In his blog at Fleet Forces Command, Admiral J. C. Harvey has presented us with the question that dominates the American military during times of shrinking budgets and uncertain policies. Though framed in the context of Fleet Forces Command, the question he asks is germane to units at all levels of command, across the entire of DoD as a whole. The question, identifying the difference between taking risks and lowering standards, drives perhaps the majority of concerns expressed in forums like this one. And in the first decade of the 21st Century, there is added complication.
The simple answer to the question is that risk is (theoretically) a calculation between potential gain and possible loss. The assumption of risk is thought of as an informed decision, for which at least some mitigation is possible. A lowering of standards, on the other hand, has a potentially much wider and more permanent impact on capability. Lowering of standards, of course, involves risk, but the amount of risk becomes increasingly unclear as levels of proficiency decline and acceptable errors rise. This is true in business and industry, true in medicine, and holds true in military matters.
When both resources (including manpower) and proficiency decline, maintenance of standards becomes increasingly difficult. At some point, standards cannot be maintained. Industry and medicine have sophisticated metrics for tracking the second-order and third order trends that indicate performance. In the military, despite some limited ability to do so (though false metrics are legion, especially in trying to evaluate combat units), there are two distinct characteristics of todayâs military organizations that render the danger of such a decline in standards considerably more likely.
The first is the ingrained mentality of the “can do” attitude. This attitude is absolutely essential in order to be a successful leader at any level in the armed forces. It is what carries units past what they thought they could do, and wins fights that would otherwise be lost. “Do more with less” is a logical offshoot of that. Such has always been the case in a high-quality military force, and will likely remain so. But it is not without its very real dangers, like anything else, when taken to extreme or when mixed with less desirable traits.
The second characteristic is that of a creeping, sometimes paralytic indecisiveness, manifested in the decreasing ability to prioritize. This characteristic is not only unnecessary and undesirable in a military commander, but is often a fatal flaw. But it is there in growing measure. The reason for such, unfortunately, is not due to any particular personal trait. If it were, that person could be removed, relieved, or reassigned. No, sadly, the phenomenon has its roots in an increasing institutional aversion to risk. It is not the risk of failure that oftentimes causes commanders to shudder, though how that is defined has morphed, but rather the risk of CRITICISM. The leader who never makes a decision can never be criticized for making a bad decision. It is, in today’s environment of micro-examination and second guessing, a survival mechanism of sorts, perhaps even a seemingly reasonable one. Problem is, indecisiveness is the one drawback that is unacceptable for a military leader. (Do SOMETHING, Lieutenant!!!!) When time or the enemy make a decision for you, the result is never good and often catastrophic. The enemy is more than happy to seize the initiative, and it is usually hell getting it back.
And here is where the two seemingly opposite characteristics meet. The danger of the “can do” attitude I alluded to above is that, of course, there will come a time when “can do” will cease to be a response to even a cursory examination of capabilities. The commander or unit cannot do. Has no chance to do. The commander simply lacks the very minimum of resources to accomplish the mission. Yet, the likelihood of honestly saying so is usually low. Failure will be the result, which in the profession of arms is counted in terms of dead and wounded. The importance of a command climate where commanders can talk to seniors honestly and willingly in such matters without fear of retribution cannot be overstated. The mission still may be assigned, but the risks become known, might possibly be mitigated, and the chances for success improved substantially.
The Clinton Administrationâs shrunken budgets in the wake of Aspinâs Bottom Up Review (BUR) resulted in a hollow force. The table of organization for a particular kind of unit is arrived at using a great deal of calculation based on mission and equipment density. However, in Second MarDiv anyway, even deploying units never carried a full T/O. The âauthorized manning levelâ was a euphemism for a manpower shortage of between fifteen and twenty percent. Have that, and âyou have what you are supposed to haveâ. But of course, you donât. Reality was that you were somewhat shy of that âauthorized manning levelâ, usually about 90% of that budget-driven shortage. Almost universally, there was a full table of equipment (T/E) to care for. Yet, to submit major end items, especially weapons such as howitzers, into long-term preservation because of a lack of manpower, was highly frowned upon. To do so was not displaying a âcan doâ attitude, and leaving a command open for criticism. However, I would submit that an artillery battery that has 24 cannoneers on its roster to operate and maintain six guns when the T/O calls for 66, has gone well past the line of âtaking riskâ, and began âlowering standardsâ especially regarding maintenance, long ago.
I will relate a quick anecdote regarding vehicle maintenance, and express here my admiration for both of the participants in the conversation. While in II SRIG, I was checking on some of my unitâs trucks that were in the maintenance shop, when the SRIG CO happened by. A calm, intelligent, even-keeled man, the Colonel came over to where I was talking with the Maintenance Officer. He observed the Marines working, and the overall impression of the shop. To my surprise, the Colonel asked the MO (a CWO3), âHow thoroughly is scheduled preventative maintenance being done on these trucks?â It was a question that was not asked arbitrarily.
