lot about a man by how he cares for his feet and what state they are in, you can also learn a lot about a leader through the care and attention that he gives your feet.

 

 

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4/29: When Casualties Come Home from War

When the casualty incident described in this piece occurred, it fell to me to tend to the unit’s “family.” Beyond the families directly affected, the rest experienced these events through my messages. They chronicle a small piece of what happens on the home-front when casualties come home. [1] These events unfold regularly in our midst, more so in the last decade of conflict, but most in the general public have no experience of this aspect of war; they should.

 

Reflecting upon the conflict and mayhem that has been unleashed in Iraq since the instigation of the military operations to end the regime of Saddam Hussein, there are many issues to confront the scholar. As a military historian, most fundamentally for me I never believed regime change in Iraq was a good idea. Breaking states should only be a strategy choice of last possible resort, and even then it is probably best avoided. But as the spouse of a Marine Officer my professional and intellectual opposition would be challenged by personal obligations.

I was not unfamiliar with this internal conflict between scholarly and real world obligations. In 2004, as a Fellow in their Summer Seminar in Military History, I watched the veterans among the West Point uniformed historians experiencing both cognitive dissonance as well as resonance as they confronted their intellectual material. I could tell that they were comparing their experiences with their scholarship, but I did not understand what that meant at the time. Years later, humbled by my own small experience, I have a sense of how they must have felt and thought. My hope is that this glimpse into the wider experience of war and conflict will offer a similar bit of enlightenment for others.

The vagaries of the personnel system meant that my former husband missed the first several years of OIF. He spent its first year “Stop-Moved” in Okinawa – a one year unaccompanied tour doubled at the commencement of hostilities in 2003. Then a B-Billet tour in Newport, RI, followed, because the alternation between line units and administrative jobs is relentless in the Marine Corps, no matter the state of conflict. At the first opportunity, after only two years in Newport, the Fleet Marine Force beckoned once again, specifically for Iraq. After a three months’ preparation, in January 2007, as a Major, he deployed to Iraq in command of a Military Training Team (MTT). As a training cadre the team was small, giving the families in support an intimacy and closeness that would colour the experience of the deployment. Furthermore, I was the unit Key Volunteer, which made me the point of contact between the unit/Marine Corps and the families of the serving Marines and Sailor. For the most part this meant I was responsible for providing official and correct information about the unit’s movements and activities to the families on a timely basis. Secondarily, as possible, I tried to offer some measure of additional information and support, as well as to coordinate any assistance the unit or the families might require. [2] It is the sort of responsibility that anyone not afflicted with terrific arrogance will feel that they have done inadequately.

By way of background on the context of the deployment, Fallujah in the first half of 2007 was roiling. At the time of the casualty event the Marines and the Iraqi Army battalion they were training had already seen significant and regular combat action. Their AOR, an area of the city known as the “Pizza Slice,” was particularly dangerous, with regular and daily insurgent activity. The Lieutenant Colonel commanding the Iraqi battalion was experienced and educated, having served during the Hussein regime. [3] Pragmatic and hopeful that a new start could be made for his country, he was a willing and able partner in the rebuilding of Iraq. The battalion and its training team would endure several months of sustained attacks until the insurgency broke – of its own stupidity and the civilian population’s shifted allegiance – early in the summer.

However, before that break occurred, a sniper ambush towards the end of a day’s activities took the lives of one of our Marines, and wounded two others. On the afternoon of 29 April, an element of the battalion and its trainers had been conducting a dismounted patrol of Marines and Iraqi soldiers with vehicles in support. As the last task of the patrol, they had stopped to conduct a search. With the units’ vehicles deployed along narrow and twisted streets, the dismounted elements cleared a building which had been identified as a potential insurgent base. Finding nothing in the building, as the Marines made their way to their vehicles the attack opened with precision sniper and general supporting fire.

Within short order, no more than five minutes of fighting, the three casualties were taken. The remaining 15 to 20 of minutes combat was fought as the dismounted Marines struggled to safely remove the fallen to the vehicles while those in the vehicles provided cover. Unable to safely extricate from the killing ground on their own, the timely arrival of the QRF (quick reaction force) ended the engagement. It was a close run thing, as the Marines engaged on the ground were running out of ammunition to continue their fight.

I remember the day clearly. I was probably munching bagels and driving home to Newport with my son and dog after a weekend visiting family in New York, while these events were occurring. (Yes, you do stop to note the surreal aspects of such moments.) Or maybe I was reading the Sunday New York Times, which had a story on the turning tide fighting the insurgents in Ramadi. Although the deployment was not easy, things were not terrible, and I had just returned from the annual conference for the Society for Military History conference and was energized for my research. [4] We arrived home, safe and sound. And completely oblivious.

It was later that night when the Major sent me the following email:

Do NOT say anything/tell anyone.  The worst happened.  Notifications are being made.  I’m still alive.

Brevity enhanced, rather than diminished, the impact of the news.

