Archive for the 'Training & Education' Category
Please join us at 5pm (EDT) on June 5, 2016, for Midrats Episode 335: War of 1812 in the Chesapeake: A Schoolhouse at Sea
Last month started what we hope will be a regular occurrence in the education of our future leaders; the US Naval Academy took 10 Midshipmen along with a group of instructors on-board the topsail schooners Pride of Baltimore and Lynx as part of an elective history course titled “War of 1812 in the Chesapeake: A Schoolhouse at Sea.”
We will have two of the instructors for the cruise with us for the full hour, returning guest LCDR Claude Berube, USNR, instructor at the USNA Department of History, Director of the US Naval Academy Museum and organizer of the program, along with USNA leadership instructor, LT Jack McCain, USN who focused instruction during the cruise on naval hero Stephen Decatur.
We will discuss the genesis of the program, the areas of instruction, the experience, along with the general topic of the War of 1812 in the Chesapeake.
In 1955 Air Force General Curtis LeMay, Commander of the Strategic Air Command, built the service’s first base hobby shop in Offutt, NE. His vision was to provide a facility with tools, material, and resources to allow Airmen the opportunity to repair, modify, or completely rebuild their personal automobiles. The first hobby shop was an overwhelming success and soon become popular among all ranks, including LeMay himself. Auto hobby shops soon proliferated across all SAC bases and eventually, along with their sibling wood hobby shops, to most American military bases around the globe. Many of these workshops eventually formalized their training, so service members could achieve recognized certifications for their efforts.
These hobby shops were widely viewed as constructive outlets for military personnel to learn interesting, practical skills and to make positive use of off-duty time by tapping into, or fostering, their inherent desire to “tinker” with things. By the late 1990s they began to lose their appeal and many were closed for financial reasons. The causes for their demise is unclear, whether because cars simply became too complex for the “shade tree mechanic” to repair or as a reflection of American society, where servicemen and women would rather pay someone else to do work they no longer wanted to do themselves.
I do not believe the inherent desire to tinker with things, or using individual experimentation as a learning tool, has gone away. It may, however, be occurring today in new forms. Because the cost of technology continues to decline, it has created an environment where sophisticated tools and devices are now at the fingertips of the average citizen, a condition commonly referred to as the democratization of science and technology.
For the past several years the White House has been championing the “Maker Movement” to stimulate innovation across America. Cottage industries in coding, drones, electronics, robotics, and 3D printing are sprouting up across the country in reflection of and to support this renewed interest. It is clear that the naval services are tapping into the resurgence of the tinkerer as well.
The first naval “Fab Lab” was created in Norfolk in 2015. This joint venture with DARPA and MIT provided sophisticated manufacturing equipment, materials, and world class training to Sailors in the fleet. The fundamental premise for this project was that by putting tools and capabilities into the hands of Sailors closest to our operational problems, they would develop new and innovative solutions. Since its inception, for example, LT Todd Coursey has achieved significant results, expanding interest and demonstrating the utility of this capability across the fleet. His outstanding efforts at Norfolk were recognized by the White House and Secretary Mabus. SECNAV’s Task Force Innovation has funded additional Fab Labs and over the next two years additional facilities, some of them mobile, will be operational at Navy and Marine Corps bases around the globe.
An extension of the FAB LAB concept is the Expeditionary Manufacturing Mobile Test Bed (EXMAN) project led by the Marines and SPAWAR. EXMAN offers the ability to digitally manufacture parts in the field, often at a reduced cost and in much less time. This past week EXMAN was successfully demonstrated to General Neller, a strong advocate of fielding these new facilities with the operational forces. This capability has the potential to fundamentally change how we do battlefield logistics, by making items instead of buying, storing and shipping them across the world.
3D manufacturing is not the only field where the tinkerer movement is making its military comeback. The Naval Postgraduate School built its Robo Dojo to allow students and visiting Sailors and Marines the opportunity to tinker with robots and control systems. In the future it is likely we will see coding bootcamps springing up on naval bases as well. These fora provide the opportunity for Sailors and Marines to learn basic coding skills and eventually build smart phone apps or virtual games. Ideally, all of these complementary capabilities will be connected in an integrated ecosystem, properly resourced and supported by senior leaders, and available everywhere.
These emerging capabilities fundamentally draw upon LeMay’s vision – provide the resources, tools and safe spaces to our people and allow them to cultivate their talents and creativity. We have no idea of the great things they will achieve when allowed to tinker with their own bold ideas, such as STGC Ben Lebron.
The Chief had a vision for a new decision aid to improve ASW operations on the USS Fitzgerald. After finding a JO who taught him some coding skills, Chief LeBron designed the Single Leg Bearing Range program, for which he subsequently won a 2015 SECNAV Innovation Award. His software substantially improves ASW sonar solutions by more than half.(SECNAV granted Chief Lebron a waiver to enroll in the NPS Master’s ASW distance learning program in addition to his formal award.)
The military has long practiced such problem solving. In an examination of culture’s impact on military innovation, Dima Adamsky notes the cultural difference between the US and Soviet militaries during the Cold War. One significant contrast was their approaches to technological adaptation. The Soviets would develop concepts and strategy for use ahead of delivering a technology, whereas the US military usually had the technology and then often took a decade to figure out how to turn it into an operational advantage. We may be experiencing the same phenomenon here with the maker movement.
As mentioned, today’s democratization of science and technology is enabling this tinkering resurgence to occur – not only for us, but for our adversaries. Recently, scholars CAPT Mark Hagerott (ret) and Col TX Hammes (ret), outlined their thoughtful visions of the future operating environment, where naval forces will have to contend with the challenges posed by a new reality of destructive, technology-based capabilities operated in very decentralized and unpredictable ways by our adversaries. The naval services must lead this wave, adjusting our strategy not only to counter these decentralized threats, but to use the skills of our creative workforce to create an operational advantage over our adversaries.
We are entering an era where the operational environment will be characterized by complexity, uncertainty, and unpredictability; to succeed, our naval forces must respond in kind. Simply relying on exquisite weapon systems and massed fire power will be insufficient. One way to overcome this challenge is to fully exploit the ingenuity and talents of our Sailors and Marines. The burgeoning naval tinkering movement is just one step in creating a fundamentally important operational capability that is already resident in the naval services. Failing to harness our tinkerers, and recognize their work, will be to the nation’s detriment.
The Navy has forgotten the STARK. As a comparison, a quick Google search will take you to the USS COLE homepage, with a link to its memorial. Each year, ceremonies span our shores and ships as we remember the lessons learned and the lives lost during that terrible incident. Social media explodes with articles and words demanding that we “Remember the COLE.” And we should remember the COLE and the Sailors we lost that day. However, replace USS COLE in a Google search with USS STARK and Wikipedia is the first to pop up, followed by articles from small local news outlets.
Twenty-nine years ago, the surface navy learned a hard lesson aboard STARK. In a matter of minutes, two Exocet missiles from an Iraqi Mirage aircraft made real the dangers of insufficient training and complacent watchstanding. Sailors were ripped violently from their racks as the missiles’ impact tore into the port windbreak; others ran to contain the flames and save the ship. In a true testament to the Navy’s fighting spirit, the crew battled the damage for over twenty-four hours, and miraculously, managed to return the ship to Bahrain under its own power. Ultimately, USS STARK (FFG 31) lost thirty-seven Sailors, with twenty-one more wounded.
Yesterday in Mayport, FL, a small ceremony took place honoring STARK and her crew. The STARK incident hits close to home for Mayport Sailors, as she was homeported in and returned home to Mayport after her attack, and some of today’s Mayport Sailors once served aboard her, carrying on her legacy and wounds alike. As a Frigate Sailor myself, I have walked similar passageways and layouts to those torn apart twenty-nine years ago. I learned more about the STARK incident as I prepared to take charge of the Fire Control division on a cruiser, a division whose sole purpose was to ensure excellence in Air Defense…the same air defenses that were lacking when STARK was hit. The STARK incident resonates with most of us, but to the “Big Navy” she seems to be all but forgotten. There was not a single article from OPNAV Public Affairs, nor a post or photo in honor of the incident from the Navy’s social media team. Instead, articles and posts appeared lauding the anniversary of Top Gun and the impact the movie had on the Navy. The only mention of STARK was as a footnote on the Naval History and Heritage Command website.
