Naval Peacekeeping and

Humanitarian Operations

This edited volume explores Stability, Security, Transition, and Reconstruction

operations (SSTR), highlighting the challenges and opportunities they create for
the U.S. Navy.
The book argues that SSTR operations are challenging because they create
new missions and basing modes, and signal a return to traditional naval methods
of operation. Mission accomplishment requires collaboration with a wide range
of actors representing governmental, non-governmental, and commercial organi-
zations, which often creates politically and bureaucratically charged issues for
those involved. However, while from a traditional warfighting perspective
stability operations might be viewed as having little to do with preparing for
high-intensity conventional combat, these kinds of operations in fact correspond
to traditional missions related to diplomacy, engagement, maritime domain
awareness, piracy and smuggling, and intervention to quell civil disturbances.
SSTR operations can therefore be depicted as a return to traditional naval opera-
tions, albeit operations that might not be universally welcomed in all quarters.
This book will be of great interest to students of naval policy, strategic
studies, peacekeeping and international relations in general.

James J. Wirtz is a Professor of National Security Affairs at the Naval Post-

graduate School, Monterey, California. Jeffrey A. Larsen is a senior scientist
with Science Applications International Corporation, president of Larsen
Consulting Group in Colorado Springs, Colorado, and an Adjunct Professor of
International Studies at the University of Denver.
Cass series: Naval policy and history
Series Editor: Geoffrey Till
ISSN 1366–9478

This series consists primarily of original manuscripts by research scholars in the

general area of naval policy and history, without national or chronological
limitations. It will from time to time also include collections of important art-
icles as well as reprints of classic works.

1 Austro-Hungarian Naval Policy, 7 The Italian Navy and Fascist

1904–1914 Expansionism, 1935–1940
Milan N. Vego Robert Mallett

2 Far-flung Lines 8 The Merchant Marine and

Studies in imperial defence in
honour of Donald Mackenzie
Schurman
Edited by Keith Neilson and
Greg Kennedy
3 Maritime Strategy and
Continental Wars
Rear Admiral Raja Menon
10 Naval Policy and Strategy in the
4 The Royal Navy and German
Naval Disarmament 1942–1947
Chris Madsen
International Affairs, 1850–1950
Edited by Greg Kennedy
9 Naval Strategy in Northeast
Asia
Geo-strategic goals, policies and
prospects
Duk-Ki Kim
Mediterranean Sea
Past, present and future
Edited by John B. Hattendorf

5 Naval Strategy and Operations 11 Stalin’s Ocean-going Fleet

in Narrow Seas Soviet naval strategy and
Milan N. Vego shipbuilding programmes,
1935–1953
6 The Pen and Ink Sailor Jürgen Rohwer and
Charles Middleton and the King’s Mikhail S. Monakov
Navy, 1778–1813
John E. Talbott
12 Imperial Defence, 1868–1887
Donald Mackenzie Schurman;
edited by John Beeler
13 Technology and Naval Combat
in the Twentieth Century and
Beyond
Edited by Phillips Payson O’Brien
14 The Royal Navy and Nuclear
Weapons
Richard Moore
15 The Royal Navy and the Capital
Ship in the Interwar Period
An operational perspective
Joseph Moretz
16 Chinese Grand Strategy and
Maritime Power
Thomas M. Kane
17 Britain’s Anti-submarine
Capability, 1919–1939
George Franklin
18 Britain, France and the Naval
Arms Trade in the Baltic,
1919–1939
Grand strategy and failure
Donald Stoker
19 Naval Mutinies of the Twentieth
Century
An international perspective
Edited by Christopher Bell and
Bruce Elleman
20 The Road to Oran
Anglo-French naval relations,
September 1939–July 1940
David Brown
21 The Secret War against Sweden
US and British submarine
deception and political control in
the 1980s
Ola Tunander
22 Royal Navy Strategy in the Far
East, 1919–1939
Planning for a war against Japan
Andrew Field
23 Seapower
A guide for the twenty-first
century
Geoffrey Till
24 Britain’s Economic Blockade of
Germany, 1914–1919
Eric W. Osborne
25 A Life of Admiral of the Fleet
Andrew Cunningham
A twentieth-century naval leader
Michael Simpson
26 Navies in Northern Waters,
1721–2000
Edited by Rolf Hobson and
Tom Kristiansen
27 German Naval Strategy,
1856–1888
Forerunners to Tirpitz
David Olivier
28 British Naval Strategy East of
Suez, 1900–2000
Influences and actions
Edited by Greg Kennedy
29 The Rise and Fall of the Soviet
Navy in the Baltic, 1921–1940
Gunnar Aselius
30 The Royal Navy, 1930–1990
Innovation and defence
Edited by Richard Harding
31 The Royal Navy and Maritime
Power in the Twentieth Century
Edited by Ian Speller
32 Dreadnought Gunnery and the
Battle of Jutland
The question of fire control
John Brooks
33 Greek Naval Strategy and
Policy, 1910–1919
Zisis Fotakis
34 Naval Blockades and Seapower
Strategies and counter-strategies,
1805–2005
Edited by Bruce A. Elleman and
Sarah C.M. Paine
35 The Pacific Campaign in World
War II
From Pearl Harbor to Guadalcanal
William Bruce Johnson
36 Anti-submarine Warfare in
World War I
British naval aviation and the
defeat of the U-boats
John J. Abbatiello
37 The Royal Navy and Anti-
Submarine Warfare, 1944–49
Malcolm Llewellyn-Jones
38 The Development of British
Naval Thinking
Essays in memory of Bryan Ranft
Edited by Geoffrey Till
39 Educating the Royal Navy
18th and 19th century education
for officers
H.W. Dickinson
40 Chinese Naval Strategy in the
21st Century
The turn to Mahan
James R. Holmes and Toshi
Yoshihara
41 Naval Coalition Warfare
From the Napoleonic War to
Operation Iraqi Freedom
Edited by Bruce A. Elleman and
S.C.M. Paine
42 Operational Warfare at Sea
Theory and practice
Milan Vego
43 Naval Peacekeeping and
Humanitarian Operations
Stability from the sea
Edited by James J. Wirtz and
Jeffrey A. Larsen
Naval Peacekeeping and
Humanitarian Operations
Stability from the sea

Edited by James J. Wirtz and

Jeffrey A. Larsen
First published 2009
by Routledge
2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN
Simultaneously published in the USA and Canada
by Routledge
270 Madison Ave, New York, NY 10016
This edition published in the Taylor & Francis e-Library, 2008.
“To purchase your own copy of this or any of Taylor & Francis or Routledge’s
collection of thousands of eBooks please go to www.eBookstore.tandf.co.uk.”
Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business
© 2009 Selection and editorial matter, James J. Wirtz and Jeffrey A.
Larsen; individual chapters, the contributors
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or
utilized in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now
known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in
any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing
from the publishers.
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Naval peacekeeping and humanitarian operations : stability from the sea /
edited by James J. Wirtz and Jeffrey A. Larsen.
p. cm. – (Naval policy and history ; 43)
1. Peacekeeping forces, American. 2. United States. Navy.
3. Humanitarian intervention. I. Wirtz, James J., 1958– II. Larsen, Jeffrey
Arthur, 1954–
JZ6374.N38 2009
359.4–dc22
2008021755

ISBN 0-203-88723-9 Master e-book ISBN

ISBN10: 0-415-46623-7 (hbk)

ISBN10: 0-203-88723-9 (ebk)
ISBN13: 978-0-415-46623-3 (hbk)
ISBN13: 978-0-203-88723-3 (ebk)
Contents

List of illustrations ix
About the contributors x

Preface xiii
JAMES J. WIRTZ AND JEFFREY A. LARSEN

1 Introduction 1
JAMES J. WIRTZ

PART I
Background 11

2 Stability operations: the view from afloat 13

DANIEL MORAN

3 SSTR as history: the British Royal Navy experience,

1815–1930 26
JOHN FERRIS

4 International law and stability operations 42

THEO FARRELL

PART II
Service models 59

5 Beyond protecting the land and the sea: the role of the
U.S. Navy in reconstruction 61
JESSICA PIOMBO AND MICHAEL MALLEY
viii Contents
6 Blue water and muddy deck shoes: U.S. Navy support to
the U.S. Marine Corps in SSTR operations 81
TERRY TERRIFF

PART III
Cases: implementing stability operations 95

7 An examination of maritime peace support operations 97

ADAM B. SIEGEL

8 Passing the trident: the role of naval international programs

in SSTR operations 110
SAM J. TANGREDI

9 Security and stability on the inland waterways: naval

riverine forces 129
JOHN W. STOLZE

10 Civil–military teams: the PRT model in Afghanistan 141

NICHOLAS TOMB

11 A small intervention: lessons from Liberia 2003 153

ALAN J. KUPERMAN

PART IV
Conclusion 171

12 Conclusion 173
JEFFREY A. LARSEN

Appendix: historical precedents for naval involvement in

peace support operations and multinational SSTR operations,
1890–2001 181
ADAM B. SIEGEL

Index 185
Illustrations

Figures
2.1 Spectrum of conflict (c.1990) 14
5.1 State versus defense capabilities in stabilization activities 65
5.2 Mapping USN capabilities into sectors of reconstruction activities 72
7.1 Conflict spectrum and some naval PSO tasks 99
10.1 PRT Contributing countries and geographical locations 143
10.2 Typical PRT organizational structure 145
10.3 NGO casualties in Afghanistan 147
11.1 Two rebel groups converge on Monrovia in 2003 156
11.2 LURD rebels drive refugees into Monrovia 157
11.3 Order of battle in Liberia, 2003 158
11.4 JTF Liberia – force structure 158
11.5 Humanitarian access to rural Liberia via Monrovia 160
11.6 Timeline of 2003 crisis 161
11.7 JTF Liberia’s objectives and tactics 162

Tables
8.1 SSTR phases and international programs 120
10.1 Coalition fatalities in operation enduring freedom 149
Contributors

Theo Farrell is a Professor of War in the Modern World in the Department of

War Studies at King’s College London, and Associate Editor of Security
Studies. His recent books include International Law and International Rela-
tions (Cambridge University Press, 2007) and The Norms of War (Lynne
Rienner, 2005). He has a Ph.D. in politics from Bristol University.
John Ferris is a Professor of History at the University of Calgary. He is the
author of The British Army and Signals Intelligence in the First World War
(Army Record Society, 1992), A World History of Warfare (Nebraska Uni-
versity Press, 2002), with Criston Archer, Holger Herwig, and Tim Travers,
and Intelligence and Strategy, Selected Essays (Routledge, 2005). He holds a
Ph.D. in war studies from King’s College, London.
Alan J. Kuperman is an Assistant Professor at the LBJ School of Public
Affairs, University of Texas at Austin. He is author of The Limits of Humani-
tarian Intervention: Genocide in Rwanda (Brookings, 2001) and co-editor of
Gambling on Humanitarian Intervention: Moral Hazard, Rebellion and Civil
War (Routledge, 2006). He holds a Ph.D. in political science from the Massa-
chusetts Institute of Technology.
Jeffrey A. Larsen is president of Larsen Consulting Group and a senior scient-
ist with Science Applications International Corporation in Colorado Springs.
He also serves as an Adjunct Professor of International Studies at the Univer-
sity of Denver and Northwestern University. He is the editor of Arms
Control: Cooperative Security in a Changing Environment (Lynne Rienner,
2002) and co-editor, with Jim Wirtz, of Nuclear Transformation: The New
U.S. Nuclear Strategy (Palgrave, 2005). He holds a Ph.D. in politics from
Princeton University.
Michael Malley is an Assistant Professor and Academic Associate for Regional
Security Studies in the Department of National Security Affairs at the Naval
Postgraduate School, Monterey, California. He has authored numerous art-
icles and book chapters on regime change, decentralization, and local politics
in Indonesia. His recent work focuses on democratization and decentraliza-
tion and the prospects for defense cooperation and regional security in South-
 Contributors xi
east Asia. Prior to NPS he taught at Ohio University. Malley earned his Ph.D.
in political science at the University of Wisconsin-Madison.
Daniel Moran is a Professor of National Security Affairs at the Naval Postgrad-
uate School, Monterey, California. His current projects include an edited
volume (with James Russell) on Energy Security and Global Politics: The
Militarization of Resource Management (Routledge) and an English edition
of Carl von Clausewitz’s History of the Campaign of 1815 (Basic Books), co-
edited with Christopher Bassford and Greg Pedlow.
Jessica Piombo is an Assistant Professor in the Department of National Secur-
ity Affairs at the Naval Postgraduate School, Monterey, California. She is
co-editor, with Karen Guttieri, of Interim Governments: Institutional
Bridges to Peace and Democracy (U.S. Institute of Peace Press, 2007) and
Electoral Politics in South Africa: Assessing the First Democratic Decade
(with Lia Nijzink) (Palgrave MacMillan, 2005). She is a Visiting Scholar at
Stanford’s Center for African Studies, and has been a research associate at
the Centre for Social Science Research and the African Studies Centre of
the University of Cape Town. She holds a Ph.D. from the Massachusetts
Institute of Technology.
Adam B. Siegel is a Washington-based analyst who has worked on issues of
naval force engagement in operations other than war, low-intensity conflict,
and stability, support, transition, and reconstruction operations for several
decades. As a civilian analyst he has deployed in support of military forces in
operations in Haiti (Uphold Democracy, 1994), Bosnia (Operations Joint
Guard and Joint Endeavor, 1996–7), and Kosovo (Operations Allied Force
and Shining Harbor, 1999).
John W. Stolze is an active duty Marine officer on assignment in Southwest
Asia. He recently completed his masters degree in national security affairs at
the Naval Postgraduate School in Monterey, California.
Sam J. Tangredi, Captain, U.S. Navy, is the first Director of Strategic Planning
and Business Development for the Navy International Programs Office. Tan-
gredi has been associated with the Naval Postgraduate School, University of
Southern California, Hoover Institution, National Defense University, and
George Washington University. He is the author of All Possible Wars
(National Defense University Press, 2000), editor of Globalization and Mar-
itime Power (National Defense University Press, 2002), and winner of the
U.S. Navy League’s Alfred Thayer Mahan Award for Literary Achievement.
Terry Terriff is Reader in International Security in the Department of Political
Science and International Studies at the University of Birmingham, UK, and
Visiting Academic Lecturer at the NATO School in Germany. He is a co-
editor of Global Insurgency and the Future of Armed Conflict: The Fourth
Generation Warfare Debate (2007). He holds a doctorate in international
studies from King’s College, London.
xii Contributors
Nicholas Tomb is a Program Coordinator at the Center for Stabilization and
Reconstruction Studies, Naval Postgraduate School, Monterey, California. He
also serves on the Board of Directors of Global Majority, and teaches Amer-
ican government at Monterey Peninsula College. He holds an M.A. from the
Monterey Institute of International Studies.
James J. Wirtz is a Professor of National Security Affairs at the Naval Post-
graduate School, Monterey, California. He has published extensively in the
fields of strategic studies, intelligence, deterrence theory, international rela-
tions and U.S. defense policy. He is co-editor of Globalization and WMD
Proliferation: Terrorism (Routledge, 2008). He holds a Ph.D. in political
science from Columbia University.
Preface

This volume draws on papers and presentations that were initially delivered at a
workshop, entitled “Stability, Security, Transition, Reconstruction: Challenges
for the U.S. Navy” that was held on 13–14 September 2006 at the Naval Post-
graduate School in Monterey, California. The conference was sponsored and
organized by the Center for Stabilization and Reconstruction Studies (CSRS).
We would especially like to thank CSRS Director Matt Vaccaro for drawing our
attention to the important issues raised by these emerging naval operations and
Rich Hoffmann, Director of the Center for Civil–Military Relations at the Naval
Postgraduate School, for his support. In addition to our chapter authors, several
individuals also contributed to our Monterey workshop. Thomas G. Mahnken,
Karen Guttieri, Matt Zahn, CDR Stephen Maronick, USN, and RADM Philip H.
Cullom, USN gave presentations or commentary that greatly contributed to our
understanding of the issues and challenges inherent in Stability, Security, Trans-
ition, and Reconstruction operations. Last but not least, we thank Andrew
Humphrys, our editor at Routledge, and Emily Kindleysides, his talented and
patient assistant, for their support.

James J. Wirtz
Jeffrey A. Larsen
1 Introduction
James J. Wirtz

For nearly two decades, the United States Navy has faced incentives to abandon its
preoccupation with potential operations against a rival blue-water fleet. The col-
lapse of the Soviet Union terminated the open ocean naval threat, ending the need
to gain command of the sea from hostile forces. The collapse of the Warsaw Pact
also meant the immediate obsolescence of existing naval strategy.1 The require-
ment to maintain sea lines of communication to flow men and material to Europe,
and the Maritime Strategy, which was intended to alter Soviet strategic calcula-
tions, were geared toward influencing the crucial land battle along what was
known as the Central Front.2 Navy strategists would now have to work harder to
explain the ongoing relevance of the fleet to U.S. national security. Yet, if the end
of the Soviet Union made the most obvious justification for a large navy obsolete,
it virtually guaranteed that the U.S. Navy would have command of the sea for the
foreseeable future. As the sole remaining superpower, the United States became an
unrivaled global maritime power, a position it retains today.
This strategic revolution was soon followed by an information revolution as
the Internet and increases in computational power transformed civil society and
boosted global economic growth. The information revolution also seemed to
render obsolete traditional operations and weapons systems, leading many
observers to claim that technological, institutional and doctrinal change would
ultimately culminate in a so-called revolution in military affairs.3 These develop-
ments, however, were not all bad from the Navy’s perspective. Even Edward
Luttwak, who often criticized the Maritime Strategy as an extravagantly expen-
sive way to move additional airpower to Europe, gave the Navy its due when it
came to smaller-scale contingencies and presence missions:

The strategic worth of the Navy, especially its core of aircraft carriers and
their escorts, increases as conflict intensity diminishes. At one extreme, the
carriers would be almost entirely useless in an all-out nuclear war. At the
other extreme, they are the best of all military instruments for noncombat
“showing the flag” visitations.4

The combination of maritime dominance, globalization, and the increasing rele-

vance of the “noncombat” contingencies mentioned by Luttwak could, in fact,
2 J. J. Wirtz
highlight the importance of the U.S. Navy in national defense.5 For believers in
the ideas of Mahan, the U.S. Navy was poised to police a global economy that
relied on the seas for transportation. The Navy could protect the commerce of
friends and deny the benefits of globalization to America’s foes. The Navy also
was right-sized for likely threats; a carrier battle group or expeditionary strike
group could deal with most contingencies on its own. If need be, a carrier battle
group could act as a quick reaction force to contain the conflict, enabling the
movement of the bulk of U.S armed forces that would follow in its wake. In the
age of globalization, especially given the absence of a “continental” peer-
competitor, the Navy was poised to undertake the Mahanian vision of fostering
international trade and the maritime commerce that benefited the economies of
the United States and its allies. The Navy might not be able to deter the outbreak
of all conflict, but it could offer a reasonable guarantee that violence could be
quickly contained, reassuring the international business community that the
future looked promising for uninterrupted international trade and investment.
Senior U.S. Navy officers, however, found this Mahanian vision of the
renewed importance of the Navy somewhat unsettling. Navy leaders seemed to
believe that the image of sailors slowly plying the oceans in steel vessels, dis-
suading the emergence of military competitors and protecting against the some-
what intangible threats of instability, piracy, or threats to commodities (e.g., oil
moving through the Strait of Hormuz), was antiquated. They seemed to worry
that in a digital age, when business models drawn from Silicon Valley’s high-
tech sectors dominated imaginations, it would be impossible to capture the
public’s interest, especially for a service that kept time like John Paul Jones.
Despite the realities of world trade – business abhors uncertainty and most com-
merce moves by sea – they feared that Mahanian concepts appeared out of date.
A variety of studies were launched to demonstrate how forward-deployed naval
forces contributed to U.S. political and economic objectives, making the Navy a
guardian of stability that accelerated globalization.6 Nevertheless, in the absence
of a blue-water threat, senior U.S. Navy officers remained preoccupied with
explaining the fundamental relevance of the Navy to U.S. national security. Bol-
stering global commerce seemed a weak justification for a service that Navy
officers feared was often out of sight and out of mind when it came to the U.S.
public and its elected officials.

Increasing relevance after 9/11

Doubts about the relevance of the Navy were exacerbated in the aftermath of the
September 11, 2001 terrorist attack against the United States. As events would
play out, the Navy delivered on a decade’s worth of promises. Navy carrier
battle groups and Marine amphibious ready groups quickly took the fight to al
Qaeda in Afghanistan. But it was not at all clear to senior officers how the Navy
could contribute directly to the Global War on Terror, especially against terrorist
cells that had blended into urban centers around the globe. Navy strategists were
able to turn away calls to pull Naval forces closer to home, and instead opted to
 Introduction 3
prepare them to project force at great distances inland and to improve the ability
of the Navy to monitor global maritime activity. The Navy’s Global Concept of
Operations, often referred to as Global CONOPS, was the result: it divided the
Navy into smaller operating packages, increasing its ability to conduct offensive
operations against targets in more locations around the world simultaneously,
while also offering a way to monitor developments across the world’s important
trade routes.7 Because the Navy continues to rely on ships that were designed
primarily for Cold War contingencies, this change in operations actually
represented a serious effort on the part of the Navy to meet the terrorist chal-
lenge. Even Navy officers decided new vessels or training might be required to
undertake the Global War on Terror, it might take decades before new weapons
systems and “operators” became available.
The war on terror, however, has demonstrated that offensive operations
against known and suspected terrorists are just one aspect of the U.S. effort to
restore stability to troubled regions. The war against al Qaeda, the effort to bring
stability to Iraq and rebuild its government and society, the threat of natural dis-
asters, and other civil disturbances have created a demand for Stability, Security,
Transition, and Reconstruction (SSTR) operations, which will again force the
Navy to focus on non-traditional types of missions intended to influence events
ashore. The immediate goal for these types of operations is to provide the local
populace with security, restore essential services, and meet humanitarian needs.
The long-term goal is to foster the emergence of an indigenous capacity for
securing essential services, a viable market economy, rule of law, democratic
institutions, and a robust civil society. Although stability operations are best per-
formed by shore-based local, foreign, or U.S. government and private organi-
zations that specialize in these activities, the U.S. Navy needs to prepare to
establish and maintain order to support and even undertake these operations in
the absence of adequate civilian alternatives. Given its capability to move per-
sonnel and equipment ashore in remote areas lacking infrastructure or in inse-
cure areas devastated by war or natural disasters, it is clear that there is an
important operational niche that can be filled by U.S. naval forces. The prompt,
effective, and highly publicized U.S. Navy response to the damage caused by
the December 2004 Southeast Asian earthquake and ensuing tsunami high-
lighted the important contribution made by maritime relief operations in both
natural and man-made disasters.8 In fact, there already is an expectation that the
Navy’s amphibious landing and support ships – vessels outfitted with flight
decks, well-decks, and cargo-handling equipment – should be prepared to sortie
quickly or abandon “normal” operations to rush to the scene of some natural
disaster.
The increasing demand for a Navy contribution to Stability, Security, Trans-
ition, and Reconstruction operations is thus the latest chapter in what has been a
tumultuous quarter-century. To their credit, U.S. Navy officers have recognized
the increasing demand for these “non-traditional” missions. A Cooperative Strat-
egy for 21st Century Seapower, an October 2007 Navy–Marine–Coast Guard
statement, highlighted the importance of creating the human capital, in the form
4 J. J. Wirtz
of area studies, language expertise, and diplomatic relationships, to facilitate
humanitarian assistance and disaster response. According to the maritime ser-
vices strategic concept,

we will continue to mitigate human suffering as the vanguard of interagency

and multinational efforts, both in a deliberate, proactive fashion and in
response to crises. Human suffering moves us to act, and the expeditionary
character of maritime forces uniquely positions them to provide assistance. 9

Stability operations, however, create a special challenge because they call for
more than just modest changes in ship deployments and operations. Stability,
Security, Transition, and Reconstruction operations might in fact call for new
capabilities and expertise that might have to come at the expense of the ships
and career paths that are currently favored by U.S. Navy officers. Should the
Navy begin to make the long-term capital and personnel investments needed to
bolster its ability to conduct stability operations in the future?