The identity of one of the casualties was the first detail I would receive regarding the incident. Shortly after the email arrived the phone rang. On the other end was the brother of the unit’s corpsman (Doc) who had been wounded the ambush. As awful as it was in its brevity I was now happy to have received the message. While there is no way to prepare for such things it was better not to be caught completely unaware. I spent hours on the phone with the brother that night, talking through what was happening to Doc and trying to get what information I could from the unit in Iraq. This effort was complicated by the fact that when casualty incidents happen a unit goes into communications lockdown – “River City” [5] – so as to avoid the unfortunate circumstance where rumour gets ahead of the official notification procedures of the service. Technically the Major should not have been in email contact with me. But as I was conferring with him on behalf of the family of a wounded service member, judgment and discretion were exercised to provide every support possible.

That night we settled the first round of issues and for the moment Doc’s situation was stable.

 

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CCLKOW: The 2% Doctrine

Dr. Hugo Rosemont is Assistant Director of the Centre for Defence Studies at King’s College, London.

This week Kings of War and CCLKOW are happy to introduce a new author to the audience and participants, with Dr. Hugo Rosemont discussing British security policy, budgets and priorities as a key part of the impending General Election. Marking something of a departure from the usual, in this case our conceptualization expands beyond defence to consider the implications for policing as well as other facets of the security machine. Although the most obvious nexus lately among these worlds is in the unfolding stories of citizens leaving to join foreign extremists, the wider universe of human and contraband smuggling, money laundering, cyber crime and other transnational “crim-sec” activity is demolishing the neat sense of separation between these state functions which had arisen under modern administrative practices. While it is folly to redefine every problem according to a security framework, it is equally dangerous to ignore the relationship among these sectors and their influence upon the broad terms of security because of bureaucratic boundaries. In governmental policy, I think Hugo is correct to identify the absence of more holistic thinking and approaches as a serious gap in thinking on security. And although the focus is, at the moment, upon the United Kingdom, with an election impending in the US next year these issues will resonate as well. So, enjoy the article, give a thought to the questions, and join the discussion on Twitter at #CCLKOW. — Jill S. Russell  

 

Whilst some people might look at the treatment of foreign policy, defence and security issues during the 2015 UK General Election campaign as a farce, is it not now becoming something much more akin to a tragedy? Several commentators have rightly pointed out (for example, here and here) that, with the exception of only a few issues, these topics have not featured prominently during the campaign. This is disappointing for a few reasons.

First, where it has taken place, debate in these areas has focused almost exclusively on the status of the UK political parties’ varying (non?) commitment to allocate 2% of UK GDP to defence expenditure, in line with the country’s stance on the associated NATO guideline, with a sprinkling of discussion emerging more recently on the national security credentials of party leaders, and on the prospects for renewing the country’s nuclear weapons capability. Most notably, the Prime Minister received a high profile grilling on the first issue in a BBC leadership interview last week – his performance was subsequently critiqued by many analysts, including the editor of The Spectator.

The 2% question is a critical issue and it is important that both politicians and public opinion are flushed out in particular around their level of commitment to the UK meeting the NATO guideline (full disclosure: the present author shares the belief of many people – including the 33 Members of Parliament to have signed an Early Day Motion on the issue – that the next Government should commit itself to the NATO figure). But the current, understandable emphasis on this matter is now beginning to do us all a disservice because it leaves little room for consideration of the parties’ approaches to other national security issues. In particular, it is striking how little contemplation there has been to date around some of the more eye-catching security policy ideas to have been proposed in the parties’ manifestos, and indeed on their relative silence towards some of the most urgent issues. With respect to the former, for example, why has there not been a deeper level of interest or more mainstream media attention towards such issues as:

– The Conservatives’ plan to ‘hold’ a National Security Strategy later this year

– Labour’s proposal to abolish elected Police and Crime Commissioners

– The Lib Dems’ belief that intervention is justified by a legal ‘and/or’ humanitarian case

– UKIP’s proposal to establish a new Director of National Intelligence for the UK

– The Scottish National Party’s idea that nuclear weapons are morally offensive

Second, whilst opinion will be likely to split on whether any or all of these ideas are good, bad, or even ugly, unfortunately there is an even bigger problem. It is the apparent lack of detail (consideration?) from the parties on how under their leadership – or as a result of their involvement – the next UK Government would approach such serious current issues as winning the battle of ideas underpinning the radicalization of British ‘foreign fighters’ inclined to travel to Iraq and Syria, and notably in respect of other ongoing crises in, for example, Yemen, Ukraine and Libya. Additionally, a serious connection has seemingly not yet been made by any of the leading contenders in respect of how they propose to handle what Professor Vernon Bogdanor calls ‘The Crisis of the Constitution’ and the impact that policy in this area might have on national security – including the integrity of the country, and its long-term economic prospects. Judging by the manifestos, there also appears to be an ongoing failure on the part of all parties to develop creative solutions for engaging the private sector in addressing many of the most complicated issues the UK faces, upon whom it now depends in numerous areas of national security.