Yesterday, rather than showcasing the tenacity, dedication, and resilience of the Surface Navy – especially the STARK crew, and honoring the lives of the thirty-seven Sailors who paid the ultimate sacrifice, the Navy’s public affairs office chose to honor the thirtieth anniversary of the movie Top Gun. While Top Gun had great recruiting value for the Navy in the late 1980s (and perhaps does today), it bears far less weight than our own naval heritage. Our heritage, from the Barbary Wars, to the battles of Midway and Leyte Gulf, to Operation Praying Mantis, plays a profound role in who we are as surface warriors, and as naval professionals. These milestones helped develop our doctrine, refine our systems, and strengthen our resolve. We have an obligation to honor those who came before us, those who showed us what real sacrifice is, and those who led the way in making the Navy the fighting force it is today. We failed to uphold this obligation yesterday.
Not only did we not uphold our obligation to learn and remember the lessons of our history, but we trivialized those lessons. Yesterday’s video advertised the Surface Navy’s new “Top Gun” cadre, its Warfare Tactics Instructors (WTIs), equating the antics from the movie Top Gun and the aviators’ success at Fighter Weapons School to the new cadre of surface WTIs. But the video misses the point. Top Gun was created out of necessity, not vanity. After suffering devastating kill-to-loss ratios in the first part of the Vietnam War, and after the publication of the Ault Report that concluded that insufficient training in Air Combat Maneuvering was the root cause of Naval Aviation losses, the Navy created Fighter Weapons School in 1969. We applied history’s lessons at FWS: it is more than just the systems that win the fight – most of all it is the “man in the box.”
Today, Warfare Tactics Instructors exist to improve the tactical skill of the Surface Navy and sustain our warrior ethos. Instead of glorifying a movie, we must show how history has taught us that uneducated and complacent leaders and watchteams will get Sailors killed. Much like the graduates of the Naval Aviation Warfighting Development Center’s Weapons Schools, we do not do this job to pay homage to a Tom Cruise character, we do it to ensure our Sailors and teams have the tools to come home safely from the fight. It’s high time the Navy recognized that this is why we’re here. Thank you, but we don’t need Tom Cruise references to be relevant.
Perhaps the most unfortunate buzzword today is “millennial.”
But let us examine the facts:
-“Millennials” are defined as individuals born between 1980 and 2000.
-The majority of the men and women in this age group volunteered to serve their country not merely in a time of war, but during a time when the United States of America was attacked on our own soil.
-Today, more than 80% of enlisted sailors and 50% of officers are “millennials.”
Every generation believes it is “The Greatest Generation.” Each retiring generation believes it had it “the toughest” or “most real.” Judgment of these beliefs matters not; there is no inter-generational points system or scorebook with winners and losers.
Millennials joined the military for the same reasons that our predecessors did: for love of country; for family; for a career; for the educational and health care benefits; for a lack of options, even. My grandfather once said, “It was either the Marine Corps or jail, and I didn’t have anything else better to do.”
Like our predecessors, we believe we are more innovative than those who have gone before us (or, at least, more in touch with current technology). We want to do things better, faster. We are operating in a more complicated geopolitical environment, through more complex weapons systems, across multiple domains simultaneously. And, yes, we have a healthy impatience for waiting to do things better. Resting on our laurels has never been–and should never become–a standard trait of the United States Naval Service.
And yet, the military isn’t necessarily for all of us. We have these discussions using the technology of our time; these conversations have moved from scuttlebutt on the mess decks to Facebook and the blogosphere. We will debate about our grievances with the service, just as you did in your time: how do we best retain our people? How do we best care for our families at home? How do we triumph in strategy, operations, and tactics? Refining our arguments in public writing actually makes us a stronger, more grounded, more reasonable service.
The military attracts a certain brand of “can-do” personality. Is there a better way to manage our personnel? A better way to care for families? A better way to fight and win? Then let’s do it. This personality has always been at odds with a stand-still bureaucracy or the status quo.
Leaders and policymakers should end the practice of tacitly blaming or claiming to cater to a different generation when it comes to dealing with military innovation, retention, and technology. Start talking about these topics in terms of cost, efficacy, velocity (which has both speed and direction components), and lethality. It is not about “what millennials want;” it is about fighting and winning our nation’s wars with resilience both abroad and at home. Institutionally walling-off conversation and action on topics such as strategy, acquisition reform, and defense programs based solely on seniority without involvement from the men and women who will execute on those realities creates an unnecessary barrier to the long-term health of our ever-evolving service. We are all on the same team, with the same goals.
We are a service united by purpose and oath, not divided into generational interest groups. We are not “millennials.” We are: Sailors. Marines. Aviators. Coast Guardsmen. Americans. Nothing else matters.
A few years back, a group of psychologists ran some tests on groups of first-grade students in the U.S. and in Japan. The researchers gave each group of students an impossible math problem, then sat back to watch how long the kids worked on the problem before giving up in frustration. On average, the groups of American kids worked at it for less than 30 seconds before quitting. The Japanese kids, however, worked and worked on the problem; each time, the researchers cut them off after an hour and told them that the problem was impossible to solve. The take away: the American kids quit at the first signs of frustration because they were not used to hard work, while the Japanese kids were determined to gut it out. One set of kids showed grit, the other set did not.
Do we have grit as a nation? Have we lost it? If so, can we regain it somehow?
When I think of Americans with grit, I think of Louis Zamperini, Anne Hutchinson, James Stockdale, and Sojourner Truth. I think of people like my great-grandmother, who successfully raised seven kids (two of them severely disabled) during the Depression. Grit reminds me of families surviving the Great Depression, the Johnstown Flood, or Hurricane Camille, through extreme suffering and severe hardship, even when all hope has been taken from them. Grit tells of men and women facing seemingly insurmountable obstacles yet digging in and persevering, pushing hard in the face of incredible odds and demonstrating courage even in the face of death.
Images like these tend to belong to events in our collective past. To anyone who is a parent or has served with Millennials, the idea that American kids today suffer from a lack of grit may be very familiar. We are constantly bombarded with the idea that American youth today consists primarily of entitled, coddled, self-absorbed individuals who don’t understand what hardship or hard work is. By this narrative, Americans—especially Millennials—are spoiled, lazy creatures consumed with ridiculous first-world problems who are growing into ineffective adults because they have been raised without taking risks and with the ease of the internet at their fingertips, all while being coddled by helicopter parents. They are used to getting info and materials instantly, can’t talk or relate to others on a personal level because all they know how to do is text, need trigger warnings before hearing harsh words, and don’t understand suffering or deprivation. And they are self-absorbed, expecting others to be interested in the inane details of their lives while constantly putting on a show of how enlightened and amazing they are (a la White Savior Barbie). Generation X is certainly not immune to these same criticisms, but the focus has been particularly harsh for Millennials.
Similar observations also come from long-term educators. School administrators complain about the worrisome changes they have seen in incoming students, whose parents are overly involved in the minutiae of their children’s lives. Camp counselors tell stories about kids who have to call home every day, or who wouldn’t make decisions for fears of choosing the wrong answer. Senior military leaders grumble about the self-absorption of their young Marines and Sailors and question whether or not younger generations can work hard enough to keep our nation safe.
A 2007 study on grit, in fact, emphasized the critical role that individual grit played in determining whether or not West Point cadets would successfully complete their first summer, Beast Barracks.
I’ve got my own fears and questions about the future, and worry that my kids will be weaker adults since they are growing up in a more comfortable (entitled?) world than the one my husband and I came from. What happens to our military in the next two decades if the people who populate it are a bunch of unimaginative, coddled nincompoops who don’t know how to gut through a challenging problem? What happens to our country by 2050 if the women and men who will one day lead it can’t relate to each other as people and can’t lead their way out of a paper bag? What happens to my kids if they can’t function as adults?
But a few recent observations have made me reconsider these fears.
Last summer, I wrote on this forum about a trial run camp that my husband and I held in our town. While talking one afternoon with friends about everything we wanted to teach our kids, we realized that we learned many of those skills at OCS, TBS, USNA, and while turning from an immature 21-year-old into a junior officer. So we held a 5th-grade version of TBS, with a bit of other stuff thrown in. It was a resounding success—the kids loved it, we had a blast planning and running it, and the feedback was overwhelming. This spring, we’ve adapted our camp into an after-school program, and are partway into the first session right now. We are attempting to teach, test, and emphasize hard work, leadership, and teamwork, how to tackle complex problems, and to enable them to lead peers in an unfamiliar and at times demanding physical environment. In a way, we are trying to teach grit.
So far? The kids eat it up. They are hungry for more responsibilities, more challenges, and tougher stuff. They relish the struggle. One of the less-athletic kids gets anxious at the thought of anything physical and competitive, and grows worried before each event, but she keeps coming back and is hugely proud of her accomplishments. Another is deathly afraid of heights but is really excited each time he climbs up an obstacle, visibly proud of conquering that fear. It’s like this whole world is out there that they can’t wait to get their hands into, and once there they shine.