Stability operations from the sea

Stability operations are a far cry from the warfighting demands created by blue-
water threats, but they are a logical progression of worldwide trends set in
motion since the collapse of the Soviet Union. Instead of concentrating for a
fleet engagement against a peer competitor, U.S. naval assets are now dispersed
across the world’s oceans so that they can respond to more numerous, but less
intensive threats to the interests of the United States and its friends and allies.
Increasingly, these threats do not take the form of direct combat operations
against state and non-state actors, but instead focus on operations intended to
mitigate the impact of man-made and natural disasters on local populations.
Stability operations are conducted to help establish order that advances U.S.
interests and values by aiding local civil authorities as they reconstitute basic
services and rule of law in affected territories. Stability operations return areas
ravaged by war or natural disaster to civilian governance, presenting them from
operating as bases for state and non-state actors. As history has shown, remote,
ravaged areas can be used as staging grounds for terrorist activities, and recruit-
ing grounds for foot soldiers in the political battle that animates the global war
on terrorism. For many observers, Stability, Security, Transition, and Recon-
struction operations are not a sideshow in the struggle against al Qaeda; they are
the main event that will eventually determine the course and outcome of the
conflict. The U.S. Navy clearly has a role to play in this conflict and can con-
tribute to “winning the peace” once high-intensity conventional combat opera-
tions are terminated.
SSTR operations present the Navy with several challenges. First, stability
operations involve complex programs intended to restore potentially all aspects
of civil society and its associated infrastructure. And, in the case of the more
impoverished areas of the planet, some of this social and physical infrastructure
 Introduction 5
might actually have to be constructed from scratch. Programs might be directed
at constructing or reconstituting various types of police and security forces,
operating correctional facilities and judicial systems, and providing the basic
governmental services needed to revitalize economic and social activity in a
given area. They are also directed at empowering local citizens to take part in
reconstructing their own communities, revitalizing economic activity, and
rebuilding infrastructure that has often suffered from years of neglect. Although
we take for granted supplies of clean water, working electric grids, telephones,
and functional sewer systems, to say nothing of access to the Internet and inter-
national financial institutions, recent experience demonstrates that political and
economic reform cannot move forward if individuals are locked in a desperate
struggle for survival. Stability, Security, Transition, and Reconstruction opera-
tions play a key part in denying operating areas to movements and individuals
who seek to harm U.S. interests.
Second, stability operations are not limited to a specific facet of the Navy or a
specific type of operation. Preparations for stability operations can influence a
whole range of decisions related to doctrine, organization, training, education,
exercises, materiel procurement, personnel recruitment, promotion, and reten-
tion. Navy officers must prepare to not only conduct stability operations with
their own forces but to find ways to help other countries build local security
capacity quickly. Stability operations are thus prompting the Navy to forward-
deploy assets in regions of concern and to develop new operating methods and
basing concepts. For example, Navy planners are proposing the development of
global fleet stations, made up of shore and afloat assets that respond to local
political and developmental demands in a culturally informed and agile manner
without deploying the combat capability provided by carrier strike groups or
expeditionary strike groups. A typical global fleet station might consist of a
small number of afloat or ashore units comprised of individuals drawn from a
combination of staff corps, joint, interagency, and coalition organizations.
Private organizations would be invited to participate in station operations, but it
is unlikely that non-governmental agencies would be willing to station personnel
permanently at a military facility. Global fleet stations also can be used to
support maritime domain awareness, global maritime security cooperation, and
to build partnership capacity missions.
Third, stability operations involve a host of governmental and non-
governmental organizations with competing programs, objectives, and con-
stituencies. Navy commanders have to be prepared to work with various U.S.
departments and agencies, foreign governments and security forces, global and
regional international organizations, and U.S. and foreign non-governmental
organizations. Private individuals, grassroots organizations, and commercial
enterprises also can become heavily involved in stability operations. Because
they will often be heavily engaged in a support role, Navy officers have to help
build military–civilian teams from these disparate organizations to harness avail-
able capabilities to stabilize areas in what will undoubtedly be less than ideal
circumstances. Given the range of activities involved in reconstituting civil
6 J. J. Wirtz
society – ensuring security, fostering local governance structures, promoting
bottom-up economic activity, and rebuilding infrastructure – relying on civilians
might be the only practical way to retain the skills and expertise needed to
undertake such demanding operations.
Stability, Security, Transition, and Reconstruction operations are challenging
because they create new mission areas, new basing modes, and new methods of
operation. Mission accomplishment also requires collaboration with a wide range
of operators representing governmental, non-governmental, and commercial
organizations. This collaboration is no easy task and often constitutes a politically
and bureaucratically charged issue for those involved. Non-governmental organi-
zations generally do not desire actual partnerships with military units or other state
institutions. Instead, they tend to accept services from government providers on
their own terms, which often stipulate a high degree of autonomy for the non-
governmental agency. This is especially the case where military units might be
engaged in coercive operations, which just happens to be the type of operation the
U.S. military is most often asked to perform. From a purely warfighting perspect-
ive, stability operations might be viewed as a sideshow that has little to do with
preparing for high-intensity conventional combat. Seen from another perspective,
however, these kinds of operations correspond to traditional naval missions related
to diplomacy, engagement, maritime domain awareness, suppression of piracy and
smuggling, and intervention ashore to quell civil disturbances. SSTR operations
can be depicted as a return to more traditional naval operations, albeit operations
that might not be universally welcomed in all quarters.

Institutional culture
A host of recent national and U.S. Navy policy documents have highlighted the
importance of Stability, Security, Transition, and Reconstruction operations in
U.S. foreign and defense policy. Department of Defense Directive 3000.05, for
instance, states that “stability operations are a core U.S. military mission that the
Department of Defense shall be prepared to conduct and support.”10 The 2006
Navy Concept of Operations also highlights the role of stability operations that
may “involve providing humanitarian and civic assistance to the local populace . . .
activities may include the provision of health care, construction of surface trans-
portation systems, well drilling, construction of basic sanitation facilities, and
rudimentary construction and repair of public facilities.”11 In 2007, A Coopera-
tive Strategy for 21st Century Seapower highlighted the important role played
by maritime forces as enablers of interagency and multilateral humanitarian
response and disaster-relief operations.12 Joint Doctrine has been created to
integrate the efforts of U.S. and allied units in the conduct of stability operations
and to integrate stability operations into an overall campaign plan.13 A recent
Defense Science Board Summer Study has also identified a host of organi-
zational, management, planning, and personnel reforms that could be undertaken
to better improve the ability of U.S. forces to undertake SSTR operations.14
Stability operations clearly are high on the U.S. defense policy agenda.
 Introduction 7
Given the current importance of stability operations to national policymakers,
and the Navy’s ability to contribute positively to this mission, one might expect
that Navy officers would seize this opportunity to contribute to national security
policy. The Navy has long had a tradition of independent action on the part of
small-unit commanders. A ship at sea is an entity unto itself, and captains and
crews have always been expected to exercise their own judgment when con-
fronting unexpected contingencies. Whether confronting pirates in littoral
waters, engaging in diplomatic exchanges with local dignitaries, or showing the
flag during port calls, Navy officers were supposed to support U.S. foreign,
defense, economic, and humanitarian policy abroad and to do so with only the
broadest guidance in hand. Throughout its history, diplomatic, economic, and
civil interaction was the primary mission of the U.S. Navy: the focus on blue-
water engagements emerged at the end of the nineteenth century. By affording
the opportunity for independent action by individual commanders and ships,
stability operations fit with the diplomatic, economic, and humanitarian activity
that is part of the Navy tradition. Independent action on the part of small-unit
commanders corresponds to Navy officers’ commonly held image of the role of
the ship’s captain at sea. Stability operations clearly hold a place in the U.S.
Navy’s traditions and history and, for a service that looks towards its past as a
guide to its future, stability operations can clearly be considered to represent a
normal Navy mission.15
One aspect of the U.S. Navy’s institutional culture, however, has slowed the
Navy’s response to Stability, Security, Transition, and Reconstruction opera-
tions. The aircraft carrier, the capital ship of the twentieth and twenty-first cen-
turies, continues to exert an overwhelming influence on all aspects of U.S. Navy
strategy and policy. Aircraft carriers can play a part in stability operations, but it
is clear to all concerned that smaller warships, hospital ships, patrol craft, and
even floating repair or supply platforms probably have a greater role to play in a
most stability operations. Because the aviation community currently dominates
Navy leadership positions, and because Navy operations themselves are domin-
ated by the effort to stage carrier operations, which involve a multi-year cycle of
maintenance, training, qualifications, and deployment, stability operations are
seen as at most a passing fashion or, at worst, a dangerous distraction by the avi-
ators who dominate the Navy. In the short term, stability operations take away
resources that could be used to support carrier operations, the primary naval
mission. Over the long term, SSTR operations will threaten the dominance of
the aviation community, especially if they take on greater importance in Navy
building programs, doctrine, and operations.
Because Navy warships have an operational lifetime that can easily span the
careers of several generations of officers, a slow but steady shift in procurement
priorities can have a lasting impact on capabilities. A decision to change Navy
procurement priorities today thus represents a long-term estimate of the nature
of the future threat environment. Moreover, the decision to enhance the capabil-
ity to undertake stability operations could shape all of the Navy’s shipbuilding
priorities because the ships of a modern battle group are intended to provide
8 J. J. Wirtz
interlocking and synergistic combat capabilities. Today’s cruisers and destroy-
ers, for instance, are optimized to defend carrier battle groups against air attack;
their land-attack, anti-surface, and anti-submarine capabilities are limited.
Admittedly, there is no guarantee that Stability, Security, Transition, and Recon-
struction operations will constitute the core task for future Navy officers; there is
always the chance that a blue-water naval threat will re-emerge toward the
middle of this century. But the decision to maintain the current balance that
exists between the traditional “battle fleet” and what amounts to the “auxiliary”
vessels that are often engaged in stability operations would probably be the
product of institutional inertia, not sound strategic assessment.

About the book

The purpose of this volume is to explore Stability, Security, Transition, and
Reconstruction operations, highlighting the challenges and opportunities that
they create for the U.S. Navy. In Part I, our contributors explore the strategic
setting for contemporary stability operations by placing them in their strategic,
historical, and legal context. Dan Moran explores how navies can contribute to
stability operations today, drawing upon the Royal Navy’s experience in Baltic
operations in the aftermath of World War I. John Ferris also takes an historical
approach by surveying the Royal Navy’s experience conducting stability opera-
tions. Theo Farrell explores how international law acts as both an enabler and
constraint when it comes to undertaking stability operations from the sea.
Although the contributors to Part I illustrate the opportunities and limitations
inherent in stability operations, they do highlight the fact that there is little that
is unprecedented or even unanticipated in these “new” naval missions.
In Part II, our contributors explore the new and traditional systems and opera-
tions the Navy can be expected to employ during stability operations. Jessica
Piombo and Michael Malley describe the types of education, enhancement of
capabilities, and planning that the Navy might undertake to support stability
operations, using the Navy’s response to the South Asian tsunami to illustrate
future requirements. Terry Terrif also describes several novel ways in which the
Navy could support Marine Corps units as they conduct stability operations
ashore. In Terrif’s view, Navy personnel already have the skills, equipment, and
experience necessary to assist in the reconstruction of shattered civilian infra-
structure. What is needed are better ways to allow these skilled individuals to
help reduce suffering during the next disaster.
In Part III, our authors explore contemporary stability operations and new
instruments that might be brought to bear by naval forces. Adam Siegel surveys
the role played by naval forces in peacekeeping operations. Sam Tangredi high-
lights the role played by U.S.-supplied equipment and training when it comes to
stability operations, and the important role Navy liaison and engagement plays
when it comes to fostering stability and reconstruction. J. W. Stolze also
describes the Navy’s recent revival of riverine operations and the ways in which
these forces might contribute to stability operations. Nicholas Tomb describes
 Introduction 9
how U.S. Navy personnel have contributed to Provincial Reconstruction Teams
in Afghanistan, further reinforcing Terrif’s idea that Navy personnel can some-
times contribute more on land than at sea when it comes to achieving stability.
Alan Kuperman describes how U.S. naval forces influenced events ashore
during a recent civil war in Liberia by helping to contain and curtail the
conflict.
Although our contributors are mindful of the impediments of bureaucracy
and tradition that have slowed the U.S. Navy’s embrace of Stability, Security,
Transition, and Reconstruction operations, they all agree that navies can play a
significant role in winning the peace, restoring the rule of law, and alleviating
human suffering. U.S. Navy officers share similar beliefs, but they often find it
hard to imagine how naval assets can be brought to bear in relatively unconven-
tional ways to achieve these noncombat objectives. Navies have a long tradition
of launching stability operations from the sea; it is time to think about how that
tradition will continue in the twenty-first century.

Notes
1 Jan Breemer, “Naval Strategy Is Dead,” U.S. Naval Institute Proceedings, vol. 120,
no. 2 (February 1994), pp. 49–53.
2 Linton F. Brooks, “Naval Power and National Security, The Case for the Maritime
Strategy,” International Security, vol. 11, no. 2 (Fall 1986), pp. 58–88.
3 Theodor W. Galdi, “Revolution in Military Affairs,” CRS Report 951170 F, 11
December 1995.
4 Edward N. Luttwak, The Pentagon and the Art of War (New York: Simon & Schus-
ter, 1984), p. 263.
5 Sam J. Tangredi (ed.), Globalization and Maritime Power (Washington, DC: National
Defense University Press, 2002).
6 Robert Looney, David Schrady, and Ronald Brown, “Estimating the Economic Bene-
fits of Forward-Engaged Naval Forces,” Interfaces vol. 31, no. 4 (July–August 2001),
pp. 74–86; Dov S. Zakheim, Sally Newman, Jeffrey Ranney, Richard Small, Peter
Colohan, and Rhodes, Jonathan Dicicco, Sarah Moore, and Tom Walker, The Polit-
ical and Economic Implications of Global Naval Presence (Arlington, VA: System
Planning Corp., 1996); Daniel J. Whiteneck, Naval Forward Presence and Regional
Stability (Alexandria, VA: Center for Naval Analysis, 2001); and Edward Rhodes et
al., “Forward Presence and Engagement: Historical Insights into the Problem of
‘Shaping,’ ” Naval War College Review (Winter 2000), pp. 25–61.
7 Mike Mullen, “Global Concept of Operations,” U.S. Naval Institute Proceedings,
April 2003, www.usni.org/proceedings/Articles03/Promullen04.htm.
8 Bruce A. Elleman, Waves of Hope: The U.S. Navy’s Response to the Tsunami in North-
ern Indonesia Newport Papers #28 (Newport: Naval War College Press, February 2007).
9 A Cooperative Strategy for 21st Century Seapower, October 2007, p. 14, www.navy.mil/
maritimestrategy.pdf.
10 Department of Defense Directive, “Military Support for Stability, Security, Trans-
ition, and Reconstruction (SSTR) Operations,” Directive Number 3000.05, 28
November 2005.
11 Naval Operations Concept, 2006, p. 19, www.quantico.usmc.mil/seabasing/docs/naval.
12 A Cooperative Strategy for 21st Century Seapower, p. 14.
13 Military Support to Stabilization, Security, Transition, and Reconstruction Opera-
tions, Joint Operating Concept, Version 2.0, December 2006.
10 J. J. Wirtz
14 Defense Science Board, Transition to and from Hostilities, 2004 Summer Study
(Washington, DC: Office of the Under Secretary of Defense for Acquisition, Techno-
logy, and Logistics, December 2004).
15 Carl Builder, The Masks of War: American Military Styles in Strategy and Analysis
(Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1989).
Part I

Background
2 Stability operations
The view from afloat
Daniel Moran

Stability, Security, Transition, and Reconstruction (SSTR)1 operations have

gone by many other names. Small wars, low-intensity conflict, counter-
insurgency, peace operations, military operations other than war – the list could
be extended without difficulty, each new name representing a fresh and hopeful
plateau along a learning curve that America’s armed forces have struggled to
ascend. There is no question that the rhetorical instability that has surrounded
what will here be styled simply “stability operations” has been symptomatic of
institutional conflict and stress, a public example of which was offered a few
days before the most recent revision to approved nomenclature was announced,
when the United States Secretary of Defense took it upon himself, at a press
conference, to admonish the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff not to call the
metastasizing violence in Iraq an “insurgency,” a word that he felt gave too
much credit to America’s enemies.2
Serious students of language have long suspected that what things are called
has more to do with what they “really are” than common sense finds comfort-
able. In this instance, however, it is the difficulty in finding the right words,
rather than the words themselves, that is revealing. It is easy to see what all
these operations in search of a name have in common. All require the carefully
modulated and highly discriminate use of force; extensive coordination with
domestic and foreign civilian agencies, and perhaps also with international
government and non-governmental organizations; a willingness to embrace
open-ended military commitments; and, an “inverted” force structure, in which
elements that are normally in support – medical, logistical, intelligence, police,
communications, engineering, or civil affairs units, for instance – may carry the
main burden of accomplishing the desired mission.

War by any other name

For America’s armed forces the question is not so much how to do these things
as how to locate them within a general scheme of strategic priorities, and how to
relate their tactical requirements to a diversity of political purposes. The current
formulation at least captures some of the tension that earlier labels have tended
to conceal – “transition” and “stability” being, if not quite antithetical, then at
14 D. Moran
least divergent in political and strategic terms, however similar the tactical tasks
they may entail. The conjoined pursuit of stability and transition as if they were
two sides of the same coin (as opposed to two poles of a magnet) comes close to
capturing the paradox at the heart of U.S. foreign policy, which has long sought
to transform the world in line with American moral and ideological preferences,
while simultaneously reaching out for the stability required by U.S. material and
power-political interests. It has never been easy to figure out, in strategic terms,
exactly how this can be accomplished.
The question of where stability operations fit into the broader policy picture
first came in for serious consideration following the collapse of the Soviet
Union. Its disappearance seemed to have left the United States alone in a world
of shifting and ill-defined threats. The great Soviet dragon had died, as former
CIA Director James Woolsey observed, but the world was still full of snakes.3
None were so venomous as to menace American vital interests, but it was a dis-
quieting picture nonetheless, and one that called upon the United States to
rework its strategic priorities more or less from scratch. The result was a new
consensus, already emergent in the last years of the Cold War, that conceived of
international violence along a “spectrum of conflict”4 as depicted in Figure 2.1.
The notion of a conflict spectrum in turn gave rise to the doctrine of “full
spectrum dominance,” meaning that the United States wished to configure its
armed forces so as to be able to deploy them with decisive effect anywhere
along the spectrum and, by extension, anywhere in the world.5
Most representations of the spectrum of conflict feature a graceful curve
extending from the upper left to the lower right, a conceit that has been omitted
in Figure 2.1 because no one in fact knows the real shape of such a curve. In any

Port visits, civic action

Non-combatant evacuations, disaster relief
Humanitarian assistance, foreign internal defense, counter-drug operations
Freedom of navigation
Peacekeeping, counter-terrorism
Restoring order, peacemaking
Peace enforcement
Key asset defense, maritime interdiction, blockade
Likelihood

Insurgency/counterinsurgency
Preemptive and punitive strikes
Conventional defensive operations
Conventional offensive operations
Theater-level campaign
General war
Theater nuclear
war
“Peace “Major regional Global SIOP
Peace
operations” contingencies” war

Level of “conflict” [~violence]

Figure 2.1 Spectrum of conflict (c.1990).

 The view from afloat 15
event, two ideas stand out: that military actions involving limited or no use of
force are inherently more common than those involving large-scale violence;
and that the logical relationship among such actions is basically linear, each
operational category blending seamlessly into the next by a process akin to the
escalation that is a normal feature of conventional war.
When the spectrum of conflict was laid on top of a similarly prioritized
understanding of American national interests, moreover, a surprisingly clear
picture emerged. The high stakes are all on the right, where the likelihood of
trouble had become exceedingly small. The operations on the left were remote
from American vital interests, but they were also easy to accomplish in the
course of normal military activity. Many observers in and out of uniform were
prepared to argue that, relative to their costs, operations on the far left of the
chart paid disproportionate political dividends, as part of the general upkeep of
the “New World Order.” Those in the middle, labeled “Peace operations,” (as
was normal at the time), might entail unexpected difficulty and risk in military
terms. But they were associated with “important” rather than “vital” American
interests – a distinction enshrined in the annual National Security Strategies
mandated by the Goldwater–Nichols Act of 1986 – and were accordingly con-
ceived as more or less optional, linked to an ad hoc interventionist policy
intended to maintain regional stability and vindicate human rights.
This understanding of how the world worked collapsed in the rubble of the
World Trade Center and the Pentagon in September 2001, and has since been
interred in the shattered neighborhoods of Kandahar and al-Fallujah. The bitter
experiences that these names recall have destabilized the American strategic
picture in at least three respects. It is now taken for granted that major American
interests can be put at risk by quite small applications of force – a fair character-
ization of the terrorist attacks of September 2001. It is likewise no longer pos-
sible to view the political decrepitude of the developing world with anything like
the old complacency. In the 1980s the United States intervened with great effect
to thwart the Soviet Union’s designs in Afghanistan, and then lost interest in the
obscure, internecine violence that followed. The result was the emergence of a
government more than willing to afford refuge to America’s most virulent
enemies. The danger that may arise if such vacuums of social order are left
untended is now more fully appreciated as a consequence. It has become appar-
ent that a strategy that embraces “regime change” as the final option against
states that tolerate or sponsor terrorism must also embrace stability operations as
an integral, and not merely an ancillary, element. Whatever role stability opera-
tions may play in the pursuit of marginal or humanitarian American interests,
they also represent the mandatory exploitation phase of any strategy to over-
throw another government.
It would be premature to assume that this renewed interest in stability opera-
tions is more coherent or likely to endure than the one that it has displaced. The
enabling connection between failed states and global terrorism is by no means
certain, for instance – failed states being difficult places in which to operate,
even for terrorists. Irrespective of the nuances, however, it seems unlikely that
16 D. Moran
the old, linear understanding of the relationship between large- and small-scale
violence will recover from the blows dealt to it by recent history. On the con-
trary, far from describing a smoothly changing spectrum of conflict, large and
small wars now seem to encircle and engender each other, to the point where
there is little reason to be good at the first if you are not also good at the second.6
The remainder of this chapter considers the range of contributions that
seapower in general, and naval forces in particular, may make in countering the
range of threats that stability operations address. It concludes with a discussion
of an operation undertaken by the Royal Navy during the Russian Civil War,
known as the Baltic Patrol, which highlights some of the distinctive features of
the limited and discretionary use of naval force, under circumstances not
altogether different from those we face today.

Maritime strategy for the long war

American grand strategy since 2001 has brought stability operations emphati-
cally to the attention of America’s armed forces. None have taken them as seri-
ously in the past as they may be expected to for the foreseeable future. The Navy
is at no particular disadvantage in this respect. If anything, maritime forces have
been historically more disposed than armies and air forces to regard the carefully
modulated use of force as central to their role. A glance at the left-hand side of
Figure 2.1 includes a number of tasks in which naval forces normally play a pre-
ponderant role. The United States Navy, by virtue of being a deployed force
even in peacetime, also suffers less than its sister services from one of the
common anxieties associated with stability operations, which is that the special
training they demand, particularly for combat infantry and other “trigger-
pullers” among the ground component, diverts attention from the skills needed
to employ lethal force on a large scale, and dulls the psychological edge required
to do so. Such issues are inherently of less significance for navies, whose ships
ply the waves and discharge their weapons in much the same fashion regardless
of where they may be sent, or why. Viewed from afloat, then, there is nothing
immediately alarming about the heightened emphasis on stability operations.
The leverage of seapower arises from two things that only navies can do.
First, a nation that “commands the sea,” in Mahan’s resonant phrase, is able to
deny military and commercial use of the sea to an adversary. It is also well posi-
tioned to profit from its continued use by others. Maritime strategy turns upon
the ability of maritime states to accumulate economic resources and financial
advantages under the umbrella of their naval power, and to extend the reassur-
ance such power affords to neutrals, who in the worst of times have always
tended to shelter, if sometimes reluctantly, under its protection. In addition, a
navy affords unique means of inflicting harm directly on the enemy, by virtue of
its ability to transport troops to a hostile shore, and to employ its own weapons
on and from the world’s oceans.
The United States Navy, whose institutional identity is founded above all on
its contribution to the defeat of Japan in World War II, has historically stressed
 The view from afloat 17
the second of these forms of naval power, aptly described by George Baer as
“offensive sea control.”7 Against an opponent like the Soviet Union, however,
the significance of even the most powerful naval weapons paled. Their ability
to influence the conduct of the Red Army seemed insufficient to justify the
risk of employing them close inshore. The slowly accumulating economic
pressure that a navy can bring to bear via blockade seemed even more irrele-
vant, given the prevailing image of World War III as a swiftly unfolding apoc-
alypse, commencing in an overwhelming conventional clash, and culminating
in nuclear war. The Navy eventually gained something like a fair share in the
conduct of the Cold War only because it devised ways to deploy nuclear
weapons at sea, which in turn caused the Soviet Union to develop an important
naval capability of its own, to protect its seaborne nuclear forces, and to attack
those of the U.S.
In this connection, however, it is worth remembering that the naval share in
the defeat of the Soviet Union was not confined to its contribution to bilateral
deterrence, however large or small one may judge that to have been. Navies are
at their best in long war, which is what the Cold War proved to be. Had the
United States been called upon to fight World War III (always envisioned as a
short one), it is hard to say what role its navy might have played. But in reality
that is not the war it was required to win.
The West’s victory in the Cold War was doubtless over-determined, but at
bottom there lies the fact that America’s role as the engine of a globalizing
world economy eventually created insupportable contradictions for its enemy,
whose economy was burdened by a defective ideology, and isolated from the
real sources of wealth in the world. The Cold War drew to a close when the
social costs of maintaining competitive military capabilities became insupport-
able for one side; whereas for the other those costs had declined quite steadily in
relative terms. The role of maritime power in bringing about this outcome was
largely invisible while it was going on, and it is difficult to stipulate in detail
even in retrospect exactly how maritime power helped to put the Soviet Union
out of its misery. Yet the fact remains that the essential glue by which the world
economy assembled itself into a shape so overwhelmingly favorable to
America’s interests was the world’s oceans, supervised for half a century by the
navies of the United States and its allies. A picture of the winning team in the
Cold War would have at its center the members of an alliance named after an
ocean – the North Atlantic Treaty Organization. Historically speaking, there is
nothing surprising about this.
The surest path to victory in any global conflict, “hot” or “cold,” is to conduct
yourself so as to insure that the rich countries and critical resource areas of the
world end up on your side. This has been the essence of maritime strategy since
the Age of Sail, and there is no reason to expect the pattern to change anytime
soon. No less perennial, however, is the complaint that naval power is inherently
indecisive in military terms, that it merely enables the success of other, more
directly applied violence. In relation to the kinds of challenges that stability
operations address, the influence of American naval supremacy on the world
18 D. Moran
economy – in doctrinal terms a form of “strategic shaping” – is subject to
especially steep discounting, since America’s adversaries in such conflicts are
likely to be economically marginal anyway, hence unresponsive to the incen-
tives for good behavior that may arise from that quarter.
Given prevailing fiscal and political realities, it is understandable that the
Navy, while hopeful of getting more budgetary credit than it has in the past for
shaping the global environment, is reluctant to embrace a strictly enabling role
with respect to stability operations. The Navy Strategic Plan promulgated in the
spring of 2006 declares, apropos of “stability and shaping [sic] operations,” that
“ ‘non-traditional’ mission sets such as counter-terrorism, humanitarian affairs,
disaster relief, counter-piracy, peace-keeping, and peace enforcement, are no
longer appropriately considered lesser included subsets of the missions sets
associated with major regional conflict or major combat operations.”8 The Navy
has thus effectively renounced the claim that, merely by going about its accus-
tomed tasks, it is contributing its share to stability operations. True to its tradi-
tions, it wishes to steam toward the sound of the guns, however faintly they may
be heard.