Third, it is concerning that more attention has not been paid in the pre-election discussions to how the next Government should develop its overall approach to national security considered in the wider sense. In other recent election campaigns, most notably in 2010, UK voters were spoilt for choice in being provided with detailed and creative new thinking from the parties (should they want it) around how policies, structures and processes would be developed and implemented by way of a genuinely ‘joined-up’ approach to national security. There have been few such discussions this time but, happily, Charlie Edwards (the author of National Security for the Twenty-First Century, an important pamphlet that originally advanced the need for a ‘holistic’ UK national security strategy) and Calum Jeffray of the Royal United Services Institute have recently co-authored an excellent new paper that adopts such a broad perspective with its analysis on the future for research and development for security and intelligence purposes. It must be hoped that this prompts the UK security and political community into again considering alongside defence the importance of what the coalition Government has called ‘wider security’ issues. For now, it is worrying that, with the possible exception of some attention to limited aspects of police reform and the future powers for monitoring digital communications, deeper discussion on non-military security issues has been largely absent from this campaign to date.

There is clearly very limited time now before 7th May, so the emergence of a renewed emphasis on security issues might be difficult to achieve. It also has to be recognized that, in contrast to high profile proposals on domestic priorities such as health and education, it has often be observed that policies on defence, security and foreign affairs are simply not the same kind of ‘vote winners’. But a case can also be made that two straightforward changes in approach would help to improve the level and quality of the discussions. Firstly, in parallel to any ongoing scrutiny of their policies on defence, the parties could be encouraged (if not pressured) by national security journalists, academics, and any other interested parties, to clarify whether (and how specifically) they would propose to work with partners to develop and fund their approaches to non-military security risks such as terrorism, organized crime and cyber insecurity, at home and overseas. Secondly, and perhaps more importantly at this stage, all those with an interest or voice in the current UK defence funding debate should consider resisting the temptation to add further fuel to the fire on the 2% issue, as important and tempting as it is, or at least contemplate raising in the debate the merits (and importance) of discussing other proposals and obvious (often non-military) security priorities facing the UK.

The reality is that we now have a good idea of where the parties stand on the 2% defence spending issue, however satisfactory or unsatisfactory positions on this matter may be seen to be. Clearly this will need to be revisited after the Election but, in the meantime, it is imperative that answers are also now sought on how the parties would approach other pressing security concerns, including in respect of how (if?) non-military security risks would be genuinely considered in any Strategic Defence and Security Review (SDSR) process held under their watch.

It is against this backdrop that it is hoped that the following questions will help to stimulate some more varied discussion on the future shape of UK defence and security policy in the remaining few weeks of the 2015 General Election:

 

1 How useful is the 2% NATO guideline as a measure of UK national security capability?

2 How much should the next Government spend on other security capabilities (e.g. cyber, counter-terrorism policing, intelligence etc.)?

3 What ‘security’ issues should/shouldn’t be covered in the 2015 SDSR?

Join the discussion on Twitter at #CCLKOW.

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Colonel Panter-Downes: Tending One’s Bureaucratic Garden

Greeting’s readers. For this week’s professional discussion we have a piece from our Colonel thinking about how to tend the military bureaucracies. Often derided for the inanity of the extremes, it must be admitted that but for these internal organizing principles and apparatuses large and complex institutions like the armed forces would exceed human administration. Thus, evil though it might perpetuate, the bureaucracy also means that things really do get done rather than collapsing under the weight of every detail. The challenge is in discriminating such that you preserve the good and manage the bad, identify the flab while maintaining the muscle.  So, read the piece, consider the questions, and join the discussion on Twitter at #CCLKOW.

 

I enjoy gardening. There is something both satisfying and therapeutic about working with nature in the pursuit of growth.  I would not however say that I am a good gardener; in fact my gardening skills have been described as somewhat apocalyptic. In an attempt to improve my green fingered skills I often listen in to BBC Radio’s “Gardeners’ Question Time” a thoroughly British institution. A hardy perennial on this show is the subject of pruning which is often necessary to encourage new growth, and it is with the subject of pruning in mind that my thoughts turned to that of military bureaucracy.

It is a given in every military that military bureaucracy is bad and needs pruning.  The former might or might not be the case but the latter is definitely true.  There is a lot of dead bureaucracy out there, bureaucracy that has served its purpose and is no longer required.  This needs cut back to focus on the essential bureaucracy, for bureaucracy is essential.  Now my well thumbed copy of Charles Handy’s “Understanding Organisations” (an excellent book, every field grade officer should own it) uses German sociologist’s Max Weber’s definition of a bureaucracy as:

  1. A division of labour in which authority and responsibility is clearly defined for each member, and is officially sanctioned.
  2. Offices or positions are organized into a hierarchy of authority resulting in a chain of command.
  3. All organisational members are to be selected on the basis of technical qualifications through formal examinations or by virtue of training and education.
  4. Officials are to be appointed, not elected.
  5. Administrators work for fixed salaries and are career officers.
  6. The administrative official does not own the administered unit but is a salaried official.
  7. The administrator is subject to strict rules, discipline, and controls regarding the official duties.