What we are doing, in many ways subconsciously, is weaving a bit of struggle into all that we do with the kids. Look back at that early classroom experiment on Japanese and American kids. One researcher noticed a key difference between Japanese and American classrooms: the Japanese teachers that he observed uniformly taught and emphasized struggle. They picked tasks that pushed their students beyond their current capabilities, then discussed how the hard work and struggle was part of the successes the students had when they had them. And that grit study that looked at West Point cadets? It also found that grit increases with age. Life will certainly hand us all some trials, and if we succeed and pass these trials, we tend to develop and use grit. So it does come along at some point to some of us. But why wait until poor habit patterns are set to learn hard work? Why don’t we teach hard work and struggle earlier, to set our kids up for success, so that when the real struggles come, they are more prepared?
As for fears that the ease, comfort, and “politically correct” nature of our kids’ world is uniformly bad for them, my recent experience at the Naval Academy Foreign Affairs Conference (NAFAC) has made me view those fears differently. During the conference, I worked with a group of about 15 college students, about half of them midshipmen. I didn’t know what to expect. But during the roundtables, I grew impressed with both the demeanor (incredibly civil and professional) and the level of foreign policy knowledge and awareness demonstrated by the college student participants. I don’t remember seeing anything remotely like that level of sophistication when I was the same age. And the ideas and solutions they proposed to problems facing the United States today were insightful and creative precisely because of the knowledge that each brought to that roundtable. Maybe all of that internet stuff played a role, and maybe the greater emphasis on manners—or political correctness, to some—did as well.
What if that education, ease, and internet accessibility helps future leaders cast a wider net in the hunt for workable solutions? Compare it across generations: when given a task in elementary school, I had the local library and my parents’ old Encyclopedia Britannica to search through. But my kids, they will have the world. More knowledge and more information = more alternatives and more solutions. How is this not good?
So I believe that we can teach grit, and we can do it by building struggle into school, work, and daily tasks in imaginative ways. We can ensure that young people are allowed the gift of failure, a gift that for most of us will keep on giving. And we can expand our ideas of learning, fully embracing the wealth of information available to people today. The sooner we give that gift, and enable those struggles, and rethink what it means to teach and to learn, the more mature and grittier America can be.
Today’s cyber world is getting more complex. For those charged with ensuring information systems remain secure the question remains – how can we be certain we are taking the right actions when we continually hear of systems penetrated, information stolen, and resources plundered due to nefarious cyber actors? Is our confidence in our cybersecurity efforts based on reality or something else? In Thinking, Fast and Slow, Nobel prize winner Professor Daniel Kahneman explores the manner in which we think. To ensure cybersecurity efforts will be successful, we must first understand how we think, and how the way we think impacts our ability to bring about real cybersecurity improvements.
Thinking, Fast and Slow Concepts
In his book, Professor Kahneman addresses the two ways we think. Thinking Fast, identified as System 1, is how we quickly and easily put limited information together to tell a coherent story. Thinking fast is hardwired into our DNA. It’s what gives us our gut feeling which will keep us safe in some instances. Thinking Fast is what we are doing when we breeze quickly through new articles, like this one, looking for information that is familiar, instead of trying to figure out if the concept really applies to us.
Thinking Slow, identified as System 2, takes serious mental effort. Thinking slow enables us to be factual, challenging accepted beliefs with all available evidence. Thinking slow is what gives us self-control, like not indulging in too much chocolate. Thinking slow takes real effort, which is why it is difficult to do all the time, or when we are fatigued. Thinking slow is what is necessary to grasp new concepts.
The unfortunate reality is we are all “lazy thinkers.” We rely on fast thinking for the large majority of activities in our lives. In many instances that is perfectly acceptable. In familiar situations, where we have a lot of experience, thinking fast usually works fine. However, in unfamiliar areas, thinking slow is what is needed in order to succeed. The complex and challenging world of cybersecurity is just such an area where it is critical to understand how our thinking could mean the difference between success and failure.
Two concepts brought forth in the book are critical in identifying where fast thinking can lead us astray. Those concepts are What You See Is All There Is and Cognitive Ease.
What You See Is All There Is (WYSIATI).
“System 1 (fast thinking) is radically insensitive to both the quality and the quantity of the information that gives rise to impressions and intuitions.” When we are thinking fast we tell ourselves a story that supports a specific belief. In creating this story, we grab whatever information will support a belief and don’t consider anything that may refute it. We are content with What You See Is All There Is (WYSIATI). Our ignorance of other evidence, which may be of greater quality, allows us to remain in bliss. “Contrary to the rules of philosophers of science, who advise testing hypotheses by trying to refute them, people (and scientists, quite often) seek data that are likely to be compatible with the beliefs they currently hold.” WYSIATI is fast thinking, and in the world of cybersecurity, this fast thinking can result in having faith in actions that do little to improve cybersecurity. Unfortunately, WYSIATI has a fast thinking partner in crime that also conspires to keep us ignorant. That partner is Cognitive Ease.
Cognitive Ease is simply how easy it is to retrieve a thought from memory. Something we have heard or thought on many occasions will be retrieved more easily from memory. The easier it is to retrieve something from memory gives greater confidence that the belief is true, although the reality may be the exact opposite. For example, you could be performing a certain “best practice,” like patching software or upgrading operating systems. Labeling something a “best practice” can make you think this practice has been shown through data and analysis to result in significant improvements. However, if the initial conditions are different than those considered when developing the “best practice,” this “best practice” may only result in wasted resources. Regardless of the reality, the more you recall the “best practice” from memory, along with the story that you are performing it to improve cybersecurity, the greater your confidence will be that the best practice will improve cybersecurity. WYSIATI and Cognitive Ease are truly super villains. The super hero with an “S” on its chest that can save the day is Slow Thinking.
Slow Thinking to the Rescue
Slow thinking is what is necessary to end storytelling and discover the truth. Slow thinking is about reframing the problem in order to find information that can challenge existing beliefs. As slow thinking uncovers new and better information, Cognitive Ease will remind you of your confidence in prior beliefs. Your gut will be telling you that no additional information is necessary (WYSIATI). Slow thinking is what will give you the self-control to fairly assess the new information you have discovered.
Fortunately, the Department of Defense has leaders who encourage slow thinking. The Department of Defense Cybersecurity Culture and Compliance Initiative (DC3I) was signed in September 2015 by Secretary Carter and General Dempsey. The DC3I is based on “five operational excellence principles – Integrity, Level of Knowledge, Procedural Compliance, Formality and Backup, and a Questioning Attitude.” Similarly, in his Principles of Better Buying Power, Secretary Kendall instructs us that, “Critical thinking is necessary for success,” and we should “have the courage to challenge bad policy.” These three DOD leaders are asking us to think slowly. This article will examine three separate areas; Cybersecurity Training, Our Cyber Adversaries, and The Certification and Accreditation Process, to illustrate how slow thinking can lead to improved cybersecurity.
In order to utilize slow thinking to improve cybersecurity, we must first be able to recognize where we are thinking fast. Cybersecurity training is an area that can clearly illustrate the difference between fast and slow thinking.
A typical approach to training on cybersecurity is to track the percentage of people trained in a particular cybersecurity area. As the percentage of people trained goes up, then the cybersecurity readiness of the workforce is assumed to be improving. This is a perfect illustration of WYSIATI. Limited information has been put together to tell a coherent story. In order to determine if the story is fact or fiction, slow thinking must be used to actively look for information that can confirm or deny the assertion that training is improving cyber readiness.
Unfortunately, there are a number of potential flaws to the assertion that training is improving cyber readiness. The training could be incorrect or inadequate. The training may not actually provide the workforce with skills required to improve cybersecurity. The workforce may not take the training seriously and not actually learn what is covered by the training. In some cases, knowing what to do isn’t enough to ensure the correct actions are taken. In the area of spear phishing, which is still the most common way malicious software enters information systems, a person must first be able to recognize a spear phishing attempt before they can take the appropriate actions. Even if spear phishing training provides a number of examples of spear phishing attempts, when people are tired, or in a rush, or possibly just don’t believe they will get spear phished, the chances of them taking the correct actions are not good.
Now, compare training on spear phishing to actively spear phishing your employees. If your employees know they will be spear phished, and held accountable for their performance, then they will be more on the lookout for suspicious emails, whether they are actual or training spear phishing attempts. By actively testing your employees with quality spear phishing attempts, you will compile real data on how the workforce is responding to this threat, and be able to provide additional training for those who aren’t. Training on spear phishing is like reading a book on running. Actively spear phishing employees would be like timing your employees for a run around a track. One is a Fast Thinking story. The other is Slow Thinking reality. Unfortunately, as illustrated by Professor Kahneman’s book, our default response in most situations is fast thinking. This can be especially true in circumstances where we have a problem that we are desperate to solve. We look for information that supports our success, and fail to look for, or disregard, information that would tell us we aren’t improving.