Operations and capabilities

Modern naval forces can do many things that armies and air forces also do. This
is partly owed to the convergent effects of new technology, which have caused
precision strike systems to resemble each other quite closely in terms of their
tactical effects, irrespective of where they are deployed. The three service
branches in the United States have also converged organizationally, thanks to
the spread of managerial “best practices” from the world of business, and to
pressure from Congress and the senior leadership of the Defense Department.
The modern joint force is one whose parts fit together more smoothly than in the
past, and they have become more interchangeable in the process.
One way in which the Navy can support stability operations is simply to con-
tribute its share of the relevant skill sets to the required missions. The Navy pos-
sesses engineers, doctors, civil affairs officers, policemen, communications
experts, intelligence officers, truck drivers, lawyers, clerks – any of which might
be posted ashore to work alongside their Army and Air Force counterparts. Also
available is the entirety of the United States Marine Corps, a naval service that
has increasingly dedicated itself to mastering the arts of counter-insurgency and
irregular warfare on land.9 A large or protracted overseas deployment by the
United States Army (or the Air Force, for that matter) can scarcely be attempted
without relying on the “strategic lift” provided by the Navy, whether in the form
of commissioned warships or civilian vessels contracted under its auspices.
Finally, warships can provide a range of services in the areas of communications
and reconnaissance that may be directly relevant to operations ashore. Viewed in
these terms the Navy is simply a resource pool, whose assets can be seconded to
perform stability operations alongside other service components, to whatever
extent may be demanded.
 The view from afloat 19
The relevance of naval forces to the prosecution of operations on the sea is
not in doubt. If the requirement is to control piracy or maritime smuggling, then
only seaborne forces will do. Failed or failing states are naturally hospitable to
criminal activity, whose suppression may be important to establishing or sus-
taining the legitimacy of government. But whether the need to do this sort of
thing would warrant the diversion of important naval units from other missions,
much less the creation of specialized warships configured for such tasks, is
another matter. The sea is not a friendly environment for insurgents. Revolution-
ary movements in the developing world do not normally have navies. There are
exceptions, however, notably the Tamil Tigers, who have waged a ferocious
campaign against the patrol boats and smaller craft of the Sri Lankan Navy.
Hundreds of suicide attacks against such vessels have been recorded over the
last 25 years, a track record equally suggestive of determination and futility,
perhaps, but nevertheless one that may attract the attention of other, similarly
situated groups.10
Questions in this area are complicated by concern that piracy, drug smug-
gling, or other criminal activities might somehow become tangled up with ter-
rorism directed against the United States or its allies. Exactly how this
entanglement might occur is hard to say. The most alarming possibility, entirely
hypothetical as of this writing, would be the use of commandeered ships as
weapons, in the manner of the commercial airliners employed in the attacks of
September 2001. Alternatively, endemic piracy might provide cover for terrorist
attacks against ships, in the manner of the French tanker Limburg, rammed by a
small boat packed with explosives off the coast of Yemen in October 2002.
Despite such exemplary episodes, it is hard to believe that maritime opera-
tions hold much promise from the point of view of terrorists and their ilk. It is
exceedingly rare, because exceedingly difficult, for large vessels like the
Limburg to be attacked while underway. In 2004 the National Counterterrorism
Center identified 651 terrorist actions worldwide, of which only two occurred at
sea.11 Nevertheless, however insubstantial the threat may appear, such concerns
have already served to heighten the Navy’s interest in what has come to be
called “maritime domain awareness.” Acquiring such awareness is a formidable
problem indeed, particularly when the task is extended to include knowledge of
the contents of the hundreds of millions of cargo containers that cross the
world’s oceans annually. A visionary start has been made, however, in the form
of a proposal to constitute the so-called “1,000-ship navy,” a misnamed but
otherwise notably creative project. Its aim is to promote cooperation among
national navies, police organizations, and the shipping industry, albeit without
the establishment of any formal diplomatic or legal structure that would bind
them to a common purpose.12 One important and relatively practicable provision
would seek to extend the Automatic Identification System now employed by
large seagoing ships to coastal shipping and other small craft. Such a measure, if
widely adopted, would at least make the preliminary identification of suspect
vessels easier than it is at present.
20 D. Moran
U.S. Navy roles
How far stability operations can benefit from the strategic leverage afforded by
command of the sea is more difficult to assess. The task of patrolling coastal waters
and controlling maritime access is not one for which the United States Navy is
especially well suited, reliant as it is upon a small number of large and powerful
ships. If such missions were to prove sufficiently significant one would expect the
Navy’s force structure to evolve accordingly, a development of which there is scant
evidence so far. The new littoral combat ship (LCS) is smaller and more capable of
working inshore than a traditional frigate. The full-load displacement draft of LCS
1, launched in September 2006, is only ten feet. But the key missions are still naval
combat of a familiar kind. The first LCS, in the words of its builder, is “a fast,
maneuverable and networked surface combatant with operational flexibility to
execute focused missions, such as mine warfare, anti-submarine warfare, surface
warfare, and humanitarian relief.” Even a sympathetic reader will recognize that the
reference to humanitarian relief is mostly marketing.13
What the United States Navy is well suited for, apart from waging conven-
tional or nuclear war, is the maintenance at sea of highly capable maritime
forces for indefinite periods of time. Such naval presence is integral to the
shaping role alluded to earlier. It also contributes to conventional deterrence, by
confronting potential aggressors with the prospect that any action that they
might undertake will be met with a response that is not merely powerful, but
swift to arrive. Speed is as often as not the critical consideration. Conventional
aggression over the course of the last century has typically featured an over-
whelming initial attack, carried out by a party that recognizes that its chances of
prevailing in a protracted struggle are not good, but which nevertheless imagines
that its initial success will be so profound as to shift the strategic balance
permanently in its favor. The speed with which forward-deployed naval forces
can respond offers at least some hope that those contemplating such a move will
recognize that the “window of opportunity” that they are hoping to squeeze
through is actually quite small, in which case they may choose some other, less
destructive course of action.
Within the framework of stability operations, the speed with which forward-
deployed naval forces can respond to a crisis is mainly relevant when the crisis
is of natural origin, as the exemplary role played by American naval forces in
response to the Indian Ocean tsunami of 2004 shows. Whether swift action, and
the deterrent effects that arise from it, matter to the human adversaries that
stability operations are likely to confront must be doubted. Insurgency and ter-
rorism generally unfold slowly, and in contrast to conventional aggression do
not count upon immediate results to shift the political balance in their favor.
Those who employ such methods take it for granted that time is on their side.
Defeating them requires that they be proven wrong, but doing so is more about
patience and persistence than speed.
Against such adversaries the skills and capabilities required for naval forward
presence may take a somewhat different form, via the creation of “sea bases,”
 The view from afloat 21
from which American ground forces may operate in lieu of establishing compa-
rable infrastructure on land. Sea-basing promises to reduce the shore-side foot-
print of American forces operating overseas. Its feasibility and cost-
effectiveness are unknown, because the concept is untried, but there can be little
question that, if successful, sea-basing would afford obvious advantages in the
area of force protection. These would come at the price of eliminating some
opportunities for contact between American soldiers and the inhabitants of the
host nation. Whether this is a good or a bad thing depends entirely on circum-
stances, and specifically on the question whether the visible presence of Amer-
ican forces ashore is reassuring or unsettling in social and political terms.

Stability operations: the Baltic Patrol

It remains to consider the relevance of combatant warships to stability opera-
tions. Not the least irony of the present moment is that, having struggled
throughout the Cold War against the possibility that warships and their
weapons might be too inconsequential to matter against an opponent like the
Soviet Union, the Navy now finds itself struggling against the possibility that
those same weapons may be too overpowering to matter against an opponent
like al Qaeda, much less the “Islamic courts” of Somalia or other shadowy
threats for which stability operations are the intended remedy. Navies, as men-
tioned earlier, have a long history of employing limited force, a history bril-
liantly surveyed by James Cable in his book Gunboat Diplomacy.14 As Cable’s
account shows, however, the intersection between diplomacy and violence on
the high seas has usually arisen among organized governments, able to send
and receive the kinds of signals that artfully modulated violence is supposed to
send. Still, one of the examples of gunboat diplomacy that Cable analyzes also
qualifies as a “stability operation” within the current meaning of that phrase
(and accepting that “stability” can be synonymous with “transition”). A brief
account of its history may highlight the strengths and limitations of naval
warfare in circumstances where both the risks and the rewards are only dimly
foreseen at the start.
In 1919 the British government decided to send a squadron of warships into
the Baltic Sea to exploit whatever advantages might arise there from the revolu-
tion in Russia. Britain and other Western powers, including the United States,
had already intervened militarily against the Bolsheviks, but those efforts would
accomplish nothing, apart from reinforcing the belief of Lenin and his col-
leagues that the Great Powers wished them dead. What became known as the
Baltic Patrol was conceived along different lines. Not the least interesting
feature of its activities, which lasted until 1921, is that at no time during their
course did anyone go ashore.
James Cable analyzes the Baltic Patrol as an example of what he calls “cat-
alytic force,” which may be defined as military or naval operations intended to
seize opportunities or avert disasters when strategists do not actually know what
they are. “A situation arises,” as he says,
22 D. Moran
pregnant with formless menace or offering obscure opportunities. Some-
thing, it is felt, is going to happen, something that somehow might be pre-
vented if force were available at the critical point. Advantages, their nature
and the manner of their achievement still undetermined, might be reaped by
those able to put immediate and appropriate power behind their sickle.
These are situations peculiarly favorable to the exercise of limited naval
warfare.15

In this case, the obscure opportunities were mainly tactical: British warships
were able to enter the Baltic only because of the simultaneous collapse of both
Germany and Russia in World War I. For a maritime and imperial nation, used
to fishing in troubled waters, such a temptation would have been difficult to
resist at any time. It was heightened in this case by conditions ashore, where a
scene of unexampled chaos was unfolding, as White Russians, Bolsheviks,
undefeated German Freikorps, and a diversity of Baltic patriots all sought to
make what they could from the remnants of the Romanov Empire. No one had a
clear idea which (if any) side Britain might take, but it seemed obvious that the
options would only be improved by the presence of a Royal Navy squadron.
Actual orders arrived months later, instructing the rear admiral commanding
to “show the British flag and support British policy as circumstances dictate.”16
Over the next year policy and circumstances would shift repeatedly, as His
Majesty’s government pondered whether to back the cause of “regime change”
(exemplified by the White Russian armies), national self-determination (exem-
plified by the irregular forces of the Baltic nationalists), or appeasement (on the
grounds that, if the Bolsheviks were going to win anyway, it would be as well
not to infuriate them). The squadron thus found occasion to fire its guns at virtu-
ally everyone in theater, holding the ring until Whitehall settled on the Baltic
nationalists as the ultimate beneficiaries of British support. At no time did
Britain declare war on anyone, not even the revolutionary government in
Moscow, because it feared the domestic political repercussions of doing so as
much as anything; though it did take the opportunity to sink two Russian battle-
ships in naval actions off Kronstadt.
The independence of Latvia, Lithuania, and Estonia was confirmed by treaty
with Moscow in 1920. This result was owed chiefly to the valor of the native forces
fighting on their behalf, and to the weakness of a Bolshevik government in the
throes of establishing itself. Yet it is difficult to deny that, despite the irresolution
and capriciousness of British policy, the Baltic Patrol contributed its share to
achieving an outcome that favored British interests. It was by today’s standards a
considerable operation, involving hundreds of ships at one time or another, of
which 17 were sunk, primarily by mines. The ships were small, and the loss of life
limited – in all 128 British officers and men were killed – but even so it is in the
nature of such opportunistic campaigns that afterwards many would wonder
whether it was worth it. The Soviet Union survived, after all, and the Baltic states
would be reabsorbed within it soon enough. Uncertainty, disappointment, and
remorse generally go hand in hand in such matters, in our time no less than theirs.
 The view from afloat 23
In many ways the story of the Baltic Patrol presents a spectacle remote from
current political reality, in which the use of force on anything like a comparable
scale would be greeted with widespread public alarm, notwithstanding the more
discriminating destructiveness of modern weapons. Yet the patrol’s history
remains instructive in at least two respects. First, in circumstance like those in
the Baltic in 1919, naval “presence” would have made no difference. Unless the
ships that were sent there were prepared to use their weapons for effect, there
was no point sending them at all. Stability operations, to the extent that they
involve violent conflict as opposed to humanitarian relief, embrace a wide
range of political circumstances, most of which are symptomatic of conditions
in which the subtler tools of “gunboat diplomacy” are bound to be lost in the
noise. Naval presence is a subtle tool. Unless it is supported by credible assur-
ances that force will follow, should semiotics fail, the results may well prove
disappointing.17
It is also instructive to consider how poorly British interests in the Balkans
would have been served had they been pursued by means of the British Army
rather than the Royal Navy. Then as now, the insertion of “boots on the ground”
in response to a crisis represents a qualitatively different sort of commitment
than that involved in the dispatching of warships, however numerous or formid-
able. Once committed, such forces would have been hard-pressed to adapt to the
second thoughts of Britain’s political leaders – a grievous but timeless defect of
public life to which armed forces must accommodate themselves. A military
force comparable in effectiveness to the Baltic Patrol could scarcely have shifted
its sights with anything like the alacrity required by British policy or prevailing
local circumstances. Once engaged with an adversary, its disengagement could
not have been accomplished without the kind of humiliating explanations that
most governments will go to great lengths to avoid – including persisting in mil-
itary commitments that have outlived their usefulness, or strayed from their
ostensible purpose.
An army is, in political terms, a stake in the ground. If that is what you want
then only an army will do. Employing one necessarily risks creating hostages to
fortune, however, which means that such a commitment should only be made
after that downstream risk has been fully considered. The outstanding strategic
characteristic of a navy, on the other hand, is not merely that it affords additional
choices with respect to where and how force is used, but that it affords unique
means of limiting or altering political commitments as circumstances change.
This is no less true for stability operations than for any other kind. If these things
are not desired, then naval forces are the wrong choice, except as enablers for
the hard work of others. If they are, then nothing else will work nearly so well.

Notes
1 Department of Defense Directive 3000.05, “Military Support of Stability, Security,
Transition, and Reconstruction Operations,” (28 November 2005); online at
www.dtic.mil/whs/directives/corres/html/300005.htm.
2 Dana Milbank, “Rumsfeld’s War on ‘Insurgents’,” Washington Post (30 November
24 D. Moran
2005); online at www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2005/11/29/
AR2005112901405.html.
3 R. James Woolsey, Testimony before the Committee on National Security of the
United States House of Representatives (12 February 1998); online at
www.loyola.edu/dept/politics/intel/19980212woolsey.html.
4 See, for instance, “The Maritime Strategy,” United States Naval Institute Proceedings
(January 1986), supplement 8, which includes a simplified diagram similar to the
example in Figure 2.1.
5 Full-spectrum dominance is the organizing principle of Joint Vision 2020, currently
the most authoritative general statement of the strategic outlook of the United States
armed forces; online at www.dtic.mil/jointvision/jvpub2.htm.
6 The metaphor of the spectrum has retained its rhetorical hold, even as it has lost its
ability to clarify reality. An example may be found in the Naval Operating Concept
for Joint Operations (April 2003), which attempts to categorize the “range of military
operations” across “War,” “Military Operations Other than War Involving the
Use/Threat of Force,” and “Military Operations Other than War Not Involving the
Use/Threat of Force.” Of the 24 mission types represented, none is confined to a
single category, and 14 are included in all three. Online at www.nwdc.navy.mil/
Conops/NOC.pdf.
7 George Baer, One Hundred Years of Sea Power: The U.S. Navy, 1890–1990 (Stan-
ford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1994), p. 4. The American disposition toward
offensive sea control was rooted in the navalist theorizing of the 1890s, of which
Mahan’s work is the preeminent expression. But its practical realization had to await
the war with Japan. Before Pearl Harbor, as Baer notes (following Edward Beach),
the United States Navy had “logged only 56 hours of actual fighting in its history” (p.
182).
8 Department of the Navy, Navy Strategic Plan in Support of Program Objective Mem-
orandum 08 (Washington, D.C., May 2006), pp. 8–9; online at http://bosun.nps.edu/
uhtbin/hyperion.exe/NSPPOM08.pdf.
9 The extend to which irregular warfare has displaced amphibious assault as the core
competency defining the Marine Corps’ institutional identity is apparent from its
recent top-level doctrinal publications. See for instance Marine Corps Combat Devel-
opment Command, Marine Corps Operating Concepts for a Changing Security
Environment (Quantico, Virginia, March 2006); online at http://handle.dtic.mil/100.2/
ADA446044.
10 See Martin Murphy, “Maritime Threat: Tactics and Technology of the Sea Tigers,”
Jane’s Intelligence Review (12 May 2006); online at www.janes.com/security/inter-
national_security/news/jir/jir060512_1_n.shtml.
11 Cited by James Pelkofski, “Before the Storm: al Qaeda’s Coming Maritime Cam-
paign,” Proceedings of the United States Naval Institute (December 2005), p. 21;
online at www.usni.org/proceedings/Articles05/Pro12Pelkofski.html. Despite its title,
Pelkofski’s article leaves little doubt that ships are mainly at risk of attack when they
are moored at the pier. See also Paul W. Parfomak and John Frittelli, Maritime Secur-
ity: Potential Terrorist Attacks and Protection Priorities, Congressional Research
Service Report for Congress (9 January 2007); online at www.fas.org/sgp/crs/
homesec/RL33787.pdf.
12 John Morgan, Jr, and Charles Martoglio, “The Global Maritime Network,” Proceed-
ings of the United States Naval Institute (November 2005); online at
www.military.com/forums/0,15240,81652,00.html.
13 The quotation is from the website of PEO Ships, the builder of the USS Freedom
(LCS 1); online at http://peoships.crane.navy.mil/lcs/. The LCS, despite its name, is
not an amphibious warship, but a specialized variant of the DD(X) future surface
combatant. The “focused mission” concept that governed its design incorporates
modularized mission packages, of which three currently exist: anti-submarine
 The view from afloat 25
warfare, mine warfare, and anti-surface warfare. There is no mission package for
“humanitarian relief.”
14 James Cable, Gunboat Diplomacy, 1919–1991: Political Applications of Limited
Naval Force, 3rd edn (New York: St Martin’s Press, 1994).
15 Ibid., p. 46. The discussion below follows Cable’s account, which is based on two
principal sources: Stanley W. Page, The Formation of the Baltic States (Cambridge,
MA: Harvard University Press, 1959); and Richard H. Ullman, Anglo-Soviet Rela-
tions, 1917–21, vol. 2: Britain and the Russian Civil War (Princeton, NJ: Princeton
University Press, 1968).
16 Cable, Gunboat Diplomacy, p. 47.
17 In this connection it is good to recall the distinction that Cable draws between “cat-
alytic force,” like that wielded by the Baltic Patrol, and “expressive” force, in which
warships are employed “to emphasize attitudes, to lend verisimilitude to otherwise
unconvincing statements, or to provide an outlet for emotion” (ibid., p. 62). The his-
tories of most navies are replete with activities of this kind, and, while they are not
necessarily harmful, it is a mistake to confuse them with more effective forms of
action.
3 SSTR as history
The British Royal Navy experience,
1815–1930
John Ferris1

Stability, Security, Transition, and Reconstruction (SSTR) has a history.2 Navies

mattered to it primarily at just one time, between 1815–1930. Though France
and the United States also practiced the art of using ships to stabilize the situ-
ation ashore, its master was Britain, which attempted and executed the greatest
uses of seapower for the purposes of SSTR on record. Its failures were as
weighty as its successes; together, they shaped the world as much as did any
other phenomena. No other power in history ever relied on navies, or gained as
much from them, to the extent that Britain did during this period. Its very status
as a – the – world power rested on seapower. In 1922, Prime Minister David
Lloyd George said “we are naturally sailors and an amphibious race.” In 1927,
Foreign Secretary Austen Chamberlain, described seapower as “our great
strength and decisive weapon.” In 1929, a First Sea Lord, Charles Madden,
wrote, “The Navy is the chief sanction of our Foreign Policy; it is hardly an
exaggeration to say that every Foreign Office telegram is backed by it.”3 Navy
and empire were especially linked. Between 1815–1930, outside Europe, India,
and some other colonies, the Royal Navy (RN) was Britain’s main arm of
policy. Among its basic roles were tasks in war, power politics and areas related
to SSTR, often described by terms like “presence,” “symbolic use,” “imperial
policing,” “gunboat diplomacy,” “coercion” and “preventative, precautionary
and pre-emptive naval diplomacy,” to pursue national interests, commercial or
political, and common goods, like enforcing international law, suppressing
piracy, and supporting free trade. This chapter assesses Britain’s use of maritime
power in SSTR between 1815–1930, and its value, limits, and unintended
consequences.

The Royal Navy and the rise of empire

Before 1792, the RN had little concern with SSTR. Its fleets were rarely based
for long outside Europe or the North Atlantic, nor used for tasks beyond power
politics and war. Britain, in a proper mercantilist fashion, pursued narrow rather
than common interests. After 1815, conversely, its biggest fleets always rested in
Europe or, in cases of conflict with the United States, Bermuda, but permanent
squadrons were based elsewhere.4 These squadrons, usually but not always small
 SSTR as history 27
(between three to five ships in the East Indies, five to seven ships in Australian
waters and four to eight ships off South America), were still the largest fleets in
their seas. Between 1820–70, moreover, anti-slavery squadrons in the Atlantic
were often comprised of over 20 warships, while 40 vessels were sent to the
China seas between 1838–40, and 20 between 1858–62. A technological revolu-
tion, which let ships exercise greater power on land, multiplied the value of
these numbers. Sail of the line, though masters of the open seas, could not easily
move upriver or smash the forts of non-Western people. Steam technology
changed these rules.5 A steamship was first used in battle during the Burma war
of 1828, where it was central to British victory in a riverine conflict. The deploy-
ment of just one steam gunship enabled the annihilation of the defenses of
Guandong (Canton) in 1841, and the passing of the bar at the Fraser River
mouth and control over unruly American gold miners in 1858.6 Engines and ord-
nance steadily improved, and until 1890, British warships were designed espe-
cially for inshore power.
The overall effect of these naval efforts was limited by British weakness on
land. The celebrated “English barrack in the India Seas,” the Indian army, rarely
provided soldiers for service abroad. Nor were British soldiers often available
for the RN’s tasks in SSTR. Royal Marines and seamen turned soldiers supplied
most land forces. Meanwhile, enemies were large and friends weak, whether
missionaries, mercantile concerns of Britons or imperial subjects (like the
Hudson’s Bay Company, HBC), banyans or hongs, states, or aboriginal peoples.
Before 1870, and the rise of worldwide telegraph nets, SSTR was fractured
because signals were slow – messages took nine to 12 months to reach London
from the Indian and Pacific Oceans – and warships abroad were hard to control.
These problems could be minimized in situations that were critical or well
anticipated. Prime Ministers and Foreign Secretaries worked closely with First
Lords of the Admiralty on power politics, while Lord Palmerston gave secret
verbal orders to admirals and consuls before they sailed to areas of concern
beyond easy reach of communication. When great powers opposed Britain’s
campaign against the slave trade, the Foreign Office and the Admiralty con-
trolled such squadrons through tight voluminous orders because, as one Prime
Minister, Robert Peel, noted, acts taken “at the discretion of individual comman-
ders liable therefore to abuse, and entailing vexation and possibly injustice, will,
if not clearly defensible by the recognized Law of Nations, soon involve us in
War.”7 By the time the telegraph reached maturity, however, only Arabs
opposed this campaign, and the Foreign Office deliberately did not inform cap-
tains of the intricacies of international law, to increase the likelihood that they
would act.8 Yet on lesser issues, the meat and potatoes of SSTR, Whitehall often
found it hard to comprehend quite what was happening in many places abroad,
or to give useful orders to naval officers, who had to act despite doubts as to
whether they “knew anything about the rights of the matter” at hand.9 These
problems were magnified by bad relations between the managers of power and
politics abroad, captains and consuls. Local British interests and officers rou-
tinely borrowed the RN’s power to further their private interests. The Arrow
28 J. Ferris
War (1857–60) began in part because local British diplomats misled an admiral
into bombarding Guandong, while captains committed Britain to quests on many
a foreign shore.10 From 1870, this chaos declined, as Whitehall used better com-
munications to control pawns abroad, but by then the great days of naval SSTR
were ending.
In 1815, for the first time, one fleet dominated all the world’s seas. Britain
retained much of that power until 1914, despite slippages around 1840 and 1890.
It used seapower to pursue SSTR at a global level. Britain created the first integ-
rated world political and economic system, without fully knowing what it was
doing. Its power, and a disjunction between intention and effect, gave Britain an
empire in a fit of absence of mind. Between 1815–1913, Britain did not always
intend what it got or get what it intended, but it was bound to acquire a lot,
because the paramount position of the RN gave it a unique position: bilateral
relations with almost every polity on earth and greater power than most of them.
That power was not exercised in a simple way. Britain did not act on a grand
design, but on many small ones, which reflected hard-headed interests and high-
minded ideals: power and profit, civilization, constitutionalism, and Christianity.
The sentiments of statesmen and public pressure groups made Britain use its
power to invent humanitarian intervention. Naval officers thought themselves
knights errant protecting the weak, and sometimes did perform selfless and
costly acts: defending Pacific islanders from British businessmen, or Africans
from the “piratical potentates” running the “curse of mankind,” the slave trade.11
When explaining to Arabs his attempts to abolish that trade, Palmerston
described Britain as “the main instrument in the Hands of Providence,” pursuing
an end “written in the Book of Fate.”12
Britain’s aims and their effects were complex. It sought to establish and
enforce ground rules for a New World Order. It stamped its definition of prop-
erty rights, human rights, and international law, which it thought common goods
and good for Britain, on the world. Britain regarded free trade as religious doc-
trine and human right, and forced non-Western states to adopt it. In pursuit of
human rights, it attacked slavery and pushed opium. In the name of the “law of
nations,” Britain broke and rewrote it: as one Foreign Secretary, Lord Aberdeen,
described a case of unilateral British legislation against the Portuguese slave
trade, “the law was certainly a good stretch of power.”13 Britain protected some
aboriginal peoples from exploitation and robbed others of their land. It brought
many peoples within an informal empire, which later became formal. British
policy toward any issue affected and was affected by that toward others: that on
Zanzibar to Africa and the Middle East; that regarding slavery to half the world.
The Royal Navy supported SSTR through means ranging from presence to
war. In its pursuit, Britain thought globally and acted locally. Its creation of a
New World Order led Britain to shape structures everywhere, varying by locale,
issue, and the relative power of the RN, in surprising ways.14 The RN was
central to the establishment of liberal capitalism across the world and the contin-
ental drift of power. Between 1814–23, it kept other European powers from
intervening in the war between Spain and its Latin American colonies, so letting
 SSTR as history 29
Britain harmonize its hopes to support legitimacy, oppose despotism, maintain
leverage over every faction in the Americas, and gain greater access for trade.
For decades thereafter, British influence in Latin America was almost hege-
monic, resting on established political and economic influence, backed by the
sight of warships.15 So too, in 1840 and 1878, the RN kept France and Russia
from upsetting the Middle East. Meanwhile, seapower gave Britain access to the
coasts of every continent. The RN, however, faced many calls on its limited
forces, which constantly created opportunity costs. Its strength usually was
deployed only against major problems, most useful against polities directly
vulnerable to pressure at sea, with counter-intuitive consequences. Between
1815–80, the heyday of naval SSTR and British power, RN attacks on peoples
and forts in Africa and Southeast Asia routinely failed because British forces
were weak and scruples strong: in 1879, one Foreign Secretary, Lord Salisbury,
doubted “whether burning villages is altogether the most appropriate mode of
introducing a missionary to the notice of the natives.”16 The RN had little power
to compel indigenous peoples on most Pacific islands, because officers were
reluctant to use force against them, and had little at hand. Warships routinely
ordered chiefs to pay a penalty, left without enforcing the demand, and punished
disobedience only years later, by torching a few houses no one cared about. So
too between 1845–53 in Madagascar, the Hova government enforced a ban on
trade with Britain until it paid a penalty for launching an abortive attack on a
town, which the defenders marked with a line of impaled British heads on
poles.17