From this definition it is very clear that we, the military, are indeed a bureaucracy (whether we like it or not). What I want to talk about however, is the manifestation of bureaucracy in the rules, regulations, requirements and paperwork peculiar to our institutions.

The intent of a bureaucratic structure is to enable an organisation to function effectively and efficiently.  Bureaucracy, the manifestation of a bureaucratic structure, is supposed to be the oil that lubricates the cogs of power, not the grit that jams the gearing.  All too often however the means (a bureaucracy) becomes the end; in the British Army we refer to this state as a “self-licking lollipop”. The same is often perceived as true for the forms in which bureaucracy takes, the process seems to become an end in itself.  Yet all those rules, regulations and paperwork we chafe at serve a purpose, or did so at one time.  Where that purpose is redundant the bureaucracy has become dead bureaucracy, the purpose is dead but the process remains; like old growth it too needs pruning.

As a rough bureaucratic gardener’s rule of thumb the more bureaucracy irritates us the greater the requirement for pruning. We chafe most against those elements whose purpose we cannot discern, or whose utility we see as peripheral (at best) to operational output. Few chafe at the requirement to sit a driving test and hold a driving license before driving.  Furthermore that which we chafe against reveals much about our organisation. Bureaucracy is supposed to enable the effective and efficient functioning of the organisation, it assists in minimizing risk; but what kind of risk and risk to whom? Bureaucracy can be a window to the soul of the organisation exposing what is acceptable and what is not, where risk is tolerated and where not.  It can tell us uncomfortable truths about who we are.

In thinking down this path I was struck by elements on both sides of the Atlantic.  In the UK leave for field grade officers and above is self-certified.  For those below field grade an application is made to the chain of command which simply states when you want leave and where you will be spending it.  Here in the US the following are required:  Leave Pass request sheet, Hard Copy DA 31, Leave and Earnings Statement (LES), Travel Risk Planning System (TRiPS) completed and a detailed Travel Plan, Privately Operated Vehicle (POV) inspection certificate (is your car safe to drive), flight itinerary (as applicable), and the AKO MEDPROS printout.  It seems to me a little excessive and I was surprised that anyone let alone field grades, was required to complete this.  Presumably if you have commanded a company or a battalion you can be trusted to plan your leave or does mission command only apply in the field?  In this instance the bureaucracy in camp seems at odds with the command ethos in the field.  Now I can understand the purpose of this bureaucratic requirement, but does one size fit all? What mechanism exists for pruning back this when it is no longer relevant?  When I think of my experience of the US Army’s bureaucracy I think of “bureaucracy by attrition”. It tells me that this is an organisation that does not welcome people “stepping out of lane”; its manifestation and ethos seems at odds with the Army Operating Concept.

Much of the UK bureaucracy that I find irksome, owes as much in my opinion to minimising political and reputational risk as it does to operational effectiveness.  I understand the requirement to maintain an operational training record of all training a soldier receives prior to deployment. I cannot help but feel however, that the bureaucracy that now surrounds this requirement owes more to providing an audit trail in the event of an inquest than it does to ensuring that soldiers are sufficiently trained to deploy. The amount of bureaucracy seems excessive to the (operational) value gained, but guards reputational risk (we train our soldiers effectively) and minimizes political risk (training was resourced correctly).   Likewise I was struck by the bureaucracy regarding working with Personally Identifiable Information (PII).  Successive UK governments have been embarrassed by the loss of PII by different government departments (including the Ministry of Defence).  Naturally this has resulted in a regime to enforce best practice and accountability.  But again, the handling of PII has been normalized, we know how to do it, The annual training and certification programme now seems excessive  to the requirement and indicates the absence of risk tolerance in this area.  It seems to me that the UK bureaucratic emphasis indicates acute political sensitivity and a focus on minimizing (organisational) reputational risk.

We military personnel are largely bureaucrats in a bureaucratic organisation.  We should acknowledge and embrace this, because it is only by doing this that we can recognise the impacts of our bureaucracy on our organisations for good and for ill.  To parody Clausewitz  “The first, the supreme, the most far-reaching act of judgment that the leader has to make is to establish . . . the kind of ethos on which they are embarking and the bureaucracy to support it.”

 

So my questions for this week are simple:

What does your bureaucracy tell you about your organisation?

What would you prune?

Where would you encourage new growth?

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Women and children first?

Welcome to this week’s CCLKOW discussion piece. We are looking this time at the complications arising from certain of Isil’s irregular strategic choices. To be brief, contrary to current practice they are weaponising children and women’s domestic functions. Child soldiers are nothing new globally, but they have not figured prominently against the West. And one suspects Isil’s strategic intent is specifically to confound Western forces with this choice. Similarly, the active recruitment of women for the purpose of marrying a fighter and supporting the cause in that manner has overtones of that intent as well. So, read the piece and join the discussion on Twitter at #CCLKOW.

There is a looming problem in the fight against Isil. As they include recruitment of women and the military training of children in their operating philosophy, we are fast racing to a point of uncomfortable decision regarding how to treat them on the battlefields and in the long run.