Outside Secretary Kendall’s door is a sign that states, “In God We Trust; All Others Must Bring Data.” One of his Better Buying Principles is “Data should drive policy.” In this circumstance, the data that we seek isn’t the simple, fast thinking question of how many people have been trained; it is the more difficult, slow thinking question: are our cybersecurity training efforts improving cybersecurity readiness? Only through slow thinking will we obtain meaningful data to drive policy and our cybersecurity efforts.
Our Cyber Adversaries
The SONY attack, the OPM breach, the Target theft, Edward Snowden, Private Manning – all involve information destroyed and stolen, resulting in the loss of millions of dollars. The cyber threat is certainly real, as the incidents above all attest. Unfortunately, the above incidents, and the press coverage that brings these threats repeatedly to mind, can lead to the perception that any system can be exploited by our adversaries at any time. As we learned previously, thoughts that are repeatedly brought to mind are more easily remembered, which Professor Kahneman describes as Cognitive Ease. In the world of cybersecurity, Cognitive Ease can make us quite confident that every single system can easily be exploited by any random hacker. With limited time and resources to address every system, it is critical to gain a clear understanding of how vulnerable systems are, and the impacts that can result if systems are exploited. If we attribute capabilities to adversaries that they don’t have, or install unnecessary protections in systems that aren’t at risk, we not only waste resources, but we continue to remain ignorant of the actual threat to our systems. Let’s see if we can do some slow thinking on the challenges faced by our cyber adversaries.
Eliminating the Fog of War
Cybersecurity firms often demonstrate the damage that could be done to information systems if hackers got control of them. What needs to be recognized is that the people performing these demonstrations have full access to system documentation, the system itself, and can run tests repeatedly until they get a desired effect. These demonstrations are a perfect example of WYSIATI. The people performing these demonstrations would have you believe (and often believe themselves) that If these demonstrations can be done then surely our cyber adversaries can do the same thing. The problem with demonstrations like these is that they eliminate the Fog of War, the uncertainty that is pervasive in almost every aspect of warfare. For our adversaries the challenge is much greater. System software and hardware configurations are constantly changing, so even if adversaries have system documentation, that information often very perishable. How will our adversaries know if that configuration is still in the Fleet? How will they locate a system that has that specific configuration so that they can test to see if their cyber-attack will work? How will they conduct the test in a manner that won’t tip off their adversary (us) about a potential vulnerability? How will they gain the necessary access to test out the attack? If they are able to locate the system, and attempt to perform their attack, how will they get the necessary feedback to understand why a test may have failed? These cybersecurity demonstrations show what is possible – with perfect knowledge, perfect access, and perfect conditions. What they don’t address is what is probable. Every step in the enemy kill chain is assumed to be perfect, which can then, of course, generate extremely significant consequences. Under those conditions, tremendous damage can be caused in non-cyber areas as well. For instance, any of our fighter planes would cause an amazing amount of damage if it was crashed into a carrier by an insider threat pilot. While everyone would admit that is certainly possible, we all recognize that the probability of that occurring is extremely low so we don’t waste valuable resources trying to create technical systems that could stop a rogue pilot from crashing their plane. In order to obtain value from our cybersecurity efforts we must understand all the challenges our adversaries must overcome. We must not focus on what is possible and then try to fix every associated vulnerability. We must use slow thinking and improve our understanding of what is probable in order to best utilize limited resources.
The Certification and Accreditation Process
The Department of the Navy spends a lot of time and effort on certifying and accrediting information systems to ensure information systems have a certain level of cybersecurity. The WYSIATI approach to certification and accreditation is simply that by using this process, and tracking the correction of system vulnerabilities, then information systems will become more secure in terms of cybersecurity. Systems that are certified and accredited are better off in terms of cybersecurity than systems that aren’t.
Once again we have a fast thinking coherent story that seems to makes sense. Let’s now willingly look for information that can compete with this story. In his book, Professor Kahneman describes an approach to enable Slow Thinking called a Pre-Mortem. The Pre-Mortem is an intellectual exercise done prior to committing to a major initiative that challenges people to think about how the initiative might fail or make things worse.
A pre-mortem for the certification and accreditation process might predict that the process could fail by taking such a long time that it significantly delays the implementation of cybersecurity capabilities. The pre-mortem could predict that due to unclear requirements and untrained personnel the certification and accreditation process might generate very little improvement in cybersecurity, wasting precious resources on something that is primarily a paperwork drill. In this situation, since the C&A process has been in place for a number of years, we can look for indications that support these predictions.
Little value for the effort.
The Naval Surface Warfare Center (NSWC) at Dahlgren, Virginia is just one of the Navy’s centers for innovation. In 1920, only 17 years after the Wright Brothers flew at Kitty Hawk, engineers at Dahlgren launched the first remote control airplane. The plane crashed, but the boldness of such an effort, so soon after the first manned flight, is striking. Innovation remains a constant pursuit by the men and women who serve at Dahlgren NSWC today.
Recently, four of Dahlgren’s engineers, with combined experience of more than 100 years, noted their concern with the certification and accreditation (C&A) process. Over the course of 18 months they examined the resources and time required to get 43 information systems processed through the C&A process. These packages took 33,000 hours of work for a cost of $3.5M, and in the end all of the information system packages were certified. Yet all that administrative work only generated one minor technical issue that needed to be corrected. $3.5 Million worth of time and effort generated almost no changes to the systems in question, and took talented engineers away from the process of innovation, research, and development which our country needs them to be doing.
Forgetting the Commander in Situ
The “Commander in Situ”, which stands for the Commander in the Situation, is a military term that recognizes it is the Commander actually on scene, or in the situation, that has the best understanding of what is going on and what needs to be done. This principle has been evoked over the years after horrible mistakes have been made by those far from the scene who tried to order what must be done with imperfect knowledge of the situation. “Commander in Situ” is all about decentralized control, leaving control to those with the best information.
Unfortunately the C&A process is a very slow, centralized process that pushes information system packages through to one approving authority. What should be recognized is that the farther the approval chain gets away from the system requiring certification, the less knowledge and understanding decision makers have regarding the system in question. In many cases, the people who make the final decisions for approval don’t have any technical expertise on the systems they are approving. System experts have to educate those who give final approval of their system. In cases such as this, decisions that could be made, literally, in minutes by the local experts, have taken over a year to run through the certification and accreditation process. The lack of local authority for cybersecurity matters is quite stunning. For example, the Dahlgren Naval Surface Warfare Center is one of the few organizations in the United States that has the authority to handle the Anthrax virus. Dahlgren can also handle and detonate ordnance up to 10,000 pound bombs. Yet if engineers at Dahlgren want to connect a new microscope to a standalone laptop, that requires a process that can take over six months and requires routing paperwork through four other organizations to gain the necessary permission.
The Illusion of Authority to Operate
When an information system successfully completes the certification and accreditation process it is provided an Authority to Operate (ATO). The ATO authorizes a particular information system for operations, normally for a period of three years. So at two years and 364 days from the date the ATO is provided the system is still good, yet two days later these systems are no longer acceptable for operation. In some instances, when a system is deemed to be at higher risk, an Interim ATO is granted for a period of six months or less. How the length of the time periods of the ATOs are linked to reality is not clear. These information systems are being treated like cartons of milk with expiration dates. While we know the science behind why milk goes bad, there is no science behind why an information system should have an ATO of three years, two years, or six months. This is just a story we have been telling ourselves.
Disregarding Design Thinking
The movie The Imitation Game details the story of the United Kingdom’s efforts to solve the Enigma machine – the encrypting machine the Germans used during WWII to send messages. The movie pits Professor Alan Turing against a group of mathematicians and code breakers. Each day, the mathematicians and code breakers scribbled furiously on paper in order to try to break the code, and each day they failed. Professor Turing was an early practitioner of design thinking. He realized he needed to design a solution that would be a good match for the problem at hand. Professor Turing eventually solved the Enigma machine by creating a machine to do it. Unfortunately, like the mathematicians and code breakers in The Imitation Game, our certification and accreditation process is a slow, centralized, and bureaucratic solution, which is unfit for the very fast, decentralized problem of cybersecurity.
The examples and concerns I have brought forth above are not intended to blame or criticize, but instead to engage in the type of critical thinking that DoD leadership has encouraged us to do. In our efforts to address current cyber challenges we are all on the same team. The examples above are meant to illustrate the concepts of fast and slow thinking in order to best address these significant cyber issues. A fast thinking response to these concerns would be to dismiss them or dispute them. A slow thinking approach would be to willingly investigate them and try to confirm them. New processes should be developed for those concerns that are confirmed.