To my greater surprise, the CWO3 answered, âColonel, you are lucky if most of these trucks get a half-assed look overâ. The Colonel did not react, (I tried not to), but instead calmly asked why that was. âBecause I have three qualified mechanics, and I am supposed to have seventeen. These guys are working 14-16 hours a day just to repair normal maintenance issuesâ. The Colonel simply said âGotcha, thanks for the infoâ, and continued his walk-through. Mechanics became a priority for that unit in short order. The Colonel inspected what he expected, and being a leader, made sure his Marines had the tools and people to do the job. I know for a fact that he did not win any promotion points in the conversation he had with the CG. But had we needed to go to war, and almost did, to Kosovo, we would have gone with well-maintained and combat-capable vehicles. This, the Colonel has said, was HIS priority.
I use the example of my experience, but, as folks in Fleet Forces Command likely know, the same situation applies to shipsâ crews, and aircraft maintenance, and just about every other manpower-intensive occupation, including intelligence analysis. Also, I relate that because we are facing similar budget, end-item, maintenance, and most importantly, manpower shortfalls to what we lived through in the 1990s (and 1970s, and 1950s, and 1930sâŚ). The same tale can be woven with regards to training opportunities when operational tempo is so high. People simply do not have the time to learn and master those skills and that knowledge that maintains an acceptable standard. Standards are lowered, the quality of the training drops off, even more risk is assumed, and lives and missions are endangered. US 20th Century military history is replete with examples from both world wars and Korea.
There is another curious effect that the melding of âcan doâ and âeverything has priorityâ yields. That effect is the âzero-defect mentalityâ that we all swear to eradicate, but in reality perpetuate and sometimes strengthen. Nothing must go wrong, as we often expect our charges to start out perfect and improve from there. Not possible, and too often we define success not as mission accomplishment, but as nothing that got anyone in trouble. Problem is, it isnât really and truly a zero-defect mentality any longer. There is another element to the mix. Commands are willing to accept sometimes serious mistakes, defects, shortcomings in competence, poor judgment, insufficient tactical acumen, any number of things. But there are certain of a category of transgressions that will render an otherwise competent, even outstanding leader, a dead-ender. Say or do something offensive, raise a little hell on liberty, demonstrate the sometimes rougher side of a warrior ethos, and you will find yourself outside the circle.
Political correctness, driven by absolute intolerance of whatever is the socially unacceptable and egregious offense du jour, has blurred the focus of what types of leaders we need. While giving lip service to excellence and professionalism, in actuality we inculcate mediocrity. Aggressiveness, decisiveness, an uncompromising drive to succeed, the traits that have always been a part of a successful commander, are not nurtured. On the contrary, in fact these traits become career liabilities, especially when there is a patently false yardstick (political correctness) by which leaders are measured. The ability to lead, to say what is meant, clearly and forcefully, has disappeared in a cloud of doublespeak and politically acceptable euphemisms. That very situation impresses not at all the very people we are intending to lead. They possess, and always have, that all-seeing eye for sincerity.
The tragedy of Fort Hood followed what was a maddening trail of criminal negligence on the part of Major Hasanâs seniors. Why? Political correctness in the form of diversity. Major Hasan, being a Muslim, belongs to a minority group about which the US Army (and likely other services) has become overly sensitive not to be perceived as persecuting. There was a blurring of duty and responsibility by the serving of two mutually exclusive agendas. With Major Hasan, at Walter Reed, and then at Fort Hood, the push for diversity collided head-on with a professional obligation to evaluate an officerâs fitness for service. In each of a dozen collisions, the politically correct but militarily meaningless objective of diversity won out. The shameful USNA Color Guard incident bears the same origins. The perception that the remarks of both the Commandant of Midshipmen and Superintendent of the Naval Academy remain somewhat less than truthful still strongly and understandably persists.
On the field of battle, three US Navy SEALS stand accused of crimes that by any objective understanding of the true nature of war anyone would find absurd. Regardless of the outcome, the damage that such a situation has on the confidence that juniors have for their leaders is immeasurable. The incident also amplifies an already prevalent impression that senior military leaders care more about promotion and position than they do about the men doing the fighting and bleeding. It is getting harder to disagree with that impression.
Politically-driven agendas such as the goal of âdiversityâ driven so stridently by Admiral Roughead, and parroted rather shamefully by General Casey after Fort Hood, need to disappear. Warriors, and not lawyers, need to fight wars. This idea may seem unrealistic, a bit like a tilt at windmills. But what is required for this to be so is a display of moral courage from senior commanders (and some politicians) to do what is right. I doubt that such a display takes any more courage than a Lance Corporal must summon in order to advance into the enemyâs fire, nor any more than a Corpsman must have to retrieve him from that fire should he be hit.
Admiral Harvey has his work cut out for him. One can only wish him the best of luck, and admire him for the task he is taking on. The question of the difference between âtaking risksâ and lowering standards is one that must be answered across the entire of the Armed Services. A commander must balance optimism with realism, and focus first and exclusively on one end. Train and prepare to fight and win our nationâs wars. The equipment, the training, the manning, the command climate, all should be driven toward that end. Everything else, no matter how important and well-intentioned it seems to us at this moment, is illusory.
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