Turning first to the children, the greatest issue is at the tactical level. At some point, in the fighting to retake the towns and cities held by Isil, children will be deployed. And let’s be clear. Children are what we make them in large measure. There are no shortage of cautionary tails regarding the potential brutality of children run amok, and we should have all read Lord of the Flies. Now consider what happens when they are trained. At the point of combat, these “young cubs” could well be dangerous. Of course, what children survive those battlefields present the longer term problem of their treatment, whether as victims or prisoners of war.

Giving our attention next to the women, ‎with the story of three young women from East London running off to join Isil’s domestic branch fresh on our minds, the problem is their status in the long term. Much consideration of their intentions, both serious — King’s own Dr. Katherine Brown and Elizabeth Pearson have recently offered their thoughts among many  — and silly (CNN’s “Nutella and Kittens”). While some might try to argue that these young women are being lured on false romanticism which preys on their naivete, please consider that the same must then true for the young men. Furthermore, while taking the step to jihadi bride might not seem like an act of war, they do serve the purpose of holding territory, complicating combat operation as civilians, and providing a next generation of fighter. In a 15 year war scenario, that last is n0t inconsequential. Furthermore, one must also consider their intent in joining, their ideological commitment to the conflict and political culture that Isil wishes to spread. That is, in every respect they have donned the uniform. And it bears remembering that not every male who joins is a trigger puller, neither in Isil nor Western forces – a soldier truck driver is still a prisoner of war. Even assuming these women didn’t pick up a Kalashnikov in the defense, as territory is retaken from Isil, their will not be easy to decide.

So, the question for discussion is simple:

What do you do about women and children in war now? 

 

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Televised Salvation

 

CCLKOW’s discussion this week offers a different vision, literally and figuratively, to counter the horrors of extremist snuff propaganda and re-imagine the use of modern military capabilities. It challenges our discussants to consider in wholly new ways to approach the public brutality of our opponents, arguing that the best response is its opposite, kindness. Read the post, ponder the questions, and join the discussion on Twitter at #CCLKOW.

 

Last week the world was justly horrified at the notion of the execution by fire of Jordanian Air Force pilot Lieutenant Moath al-Kasasbeh. I use “notion” particularly because the majority of those who stand opposed to the action eschewed exposure to the images. ‎I did not, because as a historian I must be willing to confront that which I seek to understand: the video was awful, but useful. (1) But even as societies shun the video, embedded within the perverse logic that peddles the horrific exhibition of carnage is the kernel of a counter strategy. The spectacle of relief by way of televised salvation; or rather, the operationalization of Combat HA/RTP.

The truth that must be accepted is that behind the gross displays of the ritualized execution of symbolic and specific targets, the conflicts in Iraq and Syria have exacted a ruthless toll upon a disproportionate mass of civilians. Whether displaced or under siege, local populations have borne the brunt of the violence and chaos. Sinjar is famous, but it is not alone.

We are much in the habit these days of discussing the strategic narrative. But military operations are still too often reckoned in tactical tallies of sorties and targets. (2) There is little in any of that which portends victory, neither on the battlefield nor among the many audiences of concern in the conflicts in Iraq and Syria. If taking control of the narrative in this fight is an objective, then a better story than the extremists’ grisly tales must be offered. Humanity, pursued with vigor, would offer a compelling narrative in contrast to the death cult fare. It would be a narrative sustained by the substance of real action and, better still, conveyed by the images of hope and deliverance.

The US particularly has every capability to manage the human dimensions such conflict-induced crises. In all respects it depends upon the strength of full-spectrum logistics. American forces dominate this field, to include expeditionary air mobility, housing, feeding and medical services, and as well the ability to provide security is a given. (3) I am imagining scalable, deployable units, tasked to protect and defend from environmental and enemy harm. Initial focus of application would be on the refugee and displaced populations, but there would be room to expand such operations to consider the provision of defense to those peoples whose political voice coalesces to request it.

None of this ignores the fact that defeat of the extremists will require some fighting, killing and dying. However, the more that is done to move opinion against them, the easier that task will be. It bears considering that perhaps the most important victories of the Cold War were humanitarian: the mighty strategic and political effort of the Marshall Plan and the symbolic tactical victory of the Berlin Airlift. Both acts of strategic kindness, the latter made famous by the iconic image of nothing more than a chocolate bar on a makeshift parachute. In this fight as well, while we have every means at our disposal to bring destruction, it may be that the better answer is in what salvation we choose to deliver.

 

So, for this week’s discussion questions:

What are the terms of a strategic narrative to defeat the extremist movements who trade in barbarity?

Do we need to reconsider how we use military forces? Is force their most effective capability?

Are American and Western political audiences willing to sacrifice life and treasure to defend others?

 

Notes:

1 The worst of it is not the act, but always the coldness of the enemy in attendance. And, in this case, the bulldozer.

2 The Iraqi announcements are at least about ‎the fight for key strategic terrain, about retaking territory from an invading enemy.