High Velocity Learning
Recognizing that we must respond to a changing global environment, in January 2016 the Navy issued A Design for Maintaining Maritime Superiority. In the document four lines of effort are established, one of which is to “Achieve High Velocity Learning at Every Level.” The objective of this effort is to “Apply the best concepts, techniques and technologies to accelerate learning as individuals, teams and organizations.” Our Chief of Naval Operations, Admiral John Richardson, has made it clear that the US Navy will be a learning organization. But to accelerate our learning we must first understand how we think. In the end, we should recognize that what we need to effectively address our cyber challenges, as well as achieve high velocity learning, is slow thinking.
The above views are solely my own and have not been endorsed by the Navy. All quotes are from Thinking, Fast and Slow by Daniel Kahneman, a tremendous book that I highly recommend.
Arleigh Burke was a hard-charger by nature, never content to rest on his laurels.
Thus at the Battle of Blackett Strait–a victory for the United States–Burke was unhappy. Commanding a Destroyer Squadron, he was on the bridge of his flagship, looking out for the Japanese destroyers Murasame and Minegumo. When his radar operator picked up a ship close to shore, Burke hesitated to fire at first.
Sure enough, the contact had been one of the Japanese ships, and Burke’s hesitation allowed them to get within weapons range. A battle ensued, thankfully resulting in the sinking of both enemy destroyers.
Burke, frustrated with himself, asked one of the Ensigns standing watch what the difference was between a good officer and a poor one. After listening to the young man’s response, Burke offered his own:
“The difference between a good officer and a poor one,” he said, “is about ten seconds.”
The Pacific Theatre of World War II tested the United States Navy’s resolve like no other conflict before or since. We look back on the battles memorialized as part of our culture and hold them as the gold standard for naval operations today.
But luminaries like Arleigh Burke knew those engagements could have been better. The same bug that struck him at Blackett Strait–hesitation–cost the United States many other opportunities throughout the theater.
If he were alive today, pacing the bridge wing, Burke might regard the culture of hesitation we seem to have built in our Navy with a more acute displeasure than he did 83 years ago. And he would demand we improve.
Burke and his crews were successful, in part, due to their understanding of the strategic calculus of World War II: kill or be killed. In a war of attrition, the goal is to inflict as much damage on the enemy as possible while staying afloat, or, in the immortal words of General George Patton, “to make the other bastard die for his” country.
Though the tasks of major war at sea, on land, and in the air were gargantuan, the strategic environment may have been a bit easier. It was the ability of every Sailor to understand this paradigm–down to the mess halls and deck plates–and their commitment to see it through that would catalyze American victory in the 1940s.
Today, the United States still maintains the most capable naval force in the world. We still operate at sea, on land, and in the air, in addition to the realms of space and the broader electromagnetic spectrum. Capitalizing on the ingenuity of our people, we have incorporated technological advances into our platforms that enhance our tactics, techniques, and procedures.
These accelerations in technology have led to a commensurate quickening of decision-making in the battlespace. Colonel John Boyd’s “Observe-Orient-Decide-Act,” or “OODA Loop” describes the process that each individual or unit must go through to learn and succeed. As Colonel Boyd famously proved, the ability to operate inside an adversary’s OODA Loop is often the difference between victory and defeat.
Yet, as we increase the pace of our tactics and decisions, we are doing so at the expense of the strategic proficiency of our junior sailors and officers. Worse, senior officers often exhort to subordinates to “focus on your tactics,” implying that the understanding of strategy and policy should be left to those with “experience.”
This growing lethargy in learning and understanding brings with it a creeping risk–a hesitation–that should be untenable to us as warfighters. We are doing a disservice to our service when we develop aviators who can “center the dot,” but cannot describe the geopolitical diversity surrounding their Carrier Operating Area (CVOA); when we develop submariners who can maintain a reactor within checklist specifications, but cannot debate the merits of improving personnel policy in the service; when we develop surface warfare officers who can stand on their feet for hours on the bridge, but cannot fathom how the position of their ship in the ocean impacts the global economy. We develop this risk across both our Restricted and Unrestricted Line communities.
Sometimes, this risk manifests itself in mistake: the bombing of a hospital instead of a legitimate military target, or confrontation with a tenuous regional actor. Often, however, the risk is in unmeasured opportunity cost: the option or consideration no one in the room brought to attention; the detail that goes unchecked because it wasn’t part of our rigid formula; the stakeholder we do not consider but whose reaction will impact our long-term success or failure. We build in a culture of hesitation to our systems when we make such a clear distinction between tactical execution and strategic understanding. Just as in Burke’s time, it is costing us opportunities.
In his book Team of Teams, General Stanley McChrystal describes the concept of “shared consciousness” by saying, “our entire force needed to share a fundamental, holistic understanding of the operating environment and of our own organization, and we also needed to preserve each team’s distinct skill sets.” Rather than developing bland generalists, McChrystal remarks that the goal for his organization was “to fuse generalized awareness with specialized expertise.”
We are a Navy full of essential skills and experts; we need these to fight. But in order to win, shared consciousness among all ranks and at all levels is required.
Above all, this is a leadership issue. Our service has no place for those who tell their subordinates to “focus on tactics” at the expense of strategy. We may win the battle, but we will surely lose the war. To increase the pace of our various OODA Loops–and mitigate a culture of hesitation– we must develop sailors who are both tactically lethal and strategically aware.
Discussion of strategy and policy should be encouraged at all levels. Many good commanding officers, both past and present, have fostered an atmosphere of questioning and discussion in wardrooms and ready rooms. This should not be mere serendipity; we should select officers for these positions who are capable of engendering this environment, and continue to promote those who have proven they can do so in a respectful, constructive manner.
These discussions should lead to action and writing–to white papers, articles, blog posts–that are read and in turn debated, rebutted, and written about. Moreover, we should not limit this activity to individual ships and units; this environment should exist at the Pentagon, at our Fleet Replacement Squadrons and Afloat Training Groups, with our peers on the Joint Staff and in classroom settings, and with our multinational partners around the world.
Separately, we must not allow our reliance on technology to institutionalize a culture of hesitation. With more information being consumed and analyzed at a much quicker pace than ever before, it is easy to simply complete the blocks in our checklist and make a voice or chat report, rather than developing a system of communication and execution that capitalizes on shared consciousness. We must return to our uniquely naval roots of the Composite Warfare Commander Concept and command by negation in order to build a better system, or else we will be doomed to repeat the kind of hesitation that Arleigh Burke so desperately wanted to avoid.
In the final analysis, we are not compartmentalized into separate tactical officers and strategic officers. We are naval officers and warfighters; there should be no difference.
Admiral Burke’s experience at Blackett Strait played out between ten and twenty knots. Our experiences today demand that, while our ships may still travel at that speed, our decision-making and understanding scales exponentially faster.
For this generation of naval warfighters and decision-makers, the difference between a good officer and a poor one may be ten microseconds. And we must make every one count.
The Navy’s new “Design for Maintaining Maritime Superiority” was released for public dissemination in January 2016. Upon its public unveiling at the Navy Flag and Senior Executive Service (SES) gathering in Wash., DC, CNO John Richardson was quick to explain that this is not ‘my’ Design, it’s yours . . . the ‘Fleet’s’ Design . . . take it and run with it!
The fourth Line of Effort in our Design is to “Expand and strengthen our network of partners.” This is further defined as: Deepen operational relationships with other services, agencies, industry, allies and partners – who operate with the Navy to support our shared interests.
So, how are we going to do that? There are several avenues of approach, but let me articulate one particular idea—leveraging the Olmsted Scholar Program.
For more than 50 years, this prestigious program has partnered with DoD to educate young officers in foreign language fluency and foreign cultures, which are becoming more and more important in today’s world.
With the selection of the 57th Olmsted scholar class in March 2015, 618 scholars have completed, are completing or are preparing for two years of study abroad. Their studies to date have been in 40 languages, in 202 different foreign universities, spanning 60 countries worldwide.
I was privileged to participate in the program in 1987 at the University of Strasbourg, France, the birth place of the European Union. I have been a strong advocate for the program since my matriculation, but I have also opined that although it is one of the best graduate education programs available for young officers, it is not as widely known as it should be and therefore some highly qualified and career motivated officers may not be taking advantage of such an opportunity.