The Navy and SSTR

Piracy and the slave trade

The Royal Navy’s power in SSTR was greatest on purely maritime issues, but
still constrained by politics and resources. Thus, in 1816, Britain tried to create
an international naval league against the slave trade and the Barbary pirates. It
promised that British seapower would defend all members of the league against
pirates, but not those states which declined to join. To prove the point, the RN
hammered the Barbary pirates, freeing all their Christian slaves, not one of
which was British. This effort was altruistic, but also assumed British domi-
nance at sea and over much of the international order. It failed for precisely that
reason. Other states, as the French Premier, the Duc de Richelieu, wrote, saw it
as a British attempt “to confirm fully and with the consent of all the powers, its
empire over the seas.”18 Britain, thrown on its resources alone, became less
altruistic. Between 1815–50 it broke piracy in the Indian Ocean, the Persian
Gulf, the Caribbean Sea and the South China Sea, because this threatened pre-
eminently British trade. Yet it was less active against piracy in Southeast Asia,
because suppression required a hard and constant effort, while success would
strengthen Dutch control over territory that they could exploit to choke British
trade. Britain also let the Barbary pirates recover part of their strength, returning
30 J. Ferris
to decades-old agreements to keep them off ships carrying British passes, and so
deflecting them onto others. Piracy ended in these seas only when the Nether-
lands and France destroyed the polities where it was practiced. Piracy was
beaten by an international effort of states motivated by self-interest and con-
quest, in which Britain led but refused to rescue every free rider.19
In suppressing the slave trade, however, Britain pursued common goods at its
own cost. If “allowed to act with freedom,” as one officer said in 1822, the RN
always had the power to halt the slave trade across the Atlantic and Indian
Oceans, but it was shackled by politics and international law.20 Though Britain
bullied smaller states on this issue, it dared not provoke the United States and
France, which disliked interference with their ships and trade. Thus, between
1815–61, the RN worked hard against the slave trade, with mixed success. It
freed tens of thousands of slaves without reducing the numbers shipped annually
across the Atlantic. In 1831, the First Lord, James Graham, held Britain was
“expending in vain the lives of our Seamen and the Treasure of our Country, for
a disinterested object.” “No Force can really be effective” against the slave trade
until all major countries cooperated with suppression, in which case “a single
Cruizer, with the aid of steam, on the Coast of Africa would be more efficacious
than our present Fleet.”21 This view was pessimistic. The RN was a necessary
condition for success against the slave trade, serving to keep the issue alive,
pressure great powers, and hammer small ones. Success, however, came only
when Britain forced or bribed coastal African kingdoms out of the slave trade,
and the public and governments of France and the United States adopted British
views on slavery. That change in attitude was spurred and slowed by British
self-righteousness and use of force to serve humanitarian ends.22
Seapower aided SSTR in a classic way on the northwest coast of North
America.23 It was essential to Britain’s very ability to be in the region, literally
the furthest place on earth away by sea from England until the Panama Canal
was built, despite the emnity of great powers which were stronger in the region.
In the Nootka Sound crisis of 1790, Spanish authorities ceased harassing British
settlements only because of the RN’s full and ostentatious mobilization in
Europe and warnings of war. So too, with less melodrama and more compro-
mise, six British warships off Vancouver Island and the threat of more in the
Atlantic deterred the United States during the Oregon boundary dispute of
1844–6. Every day for decades, the few warships on station, the Hudson’s Bay
Company (HBC), and the colonial administration that grew from it, were
Britain’s main tools in the region, working symbiotically. The HBC staked large
territorial claims, most of which Britain retained, and gave them an economic
and administrative core. However, it lacked the power to handle the problems
that swamped the region between 1840–70, American saber-rattling and threat
of filibustering, and the policing of 50,000 coastal Indians. The RN managed
these problems. In 1858, 164 marines and four warships kept the Queen’s peace
over 10,000 Americans temporarily across the 49th parallel during the Fraser
River gold rush. For decades, the RN underwrote the rise of British settlements
and maintained law and order outside them, being “the armed might of the
 SSTR as history 31
fragile system of magistrates and police superintendents that were extending
English law on this populous Indian frontier.” Young RN officers were
“amphibious policemen pursuing policies of minimum intervention.”24 This
power was exercised preferably by presence, a show of force aimed to convince
chiefs and communities to cooperate. If demonstration failed, the RN pursued
careful coercion: to arrest individuals, or destroy their possessions when they
escaped; and rarely, only as a last resort, collective punishment, by burning or
bombarding recalcitrant villages. This power, combined with a general policy of
avoiding empty threats and intervention among natives, so as to contain but not
provoke them, achieved Britain’s aim of “keeping the Indians in awe,” aided by
their own divisions. Far more than usual, perhaps because they knew Britain was
weaker in the region than the United States or an Indian alliance, local civil and
naval authorities provided considered leadership, while Whitehall kept naval
tools under political control, rather than letting them be borrowed by its authori-
ties. In harmony with the HBC and colonial authorities, the RN created the
framework for substantial colonization and economic development.

China
Simultaneously, the other side of the Pacific witnessed a classic example of the
failure of SSTR by sea. Britain wanted to engage seapower as a lever to open the
closed kingdoms and economies of East Asia, but the RN could oblige only if used
as a battering ram. In smashing Ch’ing coastal forts during 1841–2, and forcing its
way upriver toward Beijing in 1859, the RN overthrew key parts of power in Asia
and politics in China. The effect was not quite what British statesmen wanted.
Essentially to improve exports and budgets, they insisted that China accept free or
freer trade, especially in opium. Their aims were limited, yet could not be
achieved without great collateral damage, because Chinese authorities refused
even to discuss them unless forced to do so. Britain did not intend much of the
damage it caused, which would have been less had the Chinese been willing to
compromise, or negotiate, and had Britain not been forced to delegate so much
control over its forces to local authorities months away from command at home. In
1832, Britain sent to Chinese waters, so wrote the First Lord, Graham,

a Vice Admiral in a Line of Battle Ship, so that the full impression might be
produced, both as regards the importance, which we attach to our relations
with China and our fixed determination to uphold the predominance of our
power, which is so much founded on opinion.

Yet, he noted, the Cabinet favored “a conciliatory and pacific course towards
China,” and local British interests or officials must be kept from abusing these
forces for their own purposes:

Trade with China is our only object; conquest there would be as dangerous
as defeat; and commerce never prospers, when force is used to sustain it. No
32 J. Ferris
glory is to be gained in a Victory over the Chinese; any disaster in the
quarter might shake our Indian empire; any Factory can only thrive by a
ready compliance with the laws, the prejudices, and even the caprices of a
nation, which we wish to propitiate; and the supercargoes must not imagine
that great national interests are to be sacrificed to their notions of self-
importance, and to a spirit of haughty defiance and of assumed superiority,
mixed with a contempt for the laws and customs of an independent people. . . .
Our grand object is to keep peace and insure it; by the mildest means, by a
plastic adaptation of our manners to theirs, to extend our influence in China
with the view of extending our commercial relations, and for this purpose it
is not a demonstration of our Force, which is required, but proofs of the
advantage which China reaps from her peaceful intercourse with our
Nation.25

Again, in 1837, before the Opium War, the Foreign Secretary Lord Palmerston,
wished simply to make China allow freer trade, especially for opium, in its
territories. This aim, he thought, could easily be achieved by demonstration
alone. “Some good sized ship of war should be, as much as possible, on the
China Station; both to inspire the Chinese with respect, and to keep the crews of
our merchantmen in order.” He rejected arguments that

the Chinese do not know anything about the size of our ships, or are not to
be influenced by such considerations. A government which has the grass
examined at day break Every Day along some Ten Thousand miles of Fron-
tier to see whether any Stranger’s Foot has crossed the line during the night
is not likely to be uninformed or careless as to the size & Force of ships of
war coming to the coast.26

Graham and Palmerston, alas, were wrong. Chinese authorities, ignorant of

seapower, let alone of the revolutionary strength of steam gunships, and unde-
terred by the RN, forced Britain’s hand by attacking its prestige, doubly exposed
by the way local British officials borrowed the power vouchsafed by Whitehall.
This drove Britain into a large expedition, which shattered the coastal defenses
of China, and destabilized its politics. In return, Whitehall gained greater but
still limited access to Chinese markets, which proved less profitable than
expected, while Chinese authorities limited trade. Fifteen years later, local
British officials and interest groups tried to overcome this situation by borrow-
ing the power of their state, while authorities in London used the opportunity to
make China accept completely free trade, especially in opium, on British terms,
to China’s disadvantage.27 Though they believed that this aim could be achieved
essentially through coercion, it required the “Arrow” War, which shattered the
Chinese state. Between 1860–1930, Britain dominated Chinese commerce and
got what it wanted from that country, largely through power exercised by gun-
boats, mostly to the benefit of missionaries and tiny economic interests, while
counter-productive consequences swamped the gains. Without intending every
 SSTR as history 33
consequence, Britain bullied China into its world system, and started events that
killed millions of Chinese people and wrecked their state. China, the classic
locale for gunboat diplomacy, offers negative lessons for SSTR.

Japan
Seapower achieved better results in Japan, with less collateral damage, largely
because indigenous authorities responded differently than in China. Only fear of
western warships, gained from knowledge of events in China and evidence
before their eyes, persuaded the Japanese government, the bakafu, to let West-
erners enter Japan after 1853; but their very presence was destabilizing. It
sparked anti-Western agitation, terrorist attacks, and civil conflict which, over a
decade, produced foreign military intervention and civil war. In this context,
British diplomats emphasized

the great necessity that exists of the constant presence of an English vessel
of war of some description in this harbor, both to obtain from the native
officials and people respect for British authority, and to assist the Consul in
the exercise of his functions as regards British subjects. 28

Yet these diplomats also realized that those actions had counter-productive ele-
ments. They thought the Japanese right to dislike “the irregularities, the viol-
ence, and the disorders, with the continual scenes of drunkenness incident to a
seaport, where sailors from men-of-war and merchant-ships are allowed to come
on shore, sometimes in large numbers.” They noted that terrorists most attacked
westerners when large numbers of warships were in these ports; counter-
intuitively, warships did not deter but rather attracted attack.29 By 1863, the
foreign presence caused an internal crisis in Japanese politics, between the
bakafu, the imperial court and leading clans, while terrorist attacks on Western-
ers created an international one. Western diplomats concluded that only a more
aggressive use of force could resolve the deadlock. One British charge d’affaires
wrote,

The great difficulty with which our diplomatic agency has had to contend
has been the lack of means to induce moral pressure; no lever has presented
itself whereby to arouse conviction of a reciprocity of interests tending to
render our goodwill and amity a political necessity to the Tycoon’s Govern-
ment, or to induce on their part even a conciliatory policy.

Sea power, he noted, the only lever at hand, could achieve these ends in a
remarkably precise and contained way, if employed to punish the two clans,
Satsuma and Choshu, most hostile to Western presence and the bakafu.30 On
several occasions in 1863–4, British, French and pan-Western fleets destroyed
the coastal fortifications of Satsuma and Choshu, which learned precisely the
intended lessons: that the foreigners could not be driven out of Japan, and should
34 J. Ferris
not be dragged further in. Here, however, events took an unexpected turn. The
pressure of Western powers and internal politics drove the bakafu to a civil war
against Choshu and Satsuma, which it lost, bringing these clans to power, where
they pursued a policy of learning from the West so as to withstand it, with
fateful consequences. As these events occurred, noted another British charge
d’affaires,

the presence of powerful material support and the determination to be ready

to rely upon it, as a last resort, will for some years to come be the basis on
which a successful representation of Her Majesty’s interests and the real
happiness of Japan itself must depend.31

He was right. The RN was a cause for the Meiji restoration. It remained funda-
mental to British power during the next 20 years, when Japan was a protectorate
of the Western powers, especially Britain. This outcome was successful, from
the perspective of Britain and Japan, but only because authorities on both sides
pursued careful policy; the Japanese learned the right lessons quickly and
cheaply (largely by watching the mistakes of China); while no country on earth
was more vulnerable to gunboat diplomacy than Japan.

Middle East and South Asia

The Royal Navy (augmented by the Royal Indian Marine (RIM)) was one of
Britain’s two levers of power in the Indian Ocean and its bi-continental littoral,
alongside control over India, and the more deployable of them, since India’s
resources were used mostly to control the subcontinent. Yet seapower was a tool
with limits. It more easily suppressed piracy than slavery. To British frustration,
control over the Red Sea and Persian Gulf had little impact on regional powers
like Turkey or Persia, because these coasts were peripheral to their interests; so
too lesser states like Egypt and Ethiopia, or inland Arab tribes. Seapower gave
Britain less influence over Turkey and Persia than large armies on their frontiers
gave Russia. Only if Britain used the RN to land major armies, primarily Indian,
could seapower deliver much leverage in the Middle East. Such steps were rare
and costly, though effective. The RN, however, was Britain’s hammer over
coastal Arab polities from the Persian Gulf to Zanzibar, which was fundamental
to its running of these waves. In 1819, the RIM smashed the pirate fleets of Arab
polities in the Persian Gulf, and made them protectorates, so as to maintain mar-
itime peace in the Indian Ocean. This destruction of time-honored practices,
which combined piracy, privateering, state construction, jihad, tolls, and protec-
tion money, was a triumph for British maritime and commercial interests, but it
also committed Britain to defending places like Kuwait, which later proved a
headache, against Turkish and Wahabi armies.
Further use of seapower in the region became enmeshed in British relations
with the Albusa’idi dynasty of Muscat and Zanzibar, with its loose hegemony
over the coastal cities of Oman and East Africa and their hinterlands. This rule
 SSTR as history 35
was ramshackle, because Omani tribes were strong and, like the dynasty,
divided. In 1798, Britain entered friendly and equal relations with the
Albusa’idi, in order to keep them from allying with France. For 60 years, the RN
managed to check the real possibility of an Albusa’idi–French axis, which
would have harmed British interests.32 Meanwhile, Albusa’idi power declined,
because of internal politics, Wahabi attacks, and the fact that Britain supplanted
Omani influence and profits in the Gulf and Western India. The Albusa’idi con-
trolled several dozen towns scattered over 2,000 miles of Arabian and African
coast, their fleet was significant, as was their position in African commerce, but
still a few RN warships could dominate their politics and policy. Indeed, these
warships provided more power over the Albusa’idi than Britain needed to
achieve its national interests in the Indian Ocean, which were to minimize the
presence of European seapowers and defend India and British commerce. This
surplus power had counter-productive consequences. Local British officials bor-
rowed it to back up aggressive, often purely personal, politics, while rival
members of the Albusa’idi family called in Britain. It became their master in
1859, when a British warship halted a dynastic struggle by intercepting a
seaborne invasion force of 2,500 men from Muscat to Zanzibar, and 100 marines
destroyed an insurrection near Zanzibar.33 One cruiser suppressed the only later
Albusa’idi effort to defy Britain, in 1896, by leveling the harem of Zanzibar in
37 minutes, without one shot striking an innocent target.34

The slave trade

Britain was caught in another dilemma: it had too much power not to try to end
the slave trade in the region, but too little to do so. The British thought that
20,000 slaves were shipped up the East African coast every year, perhaps 33
percent of the trade level on the Atlantic. This trade was hard to control. Indian
authorities, the dominant imperial administration in the region, did not want to
touch the problem. RN officers wished to do so, but their strength was limited.
Suppression became possible only in 1850, when Britain bullied Portugal and
France into abandoning slavery. This left Britain confronting the Arab slave
trade. In 1870, a Parliamentary committee noted that “the presence of one of Her
Majesty’s cruisers is the best check” on Arab slave traders, but only a squadron
of four to seven vessels, led by “officers of local experience, who have made
themselves acquainted with the usages and, to some extent, the languages of the
east coast,” could control the trade.35 Available forces, smaller and dogged for
decades by lack of intelligence and interpreters, spent much time in fruitless
searches of dhows and mangrove swamps.36 Ultimately, Britain was tempted to
destroy the slave trade through more economical means, by wielding the threat
of its seapower against the Albusa’idi. In 1872–3, a senior official of humanitar-
ian inclinations, Bartle Frere, and anti-slavery associations, engineered a com-
mission of investigation into the local slave trade. He used the opportunity to
threaten the Albusa’idi into abolishing the trade, despite the complaints of
Sultan Barghash that this “involves destruction for us. It is quite in your power
36 J. Ferris
to destroy us, but you ask us to destroy ourselves, and that we cannot do.”37 This
step, and other measures like blockading Red Sea ports and a temporarily
heightened naval presence in Zanzibar, did cripple the trade, but still tens of
thousands of slaves were shipped by sea, decades after the practice ended in the
Atlantic, because there was a market, and too few British ships and too little
interest to eliminate it. Meanwhile, Britain’s actions destabilized the local
economy, which relied heavily on slavery, and the Albusa’idi. The slave trade
ended only around 1890, when Germany took over much of the Albusa’idi
African empire, combined with a coastal blockade and inland military opera-
tions by Germany and Britain. Ultimately, and ironically, Britain’s seapower
and presence wrecked its local allies, while attempts to end the slave trade
spurred imperialism in Africa, and created problems for 1914.
The heyday of the RN’s role in SSTR ended before 1900. The world eco-
nomic system was established, piracy and the slave trade ended. The RN was
superseded by other elements in British colonies and could not act in European
ones. Improved communications gave home governments more control over
fleets abroad, reducing the ability of naval officers or local authorities to borrow
power, or create a need or excuse to do so. Only in China and Latin America
was gunboat diplomacy practiced.38
However, the art revived briefly after the World War I. At the armistice, the
RN had greater power than any navy before in history, if less than the U.S. Navy
since 1989, in open-ended circumstances. The power structure in Eurasia
between the Indian and Arctic Oceans, the Rhine and the Pacific, temporarily
collapsed. British policy toward these areas was contradictory, ambitious and, as
the First Sea Lord, David Beatty, once said, “in a most chaotic state.”39 The
Admiralty hoped that the Bolsheviks would be destroyed, or marginalized,
allowing Britain to dominate the Middle East. Though they knew that their part
in achieving those aims was limited, the admirals had great faith in seapower as
a lever on land: as Beatty said of Italo–Yugoslav conflicts in the Adriatic, “a
demonstration of seapower in the critical area would probably go far towards
putting an end to an intolerable state of affairs which otherwise seems likely to
drift from bad to worse.”40 Their efforts to deploy this power in a great game of
SSTR, however, largely failed, although seapower did remain fundamental to
British power politics.41

Russia
Thus, ministers rejected Beatty’s proposed show of force in the Adriatic as
provocative and unnecessary, and achieved their ends through other means.42
The most famous aspect of the RN’s use in SSTR, the naval intervention in the
Baltic, was an act of war in a complex conflict between quasi-independent
German Freikorps, the Bolsheviks, white Russians, and small states seceding
from the Tsarist empire. On 29 November 1918, the Admiralty sent Admiral
Cowan and a dozen warships to the Baltic, to exert pressure on all sides and
protect the Baltic States from Germany and the USSR: “whenever we are in a
 SSTR as history 37
position to resist by force of arms Bolshevik attacks on friends of Allies we
should unhesitatingly do so.” Any Bolshevik warships operating off the coasts
of the Baltic States “should be assumed to be doing so with hostile intent and
should be treated accordingly.” In May 1919, Cowan was again sent to that
theater with orders to protect the Baltic States and “act as a menace to the Bol-
shevik fleet,” which “may be attacked when opportunity offers” though he was
not to assault its main fleet base, Kronstadt.43 Cowan instead blockaded Kron-
stadt and sank Bolshevik cruisers sailing out to attack his fleet; later, a young
naval officer, Augustus Agar, sent off in plainclothes and a torpedo boat on an
independent mission to carry messages between Finland and Britain’s best spy
in Petrograd, failed at this task, but in the process did sink two Soviet battleships
and an armored cruiser sailing off Kronstadt.44 Cowan’s fleet achieved remark-
ably precise successes in a complex situation, above all helping the Baltic States
and Finland to withstand Germany and the USSR, but this success was minor
compared to other events between 1918–21, especially the Bolshevik conquest
of most of the Tsarist empire.