3 In varying degrees the NATO allies share this capacity.

 

Simulposted at CCL KOW: https://medium.com/@CCLKOW/televised-salvation-f0c01cd3cfee

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The Thin Red Line? Determining the Future of the British Armed Forces

 

Late last month, General Sir Nicholas Houghton delivered the annual Chief of the Defence Staff Lecture at the Royal United Services Institute (RUSI) in London. In his speech, Houghton reviewed the past twelve months of operations and expressed his hopes, concerns and anxieties for the year ahead. 2015 is set to be an exceptionally busy one in British politics with a General Election scheduled for May and a Spending Review. Critically for those in the armed forces, it is also time for another Strategic Defence and Security Review (SDSR). SDSR 2015 will help determine the shape of British defence policy and the budget for the foreseeable future.

Houghton addressed many of the military’s perennial concerns (e.g. budget, allocation of resources, and how best to address emerging threats). However, he was most concerned about the state of civil-military relations. Over the past decade, Houghton believes that, ‘to varying degrees, government, parliament and society have become more cautious, nervous and anxious about the employment of military force.’ [1] Furthermore, ‘as a nation we [Britain] could have started to lose some of our courageous instinct: the instinct to risk and make sacrifices for our own security and the common good.’ [2] Throughout his speech, he stressed the need for the government and by extension, the public to clarify what role they wish the armed forces to play. Are they there to ‘mitigate risks from the narrow perspective of national necessity,’ or to serve a ‘grander ambition’? [3]

In the last SDSR in 2010, the government very clearly stated that, ‘our country has always had global responsibilities and global ambitions. We have a proud history of standing up for the values we believe in and we should have no less ambition for our country in the decades to come.’[4] Be that as it may, the armed forces have felt the sting of severe cuts to both manpower and the budget over the last few years. Simultaneously, they are asked to meet growing security threats from both state and non-state actors. Consequently, the question as to their role remains open for debate.

The UK has long had global ambitions and defined itself within these terms. At the beginning of the 20th century, Britain was a superpower with an extensive empire. Even after the decline of that empire, the country’s leaders remained determined to maintain a place on the world’s stage. Following WWII, the UK entered a period of severe financial austerity not dissimilar to events since the financial crisis of 2008. Nevertheless, the British government still saw itself as a global power and a pivotal ally for new superpower, the United States. Moreover, the UK still had a vast array of defence commitments around the world. Determined to meet these responsibilities, the country fielded a large army that was principally maintained through conscription (National Service). Today, this is no longer politically viable. Since the end of the Cold War, a more transparent and less deferent society has emerged. The British public is no longer willing to enforce National Service. On the whole, we are also much more sensitive to the risks that military service entails, averse to the casualties that inevitably result from operations.

Having said that, the government’s ambitions remain big. Britain still perceives itself as a major partner to the US and a key country within defensive alliances like NATO. The country also remains the fifth largest spender on defence in the world. However, commentators have predicated that spending will begin to fall below 2 per cent GDP over the next few years. It is likely that further cuts will be made to both the overall defence budget and military manpower, with a greater reliance on the Reserves. [5]

The armed forces are currently in a state of flux. Too often, debates about this process remain largely within Whitehall and fail to engage the wider public effectively. As another election approaches, areas like health and education seem more pressing. In contrast, defence spending only becomes a concern when the need arises. However, the public should take an active interest in determining the direction of the armed forces and considering the issues outlined by Houghton. Whether comfortable with the idea or not, the armed forces play a key role in shaping perceptions of British identity internationally and this in turn shapes the state of UK security. Over the past century, the military has projected British ambitions abroad. From imperialism to humanitarianism, the state of the military says a great deal about Britain’s place in the world. What role should the Army, Navy and Air Force play over the next few decades? This is a question that urgently needs to be asked if the armed forces are to effectively reflect the values of the society, which they represent.

 

 

Notes:

1 General Sir Nicholas Houghton, ‘Annual Chief of the Defence Staff Lecture,’ Royal United Services Institute (17 December 2014).

2 Ibid.

3 Ibid.

4 ‘Securing Britain in an Age of Uncertainty: The Strategic Defence and Security Review,’ HM Government (October 2010), Cm 7948, p. 3.

5 Malcolm Chalmers, ‘The Financial Context for the 2015 SDSR: The End of UK Exceptionalism?’ RUSI Briefing Paper (Sept. 2014), pp. 1-9; Ben Jones, ‘UK SDSR 2015: Same Ends, Less Means, New Ways,’ European Geostrategy (5 Nov. 2014); Paul Cornish and Andrew M Dorman, ‘Fifty shades of purple? A risk sharing approach to the 2015 Strategic Defence and Security Review,’ International Affairs 89, Issue 5 (Sept. 2013), pp. 1183-1202.

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The Prophet Chris Kyle and the Gospel of Force Protection

 

At the heart of the critique and backlash over “American Sniper” lurks an unchallenged assumption that his kills meant American lives were saved.