That is apparently changing for the better and I credit the CNO, the Chief of Naval Personnel (CNP), the Naval Education and Training Professional Development and Technology Center (NETPDTC), and the leadership of the Olmsted Foundation and its strong alumni association for the increase in Navy participation over the last year. The Olmsted Foundation Board of Directors just selected the new Olmsted Scholar Class of 2017: 6 Navy, 5 Army, 5 USAF and 2 Marines. A banner year for the Navy and Marine Corps including four submariners, one SWO and one EOD officer. According to the Olmsted Foundation, the quality of Navy applicants was just that good! It is my sincere hope that next year, we’ll see an even broader distribution of Navy scholars among ALL the warfare specialties.
So why is this so important and what linkage does the Olmsted Scholar program have to the “Design for Maintaining Maritime Superiority? Well, here’s my two cents worth: like Cecil Rhodes, founder of the Rhodes Scholarship at Oxford, whose goal was to promote leadership marked by public spirit and good character, and to “render war impossible” by promoting friendship between the great powers, Major General George Olmsted, USMA Class of ’22, had a similar vision when he said that “the world’s greatest leaders must be educated broadly.” But General Olmsted’s legacy and generous endowment to establish the Olmsted Scholar program is distinguishable from the Rhodes Scholarship because it is designed only for people in uniform. Throughout his active duty service in both WWII and the Korean War, General Olmsted learned that understanding foreign cultures could be an asymmetric advantage that would lead to friendships, partnerships and alliances — especially in times of crisis. Furthermore, I believe he subscribed to the philosophy of Sun Tzu: “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. . .” Understanding our allies and partners is one thing; understanding peer competitors and potential adversaries is equally as important prior to the outbreak of conflict. In fact, understanding your adversary might avoid mistakes and miscalculation, thereby avoiding conflict.
So where do you get this type of situational awareness? As attractive as American graduate schools can be, there is no substitute for immersion in a foreign culture and study aboard. But who is the “training audience?” What a great military phrase you hear aboard ship and ashore in our training programs Navy-wide. The training audience for the Olmsted Scholarship program is YOU—yes YOU, the Lieutenants in the Fleet! If you ask people who work for me, they’ll tell you they hear some distinct mantras, often repeated over and over again like a broken record. One of these mantras is “Empower the Lieutenants!” In reply, I sometimes hear that a Lieutenant is a small fish in a big ocean; so what do you want us to do? Those who ask that question usually get a passionate response from me along the following lines: “John F. Kennedy was a Lieutenant on PT-109 and look what he did during WWII; so was John Kerry in Vietnam! Every Department Head on my fast attack submarine was a second tour Lieutenant—they ran the ship and stood Command Duty Officer underway on deployment on the “pointy end of the spear!” Lieutenants have energy, Lieutenants are malleable, Lieutenants are intelligent and they are “current”—i.e. they have the most recent educational experience and have been exposed to the latest theories swirling around in the academe–as compared to those of us who have been out of school for many years. Empower yourself . . . educate yourself! Go for broke! The Olmsted Scholarship program is a stepping stone to empowerment. Apply now, you won’t regret it!
Let me give you some examples of how you can put this education to work in support of the Design and Line of Effort #4–Expand and strengthen our network of partners.
Anecdote Number One:
First, I will tell you about the most famous Air Force Officer at 6th Fleet Headquarters, and he doesn’t even work here. When it comes to detailing and the assignment of qualified officers to our N51 (Europe Engagement) or N52 (Africa Engagement) organization, the name LTC Leo Kosinski frequently comes up. Leo was the Japanese Desk Officer at JCS J5 when I worked for ADM Mike Mullen, as his Executive Assistant, during his tenure as Chairman, Joint Chiefs of Staff (CJCS). In the run-up to the Chairman’s first visit to Japan as CJCS, as ADM Mullen did for all of his counterpart visits, he studied hard. He was famous for taking home “helmet bags” of books and papers to his residence to continue to work after dinner and late into the night. This upcoming trip was no exception and ADM Mullen let us know that it was very important because he was going to see his friend and counterpart, ADM Saito-san, one last time before he (Saito) retired. ADM Saito, the Japanese CHOD had been a great ally and friend. He and ADM Mullen had grown up together as fellow Fleet Commanders, CNOs and now their respective country’s Chiefs of Defense (CHOD = CJCS in our parlance). This was an important visit as the Japanese had acquired and were using our AEGIS technology in their warships and they had been very supportive to the U.S. Navy in Operation Enduring Freedom (OEF). ADM Mullen read his trip book, full of facts and figures and questions and answers on “all things Japan.” He called me into his office and asked, Who put this book together?
“LTC Leo Kosinski, USAF, JCS J5,” I said.
He said, “tell him to come down for a chat . . . it’s excellent work.”
The Chairman liked talking to the Iron Majors, Lieutenant Colonels and Commanders on the staff. He found their outlook honest and refreshing. The 1MC call went out to Kosinski. He appeared a few minutes later.
I introduced Leo to the Chairman. “Sir, LTC Leo Kosinski, the guy who compiled the book.” Air Force Academy graduate, Olmsted Scholar and graduate of the University of Tokyo—he’s fluent in Japanese and a graduate of the Fletcher School of Law and Diplomacy to boot.
Leo stood tall in front of the Chairman’s desk.
“Let me get this straight,” the Chairman said. “You’re a graduate of the University of Tokyo, you speak Japanese, you’ve served in the region and you are my Japanese Desk Officer?”
“Yes sir!,” said Leo.
“Well,” said ADM Mullen, “how in the world did that happen?”
Leo wasn’t quite sure how to answer the question, but I had come to really appreciate the Chairman’s dry sense of humor. How many times had we all been in a command whereby someone is a highly qualified officer, but placed in the wrong job. Detailers call this “fit” and “fill.” In Leo’s case, he was “the perfect fit” for the Japanese Desk Officer position.
The Chairman went on to tell him that his was the best prep book he’d read to date and gave him a BZ!
Leo accompanied us on the trip to Japan and like his book, the interaction with ADM Saito and the rest of the trip was perfect in execution. Leo’s hard work, education and experience had paid off. ‘Nuff said.
Anecdote Number Two:
One of my classmates at the University of Strasbourg was a budding young graduate student with a new wife and family named Mario Ayelou. Mario was quite an engaging young man and a native of the island of Mauritius. He was fluent in French and well educated, as was his young wife Genevieve. We were both a little older than the other students at the Institute and we enjoyed one another’s company as foreigners in the French graduate education system. Mario had a small stipend from his government and hoped to go back to Mauritius and work his way up the chain in public administration. Neither of us realized how successful he would be.
Twenty-eight years later, I would find myself at 6th Fleet Headquarters as the sponsor of Exercise Cutlass Express—our signature series exercise involving partners in East Africa and the Indian Ocean. For political reasons beyond our control, the lead nation for Cutlass Express 2015 dropped out at the last minute. The island of Mauritius agreed to step in and take on the responsibility for lead nation duties—no small task.
Since the little island of Mauritius had agreed to play such a significant role at the last minute, I wanted to reach out and thank them. I had lost touch with Mario Ayelou over the years, but I assumed his affable personality and his education had taken him far and I was not disappointed. Mario had worked in many agencies of government, from environment to law and he had served in the cabinet of the Prime Minister. When I reached him in Mauritius, he was thrilled to hear that the U.S. Navy was coming to Mauritius and that we would put a ship in port with my Vice Commander, RDML Tom Reck on board to show our appreciation. I asked Mario to stir up some interest on the island and invited him and other key leaders to the ship for a reception. Mario came through and delivered the President of Mauritius, Mr. Kailash Purryag, along with about 100 other distinguished guests. It was the least we could do to say thank you to this small island nation for their big contribution to Cutlass Express. All made possible by relationships that began a quarter of a century ago in graduate school.
It is my sincere hope that the Olmsted Scholar Class of 2017 will establish like-minded relationships and foster common interests with allies and friends that may last over a career or a lifetime. When crises arise, it is much easier to pick up the phone and talk to someone with whom you have an established relationship than with someone you’ve never talked to before. Trust me on this.
Accordingly, populating the Olmsted Scholar program with our best and brightest in uniform is one small way of achieving LOE #4 of the Design– Expand and strengthen our network of partners!
For more information on the program, consult NAVADMIN 034/16.
Good luck shipmates! I’ll be looking for your name next year!
I, as many alumni, believe that USNA is a national treasure and should continue. BUT – to do so, it must be able to continue to demonstrate USNA is required. It must demonstrate that it is effective in carrying out its primary mission – to “graduate leaders dedicated to a career of naval service.”
Recently, in response to a FOIA request, after almost 3 months, USNA has been unable to provide even the definition of “a career of naval service,” let alone an evaluation of its mission effectiveness.