Turkey
This development also crippled the Admiralty’s aims further south. Between
1919–23, the RN mastered the Black and Mediterranean Seas, as it did the Baltic,
yet could not keep its enemies, the Bolsheviks and Turkish nationalists, from
sweeping victories through Ukraine, the Caucasus, and Anatolia: only a great
army could have done so. In 1920, the RN tried to have fleets in the Black and
Caspian Seas, linked by British and indigenous forces in the Caucasus, perman-
ently block southward Soviet expansion. These efforts aborted, because of Bolshe-
vik power and British weakness on land.45 The RN was irrelevant to the successes
Britain did achieve in the Middle East, and unable to prevent its failures. During
the collapse of British policy in Turkey between 1919–23, the RN rode at anchor
off Istanbul, to little point. One admiral, John de Robeck, noted,

A fleet in front of Constantinople and unable to get further will have little
effect on the Turks who have become used to seeing the fleet there and have
learnt that we are unlikely to bombard indiscriminately unless an object can
be attained – which seldom can be done by bombardment alone.46

During the endgame of empires between Britain and Turkey, September

1922–June 1923, the world’s largest fleet – nine battleships, six cruisers and 38
destroyers – stood off Istanbul in the Sea of Marmora. It underwrote Britain’s
bargaining position, yet this merely let Britain recoup prestige; it could not
prevent a Turkish victory on most issues of substance. Had the Turks attacked,
the RN could not have kept them from crossing the Bosporus and seizing Istan-
bul. Under such circumstances, the RN was ready to fire on the city, “to disperse
large mobs, or to destroy certain buildings.”47 Had it wished, it could have flat-
tened Istanbul – for what that was worth.
38 J. Ferris
This situation symbolized the end of a century’s application of seapower to
SSTR. That practice ended even though Britain, the world’s greatest seapower
until 1939, had the capabilities to exercise it, as the United States did for several
years longer in the Caribbean basin. Attitudinal changes in Britain hampered any
aggressive use of force or form of colonialism, as did the rise of stronger states
and military power in non-Western countries. By 1924, these factors, which also
led Whitehall toward micromanagement, rendered gunboat diplomacy increas-
ingly difficult even in China.48 By 1927, Chinese field guns along the Yangtse
River crippled the power of gunboats; the last of them, HMS Amethyst, made an
epic run downriver from Chinese Communist forces in 1949. Maritime forces
operating in SSTR had a tiny role in the era of decolonization and the Cold War;
the gunboat diplomacy of that era really affected only maritime issues.49

Conclusion
In the Royal Navy’s experience, SSTR overlapped with war and imperialism,
self-interest and humanitarian intervention. British authorities often did not
intend direct rule, but still got it. Their motivations were liberal, their actions
sometimes terrible. Naval SSTR involved small investments that produced big
rewards, and losses. In effective and cost-efficient ways, it let Britain exploit
focal points and moments, achieve precise aims without collateral damage, lever
other actors, and further many interests, though mostly of third-rate importance.
The RN, however, could not support SSTR far from the coastline, save in China,
where the results were not entirely happy. Power on the peripheries was limited,
making it hard for Britain to solve the small problems its very presence tempted
it to tackle. Good intentions did not guarantee good results. Unintended con-
sequences were normal and counter-productive ones common; to intervene
caused instability, trapped one in local conflicts, and tempted subordinates or
friends to borrow your power for their ends, causing you needless enemies.
Pursuit of stability was destabilizing. Failures were frequent.
Naval SSTR was useful for Britons, and probably can be so for Americans,
but to a lesser degree. The United States inherited a world system created by the
United Kingdom, based on liberalism and free trade. So too, the “arc of instabil-
ity” is a colonial inheritance, and the proposed multinational “1,000 ship navy”
similar to Castlereagh’s naval league. For the United States Navy to pursue
SSTR is to have that system function as it was set up to do. Yet naval SSTR will
have limited value for the U.S. Navy and the United States. It can work well on
purely maritime issues, such as countering the shocking revival in piracy, or in
low-intensity environments, but for big problems on land, the U.S. Navy will
prove less important than armies are, or the RN was. Even more, any form of
SSTR may fail either because a force is too weak, or too strong. A nation’s pres-
ence as a stronger power in any region may create instability, become imperial,
and enable sub-imperialism – creating authority to be borrowed by the power’s
own local interests, or against its friends by its subordinates. For the U.S. Navy
in SSTR, public pressure groups calling for humanitarian intervention, the CNN
 SSTR as history 39
effect, and thick real-time communications, will jar the hand of policy. SSTR
may solve some problems by creating others, which require solutions of their
own, that will be harder for Washington to find than it was for London. Britain,
facing societies that were eroding because of Western diseases or economics,
often multiplied that trend by its very intervention, or the tools it enlisted. Yet no
matter the problem, Britain could offer the final solution of empire; not so the
United States. With SSTR, the elephants in the room are politics and imperial-
ism. Politics is not linear: sometimes you cannot get there straight from here;
and one place the United States cannot go is imperialism of the nineteenth-
century variety.

Notes
1 All material cited from the CAB, ADM, and PRO series are held at the National
Archives United Kingdom, Kew, and appear by permission of the Controller of Her
Majesty’s Stationery Office. The papers of Robert Peel, Lord Minto, and John de
Robeck are held, respectively, by the British Library, London, the National Library of
Scotland, Edinburgh, and Churchill College, Cambridge. They appear by permission
of the copyright holders.
2 British Parliamentary Papers (Shannon: Irish University Press, 1970), p. 118, Alcock
to Russell, 24.9.1859.
3 The 158th meeting of the Committee of Imperial Defence, 5.7.22, CAB 2/3; CP 258
(27), CAB 24/189; “Notes by the First Sea Lord,” 5.7.1929, PRO 30/69/267.
4 The best studies of the RN in the nineteenth century are Andrew Lambert, The Last
Sailing Battlefleet, Maintaining Naval Mastery 1815–1850 (London: Conway’s Mar-
itime Press, 1991), John Beeler, British Naval Policy in the Gladstone–Disraeli Era,
1866–1880 (Stanford, CT: Stanford University Press, 1997); Gerald Graham, The
Politics of Naval Supremacy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1965); and
Donald M. Schurman (ed. John Beeler), Imperial Defence, 1868–1887 (London:
Frank Cass, 2000). For the Edwardian era, see Jon Sumida, In Defence of Naval
Supremacy, Finance, Technology, and British Naval Policy, 1889–1914 (London:
Routledge, 1989); Nicholas Lambert, Sir John Fisher’s Naval Revolution (Columbia:
University of South Carolina Press, 1999). And, for the 1920s, see Stephen Roskill,
Naval Policy between the Wars, Volume 1: The Period of Anglo-American Naval
Antagonism, 1919–1929 (London: Collins, 1968). Also see John Ferris, “It Is Our
Business in the Navy to Command the Seas:’ The Last Decade of British Maritime
Supremacy, 1919–1929,” in Keith Neilson and Greg Kennedy (eds), Far Flung Lines,
Maritime Essays in Honour of Donald Schurman (London: Frank Cass, 1996); and
Chris Bell, The Royal Navy, Seapower and Strategy between the Wars (London: Pal-
grave, 2000).
5 Steam, Shell and Gunfire, The Steam Warship, 1815–1905, Conway’s History of the
Ship (London: Conway’s Maritime Press, 1992).
6 D. M. Peers, Between Mars and Mammon: Colonial Armies and the Garrison State in
India, 1819–1835 (London: I.B. Tauris, 1995); G. S. Graham, Great Britain in the
Indian Ocean, A Study of Maritime Enterprise, 1810–1950 (Oxford: Oxford Univer-
sity Press, 1967), pp. 346–60; and Barry Gough, The Royal Navy and the Northwest
Coast of North America, 1810–1914: A Study of British Maritime Ascendancy (Van-
couver: University of British Columbia Press, 1971), pp. 131–49.
7 “Peel to Aberdeen,” 25.10.1841, Robert Peel Papers, British Library, BL 40453.
8 Graham, Great Britain in the Indian Ocean, pp. 96–120; Raymond C. Howell, The
Royal Navy and the Slave Trade (New York: St Martin’s Press, 1987), pp. 106–14.
40 J. Ferris
9 Graham, Great Britain in the Indian Ocean, pp. 79–80.
10 J. W. Wong, Deadly Dreams, Opium, Imperialism and the Arrow War (1856–1860)
in China (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), pp. 69–108.
11 Jane Samson, Imperial Benevolence, Making British Authority in the Pacific Islands
(Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1998); G. L. Sullivan, Dhow Chasing in Zan-
zibar Waters (London: Royal African Society, 1873), pp. 21, 284; Howell, The Royal
Navy and the Slave Trade, pp. 6–7.
12 Mohamed Reda Bhacker, Trade and Empire in Muscat and Zanzibar, Roots of British
Domination (London: Routledge, 1992), pp. 167–8.
13 “Aberdeen to Peel,” 18.10.1844, Peel Papers, BL 40454.
14 These themes are addressed by the essays in Greg Kennedy (ed.), Britain and the Old
World Order (London: Routledge, 2007).
15 Gerald S. Graham, ed., The Navy and South America, 1807–1923, The Correspon-
dence of the Commanders-in-Chief on the South American Station (London: Royal
Navy Record Society, 1962).
16 Howell, The Royal Navy and the Slave Trade, pp. 137.
17 Samson, Imperial Benevolence, pp. 130–47; Graham, Great Britain in the Indian
Ocean, pp. 78–83.
18 Paul Michael Kielstra, The Politics of Slave Trade Suppression in Britain and France
(New York: St Martin’s Press, 2000), pp. 64–8.
19 Nicholas Tarling, Piracy and Politics in the Malay World (Vancouver: University of
British Columbia Press, 1963); Sultan Muhammad al-Qasimi, The Myth of Arab
Piracy in the Gulf (London: Croom Helm, 1986); Charles E. Davies, The Blood-Red
Flag: An Investigation into Qasimi Piracy, 1797–1820 (Exeter: University of Exeter
Press, 1997); Patricia Risso, “Cross-cultural Perceptions of Piracy: Maritime Viol-
ence in the Western Indian Ocean and Persian Gulf Region during a Long Eighteenth
Century,” Journal of World History, vol. 12, no. 2 (Fall 2001), pp. 293–317; Oded
Lowenheim, “ ‘Do Ourselves Credit and Render a Lasting Service to Mankind’:
British Moral Prestige, Humanitarian Intervention, and the Barbary Pirates,” Inter-
national Studies Quarterly (47) (2003), pp. 23–48.
20 W. E. F. Ward, The Royal Navy and the Slavers (London: George Allen and Unwin,
1969), pp. 97–8.
21 Graham to Palmerston, 11.1.1831, The Papers of Sir James Graham, Part 1: General
Series, 1820–1860, Reel 1.
22 The standard books are Christopher Lloyd, The Navy and the Slave Trade (London:
Longmans, Green and Co., 1949), Ward, The Royal Navy and the Slavers; and
Howell, The Royal Navy and the Slave Trade. Kielstra, The Politics of Slave Trade
Suppression, is the best account of the diplomatic side of the matter.
23 The most recent accounts are all by Barry Gough, The Royal Navy and the Northwest
Coast; Gunboat Frontier, British Maritime Authority and Northwest Coast Indians,
1846–1890 (Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press, 1984); and Britain,
Canada and the North Pacific: Maritime Enterprise and Dominion, 1778–1914
(Aldershot: Ashgate, 2004). Cf. Andrew Lambert, “Winning without Fighting: British
Grand Strategy and Its Application to the United States, 1815–1865,” in Bradford Lee
and Karl Walling (eds), Strategic Logic and Political Rationality, Essays in Honour
of Michael I. Handel (London: Frank Cass and Co., 2003).
24 Gough, Gunboat Frontier, p. 210.
25 Graham to Bentinct, 19.1.1832, The Papers of Sir James Graham, Part 1: General
Series, 1820–1860, Reel 2.
26 “Palmerston to Second Earl of Minto,” 23.9.1837, Minto Papers, National Library of
Scotland, Edinburgh, MS 11810.
27 Gerald S. Graham, The China Station, War and Diplomacy, 1830–1860 (Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 1978); and Wong, Deadly Dreams.
28 BPP, Japan, 1, 1854–64, p. 118, Morrison to Alcock, 5.9.1859.
 SSTR as history 41
29 BPP, Japan, 1, 1854–64, p. 134, Alcock to Russell, 10.11.1859, pp. 191–2, same to
same, 6.3.1860.
30 British Parliamentary Papers, “Reports and Correspondence Concerning Japan,” 2,
1864–70, (Shannon: Irish University Press, 1970), pp. 36–7, Neale to Russell,
10.2.1863. For the relationship between Western policy and Japanese politics, cf.
Conrad Totman, The Collapse of the Tokugawa Bakufu, 1862–1868 (Honolulu: Uni-
versity of Hawaii Press, 1980).
31 BPP Japan, 2, 1864–70, p. 405, Winchester to Russell, 26.5.1865.
32 Norman Robert Bennett, “France and Zanzibar, 1844 to the 1860s,” Parts 1 and 2,
International Journal of African Historical Studies, vol. 6, no. 4 (1973), pp. 602–32,
vol. 7, no. 1 (1974), pp. 27–55; Bhacker, Trade and Empire, pp. 192–3.
33 Bhacker, ibid., pp. 184–9; this also is the best account of Anglo–Albusa’idi relations.
34 Howell, The Royal Navy and the Slave Trade, p. 208.
35 British Parliamentary Papers, Papers Relating to the Slave Trade, 1861–1874, Slave
Trade, 91 (Shannon: Irish University Press, 1970), “Report Addressed to the Earl of
Clarendon by the Committee of the East African Slave Trade,” 24.1.1870, p. 219.
36 For useful memoirs, cf. Sullivan, Dhow Chasing in Zanzibar Waters, and P.H.
Colomb, Slave Catching in the Indian Ocean (London: Longmans, Green and Co.,
1873).
37 R. J. Gavin, “The Bartle Frere Mission to Zanzibar, 1873,” Historical Journal, vol. 5,
no. 2 (1962), pp. 122–48; BPP, Slave Trade 91, “Correspondence Respecting Sir
Bartle Frere’s Mission to the East Coast of Africa, 1872–73,” p. 365.
38 Lawrence D. Taylor, “Gunboat Diplomacy’s Last Fling in the New World: The
British Seizure of San Quentin, April 1911,” The Americas, vol. 52, no. 4 (4.96), pp.
521–43.
39 Beatty to de Robeck, 20.2.1920, John de Robeck Papers, Churchill College, Cam-
bridge, 6/25.
40 Minute by Beatty, 28.11.1919, ADM 1/8575.
41 For the background, cf. John Robert Ferris, Men, Money and Diplomacy: The Evolu-
tion of British Strategic Policy, 1919–1926 (London: Macmillan, 1989) and John
Darwin, Britain, Egypt and the Middle East (London: Macmillan, 1981).
42 Hamphill to Barnes, 4.12.1919, ADM 1/8575.
43 Admiralty to Grand Fleet, 29.11.1918, Admiralty to SNO Baltic, 12.5.1919, No. 252,
ADM 116/1862.
44 Augustus Agar, Footprints in the Sea, the Autobiography of Captain Augustus Agar,
V.C., R.N. (London: Evans Bros, 1959), pp. 87–138.
45 Beatty to de Robeck, 1.2.1920, de Robeck Papers, 6/25.
46 De Robeck, Atlantic Fleet, to Admiralty, 1326/A.F. 001360, ADM 137/1778.
47 Memorandum by De Brock, No 46, 12.10.1922, ADM 137/1776; Memorandum
“Operation X.X.,” 1.6.23, ADM 137/1727.
48 Foreign Office to Admiralty, 19.9.1924, passim, ADM 1/8665.
49 James Cable, Gunboat Diplomacy, 1919–1979, Political Applications of Limited
Naval Force (London: Macmillan, 1971).
4 International law and stability
operations
Theo Farrell

International law and the United States have enjoyed an uneasy relationship of
late. Many American politicians, policymakers and pundits consider international
law to be a bit of a nuisance, if not an actual hindrance to the advancement of U.S.
national interests. Many around the world believe that under the Presidency of
George W. Bush, the United States has ridden roughshod over international law.
That the greatest power in the world and supposedly leader of the free world
should show such apparent disregard for the rule of law has understandably caused
much unease. International law on the use of force is at the heart of this discom-
fort. To be sure, a certain lawless spirit has been read in U.S. opposition to major
multilateral treaties on nuclear testing, landmines, climate change, biological
diversity, law on the sea, and the International Criminal Court (ICC), all of which
are supported by almost all other states. But the bottom line is that the United
States is legally entitled not to consent to these treaties. The controversial U.S.
invasion of Iraq in 2003 without a clear mandate from the UN Security Council
(UNSC), however, is widely pointed to as evidence of actual U.S. lawlessness.
For U.S. policymakers at the time, the United States and its coalition partners had
just cause to invade Iraq. But for others – including great powers such as China,
France, and Russia – the 2003 Iraq War was essentially about an all-powerful and
unbound United States doing as it pleased.
International law has bearing on many aspects of stability operations, includ-
ing operations undertaken by naval forces. Indeed, freedom of movement on the
high seas, a central advantage of naval expeditionary forces, is protected under
international law. This chapter however, focuses on the more controversial
aspects of naval support of stabilization endeavors: international law concerning
the use of force and conduct of military operations. It explores stability opera-
tions involving the use of force, often in non-permissive environments.
Although humanitarian assistance and peacekeeping are important forms of
stability operations, forceful stability operations – encompassing coercive peace
operations, counter-insurgency (COIN), and counter-terrorist operations – are
most consequential in terms of the application of international law and
America’s reputation in world politics.
The core argument in this chapter is that international law offers both chal-
lenges and opportunities for the United States. In other words, international law
 International law and stability operations 43
is as much an enabler as it is a drag on U.S. military operations. To support this
argument, the next section introduces two basic perspectives on international law –
the traditional positivist view of it as a system of rules to which states have con-
sented, and a post-World War II American liberal view that sees international law
as a vehicle for the advancement of progressive values. Both perspectives are
necessary to appreciate the potential of international law as a restraint and a
resource when it comes to U.S.-led stability operations. The second section takes
the positivist approach in exploring the rules of international law on when and
how the United States may use armed force. These rules do indeed place consider-
able constraints on the legitimate options available for U.S. strategy, operations,
and tactics. Although one might infer from this observation that the United States
should simply ignore international law, the final section explores the issue from a
different perspective. It suggests that the liberal approach reveals the importance
of international law as an enabler of U.S. strategy and a template for military
operations that are consistent with U.S. liberal values and war objectives.

International law: rules and values

The dominant approach to modern international law – called legal positivism –
has a narrow view of international law as a system of rules to which states have
given their explicit consent in treaties, or implicitly in widely accepted custom-
ary practice. The dominance of positivism is beyond doubt. This is how most
scholars, jurists, and states view international law. Many U.S. international
lawyers, however, take a different view of international law. They view inter-
national law as a vehicle for the advancement of progressive liberal values. This
liberal approach was founded in the early Cold War period, and has enjoyed a
revival in the post-Cold War era.
Central to positivism is the idea that jurisprudence should be concerned with
the empirical study of existing law, as opposed to the moral theorizing about the
possibilities of law. Natural international law, stretching back to before medieval
times, derived principles of law from the laws of God and inherent rights of
man. Positivism, which gradually emerged in the sixteenth century, broke with
this tradition by rooting the law in state choice, custom and convention. In one
sense, the emergence of this state-based way of thinking about international law
was remarkable because it involved rejecting over two millennia of jurispru-
dence. This displacing of ethics for empirics in legal study was consolidated in
the context of the general move from philosophy to science in the humanities in
early nineteenth-century Europe. So whereas naturalists based international law
on religious or secular ethics, positivists read it scientifically in terms of what
states agreed the law to be. State consent is so crucial in this scheme of things
because, as sovereigns, there is no authority above states. Thus, states have to
give their consent to be bound by rules that would regulate their relations with
one another. This positivist approach to law was developed in the Victorian era
by British and German scholars and by the early twentieth century had become
the dominant understanding of international law.1
44 T. Farrell
Positivist international law was robustly challenged in the mid-twentieth
century by self-proclaimed “realists” working in the new discipline of inter-
national relations. E. H. Carr and Hans J. Morgenthau, the founding fathers of
modern realism, both pointed to the failure of international law in preventing the
rise of an aggressive fascism in the interwar period and halting the descent into
yet another world war.2 In response to this realist challenge, a liberal approach to
international law developed in the United States in the 1950s and 1960s. The
central figures in this “New Haven” school of international law comprised a
team at Yale University, Myres McDougal and Harold Lasswell. They called for
international lawyers, trained in the methods of policy sciences, to develop pro-
gressive law – law that would help fashion a world public order that advanced
human dignity. Indeed, McDougal and Lasswell were highly critical of the
“make-believe universalism” of traditional international law, i.e., the notion that
international law comprises only those rules to which all states have consented.
This perspective, they argued, cloaked the tough moral choices created by the
effort to develop a sustainable world order. In the 1950s, the value-free position
of legal positivism gave equal recognition to democratic and totalitarian systems
of public order. This simply did not make sense to McDougal and Lasswell in
the context of the Cold War ideological struggle between the Western demo-
cracies and Eastern dictatorships.3
The New Haven school made little headway during the Cold War. Realist
concerns with the balance of power between East and West stifled any inclina-
tion in Western diplomacy to use the law to advance liberal values. The end of
the Cold War and collapse of the Soviet Union, however, created the strategic
opportunity for the advancement of progressive liberal values. In this more per-
missive political environment, the liberal approach to international law has
enjoyed a revival. Drawing on the legacy of the New Haven school, scholars
such as Fernando Teson, Thomas Franck, and Anne-Marie Slaughter have resur-
rected the notion of a moral asymmetry in the world between democracies and
non-democracies. Teson does not beat around the bush: “tyrannical governments
are outlaws.” He argues that liberal international law should seek to protect indi-
viduals from tyrannies, and that force may be legitimately used for this purpose.
Indeed, he maintains that sovereignty rests on internal legitimacy, and since
tyrannies lack this, they also lack the “proper foundation” of state sovereignty.
The conclusion is a subversive one from the perspective of traditional positivist
international law: “Sovereignty is to be respected only when it is justly exer-
cised.” In practical terms, Teson would have the democracies boot the non-
democracies out of the United Nations, suspend their right to make treaties,
remove their diplomatic privileges, and refuse to recognize them as legitimate.4
Franck and Slaughter take a less extreme position, in terms of how non-
democracies ought to be treated. But they are forthright in laying out the legal
and strategic imperatives for recognizing democracy as a core value in inter-
national law. Franck claims, somewhat controversially, that democracy has
evolved “from moral prescription to international legal obligation.” This claim is
based on “various texts” and on “the practice of global and regional organi-
 International law and stability operations 45
zations,” which Franck argues specify in remarkable detail the content of this
new legal norm, especially “the requirement for free and open elections.”5
Slaughter claims that liberal democracies are more likely to honor obligations
undertaken in treaties.6 She also maintains that they can no more be trusted with
weapons of mass destruction (WMD) than non-democracies; indeed, she argues
that democracies have a “duty” to use force to prevent non-democracies from
acquiring WMD to protect international peace and security.7
Positivism and liberalism thus offer very different perspectives on inter-
national law. For positivists, it is a system of rules that gain force not from their
moral worth but because states have agreed to them. For liberals, it is a mechan-
ism for advancing intrinsically moral values. From this perspective, international
law does not require state consent and indeed may push against the wishes of
autocratic states. These perspectives also point to different purposes of inter-
national law. For positivists, international law serves a rational purpose of regu-
lating relations between states. For liberals, it serves a moral purpose for the
advancement of a progressive world order.

International law and the limits on force

International law sets out strict rules regulating recourse to force and the conduct
of military operations. There is a general prohibition against the use of force
under Article 2(4) of the UN Charter. There are only two exceptions to this pro-
hibition: Article 51 recognizes “the inherent right of individual or collective
self-defence,” and Chapter VII provides that the UNSC may authorize the use of
force to protect or restore international peace and security. A number of other
treaties sustain the normative prohibition on state use of force. Most significant
is the 1928 General Treaty for the Renunciation of War (also known as the
Kellogg–Briand Pact). Under Article 1, the parties undertake to “condemn
recourse to war for the solution of international controversies, and renounce it as
an instrument of national policy.” Notwithstanding the obvious recourse to
aggressive war by the fascist states during World War II, the Kellogg–Briand
Pact carries considerable normative weight since all but four states in the inter-
war period signed up for it. In addition to informing Article 2(4) of the UN
Charter, the Kellogg–Briand Pact remains in force today, with 63 states being
party to it.8 Also significant is the 1970 Declaration on Principles of Inter-
national Law Concerning Friendly Relations, which prohibits states from
deploying force to change borders, resolve disputes, in reprisal, or to suppress
people seeking self-determination, and prohibits states from supporting terrorists
or insurgencies in other states. The Declaration is not binding and so, strictly
speaking, has no force in law. But it does provide an authoritative interpretation
of Article 2(4) of the UN Charter.9
Most often stability operations involve use of force. This may occur in the
context of military action that was originally taken in self-defense – such as
stability operations that are ongoing in Afghanistan. Legality is provided where
such operations continue as a proportionate (i.e., proportionate to defensive
46 T. Farrell
requirements) and necessary response to the initial attack. Legality may also be
vouchsafed where such operations are conducted with the consent of the host
government. Both conditions apply in Afghanistan. Legality may be provided
where such operations are authorized by the UN Security Council under Chapter
VII, as is the case with the 9,000 strong UN Stabilization Mission that has been
operating in Haiti since 2004. But stability operations may also involve use of
force beyond the Charter provisions for self-defense and Chapter VII operations.
This may occur in two instances. The first, and most obvious, is recourse to
force for humanitarian purposes. As we shall see, the UNSC has authorized the
exercise of force for humanitarian purposes on a number of occasions since the
end of the Cold War. But equally, in many cases, forcible humanitarian inter-
ventions have occurred without a UNSC mandate. The other instance is when
force is deployed to prevent a threat from emerging. Arguably this is a form of
anticipatory self-defense. There is no provision for humanitarian intervention or
preventive self-defense in the UN Charter. Indeed, humanitarian intervention
runs against the prohibition in Article 2(7) against interfering in the internal
affairs of a sovereign state. Equally, Article 51 only allows for a right of self-
defense “if an armed attack occurs.” Thus, the legal basis for both, if it exists at
all, must be found in customary law. In this regard, the International Court of
Justice found in the 1986 Nicaragua case that the UN Charter did not, as some
commentators had suggested, replace customary law on the use of force.10
States have generally been hostile to the notion of humanitarian intervention
and so, until very recently, there has been little state custom to go on. Indeed,
our current understanding of “humanitarian intervention” – that is, employing
force to “save strangers” – is particular to the late twentieth century. In the nine-
teenth century and before, “humanitarian intervention” involved wielding force
to protect one’s own nationals on foreign territory.11 The basic objection to the
use of force to sort out murderous and failed states was put thus by the French
representative to the UNSC, when condemning humanitarian intervention by
Vietnam in Cambodian genocide in 1978:

The notion that because a regime is detestable foreign intervention is justi-

fied and forcible overthrow is legitimate is extremely dangerous. That could
ultimately jeopardize the very maintenance of international law and order
and make the continued existence of various regimes dependent on the
judgment of their neighbours.12