The controversy over criticism of the movie has achieved a level of temper that is rather quite shocking. Reaching the point of hurling death threats at those who have questioned the dominant narrative of heroism, perhaps the most iconic example is that of Sarah Palin’s appearance in a photograph shared through social media holding a poster which read “Fuc_ You, Michael Moore.” The O’s were rendered as rifle scope markings, as if to target the erstwhile director. (To be clear, I’ve never seen any of his movies and I’m not a particular fan.) This cannot be considered a case where a biased media has hyped an inopportune moment as she crowed about the message in her recent speech in Iowa. As well, the photograph feature as well Dakota Meyer, Medal of Honor recipient. He has since promoted the photograph and the poster as a message to Michael Moore.

Let us stop for a moment to reflect that a former Vice Presidential candidate (and possible future Presidential candidate, per her own recent statements) and a distinguished military hero have cheekily joked at the idea of killing Moore. Why? Because the latter had the temerity to question the heroism of Navy SEAL Chris Kyle. No Charlie Hebdo cartoons will be tolerated about the icons and ideals they hold dear. It is a shocking backlash given the outcry for freedom of speech of late and makes clear the standard is “your beliefs, not mine” when it comes to critique. According to the Church of Appropriate American Patriotism, the heroic image of Chris Kyle is made sacred.

It is not my point, however, to attack the politicized deification of Chris Kyle or the seeming hypocrisy of our application of values such as free expression. I think it’s worth stating and understanding that where the rubber meets the road, most people hold others to standards they often fail to meet, it’s human. Rather, I am more concerned with the military content, and so the backlash is important here because of the underlying assumption regarding military utility that it requires. That content is in the foundations of Kyle’s heroism and their application in contemporary American conflict. This is important to getting at the second part of the title, the consuming fixation upon force protection which leads to the valuation of any acts which serve that end. Because we must be clear, the mantra has been that the significant portion of Kyle’s heroism pinned to the idea that he killed people who posed a tactical threat to American troops. Prospectively saving their lives ennobled his endeavours. And the high standards and training in the US Armed Forces meant that Kyle was an expert of significant consequence, making him a very effective hero under those terms.

Which brings us to the essential question of this piece: Did killing individuals in Iraq in such a fashion save American lives?

It is important to note that even as I ask this question, and intend to discuss its answer in the negative, that this is not about Chris Kyle or individual personnel, or their duly authorised actions in American conflicts. To the extent that American warfighting has gone awry, the problems are at the conceptual level. Kyle was a dedicated sailor, and he would have ably applied his skills in any way asked of him. The same can be said of the majority of his peers. Nor do I hold cheaply the lives of American personnel. If I question the wisdom of tactical force protection it is for the strategic implications, for the possibility that this posture in fact lengthens and deepens the conflict thus putting more personnel at risk in the bigger picture.

The matter of the strategic utility of tactical force is clearly on some American military minds. Last Friday Breaking Defense published the fantastic “Killing is not Enough: Special Operators,” by Sydney Freedberg, which looks at the force versus persuasion balance in that community of military practice. It should be taken as no small matter that leaders within TRADOC and US Army Special Operations Command are considering the wisdom of our exquisite tactical capabilities to kill. I am not alone in confronting this issue, nor the paradox that the better we become at killing the less effective we will be strategically. It is the problem of diminishing marginal returns, and it will be perverse and horrific because as technique improves to lesser success will only accelerate the cycle.

If we are not apt at the art of positive persuasion because we favor expertise in killing, we may pay an even higher price in negative persuasion. In his “8 Imperatives of COIN” I don’t think Stanley McChrystal expounds on a particularly revolutionary thought when he opined on the ramifications of body counting in local people’s wars.  One dead bad guy probably does more to recruit amongst the mourning community than the serve the tactical to strategic calculus. Even if it’s only two not ten who join in the wake of a personal loss, the war effort will still see itself in a negative cycle wherein every death prolongs the conflict.

Finally, it is also important to take account of how the message that heroism is defined by the value of American lives is taken by any given audience. Yes, innately, we all value our own above all. But is that a strategically useful message? Is it a message we want to shout and highlight at every opportunity? Who can be persuaded to our side if we trumpet the cheapness with which we hold their lives?

The history of people’s wars seems to bear out this calculus, with particular perniciousness at the lower end of the conflict spectrum. It is a peculiar consequence and an area that deserves more concerted study. It is certainly undeniable, however, that the US has not benefitted in the outcomes of its conflicts from the fantastic improvement in its tactical abilities since WWII. We kill bad guys and win battles with great facility, but we don’t seem to win the wars. Force, it seems, is generally become less effective, especially for the strong.

Which brings us back to Kyle’s heroism and why it would be useful to have an honest conversation around these issues. But if that question cannot even be asked because it risks offending and enraging a significant portion of the population then we have a real problem.

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Colonel Panter-Downes: Not a Warrior Army?