Captain Westbrook’s article does not, unfortunately, support his premise that USNA is needed. In his response, he fails to provide the proof he says he will. His article does not prove:
- That USNA accomplishes its mission;
- That USNA produces, in the long term, better officers than NROTC or OCS;
- That USNA provides officers who have (using Westbrook’s quote of Huntington’s 1950 tenets) more expertise, are better able to execute their responsibilities or have more “corporateness.”
Westbrook’s cost analysis is flawed. One must compare the total cost to the Navy to produce a commissioned officer. He rejects that concept, seemingly because it costs the Navy significantly more, as Fleming pointed out, to provide a commissioned officer from USNA than from any other source.
If USNA is cost effective and mission effective – if its officers are better and stay in longer – then the higher total cost to produce a graduate can be accepted. Unfortunately, neither Westbrook nor USNA has provided the data to substantiate that.
One can tell when one’s argument is unconvincing. Westbrook resorts to ad hominem attacks – such as inferring Fleming is a “charlatan.” That’s what one does when one’s “facts” don’t support his premise.
The measure of whether or not the taxpayers are getting their money’s worth is whether or not, compared to other officer accession programs, USNA is graduating leaders who are more dedicated to a career of naval service and are more competent officers throughout their career. Unfortunately, Westbrook’s article provides no proof of either.
I think USNA should continue – want it to – but taxpayers need for USNA to demonstrate that the officers produced are worth the additional “fully burdened” cost to operate USNA.
I hope it will – and soon!
This is a response to Bruce Fleming’s article published on salon.com on 7 March. His article was titled in the hyberbolic terms and vernacular one does not normally expect from college professors: “Let’s get rid of Annapolis: Our military academies screw taxpayers and the students — and serve only the powerful brass.”
I am writing from aboard the Sixth Fleet flagship, USS Mount Whitney (LCC-20), steaming in the Adriatic Sea. Despite submitting this rebuttal to the editors of salon.com soon after Fleming’s article was published, they have refused to print my response. Many thanks to the U.S. Naval Institute Editors for including in here.
In response, I offer your readers an alternative to Mr. Fleming’s rant: the perspective of that of a U.S. Navy Captain, at the point of 23 years of active duty service. I am a Surface Warfare Officer, which means that during my numerous tours of duty at-sea I drive warships and lead the teams of great Americans who serve in these vessels. Leading the crew of every Navy ship is the small cadre of commissioned officers charged with developing, training, and managing the current and future operations of ship and crew. Approximately one third of these officers began their careers one hot summer in Annapolis as new Naval Academy Midshipmen. As any number of the leadership classics written by democratic statesmen or capitalist magnates explain: peak-performing teams require bold, qualified leaders. In the military, we call them officers, and the U.S. Naval Academy produces some of the best.
As part of Samuel Huntington’s 1950’s classic The Soldier and the State, he presented his readers with the seminal treatise on military officers. He wrote that though there are many vocations and jobs that are beneficial to society, he defined four as the only true professions: law, medicine, clergy, and military officership. Huntington identified three key principles required to meet his definition which serve to bind these professions to their respective duties: expertise, responsibility, and ‘corporateness’. His essay, a subset of the larger tome, is a quick read and I encourage your readers to examine it in detail. But here I will quickly attempt to paraphrase Huntington’s key tenets:
Expertise: The inherent professional education and experience that separates professionals from laymen, which can only be instilled initially by institutions of research, history, and education. This expertise is perpetuated between the academic and practical sides of a profession through professional writing, journals, conferences, and the circulation of personnel between practice and teaching.
Responsibility: Governed by a canon of ethics, empowered by law with authority—but also regulated by the State, with an auditable process for promotion and certification by qualified peers. And in the case of military officers: sworn by oath to serve the fundamental foundation of our nation’s laws. He noted that responsibilities of commissioned military officers, unlike any of their civilian professional counterparts, includes the “management of violence.” This responsibility does not include the authority to start the next war, but rather depends on the intellectual skill borne of near-continuous study throughout a career, to ensure that, if possible, the officer’s actions may avoid the next conflict.
Corporateness: Empowered by custom, history, and collective discipline of the group, professionals engender the trust that society places on them through the self-regulation of their members. An officer’s commission is the legal right to practice his or her profession, just as the license to practice applies to a physician. Through a combination of professional associations and an efficient bureaucracy, the integrity of the commission is maintained, and levels of competence are rewarded over time through the promotion of the best and fully qualified.
Mr. Fleming’s narrative misses the point that institutions like Annapolis, our nation’s other esteemed Service academies, and the Reserve Officer Training Corps (ROTC) units across the country’s university system, are the crucible of the cultural indoctrination and education in which the principles above are imbued.
I will attempt to provide the “proof” that his article demands:
I consider myself uniquely qualified to respond to his article, since I am independent of any of the forces of nepotism which he alleges. I have no children nor relatives enrolled at any service academy, past or present. I was not educated at the U.S. Naval Academy (USNA), but was a 4-year Navy scholarship student at a respected private institution, Tulane University. I entered that program following three years of high school as a scholarship student at a small private school in Tennessee, where I washed dishes every day after lunch to fund my tuition and academic aspirations—there was no “brass” supporting my college plans. When I applied to the Navy for educational opportunities, I received the offer of both an ROTC scholarship and was also accepted to Annapolis. Absent the nepotism Mr. Fleming suggests, I was offered these options based on my own academic merit, not due to any connections with USNA alumni, siblings, or school administrators. My ultimate decision to attend Tulane ensures that today I write not from a position as a USNA alumnus, but as an independent observer unaffected by Fleming’s allegations of the hush-culture of a “henhouse guarded by foxes” (his terms).
I am also qualified to respond to the numerous fiscal errors in his article, since I periodically have served tours of duty ashore as a Navy budget officer when I have rotated ashore between sea duty assignments. A level-3 certified defense comptroller, I am intimately familiar with the financial analysis required to run the United States Navy, which if it were a for-profit business would rank #9 on the Fortune 100 based on annual budget and overall manpower. I have done cost-benefit analysis of nearly every aspect of naval service, including the fully-burdened cost of education and training of officers and enlisted personnel. The only “smoke and mirrors” (his term) on this topic are the specious sound bites he presented as fact to his readers regarding return-on-investment for the education of the seed corn of our professional officer corps.
As with all statistical analysis, charlatans can use samples of data to suit their needs. For example, “9 out of 10 doctors surveyed prefer this product . . . ” can be misleading if an advertiser gets to pick which group of ten doctors out of a much larger survey group to meet their needs. Similarly, Mr. Fleming’s misleading figure of “fewer than one in five” officers in the Navy graduated from Annapolis is a selective manipulation of the facts to fabricate a dramatic sound bite. In fact, the Annapolis-trained portion of the total number of ALL officers serving in the Navy, including reservists, officers of the restricted line (the support branches), staff corps, doctors, lawyers, dentists, professional engineers, and the prior-enlisted technical leaders of the Limited Duty Officer/Warrant Officer “Mustang” corps represent close to that smaller slice of the overall pie chart.
However, the express charter of the Service Academies is to primarily train officers for service in the Unrestricted Line (URL). Unrestricted Line Officers are those trained to aspire for command of ships, submarines, aviation squadrons, special warfare commands, and other units of combat arms. The U.S. Naval Academy provides approximately 1/3 of the graduates for each of these communities. A very small number of Annapolis officers graduate annually with commissions into the staff corps communities, primarily due to being unqualified for the URL billets for medical reasons.
Within my own community of Surface Warfare:
- 29% of my peers who serve in ships were Annapolis graduates,
- 35% from ROTC,
- 26% from Officer Candidate School (OCS),
- 6% from enlisted-to-commission programs,
- 4% from all other sources.
Annual officer accessions vary slightly by graduating year, community choice, and the needs of the Navy, but the approximate 1/3 USNA and 1/3 ROTC share of commissioned officer average remain consistent year after year within the URL.
The seventy-seven Navy ROTC units, comprised of students from 156 universities across the country produce the largest volume of annual accessions as noted above. Depending on the commissioning university, the cost of the tuition alone exceeds the tuition equivalent at Annapolis, including all of the essential costs that Mr. Fleming believes are frivolous, to include room, board, and medical coverage. An “apples to apples” cost comparison is avoided in Mr. Fleming’s article, in which he provided a fully-burdened cost per student . . . not the same as tuition cost. His estimate, like a recent Government Accountability Office (GAO) report, utilizes the Naval Academy’s annual budget appropriated by Congress to operate and maintain the U.S. Naval Academy, and divides that figure by the total student body to derive a cost-per-student of nearly $400,000 from recruitment through graduation, or almost $100,000 per-student/per-year.