There were only four instances, including this case, of forcible humanitarian
interventions during the four decades following World War II.
Everything changed with the end of the Cold War. Conflicts around the world
were no longer viewed as extensions of East–West rivalry, and thus the Security
Council was able to authorize armed intervention in humanitarian crises in
Somalia (1992), Bosnia (1992), Kosovo (1999), and East Timor (1999). These
interventions occurred under Chapter VII of the UN Charter, which empowers
the Security Council to determine that the humanitarian crisis constitutes a
 International law and stability operations 47
threat to international peace and security (Article 39) and accordingly to autho-
rize the use of force in response (Article 42). There is a problem, however,
insofar as the UNSC has tended not to provide legal reasoning to justify the
characterization of a humanitarian crisis as a threat to international peace. The
Security Council has also sought to maximize its discretion in this matter by
repeatedly declaring those humanitarian crises that it deems warrant action
under Chapter VII to be “unique” in some way, thereby suggesting that these
cases do not set precedent. Thus, it is difficult to read a legal right of humani-
tarian intervention in UNSC action.
NATO’s intervention in the Kosovo crisis in March 1999 provided the test
case for the legality of humanitarian intervention in the post-Cold War system.
NATO use of force (in the form of precision bombing) was intended to end
violent Serb repression of ethnic Albanians in the Yugoslav province of
Kosovo. This intervention by NATO was widely recognized as responding to
dire humanitarian need and hence legitimate. But serious doubts were
expressed about its legality. Two UNSC resolutions (1160 and 1199) did
provide the triggers for military action by identifying the situation in the
province as a threat to international peace and security. But neither resolution
actually authorized use of force because Russia and China would not agree to
it. Given this, it was incumbent on NATO to lay out the legal case for war,
which it failed to do. Significantly, while NATO states declared that they were
acting on the grounds of overwhelming humanitarian necessity, only Belgium
claimed a legal right to forcibly intervene in Kosovo on humanitarian
grounds.13 The international community was divided in its response to NATO’s
humanitarian war. Russia and China condemned NATO’s intervention as
illegal. Against this, most states in and out of the Security Council accepted the
humanitarian necessity for use of force in this case.14 Regardless, there was no
mood among states to infer a general rule from this specific case. Hence, the
G77 group of 133 non-industrialized states issued a statement in April 2000
declaring: “We reject the so-called ‘right’ of humanitarian intervention, which
has no legal basis in the United Nations Charter or in the general principles of
international law.”15 Nor was NATO trying to generalize from the Kosovo case.
Indeed, following common UNSC practice in such cases, it declared Kosovo to
be an “exceptional case.”16
Customary law on anticipatory self-defense dates back to the Caroline case,
named after an American ship destroyed by British troops in 1837 because it had
been supplying Canadian rebels. In a now famous diplomatic note sent to the
British Ambassador to Washington in April 1841, U.S. Secretary of State Daniel
Webster put forward an authoritative definition of anticipatory self-defense. He
wrote that such use of force was legal when the necessity is “instant, over-
whelming, and leaving no choice of means, and no moment for deliberation.”17
This is taken to mean that anticipatory self-defense is only legal when a state is
facing imminent and overpowering attack. The imperative for preemption in
such cases flows from a powerful strategic logic: the advantage is often with the
state that strikes first.
48 T. Farrell
State practice shows some sympathy for anticipatory self-defense when, as in
the Webster formula, the defending state is facing a threat of imminent and over-
powering attack. Thus, Israel’s preemptive air strike against the Egyptian air
force in 1967 was generally recognized as justified (if not strictly legal) by the
UNSC and UN General Assembly (UNGA), given Egypt’s hostile intent and
Israel’s vulnerability to conventional attack. In contrast, Israel’s bombing of an
Iraqi nuclear reactor in 1981, designed to forestall an Iraqi nuclear threat, was
strongly condemned both by the UNSC and UNGA because the threat from Iraq
was not clear and immediate.18
Another recent test case was the 2003 Iraq War. The British government
located the legal case for use of force against Iraq in past UNSC resolutions that
had originally authorized military action against Iraq in 1991 and were, Britain
argued, reactivated by Iraq’s failure to dismantle fully its weapons of mass
destruction programs. However, the United States also latched on a claim of
acting in self-defense.19 In a public address a few days before the war, President
Bush made it clear that this claim was being invoked in the context of anticipa-
tory self-defense: “Terrorists and terror states do not reveal these threats with
fair notice, in formal declarations; and responding to such enemies only after
they have struck first is not self-defense, it is suicide.”20 Bush’s line on Iraq
echoed his administration’s 2002 National Security Strategy, which declared:
“To forestall or prevent such hostile acts by our adversaries, the United States
will, if necessary, act preemptively.”21 In the case of Iraq, however, the United
States was not able to present compelling evidence of an imminent threat of
attack. Some allied states such as Spain, Italy, Poland, and notably Britain
accepted the necessity for war against Iraq. But many states recognized this for
what it was: preventive use of force. These states were not prepared to recognize
the legality of preventive self-defense because to do so would risk returning the
world to an earlier era of power politics where might makes right.22
So the United States is hemmed in by international law when it comes to
recourse to force. And when it does use force, international law also regulates
the conduct of military operations. The law of armed conflict (LOAC) requires
that humane treatment be given to prisoners, wounded combatants, and civilians
in conflict zones, it prohibits the targeting of civilians and civilian objects; and it
bans specific weapons. These legal restrictions on the conduct of war are rooted
in the Western Just War tradition that stretches back through the Middle Ages to
antiquity, and were codified in modern LOAC in the twentieth century. Particu-
larly noteworthy, in this respect, are the Hague Conventions (1899 and 1907),
the four Geneva Conventions (1949), and the two Additional Protocols to the
Geneva Conventions (1977).23 Until recently, a fairly clear distinction was main-
tained in LOAC between rules applicable to international and to internal armed
conflicts. There is a very well-developed and highly codified law on inter-
national armed conflict. In contrast, the codified law on internal armed conflict is
sparse, and mostly contained in Common Article 3 of the Geneva Conventions,
which makes some vague provision for the humane treatment of ex-combatants
and civilians. As a consequence of the case law of the International Criminal
 International law and stability operations 49
Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia (especially the Tadic case), however, it is
now widely accepted that a broad swathe of customary rules in LOAC are
applicable to all forms of armed conflict.24 Accordingly, U.S. stability opera-
tions, regardless of whether they are conducted in the context of an international
or internal armed conflict, are subject to LOAC.
The application of the LOAC is subject to the principle of military necessity.
One of the first expressions of this principle is found in Article 14 of the Lieber
Code, which covered the conduct of the Union Army during the American Civil
War (1863): “Military necessity, as understood by modern civilized nations,
consists of the necessity of those measures which are indispensable for securing
the ends of war, and which are lawful according to the modern law and usages
of war.”25 In this early formulation, the principle of military necessity emphas-
ized the restraints on war imposed by laws of nations and humanity. But, by the
turn of the twentieth century, the principle had undergone a shift in meaning,
from emphasizing the limits of war imposed by LOAC to emphasizing the limits
of LOAC as imposed by military requirements.26 And so the principle of military
necessity provides some leeway for combat operations. It accepts, for instance,
that civilians may be killed and civilian structures destroyed in the course of
military operations – that is, through collateral damage. But it does not permit
violations of basic rules. Thus, civilian death and destruction may not be the
objective of military operations.
There is no doubt that the U.S. military takes seriously its obligations under
LOAC. Judge Advocate General (JAG) officers are embedded at all levels of
command down to battalion level to insure that military operations conform to
the applicable law especially when it comes to military targeting.27 Embedding
LOAC in national military systems involves generic targeting doctrine as well as
campaign rules of engagement (ROE). In terms of targeting doctrine, however,
there is a gap emerging between U.S. and European militaries. Most European
militaries adhere to a strict reading of Additional Protocol I (Article 52(2)) that
prohibits the targeting of dual-use structures (that is civilian structures which
have military application, such as roads, railways, and bridges), unless such
structures are making an “effective” contribution to enemy action and their neu-
tralization or destruction offers a definite military advantage.”28 The United
States is not a party to Additional Protocol I, but it recognizes the force in cus-
tomary law (as do most states) of its provisions on targeting. The latest U.S. tar-
geting doctrine, however, removes the “effective contribution” requirement and
permits attacks on structures “whose total or partial destruction, capture, or neu-
tralization offer a military advantage.”29 This doctrinal divergence was already
emerging in the late 1990s, and produced variations in how the U.S. and Euro-
pean militaries interpreted the range of lawful action during the Kosovo War.
U.S. officers were satisfied with the lawfulness of extending NATO’s bombing
campaign to include civilian structures in and around Belgrade (including televi-
sion stations, offices of the ruling political party, and the civilian power grid),
whereas the Europeans were uncertain about the lawfulness of this military esca-
lation. Hitting such targets did indeed increase the coercive effect of NATO’s air
50 T. Farrell
campaign. So there was a clear military advantage to the practice. But it is
stretching things to describe them as making an effective contribution to enemy
military action. According to the letter of Additional Protocol I, these were not
dual-use targets.30
The Kosovo campaign also illustrates how LOAC can hinder effects-based
operations. The laborious process of target approval, often requiring authoriza-
tion by all the NATO member states, meant that targets were stacking up
waiting for approval. Concern with collateral damage also led to many approved
targets being cancelled at the last minute. Even when targets were finally
approved, the delays alone caused problems for military planners. According to
the General Accounting Office (GAO) report:

Officials at the [NATO] air operations center stated that the high level
approval process also led to approved targets being provided on a sporadic
basis, which limited the military’s ability to achieve planned effects and
mass and parallel operations as recommended in doctrine.31

The slow target approval process hampered the effort to destroy particular facili-
ties (e.g., approval being denied for all the targets necessary to take out an oil
refinery) and in terms of destroying enough targets in a sufficiently compressed
time period to achieved synergistic strategic effects. Thus, LOAC limits target-
ing tactics, especially where coalition partners are applying a more strict (that is,
legally correct) reading of LOAC rules.

International law and the liberal way of war

The rules of international law impose a defensive strategic posture on the United
States, one that requires it to wait to be attacked or to persuade the permanent
members of the UN Security Council – including France, China, and Russia –
that force needs to be deployed offensively to protect global security. And when
the United States does resort to force, LOAC rules also appear to hinder the U.S.
military operations.
The United States has attempted to stretch the rules to create strategic space
for it to employ its preponderant military power. This is evident in the attempt to
carve out special rights to engage in preventive use of force. It is also evident in
the refusal to extend full prisoner-of-war rights to battlefield detainees, as
required under a strict reading of the Geneva Conventions. And, arguably, it is
evident in U.S. efforts to prevent the International Criminal Court, exercising
jurisdiction over U.S. government officials and military personnel. The flippancy
of key administration figures, such as former Defense Secretary Donald Rums-
feld and Vice President Dick Cheney, as well as the cowboy image of President
Bush, should not mislead one into thinking this simply reflects a cavalier U.S.
attitude towards international law. The character of war has changed, and inter-
national law has some catching up to do. LOAC is premised on clear distinctions
between war and peace, international and internal wars, and civilians and
 International law and stability operations 51
combatants. All these boundaries are blurred in the Global War on Terror
(GWOT). Thus, this is a “long war” which challenges the war–peace distinction,
and it is waged against a global insurgency that operates within and across
states. Insurgents and terrorists, by intention, conduct operations from among
civilian populations.32 Moreover, the fact that Iraq did not have WMD as
claimed by the Bush Administration does not negate the general point that, with
the spread of WMD, the United States cannot wait to be attacked before using
force in self-defense. The logic here predates the GWOT. Rosalyn Higgins (cur-
rently President of the International Court of Justice, or ICJ) noted over a decade
ago: “in a nuclear age, common sense cannot require . . . a state passively to
accept its fate before it can defend itself.”33 And, indeed, the ICJ refused to rule
out anticipatory self-defense in its 1996 opinion on the legality of nuclear
weapons use.34 In sum, the changing character of war gives the United States
ample reason to seek necessary revisions to the rules on the use of force and the
conduct of military operations.
The concentration of military and diplomatic power in American hands gives
U.S. officials the right to seek revision of the existing rules on the use of force.
American power is unrivaled and will remain so for the foreseeable future.35
Some revision to international law might be the price for ensuring that the
United States continues to work within the bounds of international law. Posi-
tivist international lawyers reject the notion that any single state, no matter how
powerful, should have the right to demand such changes. Positivists, however,
are blind to their heritage. Originally, positivists recognized the obvious: that is,
the need for international law to work with, and not against, the prevailing distri-
bution of power in the world system. Indeed, the leading positivist L. F. L.
Oppenheim emphasized the necessity of the balance of power for international
law in his hugely influential two-volume textbook on International Law, first
published in 1905–6. Updated versions of this textbook were published under
successive editors (and indeed continue to be), and it was in the 1935 later
edition of the book that reference to the balance of power was dropped. As
Benedict Kingsbury notes: “ever since, the notion that balance of power prin-
ciples might be relevant to international law has been virtually unutterable
among members of the ‘invisible college of international lawyers’.”36
The liberal approach suggests how international law can be made to work for
the United States, and why this working relationship is so essential. Liberal
values underpin U.S. purpose in the world – a purpose once aimed at defeating
fascist and Communist peer competitors, now directed towards promoting
human dignity and spreading democracy.37 Critics would suggest that U.S.
foreign policy is really about advancing the interests of “corporate America” and
that this requires suppressing human dignity and real democracy so as to reduce
labor costs and remove barriers to foreign-resource extraction.38
In some cases economic interests exercised through U.S. foreign policy have
indeed produced these effects. It is abundantly clear, however, that the dominant
narrative of U.S. foreign policy, one that gives purpose to U.S. leadership in the
world, is a narrative of human rights and the promotion of democracy. Thus,
52 T. Farrell
narrow national interests cannot explain U.S. action in the 2003 Iraq War. There
is no doubting now that U.S. policymakers realized that Iraq was not an imme-
diate threat to U.S. national security. Rather this was an “offensive liberal war”
(albeit not a terribly successful one to date) – that is to say, a war waged to
protect human rights and promote regional peace through regime change.39 This
offensive liberalism is deeply ingrained in U.S. strategic culture.40 As a liberal
hegemon, it is not surprising that the United States seeks to create a world legal
order that advances liberal values. Indeed, this liberal imprint is clear in inter-
national legal regimes on human rights, international crimes, and world trade.
As a liberal hegemon, the United States is ideologically inclined towards a rule-
governed international order. Ironically, a crusading liberalism and the mantle of
leadership often push and pull the United States into projecting power, some-
times in contradiction of international law, as occurred in the liberal wars in
Kosovo in 1999 and Iraq in 2003.41
But it would be inconceivable for the United States to simply abandon inter-
national law. Indeed, the liberal approach illuminates why it would be a mistake
of historic proportions to do so. The United States, with good reason, is the
major architect of the international legal system and institutions that comprise
it.42 This system provides order and facilitates the exercise of US power. By
binding itself to international law, the United States is able to reassure states that
are nervous about the concentration of U.S. power, and so to be able to wield it
without triggering resistance.43 International law and institutions play a crucial
role in legitimating and thereby enabling U.S. leadership. Here Christian Reus-
Smit highlights the “central paradox of hegemony: that stable, enduring leader-
ship requires power to be socially embedded, and that unilateral action can be
socially corrosive, with implications for both the preponderant power and world
order.”44 Thus the United States faces a tricky balancing act – to revise the rules
of international law as required by the changing character of war and its own
liberal purpose, but without veering too far from the standards of state practice
encoded in international law. The adverse world reaction to the 2003 Iraq War
suggests that the United States may have strayed too far. Public opinion in most
countries now favors the emergence of some other rival power to balance the
United States.45
Even when it comes to how the United States employs force, the LOAC also
furnishes the script and thereby enables it to wage war in a manner that is con-
sistent with liberal values. Stability operations following the U.S.-led conquest
of Afghanistan and Iraq probably supply the model for future forceful stability
operations, which are likely to center on a struggle between liberalism and polit-
ical extremism. Indeed, this model had already emerged in the coercive peace
operations of the 1990s in Bosnia, Somalia, Haiti, and Kosovo. These conflicts
between liberal interveners and local extremist groups cannot be won through
force of arms. Rather it is the force of ideas that will decide the matter.46 It is
crucial that the United States and its coalition partners set the narratives of these
wars, narratives that have given just cause to what they are trying to achieve,
and then sustain these narratives through military action.47
 International law and stability operations 53
Iraq illustrates the problems here. U.S. stability operations in the two years
following the collapse of Saddam’s regime suffered from a number of deficien-
cies that could have been remedied through more careful compliance with
LOAC. In the initial occupation phase, before the re-establishment of sovereign
government in Iraq, coalition forces were obliged under the Hague and Geneva
Conventions to maintain law and order.48 This they were not prepared to do. The
U.S. Department of Defense, under Rumsfeld, was determined not to stick
around in Iraq. Accordingly, the U.S. force that invaded Iraq was not configured
for stabilizing the country. Indeed, the U.S. occupying authorities made matters
worse by dismantling the local state security structures. We now know just how
critical these errors were in creating the conditions for civil war in Iraq. But this
lesson is not new: the peace operations of the 1990s underline the (fairly
obvious) importance of law and order in stabilizing post-conflict societies.49
Serious attention to the international legal obligations to impose order on terri-
tory one has conquered would have avoided the necessity for America to re-
learn this lesson; it would also have greatly helped avoid civil war in Iraq.
Stabilization operations in postwar Iraq were also characterized by considerable
variation in the restraint exercised by U.S. forces towards local populaces in the
fight against insurgents. This applies both to the detention and treatment of sus-
pects, and the use of force against insurgents operating among civilians and
civilian structures.50 Here, however, the story is more encouraging. The U.S.
Army and U.S. Marine Corps have gained a new appreciation of the need to be
more judicious in the targeted detention of locals and the use of force against
insurgents. Tactics and procedures at checkpoints have been revised, and more
restrictive ROEs introduced, to reduce civilian casualties. Stability operations
may require offensives necessarily involving large-scale deployment of force
against insurgents (and other “peace spoilers”). But here too, the contrast
between the first and second U.S. offensive against insurgents in Fallujah, in
April 2004 and November 2005, respectively, revealed that important lessons
have been learned. In the first offensive, U.S. Marines fought pitched battles
with insurgents in heavily populated civilian areas. The second offensive was
preceded by information operations that succeeded in getting 250,000 of the
280,000 inhabitants to clear the city in advance of combat operations.51
Challenges remain, especially when insurgents seek to manipulate LOAC for
military advantage, for instance by using civilians as shields in attacks against
coalition forces. Such practices have discredited LOAC in the eyes of some U.S.
officers, who believe that it constitutes a means for the enemy to engage in
“lawfare.”52 However, the principle of military necessity permits use of force
against insurgents in such circumstances (especially, but not exclusively, in self-
defense). Moreover, anecdotal evidence suggests that U.S. Marines and soldiers
are firing on insurgents operating from behind human shields.53 The broader
point is that the United States has every reason to support the LOAC (even if
specific rules on dual-use targets may need adjusting) because it de-legitimates
insurgent military practices and legitimates the high-tech, precision-strike
warfare practiced by the U.S. military.54
54 T. Farrell
Iraq underlines the importance of harnessing international law and institu-
tions for a U.S. grand strategy that is centered on containing the threat from
illiberal states to their own populaces and regional security. In Iraq, the Bush
Administration was too quick to ignore the UNSC on the path to war. And it has
paid the price in terms of a poor level of international support for postwar secur-
ity and reconstruction. The failure to find Iraqi WMD does not negate the poten-
tial need for preventive military action or humanitarian intervention to contain
the threat from illiberal states. There is provision for neither under current inter-
national law. However, both are consistent with a liberal reading of what should
be provided under international law. Liberal states should not permit massive
abuses of human rights to occur in illiberal zones of the world. The norm of
democracy is developing attributes of a legal right. And, in any case, there is
ample reason (both ethically and strategically) to make sovereignty conditional
on minimum standards of responsible statehood. Equally, liberal states should
not have to sit back while illiberal states acquire WMD. History gives liberal
democracies ample reason to be nervous about the military intentions and cap-
abilities of illiberal regimes. History also shows that, prior to the foundation of
the United Nations, great powers enlisted international law to regulate “outlaw”
states.55 Liberal values are certainly present in the current world legal order, in
the regimes on human rights, international crimes, and world trade.56
Iraq will doubtless cast a shadow over any constructive engagement by the
United States with the other great powers on the need to adjust legal rules to the
new reality of liberal hegemony. And yet, such an engagement is overdue. It is
time for the United States to engage its preponderant material and social power
to inject liberal purpose into legal rules governing the use of force. Preventive
use of force against illiberal states raises the prospects of regime change (as a
logical strategic objective) and hence U.S. stability operations. And certainly
stability operations naturally follow from humanitarian intervention. Here too,
international law is a crucial resource in providing the script for a liberal way of
warfare, and so a template for a liberal victory. America can win wars by mili-
tary force alone. But to win the peace, it needs legal rules guided by liberal
values.

Notes
1 Stephen Hall, “The Persistent Spectre: Natural Law, International Order and the
Limits of Legal Positivism,” European Journal of International Law, vol. 12 (2001),
pp. 269–307; H. L. A. Hart, “Positivism and the Separation of Law and Morals,”
Harvard Law Review, vol. 71 (1958), pp. 593–629.
2 E. H. Carr, The Twenty Years Crisis: An Introduction to the Study of International
Relations (Basingstoke: Palgrave, 2001[1939]); Hans J. Morgenthau, Politics among
Nations: The Struggle for Power and Peace (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1993 [1948]).
3 Myres S. McDougal and Harold D. Lasswell, “The Identification and Appraisal of
Diverse Systems of Public Order,” American Journal of International Law, vol. 53
(1959), pp. 1–29; Myres S. McDougal, “Some Basic Concepts about International
Law: A Policy Orientated Approach,” Journal of Conflict Resolution, vol. 4 (1960),
pp. 337–54.
 International law and stability operations 55
4 Fernando R. Teson, “The Kantian Theory of International Law,” Columbia Law
Review, vol. 92 (1992), pp. 89, 92, 100.
5 Thomas M. Franck, “The Emerging Right to Democratic Governance,” American
Journal of International Law, vol. 86 (1992), pp. 47, 90.
6 Anne-Marie Slaughter, “International Law in a World of Liberal States,” European
Journal of International Law, vol. 6 (1995), pp. 503–38.
7 Lee Feinstein and Anne-Marie Slaughter, “A Duty to Prevent,” Foreign Affairs, vol.
83, no. 1 (2004) pp. 136–50.
8 Ian Brownlie, Principles of Public International Law, 6th edn (Oxford: Oxford Uni-
versity Press, 2003), pp. 698–9.
9 Malcolm Shaw, International Law, 5th edn (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
2005), p. 1018.
10 ICJ, “Case Concerning Military and Paramilitary Activities in and against
Nicaragua,” Merits, 27 June 1986, para. 176.
11 Martha Finnemore, The Purpose of Intervention (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University
Press, 2003).
12 Thomas Franck, Recourse to Force (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002),
p. 148.
13 Catherine Guicher, “International Law and the War in Kosovo,” Survival, vol. 41
(1999), pp. 25–9.
14 Antonio Cassese, “A Follow-Up: Forcible Humanitarian Countermeasures and opinio
nessitatis,” European Journal of International Law, vol. 10 (1999), pp. 791–9.
15 Declaration of the Group of 77 South Summit, Havana, Cuba, 10–14 April 2000, at
www.g77.org/Declaration_G77Summit.htm.
16 Michael Byers and Simon Chesterman, “Changing the Rules about the Rules? Unilat-
eral Humanitarian Intervention and the Future of International Law,” in J. L. Holz-
grefe and Robert O. Keohane (eds), Humanitarian Intervention (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2003), p. 199.
17 Caroline Case, British and Foreign State Papers, vol. 29 (1836), pp. 1137–8, and vol.
30 (1837), pp. 195–6.
18 Franck, Recourse to Force, pp. 101–7.
19 Peter Slevin, “US Says War Has Legal Basis,” Washington Post, 21 March 2003, p. A14.
20 Peter Ford, “As Attack on Iraq Begins, Question Remains: Is It Legal?” Christian
Science Monitor (21 March 2003).
21 The National Security Strategy of the United States of America (Washington, DC,
2002), p. 15. See also The National Security Strategy of the United States of America
(Washington, DC, 2006), p. 18.
22 Thomas Franck, “What Happens Now? The United Nations after Iraq,” American
Journal of International Law, vol. 97 (2003), pp. 607–20.
23 A. Roberts and R. Guelff, Documents on the Laws of War, 3rd edn (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 1999), pp. 9–10; C. Greenwood, “The Law of War (International
Humanitarian Law),” in M. Evans (ed.), International Law (Oxford: Oxford Univer-
sity Press, 2003), pp. 789–824.
24 Theodor Meron, “International Criminalization of Internal Atrocities,” American
Journal of International Law, vol. 89 (1995), pp. 554–77. In its Customary Inter-
national Humanitarian Law Project, the ICRC concluded that 147 of the 161 rules
it identified in customary IHL are applicable to all forms of armed conflict. See
Jean-Marie Henckaerts and Louise Doswald-Beck, Customary International
Humanitarian Law, 2 vols (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005),
volume 1: Rules.
25 U.S. War Department, General Order No. 100, “Instructions for the Government of
the Armies of the United States in the Field,” 24 April 1863, at www.icrc.org/ihl.nsf/
FULL/110?OpenDocument.
26 Burrus M. Carnahan, “Lincoln, Lieber and the Laws of War: The Origins and Limits
56 T. Farrell
of the Principle of Military Necessity,” American Journal of International Law, vol.
92 (1998), pp. 217–18.
27 Michael W. Lewis, “The Law of Aerial Bombardment in the 1991 Gulf War,” Amer-
ican Journal of International Law, vol. 97 (2003), pp. 481–509.
28 Marco Roscini, “Targeting and Contemporary Aerial Bombardment,” International
and Comparative Law Quarterly, vol. 54 (2005), p. 442.
29 U.S. Joint Chiefs of Staff, Joint Doctrine for Targeting JP 3–60, 17 January 2002,
A-2, 4 (b), at www.dtic.mil/doctrine/jel/new_pubs/jp3_60.pdf.
30 Theo Farrell, “World Culture and Military Power,” Security Studies, vol. 14 (2005),
pp. 484–5.
31 General Accounting Office (GAO), Kosovo Air Operations: Need to Maintain Alliance
Cohesion Resulted in Doctrinal Departures (Washington, DC: GAO, July 2001), p. 9.
32 John Mackinlay, Defeating Complex Insurgency (London: Royal United Services
Institute, 2005).
33 Rosalyn Higgins, Problems and Process: International Law and How We Use It
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1995), p. 242.
34 Theo Farrell and Hélène Lambert, “Courting Controversy: International Law,
National Norms, and American Nuclear Use,” Review of International Studies, vol.
27 (2001), pp. 321–2.
35 William C. Wohlforth, “The Stability of a Unipolar World,” International Security,
vol. 24 (1999), pp. 5–41; G. John Ikenberry (ed.), America Unrivaled: The Future of
the Balance of Power (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2002).
36 Benedict Kingsbury, “Legal Positivism as Normative Politics: International Society,
Balance of Power and Lassa Oppenheim’s Positive International Law,” European
Journal of International Law, vol. 13 (2002), p. 420.
37 Tony Smith, America’s Mission: The United States and the Worldwide Struggle
for Democracy in the Twentieth Century (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press,
1994).
38 William I. Robinson, Promoting Polyarchy: Globalization, Intervention and US
Hegemony (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996); Noam Chomsky, Deter-
ring Democracy (London: Vintage, 1992).
39 Lawrence Freedman, “Iraq, Liberal Wars, and Illiberal Containment,” Survival, vol.
48 (2006–7), pp. 51–66.
40 Theo Farrell, “Strategic Culture and American Empire,” The SAIS Review of Inter-
national Affairs, vol. 25 (2005), pp. 3–18.
41 Colin Dueck, Reluctant Crusaders: Power, Culture and Change in American Grand
Strategy (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2006).
42 John F. Murphy, The United States and the Rule of Law in International Affairs
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004).
43 G. John Ikenberry, After Victory: Institutes, Strategic Restraint, and the Rebuilding of
Order after Major Wars (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2001).
44 Christian Reus-Smit, American Power and World Order (Cambridge: Polity, 2004),
p. 6; on this point, see also Bruce Cronin, “The Paradox of Hegemony: America’s
Ambiguous Relationship with the United Nations,” European Journal of Inter-
national Relations, vol. 7 (2001), pp. 103–30.
45 This finding is based on a 16-nation survey. See Pew Global Attitudes Project,
“American Character Gets Mixed Reviews,” 23 June 2005, p. 3, at http://pewglobal.
org/reports/pdf/247.pdf.
46 This is most clearly articulated in Tony Blair, “A Battle for Global Values,” Foreign
Affairs, vol. 85, no. 1 (2007).
47 Lawrence Freedman, The Transformation of Strategic Affairs (Milton Park: Rout-
ledge for the International Institute for Strategic Studies, 2006), p. 26.
48 Karen Guttieri, “Symptom of the Moment: A Juridical Gap for U.S. Occupation
Forces,” International Insights, vol. 13 (1997), pp. 140–2.
 International law and stability operations 57
49 Simon Chesterman, The Use of Force in UN Peace Operations (New York: UN
Department of Peacekeeping, Best Practice Unit, 2004), pp. 14–17.
50 Thomas E. Ricks, Fiasco (London: Allen Lane, 2006).
51 Colin Kahl, “How We Fight,” Foreign Affairs, vol. 85, no. 6 (2006), pp. 83–101.
52 Charles J. Dunlap, Jr., “Law and Military Interventions: Preserving Humanitarian
Values in the Twenty-first Century Conflicts,” working paper, Project on the Means
of Intervention, Carr Center for Human Rights Policy, Harvard University,
www.ksg.harvard.edu/cchrp/UseofForcePapers.shtml, pp. 11–15.
53 Evan Wright, Generation Kill (London: Bantam Press, 2004), pp. 93–5; Peter Beau-
mont, “Gunmen, Children, Brutality, and Bombs – Iraq’s Dirty War,” The Guardian,
22 February 2007, at www.guardian.co.uk/print/0,,329723414–103550,00.html.
54 Thomas W. Smith, “The New Law of War: Legitimating Hi-tech and Infrastructural
Violence,” International Studies Quarterly, vol. 46 (2002), pp. 481–509.
55 Gerry Simpson, Great Powers and Outlaw States (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 2004).
56 David Armstrong, Theo Farrell, and Hélène Lambert, International Law and Inter-
national Relations (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007).
Part II