 

Greetings readers. Welcome to another discussion piece provided by our British Army officer corresponding from America. Today’s piece challenges the rhetoric of warrior self-identification within the US Army particularly and its armed forces more broadly and questions its effects. I think there is something very poignant to questioning whether those ideals which are meant to describe the positive qualities of these institutions and their people may not in fact do more harm than good. And it further bears considering whether such an identity is necessary to serve military needs. Remember that when assembling the army which would go on to contend successfully against the British Army, as well as defeat at critical junctures, George Washington did not set exquisite ideals as his object, merely the utterly reasonable Respectable, in their discipline, skills, and behaviour.  And it is arguable that even accepting the improvements to military technique by the ranks, officers and units, the American military establishment retained that quality of performance until well into the 20th century. So, read the Colonel’s piece, check out the links to the Strategy Bridge conversation and join the conversation on Twitter at #CCLKOW.

 

The colonel looks left, he looks right, he checks his “six” and confirms, no warriors seem present. There are a lot of very hard-working staff officers masquerading as cubicle gophers, but apparently no warriors.

To be honest when I arrived here to be ensconced in the warm embrace of the US Army one of the bigger differences that I was expecting was that of the US Army’s Warrior Ethos.  As an outsider looking in from afar it is pervasive, but from the inside looking out the effect seems less certain. Indeed the recent CCLKOW and Strategy Bridge Twitter discussion on the military profession elicited but two tangential references to Warriors that I could find.

From the service publication, Army Leadership: “The Warrior Ethos refers to the professional attitudes and beliefs that characterize the American Soldier. It reflects a Soldier’s selfless commitment to the nation, mission, unit, and fellow Soldiers.” (ADRP 6-22, 3-21) While the Service Ethos is comprised of the entire list, those attributes pertaining on to the warrior are highlighted in bold below:

I am an American Soldier.

I am a Warrior and a member of a Team.

I serve the people of the United States, and live the Army Values.

I will always place the mission first.                      

I will never accept defeat.                                       

I will never quit.                                                        

I will never leave a fallen comrade.            

 I am disciplined, physically and mentally tough, trained and proficient in my warrior tasks and drills.

I always maintain my arms, my equipment and myself.

I am an expert and I am a professional.

I stand ready to deploy, engage, and destroy, the enemies of the United States of America in close combat.

I am a guardian of freedom and the American way of life.

I am an American soldier.

(ADRP 6-22 Fig 3-1)

The US military often refers to its personnel as “Warriors”, the recruiting brochures for Army, Navy, Air Force and Marines I browsed last week all referred to their personnel in such terms. Many of the motivational posters that I see on the walls adorning my camp reference this warrior identity and LTG McMaster’s erudite 2014 Veterans Day address to Georgetown University explicitly referenced both a warrior identity and the warrior ethos. Yet in my day to day dealings I work with a fine bunch of professional men and women who are more like than not, to the men and women I serve with in the UK, and in the UK we certainly do not see ourselves as warriors.

We are divided in many ways both by the Atlantic and by a not so common language and culture where the differences can be slight but can lead to misunderstandings large. On arriving here in the United States it took me a while to realise that one cannot hire a car (but renting is permissible) and that while we both refer to ‘tea’ as a beverage one is hot, can be drunk with milk and sugar, and the other is cold and comes with ice-cubes and a life changing amount of fructose corn syrup. Perhaps this reference to ‘Warriors’ is of the same ilk? A different way of expressing a concept we have in the British Army; except the British Army does not have anything that corresponds to either the Soldier’s Creed or the Warrior’s Ethos. This is partly a reflection on the more tribal nature of the British Army where the identities and ethos are bound much more closely with the Regiment than with the organisation as a whole and partly cultural in that as a society we tend to prefer the implicit to explicit (we are the Nation that lacks a written constitution). I think however that it is also of form and function. We have toyed with the idea of a Soldier’s Creed before in discussions, but it jarred with who we are and there did not seem to be a need for it. The British Army does articulate Values and Standards (Courage, Discipline, Respect for Others, Integrity, Loyalty and Selfless Commitment), but not a creed per se and it does not explicitly inculcate a Warrior Ethos or identity.

In articulating its Values and Standards the British Army states: “It is operational effectiveness that requires the Army to have Values and Standards that are different from society – ‘need to be different’ not right to be ‘different’.” Herein is the heart of the matter. How different from society is its military? My perception prior to arriving here was that the US Army’s Warrior Ethos would be a marked departure from the British Army’s ethos, but its effect is much more understated than that, certainly where I work. But if my perception is that the US Army was very different, how far does that perception go? Is it widespread? At a time of growing debate on both sides of the Atlantic on the seeming growing rift between society and its military, as much a matter of scale as anything else, does the self-identification of the military as Warriors help or hinder in binding the military to society?

Warrior to me is more than being a soldier. A warrior to me lives to fight, a soldier fights for a living. The language of being a warrior is closely linked to the language of caste and status within societies (one thinks of Spartan warriors and Roman soldiers) and it seems to me that in self-identifying as warriors the US Army may be fostering a perception of itself as a breed apart from society as a whole that is entirely unintended, but very real.

 

So the questions for this week are:

Are we Warriors or are we military professionals?

Does the language and identification of Warriors separate us from wider society? If so, are the benefits of the identity worth that cost?

 

 

[Simultaneously posted at CCLKOW on Medium.]

 

 

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