This figure seems outrageous, but when compared to a fully-burdened cost of state universities and private universities, which are funded from a combination of state taxes (state schools only), multimillion dollar endowments, and income from research and sports contracts, the total cost to educate of nearly $100,000 per-student/per-year is right in line with upper-tier institutions.
For example, at my own alma mater, the cost of annual tuition, room, board, and medical insurance is priced at $66,700 per year in the 2016-2017 academic year catalog. Tulane University’s audited financial statement reflects annual non-tuition “operating income” from endowments, gifts, grants, research, and other contracts at over $520 million per year. With minor exceptions (specifically, insurance and interest on debt) Tulane and other universities spend their annual expenditures on the same sort of expenses that the Naval Academy executes in their annual outlays mentioned in Fleming’s article, daily operations of the university, maintaining facilities including prestigious on-campus historic homes for their most senior educators, grounds keeping, staff salaries, etc. When the $520 million operating income is divided by Tulane’s total full-time student enrollment of 13,449 students this year (undergrad and graduate), the per-student costs borne by the university is $38,664.
Adding the university-paid share to the student-paid cost of tuition and fees, the fully-burdened cost of a Tulane education costs over $105,000 per-student/per-year, exceeding total annual costs per student at the USNA.
I did not include the data from Tulane above to “toot the horn” of my own institution, nor to show the inflation-adjusted value of my own degree. I chose Tulane because it is a fair comparison to the Naval Academy’s undergraduate programs by metrics of student selectivity, demographic diversity, average SAT scores, academic attrition rate, and even overall varsity sports performance. Additionally, like Tulane, much of the Naval Academy’s extracurricular activities for students and much of the sports activities are provided by active alumni associations funded solely through the donations of their members. Even the sports performance of both schools is on par and is merely average to above-average in most categories based on respective conference records (with a few shining exceptions in some years). My apologies to both Green Wave and Naval Academy sports fans out there, but this similarity is a testament to both institutions whose primary focus is on academics and the insistence that the student remain priority in all of their “student-athletes”.
Based on these facts, taxpayers who fund the U.S. Naval Academy’s annual budget are getting their money’s worth: Annapolis graduates receive a comparable upper-tier private university education, and at a comparable cost.
The ultimate question of value and return-on-investment is that at the Naval Academy, the product is so much more than merely a bachelor’s degree; Annapolis builds leaders. The “proof” of leadership that Fleming demands, for which fortunately there is no classroom test, can only be borne by the time-tested observations of naval history, by by the current observations of my peers, and by the Sailors we lead.
The real measure of leadership, and the inestimable value of what the Annapolis graduate receives during four years, is as much a product of the naval activities performed outside of the classroom environment as it is in the academic rigors. As Samuel Huntington’s tenet of “expertise” requires, the institution’s training and cultural indoctrination is primarily led by naval officers, most on active duty and several who are retired, who return to Annapolis to teach Midshipmen from their fleet and world experience. Numerous alumni with storied success in the Navy and Marine Corps as well as in civilian careers return to the campus to lecture and to share their varied expertise. The practical application of the tenets of service and of the Navy core values is further exercised by Midshipmen engaged in world travel during summer military training in the Fleet with Navy and the Marine Corps units.
Mr. Fleming’s observation that many officers leave the service after five years is almost accurate, but his assessment that this attrition invalidates the entire training model is not. Many officers commissioned in Annapolis, as well as many of those commissioned from ROTC universities, do depart the service in predictable numbers after their initial service obligation. For Naval Academy graduates, the initial obligation ends between five and seven years, depending on community (Navy and Marine Corps aviation trainees, for example do not begin to satisfy their service obligation until after they receive their “wings”, a training process that takes approximately two years). The annual attrition numbers vary annually and are influenced by changes in global economic factors, ship and squadron deployment schedules, as well as the impact of naval service during a time of war that has had a measurable toll on those Navy and Marine Officers who witness it.
No system of recruitment in any major corporation, military branch, or government agency can accurately predict long-term attrition and retention rates, nor can it guarantee long-term retention. Therefore, like the Navy, other businesses and agencies recruit large numbers of initial trainees with the understanding that some will not make it all the way to the IBM boardroom, to the corner office, or to command of a ship, submarine, or squadron. None of those institutions, however, would consider their initial training programs wasteful or worthy of cancellation because some number of their initial applicants didn’t last beyond five years, or because the same number didn’t make it all the way to CEO.
The time Midshipmen spend in Annapolis is the crucible, but after four years, their commission and newly-earned rank of Navy Ensign or Marine Second Lieutenant is merely their “license to learn”. Our enlisted Sailors and Marines swear an oath to God that they will obey the orders of the officers appointed over them, and these officers do not take that obligation lightly. When they get to the Fleet, they embrace this obligation to learn and the responsibilities of active duty with vigor. I have witnessed many superb demonstrations of excellence, self-sacrifice, and devotion to their shipmates by junior officers from all commissioning sources alike. I imagine teaching college students of the age and demographic that America’s towns may send to Mr. Fleming’s English classes may be occasionally frustrating based on the bitter list of what he says “Midshipmen learn” in his latest article to criticize both his employer and his students.
Unfortunately, Mr. Fleming has only seen them perform in the classroom. However, my peers and I have seen them as junior officers in the Fleet demonstrating “what Midshipmen learn” and performing amazing acts of leadership and selflessness using what the entire institution gave them, not merely the time spent in class. Below are just a few of the anecdotes I have observed that featured resilient and resourceful Naval Academy graduates . . . all examples of what they REALLY learn:
- A newly-qualified small boat officer I sent out at night in 7-foot seas intuitively changed procedures on-the-fly without asking, resulting in a much faster rescue of one of my crew who had fallen overboard.
- On liberty in St. John, USVI, an Ensign intervened in a deadly attack in a bar, saving the life of one of our Chiefs who was in trouble.
- An Ensign who returned to work just days after a miscarriage to make direct contributions to execute a complex mission she had originally planned, upon which hundreds of Sailors depended.
- A Lieutenant (j.g.) who arrived first on the scene of a major fire onboard the ship, evacuated two injured Sailors from the space without any protective equipment, then returned with only an oxygen bottle and mask and fought the fire for five minutes until he was relieved because an ammunition magazine was on the other side of the bulkhead.
- A Lieutenant (j.g.) who designed and built a shower and bathroom facility out of spare parts to ensure dignity and sanitation for nearly ninety refugees we found at sea. Then she spent every hour off-watch supporting and comforting the passengers, using a foreign language she had learned during an exchange year abroad at a foreign service academy.
There are countless other stories like these. I have accumulated these in over 23 years in uniform on active duty in five warships, and continue to see more examples of excellence within the four destroyers in our squadron and on our squadron and task force staffs. With every summer graduation cycle, every ship I have served in over these years has received a batch of fresh and enthusiastic men and women ably trained to serve after four years studying in Annapolis. Each cruiser or destroyer-sized ship typically receives around four to seven new officers every year, distributed generally from the source ratio noted earlier, resulting in a couple of USNA graduates.
Upon arrival onboard our ships, I have observed that Naval Academy graduates are consistently better-prepared in the fundamentals of our profession: All Annapolis graduates earn a Bachelor of Science (BS) degree, regardless of their major. Even the liberal arts majors (yes, Mr. Fleming, there are even a few poets, thank God) arrive with the foundation courses required to earn a BS degree. This mandatory USNA curriculum is designed to ensure that all graduates arrive in their ship, submarine, or flight school with a robust knowledge of the engineering, science, math, and physics fundamentals needed to understand our Navy’s ships, submarines, and military aircraft: some of the most complicated machines our country can build.
In the wardrooms of my own ships, the Naval Academy Ensigns were able to demonstrate a level of knowledge upon arrival in navigation, weather, ship handling, small arms, firefighting, and watch-standing that exceeded that of most of the NROTC and OCS graduates. The Annapolis graduates also arrived onboard with a seasoned comfort and familiarity with more than naval custom; they already knew how to “get along” and to work through challenges. The unique training environment of the USNA, starting with the arduous “plebe summer,” bonds these officers together with a common vision of service, tolerance, mutual support, self-reliance, team dynamics, and the ability to overcome adversity.
As Mr. Fleming’s bi-annual call to “get rid of Annapolis” and other Service Academies has hit the blogosphere, I caution taxpayers to rest assured. Navy leaders are not squandering your resources, and continue to select, train, educate, and promote the “best and brightest” to lead the Navy of the future. I am proud to have served alongside Naval Academy graduates everywhere I have been assigned. Thanks to the cooler heads who manage the future of the Navy in Annapolis, throughout the Fleet, in the Pentagon, and in Congress, I am confident that this institution will remain open, and will continue to develop the future of our Fleet long after I have “swallowed the anchor” and pursued a life ashore.