Service models
5 Beyond protecting the land and
the sea
The role of the U.S. Navy in
reconstruction
Jessica Piombo and Michael Malley

The contemporary focus on Stability, Security, Transition, and Reconstruction

(SSTR) activities is a direct result of the security environment that has emerged
over the past two decades.1 With the decline of traditional threats such as inter-
state combat, or the prospect of blue-water naval engagements, the U.S. military,
and the U.S. Navy in particular, have had to reassess many aspects of their force
structure and operations. The new security environment is characterized by a
sharp rise in non-traditional threats such as failed or failing states, global terror-
ist networks, and long-term insurgencies that attack both civilian and state
targets. The U.S. military has had to reposition itself and its assets to meet this
changed security environment. For its part, the U.S. Navy has discovered that
blue-water operations do not figure prominently in this new threat environment.
The 2006 Quadrennial Defense Review (QDR) has called for the U.S. mili-
tary to transition to a more flexible force structure, with more emphasis on
Special Operations Force (SOF) operations, an awareness of history and
foreign cultures, and a better appreciation of strategy. It also placed special
emphasis on civil affairs and SSTR activities. These types of operations
present many challenges to the U.S. Navy. As James Wirtz discussed in the
introductory chapter, SSTR activities introduce new mission areas and new
methods of operation, and entail cooperating with a wider range of partners.
SSTR programs are complex and are intended to restore potentially all aspects
of civil society and its associated infrastructure following a disaster. SSTR
operations also are not limited to a specific facet of the Navy or a specific type
of operation, and they may necessitate new basing modes as the Navy seeks to
forward-deploy assets into regions of concern. Additionally, the U.S. Navy
finds that it must work with or alongside governmental and non-governmental
organizations that may have competing programs, objectives and constituen-
cies as it engages in SSTR activities.
What role can the U.S. Navy play in the reconstruction phase of these opera-
tions? Most of the analyses of the U.S. Navy in SSTR focus on the security and
stabilization operations, but the Navy can also contribute to the reconstruction
efforts that follow violent conflict or natural disaster. The Navy has unique
assets for use in littoral or riverine areas that can undertake a wide range of mis-
sions outside of these areas. The Navy already has engaged in reconstruction
62 J. Piombo and M. Malley
activities in both post-conflict and natural-disaster situations that have little to do
with traditional combat operations.
This chapter reviews the emergence of SSTR operations as a priority in U.S.
foreign and defense policy. It describes the components of SSTR, emphasizing
the critical difference between the conduct of reconstruction operations follow-
ing violent conflicts and the reconstruction operations undertaken in the wake of
natural disasters. Ironically, emerging SSTR doctrine and directives focus on
post-conflict situations, yet the U.S. Navy primarily engages in reconstruction
operations in the wake of natural disasters. The U.S. Navy’s role, compared to
that of other services, has been greatest in the largest post-natural-disaster opera-
tions: Operation Sea Angel, which was undertaken in response to a massive
typhoon that hit Bangladesh in 1991; and Operation Unified Assistance, which
followed the enormous tsunami that struck Sri Lanka, Thailand, and Indonesia
in 2004. Thus, the distinction between the two operational environments (post-
conflict and post-natural disaster) is important, and demands more careful analy-
sis and attention in terms of how the U.S. Navy prepares to engage in SSTR
operations.
To support this perspective on the relative importance of various types of SSTR
operations in the history of the U.S. Navy, the chapter describes how the Navy
operated in a major reconstruction activity, Operation Unified Assistance, and
draws comparisons to similar efforts that have occurred over the last century.2 Our
analysis suggests that in all of these SSTR operations, the U.S. Navy has utilized a
wide range of assets, responded to an array of instigating events, and has shown
that it can make a substantial contribution to SSTR missions.

The military’s prioritization of and role in SSTR

The United States Department of Defense has steadily increased the priority of
SSTR activities over the past five years, but its conception of SSTR has focused
on post-conflict reconstruction at the expense of post-natural-disaster scenarios.
In December 2003, the Defense Department began to consider creating a mili-
tary force dedicated to stability and reconstruction operations. Navy Vice
Admiral Arthur Cebrowski, at the time the Chief of the Defense Department’s
Office of Force Transformation, declared that the September 11, 2001 terrorist
attacks on the Pentagon and the World Trade Center forced planners to consider
conducting stability operations in places where the U.S. military had not previ-
ously engaged in military activities. The stability force that Cebrowski envis-
aged would include some of the military’s best people and equipment, including
combined arms combat capabilities, as well as military police, civil affairs, mili-
tary intelligence, psychological affairs, engineers, and explosive ordnance
teams. It would also be a joint force and draw on the entire “interagency,” i.e.,
non-military, components of the U.S. government.3 At the time, however, little
was done to turn Cebrowski’s vision into a reality.
A year later, the Defense Science Board 2004 Summer Study called for the
creation of stabilization and reconstruction capabilities in the U.S. military. The
 Navy role in reconstruction 63
Summer Study noted that the United States was engaging in stabilization and
reconstruction operations more frequently than in the past: Board members
noted that since 1989, the U.S. military had begun new stabilization and recon-
struction operations every 18 to 24 months. The study recommended that the
U.S. military should increase its capabilities in four principal areas, two of
which related to stabilization and reconstruction: (1) stabilization and recon-
struction capabilities; (2) strategic communication; (3) knowledge, understand-
ing, and intelligence relating to stabilization and reconstruction; and (4)
identification, location, and tracking for asymmetric warfare.4
The study suggested that stabilization and reconstruction operations tended to
last longer than major combat operations (MCOs). SSTR operations typically
stretched anywhere between five and eight years, and required a different skill set
from that required in the kinetic focus of a combat operation. In the view of the
Board members, the U.S. military needed to begin to train explicitly for SSTR
operations. The Summer Study noted that SSTR operations were necessary due to
the changing nature of warfare, and implied that stabilizing societies in the wake
of war was a key way to eliminate the conditions that foster terrorism around the
world. This logic also implied that the U.S. military should become more involved
in natural-disaster relief, both to stabilize vulnerable societies and to “win hearts
and minds” in the global struggle against Islamic terrorism.
The first major policy directive to reflect these recommendations arrived a
year later, when the U.S. Defense Department issued Directive 3000.05 in
November 2005. This directive placed stability operations on the same footing
as major combat operations and expanded the scope of stabilization and recon-
struction to include a wider gamut of activities, coining the name Stability,
Security, Transition, and Reconstruction activities for this cluster of missions.
Section 4.1 of the directive reads:

Stability operations are a core U.S. military mission that the Department of
Defense shall be prepared to conduct and support. They shall be given pri-
ority comparable to combat operations and be explicitly addressed and
integrated across all DoD activities including doctrine, organizations, train-
ing, education, exercises, materiel, leadership, personnel, facilities, and
planning.

The directive also distinguished between stability operations and SSTR opera-
tions, placing the Department of Defense in a supporting role in the latter.
Stability operations, as the directive defined them, referred to military and civil-
ian activities conducted across the spectrum from peace to conflict to establish
or maintain order in states and regions, while SSTR activities included Defense
Department activities that support U.S. government plans for Stability, Security,
Reconstruction, and Transition operations, which lead to sustainable peace while
advancing U.S. interests.
Department of Defense Directive 3000.05 serves as a landmark in how the
U.S. government regards stabilization and reconstruction activities. Not only did
64 J. Piombo and M. Malley
the Directive reprioritize the activities, but it also identified specific duties and
benchmarks for each of the Undersecretaries of Defense, combatant comman-
ders and other officials to meet the mandate. Without this specific tasking, it
would be easy for them to avoid implementing the Directive. Despite these spe-
cific benchmarks, for example, the military has dragged its feet and has resisted
elevating SSTR to the same status as MCO. The fiscal year 2007 Defense
Authorization Act mentioned SSTR in only one small paragraph that required
timelines to be established. It provided no direct budgetary allocations to train-
ing for SSTR activities, nor did it call for the establishment of any SSTR-
specific military capabilities.5
Following 3000.05, the National Security Presidential Directive-44 (Decem-
ber 2005) created the Office of the Coordinator for Reconstruction and Stabiliza-
tion (S/CRS) within the Department of State to coordinate and integrate the
efforts of the U.S. government to prepare for and conduct stabilization and
reconstruction activities.6 S/CRS was meant to lead U.S. government planning to
help societies transition from conflict or civil strife to a sustainable peace, with
democracy and market economies. All other government agencies involved in
these activities were to report to this new office. To facilitate this coordination,
the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff issued a Notice (3245.01) on 12 May
2006, which designated the Joint Staff as the “office of primary responsibility
for matters pertaining to stability operations, security assistance, technology
transfer, and the Office of the Coordinator for Reconstruction and
Stabilization.”7 The notice designated an office to oversee progress, and estab-
lished a Department of Defense Stability Operations Executive Council and
Stability Operations Working Group. Both groups were to be composed of all
the Defense Department components assigned responsibilities pertaining to
SSTR operations.
Finally, the 2006 Quadrennial Defense Review pushed the boundaries of mil-
itary considerations into the humanitarian realm when it recognized the import-
ance of humanitarian concerns in the war on terror. Based on U.S. experience in
Iraq, Afghanistan, the Indian Ocean tsunami, and the South Asian earthquake,
the QDR argued that forces needed to prepare to undertake irregular warfare and
humanitarian operations.8
Why do these directives call for new roles and capabilities for the U.S. mili-
tary, and where does the U.S. Navy fit into all of this? The Defense Science
Board’s Summer Study envisioned a transition from military to civilian activities
in stabilization and reconstruction operations, with the military footprint being
heaviest in the initial phases, gradually transitioning to a more civilian-focused
effort. In their estimation, the military has unparalleled management and plan-
ning capabilities that the civilian sector cannot reproduce:

While the military has deep experience in operational planning and execu-
tion, other parts of the U.S. government seldom demonstrate comparable
management discipline, and plans are often poorly prepared. Their ability to
prepare and validate plans is not comparable to that of the U.S. military.
 Navy role in reconstruction 65
Even when seemingly sound plans are prepared, the failure to test and chal-
lenge them makes success problematic.9

At the same time, authors of the Summer Study also recognized that the mili-
tary would be more appropriate as the lead in stabilization, rather than recon-
struction. In reconstruction activities, the study’s authors argued, the State
Department should play the leading role, and the Defense Department should
function as a supporting actor. As figure one demonstrates, each organization
has a distinct set of skills that make it the most appropriate agency to handle
specific tasks.
While this vision of cooperation is laudable, in reality, the Defense and State
Departments rarely cooperate well, and in the conditions of a natural-disaster
situation, there may not be enough time for the State Department to rally the
resources necessary to contribute to a reconstruction operation. The unique
requirements of a reconstruction operation in the wake of a natural disaster –
often requiring extremely rapid response to an event for which there is precious
little planning – indicate that the military, and particularly the U.S. Navy, may
be the most appropriate organization to coordinate, lead, and execute certain
kinds of reconstruction efforts. Post-conflict reconstruction efforts have a much
longer lead time to develop a plan, and are more suited, therefore, for a larger
state footprint. Ultimately, the full range of operations that falls under the realm
of Stability, Security, Transition, and Reconstruction will require that the
Departments of State and Defense cooperate with each other, with other govern-
ment agencies, and with civilian groups.

Criteria for an effective stabilization capability

Finding
Effective partnership requires improvements on both sides DOD DOS
Actively train, practice, exercise, rehearse
Evaluate readiness and validate plans
Available on short notice
Continuity in theater
Large enough to support multiple concurrent
cumulative stabilization operations
Prepared for a range of cultures, languages
Elasticity to respond and adjust to an adaptive enemy
Active experimentation program
Recommendations
• DOD and DOS use these criteria to develop metrics to measure progress in S&R readiness
• DOD include S&R readiness in the Joint Military Readiness Reporting System

Inadequate capability Some capability exists but needs to be improved Adequate capability

Figure 5.1 State versus defense capabilities in stabilization activities.10

66 J. Piombo and M. Malley
SSTR activities and environments: post-conflict versus
natural-disaster situations
The tasks of SSTR require multiple capabilities. Security initiatives require
robust intelligence, surveillance and reconnaissance (ISR), a capability to
manage human intelligence operations, and adequate security forces to insure
stability and safety. Military police need to be trained to maintain order and
insure security. Military police must also be able to train constabulary forces and
indigenous police. Ensuring that the SSTR operations will have effective com-
munication requires a robust information operations capacity and strategic com-
munication assets. Humanitarian operations require a civil affairs capability,
robust engineering assets (including civil engineers), humanitarian assistance
materials, and the authority and capability to disburse funds. Area expertise –
including language capability and knowledge of the region’s people, politics,
and history – is also required for these programs to be effective.
When analyzing the role of the U.S. Navy in SSTR operations, there are
several factors to consider that do not figure prominently in existing policy
documents. First, the nature of the situation is critical: SSTR operations take
place in both post-conflict scenarios and natural-disaster situations. Most of
the policy documents on SSTR refer to post-conflict reconstruction (this was
one of the earlier terms used for these activities), yet many SSTR activities
take place in the wake of natural disasters such as earthquakes, hurricanes, and
floods. The operating environment in a natural disaster is different than the
conditions existing in post-conflict situations and will affect the objectives of
SSTR operations, the timeframe that operators have to plan the activities, and
the security risks to the country’s personnel and material assets as they
conduct the operations.
Recent experience suggests that this distinction is particularly relevant to the
U.S. Navy. Although it has played a role in joint operations to deliver humani-
tarian assistance into conflict and post-conflict zones, including Yugoslavia
(1992–6), East Timor (2000), and Democratic Republic of Congo (1996–7), its
role has been much greater in non-conflict situations. The most prominent of
these was its involvement in Operation Sea Angel, in which it delivered relief
supplies to millions of Bangladeshis in the aftermath of a typhoon in 1991 that
killed more than 140,000 people.11 The storm also destroyed a large amount of
infrastructure, thus complicating efforts to provide assistance and raising the
value of the Navy’s assets, especially helicopters capable of distributing supplies
to isolated communities. Similarly, the Navy played a critical role in efforts to
rescue and care for as many as 50,000 Haitian and Cuban refugees during Oper-
ation Sea Signal in 1994–6, and in a series of operations prior to that. A similar
combination of natural disaster and large-scale humanitarian rescue was the
focus of Operation Fiery Vigil in 1992. During that mission, navy ships evacu-
ated 17,000 Americans from the Philippines as Mount Pinatubo erupted and
dumped enormous quantities of ash on Clark Air Base amid massive rainfall and
earthquakes spawned by the volcanic activity.12 In each case, the scale of the
 Navy role in reconstruction 67
operation and its location far from land-based infrastructure meant that Naval
power was the most effective means of providing assistance.
Second, there are multiple issue areas in SSTR activities, and not all govern-
ment agencies divide the components of SSTR in the same fashion. For
example, the Center for Strategic and International Studies (CSIS) and the
Association for the U.S. Army produced one of the foundational works on stabi-
lization and reconstruction in May 2002, in which they outlined the “four
pillars” of reconstruction: security, justice and reconciliation, social and eco-
nomic well-being, and governance and participation.13 When the State Depart-
ment established S/CRS in 2004, the Office of the Coordinator for Stabilization
and Reconstruction took the CSIS framework and separated humanitarian assis-
tance and economic programs. S/CRS, therefore, works under a framework that
divides SSTR activities into five program areas: security, governance and partic-
ipation, humanitarian assistance and social well-being, economic stabilization
and infrastructure, and justice and reconciliation.14 In contrast, the Department
of Defense collapsed the subject areas of SSTR into just three issue areas: secur-
ity, economy, and governance.15
Finally, SSTR operations should be considered in phases: initial response,
transformation, and sustainability. During the initial response, international mili-
tary involvement plays a critical role in protecting life and property because this
is when assets and people must be quickly brought to the area that requires assis-
tance. The focus in the initial response is often on providing security to the area
and to the individuals assisting those affected by the natural disaster or conflict.
During the transformation phase, projects must develop local legitimacy and
foster sustainable indigenous capacity, and the focus shifts from security to
economy, governance, and justice. This is when military and civilian organi-
zations often work in close contact with one another. Long-term recovery efforts
constitute the sustainability phase and ideally witness the withdrawal of most of
the international military effort as military assets are replaced with civilian agen-
cies trained in economic development, governance assistance, and the provision
of social welfare.

Natural disasters versus post-conflict reconstruction

The nature of the operating environment – whether the SSTR activity takes
place in the wake of a natural disaster or in a post-conflict situation – affects all
of the dimensions of SSTR operations, and is a distinction not considered in
DoD 3000.05, the S/CRS operating framework, or the CSIS pillars of recon-
struction. While some may debate the validity of distinguishing between natural
disasters and conflict situations, there are critical differences that affect the
nature of the response to each one.
First, the security situation differs in natural versus man-made disasters. In
natural disasters, the environment is often non-hostile, even if the area had been
previously embroiled in conflict. In Aceh, for example, a long-running insur-
gency declared a unilateral cease-fire in the aftermath of the tsunami that
68 J. Piombo and M. Malley
devastated the area. The more benign security environment in the aftermath of a
natural disaster reduces the level of military assets needed for force protection,
freeing units to participate directly in reconstruction activities. In high-conflict
areas in which the Combined Joint Task Force (CJTF)-Horn of Africa (HOA)
operates, by contrast, it has been suggested that, out of 1,200 military personnel
detailed to operations, 800 provide security for the 400 soldiers who actually
conduct civil affairs and humanitarian operations.16
Second, natural disasters permit virtually no lead time for preparation to
deploy, while the signs of impending disaster often are apparent for months
before SSTR operations in post-conflict situations. This affects planning for per-
sonnel training and deployment of equipment for reconstruction operations
following natural disasters. With the ability to plan more extensively for an
operation in a post-conflict situation, the Department of Defense should be able
to generate a more comprehensive and integrated response, including genuine
cooperation with the Department of State and civilian organizations. By con-
trast, natural disasters tend to generate ad hoc operations, based primarily on
assets that happen to be available for rapid deployment to the site of the disaster,
rather than a careful assessment of what the situation requires and which assets
can best fulfill those needs. Post-conflict and post-disaster situations, therefore,
often involve a different mix of actors because of the ability to plan for the
response in one but not the other.
Third, the very nature of the activities involved in reconstruction differs
between natural and man-made disasters. Natural-disaster situations call for a
focus on emergency relief and immediate humanitarian assistance, while post-
conflict situations focus more on providing security. In a natural disaster situ-
ation, governance may have been temporarily disrupted, but there are often
remnants of an indigenous government that can take control of the reconstruc-
tion effort in a relatively short time horizon. The types of conflicts that create a
need for a reconstruction effort, by contrast, are likely to have completely
destroyed virtually all vestiges of the local government. Post-conflict SSTR
operations will not only have to provide humanitarian assistance and infrastruc-
ture support (as in a natural-disaster response), but they will often also have to
help to reconstitute a government, establish a service system, and create the
basic infrastructure for the society to regain the ability to govern and provide
for itself.
Post-conflict and post-disaster situations, therefore, call for very different
types of reconstruction, and as a result, responding to a natural disaster often
entails a short time horizon. Military actors and civilian agencies aim to get to
the area quickly, get it back on its feet, and then transition to indigenous authori-
ties for the remainder of the effort. According to the authors of the Summer
Study:

There is a hierarchy of tasks that need to be performed in any nation-

building operation. First is security – demobilizing former combatants,
rebuilding police, and establishing a justice system, for example. Next is
 Navy role in reconstruction 69
basic governance, public administration, and public services – garbage,
water, schools, power, and other such services. Third are macroeconomic
and regulatory functions – establishment of a stable currency, resumption of
commerce. The fourth is political reform – free press, civil society, political
parties, and elections. Finally, there is traditional economic development, to
include heavy infrastructure.
Iraq is the only nation-building operation since 1945 in which the United
States has had to actually govern the society that it is seeking to move from
conflict to peace and democracy. More often a weak but legitimate indigen-
ous government (such as in Afghanistan) or an international administration
(such as in Kosovo) is in place. In such circumstances the United States has
concentrated on those areas where it has a comparative advantage or a
special interest, in particular on the security sector and political reforms.
The U.S. government often leaves infrastructure projects to the World Bank
and other donors, recognizing that benefits from infrastructure spending will
normally take years to realize. The U.S. Agency for International Develop-
ment (USAID) also contributes to this longterm effort.17

This extended quote demonstrates that the Summer Study’s authors are clearly
thinking only of post-conflict operations, and that the extent of the reconstruc-
tion effort in a post-conflict scenario far exceeds what is needed when respond-
ing to natural disaster. Yet, SSTR operations unfold in both post-disaster and
post-conflict situations, and the U.S. Navy may actually have a larger role to
play in the former than the latter, because of its ability to rapidly deploy and to
replace critical infrastructure (communications, logistics, transport) that has
been wiped out in a hurricane, tsunami, earthquake, or similar event.
Finally, the exit strategy for a natural-disaster response is often clear at the
outset. It is comparatively easy to decide when the job is done if the project aims
to rebuild critical infrastructure that was devastated by an “act of God,” while
attaining the goals of the deep reconstruction efforts – reconstituting govern-
ments, educational systems, and service provision that were interrupted or
destroyed by war – are more difficult to gauge. In fact, a current focus of
research in SSTR seeks to create metrics to evaluate the progress of deep recon-
struction activities.

Mapping Navy capabilities onto reconstruction activities

The Army and Marine Corps come to mind when considering appropriate mili-
tary assets to deploy in support of an SSTR operation, especially in the recon-
struction phase where civil-military operations and security assistance missions
dominate. Accordingly, the Defense Science Board 2004 Summer Study envi-
sioned that the U.S. Army would be the “lead actor” and “executive agent” in
reconstruction operations, in cooperation with the Marine Corps and U.S. Joint
Forces Command. The Army is the only branch of the U.S. military with full-
time, active-duty, dedicated career-track civil affairs personnel; it has the most
70 J. Piombo and M. Malley
experience on the ground in running reconstruction programs like the Provincial
Reconstruction Teams (PRTs) in Afghanistan; and by nature is designed to be
the steady-state land force of the U.S. military. The Navy has been left out of
much of the planning for these types of military programs.
Yet, there are substantial contributions that the U.S. Navy can make to these
efforts, and they extend well beyond the few outlined in the 2006 fleet response
plan, which focuses on the Global War on Terror, major combat operations, and
routine deployments. There are many direct-action operations that the U.S. Navy
could undertake, moving the service beyond playing merely a support role in
SSTR operations. For one, the U.S. Navy has the Seabees (organic engineering
units), who are skilled at a variety of construction tasks. Currently Seabees
conduct a number of engineering projects in the Horn of Africa as part of the
task force there. The construction battalions number approximately 18,000
active and reserve personnel, and have recently been put under the control of the
new Naval Expeditionary Combat Command (NECC). The NECC was set up
specifically with the Global War on Terror and SSTR operations in mind, to help
the U.S. Navy undertake non-traditional missions. In this process, the NECC has
created littoral forces that can bring Navy expertise and agents into an area
through river systems, affording access for sea-based assets to conduct recon-
struction activities inland.
The NECC has also created the Maritime Civil Affairs Group and re-created
a brown-water littoral force. The Maritime Civil Affairs Group will conduct
civil affairs operations in the maritime environment, and support expeditionary
and carrier strike groups. When at full operational readiness, the Maritime Civil
Affairs Group will include two maritime civil affairs squadrons, with 32 five-
person Maritime civil affairs teams.18 Each team will have a commander, a
medical specialist, a construction person, a communicator, and a boat operator.
One squadron will be based on the West Coast to support the U.S. Pacific
Command and two on the East Coast, in support of the remaining combatant
commands. The initial operating concept aims to have two deployable maritime
civil affairs teams by June 2007. The initial group began its training in March
2007, and full operational readiness should occur in September 2008.
The NECC has already begun to incorporate SSTR into the activities of the
U.S. Navy through its concept of the “global fleet station,” designed specifically
to address security and stabilization needs.19 The fleet station concept emerged
from the Naval Operating Concept that was developed in late 2006. The global
fleet station was intended to provide the U.S. Navy with a more easily sustained
forward presence via sea-basing, creating a platform for sustained presence and
pre-positioning. Currently, the NECC considers the Combined Joint Task Force-
Horn of Africa, an example of a fleet station, though this is a shore-based opera-
tion located in Djibouti. The first floating station deployed in the Caribbean from
April to September 2007, and the second, called the African Partnership Station,
departed for the West Coast of Africa in November 2007.
If the fleet stations are developed following the original concept and to their
full potential, they could enable the Navy to overcome some of the obstacles
 Navy role in reconstruction 71
faced in responding to natural disasters. They could devise a more comprehen-
sive and appropriate response package to natural disasters because personnel and
ships will already be in the region. SSTR exercises could be incorporated into
the routine schedules, reducing the problems created by the lack of advance
notice, the necessity of rapid deployment to the disaster site, and need for mostly
humanitarian assistance and infrastructure support. Drills or war games to plan
for natural-disaster responses could be incorporated into the regular training
schedule of the global fleet stations.
Navy personnel are serving as individual augmentees in a variety of recon-
struction missions, especially with the PRTs in Afghanistan. As these indi-
viduals return to the fleet, they bring their experience with them. These Navy
augmentees have proven invaluable in SSTR operations in Iraq. For example,
when the 354th Civil Affairs Brigade deployed to Iraq in May 2006, the head-
quarters staff was approximately 75 percent Navy, comprising a mix of those on
active duty and reservists. This was the first brigade to deploy with such a large
Navy component, and the sailors distinguished themselves as valuable com-
ponents of the brigade.20
Finally, the Navy can also play supporting roles by assisting in command and
control, and specifically by serving as a communications node and logistics hub.
Here the unparalleled communications abilities of Navy ships could help to alle-
viate many of the communications problems that plague current SSTR opera-
tions. The U.S. Navy can also continue to provide transportation for equipment
and personnel.
These are just a few of the areas in which the U.S. Navy could contribute to
SSTR activities, particularly those focused on reconstruction rather than stabi-
lization. Figure 5.2 lays out a more comprehensive proposal for the various U.S.
Navy assets that could be deployed in a wide range of reconstruction activities.
It takes the threefold division of activities adopted by Department of Defense
Directive 3000.05, and distinguishes between natural-disaster and post-conflict
situations.
Ultimately, the Navy can employ these assets to assist in reconstruction
operations in both post-conflict and post-natural disaster scenarios. The particu-
lar capabilities of the U.S. Navy, which allow rapid deployment and wholesale
replacement of critical infrastructure, make it particularly suited to assisting in
reconstruction efforts in post-disaster environments, which require rapid deploy-
ment and assistance for a limited duration. What the Navy cannot do, and is not
prepared to do, is to operate deep inland. Insofar as reconstruction operations
take place in remote hinterlands, the Navy’s role will be limited. But the Navy
itself foresees an expansion into littoral and riverine environments as it resusci-
tates its riverine forces under the NECC. As the brown-water component of the
Navy develops, the new assets could vouchsafe the Navy an entrance into the
vast delta areas of the world enabling the Navy to project itself farther inland
than a pure blue-water force would allow.
 Nature of operation
Sector of activity
Natural disaster Post-conflict

Naval forces can act as C2 nodes for security efforts in the

Security
littoral regions of the world. Limited amount of pure security
forces (police-type) limits initial capabilities. Possible use in
training a national gendarmerie.

Security forces Navy Shore Patrol Navy SP/Marines

(SP)/Marines NECC
NECC

Judicial system N/A Judge Advocate General

(JAG)
Navy SP/Marines

Correctional system N/A – unless host nation Navy SP/Marines

requests support JAG

Naval forces can act as C2 nodes for initial reconstruction efforts.

Economy Possibility to reconfigure Preposition Ships so engineer
equipment is the last loaded/first available.

Humanitarian Navy SP/Marines Navy SP/Marines

assistance Logistics Logistics
Command and Control C2
(C2) Riverine
Riverine

Economic Logistics Navy SP/Marines

stabilization C2 Logistics
and infrastructure Seabee support C2
Seabee support

Social assistance MEDCAP/DENCAP Navy SP/Marines

Mobile hospitals MEDCAP/DENCAP
Riverine Mobile hospitals
Riverine

Governance Interaction of military personnel with civilians

Electoral system N/A JAG

and constitution Navy SP/Marine security for
polling stations
Naval academics’ advice on
devising governance systems

Institutions of JAG JAG

governance Instruction on civil–military Assisting in establishment
interaction and cooperation Instruction on civil–military
interaction and cooperation

Public education Public information about host Public information about new
about government government’s efforts government structure and
(enhance government composition (enhance
legitimacy) government legitimacy)

Figure 5.2 Mapping USN capabilities into sectors of reconstruction activities.

 Navy role in reconstruction 73
The U.S. Navy in action: tsunami relief in Aceh, Indonesia
The U.S. Navy’s response to the tsunami, which struck the littorals of the Indian
Ocean in December 2004, illustrates the importance of naval capabilities in
humanitarian relief operations, and it highlights several ways in which SSTR
missions following a natural disaster differ from those undertaken in the wake of
civil conflicts. It also provides an instructive example of how well military and
civilian actors can respond to such crises, while drawing attention to the fact that
neither group had planned to engage in the kind of cooperation needed to make
the relief operation a success.
The magnitude of this natural disaster is difficult to comprehend. Just before
7:58 a.m. local time on 26 December 2004, an earthquake occurred in the Indian
Ocean about 100 miles west of Indonesia. At 9.1 on the Richter scale, it was the
third most powerful quake in the past century. The energy it released was
equivalent to about 23,000 atomic bombs; the quake was so great that it even
affected the rotation and tilt of the planet.21
In most places, the direct cause of massive death and destruction was not the
earthquake, but a series of tsunamis that spread out across the Indian Ocean.
Moving at up to 500 miles per hour in deep water, the first waves washed ashore
in northern Sumatra just 15 minutes later, reaching southern Thailand in 90
minutes, Sri Lanka in two hours, and East Africa several hours later. The earliest
reports of the destructive waves – which topped 30 feet in height and pushed
more than a mile inland in parts of Indonesia – came from areas in southern
Thailand and Sri Lanka where large numbers of Europeans were on holiday.
Few foreigners, however, were in the region closest to the earthquake, the
Indonesian province of Aceh at the northern end of Sumatra. Information about
the tsunami’s devastating impact in these more remote areas only emerged over
a period of weeks. In the end, it is estimated that more than 167,000 people were
lost in Indonesia, 35,000 in Sri Lanka, 16,000 in India, 8,000 in Thailand, and
nearly 300 far away in Somalia.22
Only Indonesia endured the double impact of earthquake and tsunami, and
the resulting devastation created a situation that Naval power was uniquely
suited to address. In other countries, the physical and human infrastructure
remained essentially intact, so information about the disaster quickly became
available and humanitarian assistance could be delivered rapidly. But much of
Aceh’s infrastructure was wiped out. According to Edward Aspinall, in

some places, the waves [the tsunami] generated were over ten meters high
and traveled several kilometers inland. . . . Fishing villages, towns, farming
land, and infrastructure all along the coast were destroyed. Half of Banda
Aceh, the provincial capital, was leveled.23

The entire seaboard was reshaped in a matter of hours, and much of the coastal
road that connected Banda Aceh to the province’s southernmost city of Meula-
boh, about 150 miles away, was destroyed.
74 J. Piombo and M. Malley
Along with the physical damage came the death of many government offi-
cials. In effect, the local government was no longer able to provide information
about the disaster and coordinate relief activities. About 30,000 soldiers and
another 15,000 police had been deployed to the province before the tsunami to
combat a long-running separatist insurgency led by the Free Aceh Movement,
and the tsunami, according to Mathew Davies, “smashed central [army and
police] territorial command, communications, training, and other bases in Banda
Aceh and Meulaboh” as well as most of the other military facilities located near
the coast.24 Within hours, the military lost several hundred members, which far
exceeded the combat casualties suffered in the last year battling insurgents.25
Because the police were more heavily concentrated in the provincial capital,
their losses were much higher. Although official numbers were never released,
total losses are estimated at 7,600.26 Likewise, rebel forces did not announce
their losses, but several hundred are thought to have been drowned in their
prison cells in Banda Aceh, along with many of their guards.27
Since its transition from authoritarian to democratic rule in the late 1990s,
Indonesia had endured violent internal conflicts in several regions other than
Aceh, and many governmental and non-governmental agencies maintained a
significant presence in the country. But few had a presence in Aceh, because the
province had been under martial law or emergency rule since mid-2003 as
government forces attempted to crush the resistance. During this time, govern-
ment forces had weakened rebel forces, but failed to win the support of the
Acehnese public. In October 2004, the country held its first direct presidential
election, and voters elected candidates who favored a negotiated settlement of
the conflict in Aceh. By late December 2004, the new Indonesian government
and the Free Aceh Movements had agreed to attend internationally mediated
negotiations in Finland, and just three days before the disaster formal invitations
had been extended to both parties.28 Although they did not have a chance to
accept those invitations, there was no indication that either party was likely to
back out.
These conditions correspond closely to the way this chapter characterized
post-natural disaster situations. Earthquakes and tsunamis are inherently unpre-
dictable and allow aid agencies and militaries no time to prepare their response.
Their top priority is humanitarian relief, not reconstruction. And, for the most
part, the security situation was non-hostile since the Indonesian government and
Acehnese rebels had been moving toward negotiations. Both had also been
severely affected by the tsunami and saw no advantage in somehow trying to
exploit the situation at the expense of their opponent.
In such challenging circumstances, it is unsurprising that foreign militaries
led the response. Within two days, units from Australia, Malaysia, and Singa-
pore had arrived in Aceh.29 Knowing only the magnitude of the earthquake and a
small amount about the tsunami’s impact outside Indonesia, Pacific Command
immediately began to organize a response and to redirect major naval assets to
the region.30 Within a few days, Admiral Thomas Fargo, the commander of U.S.
Pacific Command, had established Joint Task Force 536, which was headquar-
 Navy role in reconstruction 75
tered at the Thai air base in Utapao and commanded by Lieutenant General
Robert R. Blackman, Jr, the commander of the 3rd Marine Expeditionary Force
in Okinawa. As dozens of foreign militaries, international organizations, and
non-governmental organizations began to coordinate their efforts in Utapao, the
JTF was renamed Combined Support Force (CSF) 536. Reporting to CSF 536
were Combined Support Groups in Indonesia, Sri Lanka, and Thailand. In
Indonesia, the Combined Support Groups were headquartered in Medan, the
nearest city to Aceh and the major commercial and transportation hub in north-
ern Sumatra.
When initial reports of the tsunami reached Hawaii, Admiral Fargo and the
Seventh Fleet Commander, Admiral Walter Doran quickly decided to send all
available ships to the region.31 The main assets included the USS Abraham
Lincoln carrier strike group, which was commanded by Rear Admiral Douglas
Crowder. Crowder was informed of the mission one day after the tsunami struck
while he and his strike group were in port in Hong Kong preparing for a visit to
Korea. The Lincoln left Hong Kong the next day and headed for Thailand. Two
days later, as more information became available, U.S. Pacific Command redi-
rected Crowder to Indonesia, and on 1 January 2005, the Lincoln had completed
the 2100-mile journey to Aceh. The second major naval component that arrived
on scene was an expeditionary strike group, whose flagship was the USS Bon-
homme Richard. En route from San Diego to Kuwait, the group diverted from its
original course, picked up humanitarian relief supplies in Guam, and arrived in
Medan on 1 January 2005. In early February 2005, these ships were replaced by
the USS Essex and USS Fort McHenry.
As a result of this rapid response to the disaster, the U.S. military created an
enormous logistical capacity in the region that enabled relief supplies to be
delivered over a large area where road links no longer existed. Just ten days after
the tsunami, according to Bruce Elleman, “13,435 American military personnel
were involved in Operation Unified Assistance,” of which “about 12,000 were
aboard 17 Navy ships in the region.”32 At that point, the operation included over
25 U.S. Navy ships, 45 fixed-wing aircraft, and 58 helicopters. It had also deliv-
ered more than 610,000 pounds of water, food and other supplies to people who
were suffering in the aftermath of the tsunami.33 Five weeks after the Lincoln
arrived off the Aceh coast, U.S. Navy forces had delivered more than six million
pounds of food, water, and medicine.34
The contribution of American and other military forces to the relief effort was
widely recognized. As a spokesperson from the U.N. World Food Program said,

The important thing is that the United States military was right there at the
beginning and made a huge difference. . . . They had the logistical prowess . . .
and without that we would not have been able to distribute to the remote
areas.35

This sentiment extended to other countries’ militaries, as a UN-sponsored work-

shop found when it gathered 75 representatives from its own agencies, governments
76 J. Piombo and M. Malley
of affected countries, and non-governmental organizations to assess their
response to the disaster. The workshop participants concluded “that the mili-
taries of the affected countries played a vital role in the immediate aftermath of
the disaster,” and described “cooperation between national and international mil-
itaries” as “generally excellent.”36 A related workshop found that “the scale of
the involvement of foreign militaries in the relief operation was unprecedented,
to the point of setting a new paradigm for future humanitarian assistance.”37
This recognition was hard-won, and far from unqualified. During the initial
phase of relief operations, many people who worked for international organi-
zations and non-governmental organizations were reluctant to coordinate their
efforts with the military.38 A major report on the international response by the
Tsunami Evaluation Coalition – whose members include agencies of the United
Nations, official aid agencies including the USAID, and non-governmental
organizations that provide humanitarian assistance – noted that “NGO–military
relations bordered on the hostile,” but “despite . . . mutual suspicion, there were a
significant number of joint military–civilian endeavours including the assess-
ment missions flown from the USS Abraham Lincoln.”39
The relative success of the U.S. military and other countries’ militaries
reflected more than their logistical superiority over other agencies and organi-
zations. Other factors include happenstance, similarities between disaster relief
operations and the general efforts to resupply ships at sea and troops ashore, and
a commitment to avoid mission creep. Among the most fortuitous combination
of circumstances were the presence of the Lincoln strike group in Hong Kong,
its availability for immediate deployment to Southeast Asia, and its participation
in an experiment in which it was carrying 17 helicopters rather than the seven
that it usually carried on board.40 The additional helicopters were intended for
use in anti-submarine operations, not humanitarian assistance, but their presence
dramatically increased the Lincoln’s capacity to deliver aid to isolated
communities in Indonesia. Similarly, the Bonhomme Richard’s group had just
recently entered Southeast Asia, en route to the Middle East, which meant that
its presence was more a result of circumstance than planning. Nevertheless, as
an expeditionary strike group that was capable of deploying U.S. Marines ashore
without port facilities, the Bonhomme Richard and its sister ships were equipped
with landing craft and helicopters that could reach coastal towns that had been
devastated by the tsunami. The Bonhomme Richard also possessed larger hos-
pital facilities than virtually any other warship. The ability of the expeditionary
strike groups to house and transport 3,000 U.S. Marines also provided a ready
logistical and manpower pool to assist in the relief effort.

Multinational planning efforts

Although it is impossible to prepare for specific natural disasters, it is possible to
plan and train for certain types of missions, and since the late 1990s U.S. Pacific
Command had sponsored a process that created a set of standard operating pro-
cedures and personal relationships that enabled militaries from many countries
 Navy role in reconstruction 77
to coordinate their aid efforts quickly and effectively. In the wake of the East
Timor crisis in 1999, U.S. Pacific Command convened a series of meetings that
resulted in an agreement among defense chiefs from around the Asia-Pacific
region to take steps to improve their capacity to respond in a multinational way
on short notice to military and non-military challenges.41 Beginning in 2002,
more than two dozen countries with interests in the region joined a process that
produced a “Multinational Force Standard Operating Procedure” to which all
countries agreed, and of which none was sole owner.42 The main focus of this
effort was the development of multinational planning augmentation teams that
could be assembled quickly to supplement a headquarters and coordinate a com-
bined crisis-response effort.
At the time the tsunami struck, this model had not been tested, and did not yet
include broad participation from the international organizations and non-
governmental organizations that typically play a key role in humanitarian assis-
tance operations. Multinational planning augmentation teams, however, supplied
the framework for U.S. Pacific Command to coordinate its tsunami relief efforts
with other military and civilian actors. U.S. Pacific Command generally regards
Operation Unified Assistance as a demonstration of the success of that model.43
Multinational planning augmentation teams supported the Combined
Coordination Center that brought military and civilian, governmental and non-
governmental agencies together in Utapao to coordinate relief efforts.44
Finally, the military’s successful participation in tsunami relief undoubtedly
reflects its ability to avoid being drawn into missions that extend beyond imme-
diate humanitarian relief. From the outset, both U.S. Pacific Command and CSF
536 established a commitment to provide relief in coordination with other
actors, and to transition the relief effort to those actors as soon as possible. As
early as 15 January 2005, the commander of CSF 536 decided that “U.S. assis-
tance was no longer necessary in Sri Lanka and Thailand, since these countries
were ‘beyond the stop-the-bleeding phase,’ ” and the “conditions for transition
from U.S. military to host-nation military control of operations in these coun-
tries have been met.”45 Soon thereafter, U.S. military involvement in those
nations began to wind down. Similar considerations prevailed in Indonesia, and
by mid-March 2005, all U.S. naval forces had been withdrawn from the relief
operation in Indonesia’s coastal waters.

Conclusion
The U.S. Navy’s success in Operation Unified Assistance rested on its unparal-
leled logistical capacity, the fortuitous proximity and availability of a substantial
number of highly capable ships to send to the disaster area, prior preparation and
planning for such an event, and a commitment from the outset to focus on pro-
viding humanitarian assistance and to leave long-term reconstruction efforts to
actors with appropriate expertise. These characteristics are common to a range
of operations in which the Navy has engaged, particularly since the end of the
Cold War. No other service is likely to develop the same capacity to replace
78 J. Piombo and M. Malley
infrastructure that has been damaged or destroyed, or to enjoy the same probab-
ility that its assets happen to be in the vicinity of natural disasters, particularly
those that are remote from major population centers. By necessity, U.S. Navy
ships sail around the globe. As a result, the Navy can respond more quickly to
major disasters in out-of-the-way places than the other services.

Notes
1 The authors are grateful to MAJ Matthew Zahn (USA), who helped to develop the
conceptual framework for this chapter. All opinions in this chapter are the authors’
own and do not reflect the official position of the United States government.
2 James R. Reckner, Teddy Roosevelt’s Great White Fleet (Annapolis: Naval Institute
Press, 1988), pp. 144–50.
3 Paul Stone, “DoD Considers Creating Stability and Reconstruction Force,” American
Foreign Press Service (20 December 2003), www.globalsecurity.org/military/library/
news/2003/12/mil-031230-afps01.htm (accessed on 25 July 2006).
4 Defense Science Board 2004 Summer Study on Transition to and from Hostilities,
Office of the Undersecretary of Defense for Acquisition, Technology, and Logistics,
Washington, DC, 20301–3140. Released December 2004, available online at
www.acq.osd.mil/dsb/reports/2004–12-DSB_SS_Report_Final.pdf (accessed 25 July
2006). For an analysis of the report see Donna Miles, “Defense Science Review
Board Report Recommends New Focus on Stabilization, Reconstruction,” American
Forces Press Service (25 January 2005), www.globalsecurity.org/military/library/
news/2005/01/mil-050125-afps01.htm (accessed on 25 July 2006).
5 “House Armed Services Committee Approves Fiscal Year 2007 Defense Authoriza-
tion Bill: Focus on Personnel Benefits, Force Protection Measures and Immediate
Needs of America’s Warfighters,” House Armed Services Committee Press Release,
3 May 2006, www.globalsecurity.org/military/library/congress/2006_rpt/hr-
109–452.pdf (accessed on 25 July 2006). Additionally, S/CRS has been chronically
underfunded and poorly resourced. The recent move of S/CRS to the Foreign Assis-
tance Bureau of the State Department should assist with the resource and manning
problems, but at the time of writing it is too soon to tell.
6 National Security Presidential Directive-44 (NSPD-44), “Management of Interagency
Efforts Concerning Reconstruction and Stabilization,” 7 December 2005,
www.fas.org/irp/offdocs/nspd/nspd-44.html (accessed on 25 July 2006).
7 “Military Support for Stability, Security, Transition and Reconstruction (SSTR)
Operations,” CJCS Notice 3245.01, 12 May 2006, p. 1.
8 Vince Crawley, “Pentagon Emphasizing Humanitarian Aid, Reconstruction Work,”
Washington File (3 February 2006), www.globalsecurity.org/military/library/news/
2006/02/mil-060203-usia03.htm (accessed on July 25, 2006).
9 Defense Science Review Board Summer Study, p. 36.
10 Ibid., p. 40.
11 Paul A. McCarthy, Operation Sea Angel: A Case Study (Santa Monica, CA: RAND,
1994).
12 Adam B. Siegel, Requirements for Humanitarian Assistance and Peace Operations:
Insights from Seven Case Studies (Alexandria, VA: Center for Naval Analyses, 1995),
pp. 71–8.
13 “Post-Conflict Reconstruction: Task Framework,” a Joint Project of the CSIS and the
Association for the United States Army (May 2002). For the website of the Post-
conflict Reconstruction project of CSIS, see www.csis.org/isp/pcr/ (last accessed 11
April 2007).
14 “Post-Conflict Reconstruction Essential Tasks,” Office of the Coordinator for Recon-
 Navy role in reconstruction 79
struction and Stabilization, United States Department of State, April 2005,
www.state.gov/documents/organization/53464.pdf (accessed 26 July 2006).
15 DoD Directive 3000.05. Presumably this was done in order to simplify the tasks and
to enable multitasking, but it does point to an immediate difficulty in launching any
interagency activities that require the Departments of Defense and State to cooperate
in SSTR operations.
16 Colonel Ike Trafton, “Marines in Africa Today: CJTF-HOA,” 2006 at the 21st
Century Marines in Africa Conference, Quantico, VA, 19 January 2006. Trafton was
the Chief of Staff in CJTF-HOA during the last staff that was comprised by Marines
before the CJTF transitioned to Navy control in February 2006.
17 Defense Science Board 2004 Summer Study, pp. 59–60.
18 Personal communication with the MCAG staff, December 2006.
19 Much of the information on global fleet stations was gleaned from the conference at
which this chapter originated.
20 Daniel Sanford, “Sailors Play Major Role with 354th Civil Affairs Brigade,” Press
Release #148–06, U.S. Naval Forces, Central Command, Fifth Fleet, 17 August 2006,
www.cusnc.navy.mil/articles/2006/148.html (accessed on 5 December 2006).
21 John Pickrell, “Instant Expert: Asian Tsunami Disaster,” New Scientist (20 January
2005), http://environment.newscientist.com/channel/earth/tsunami/dn9932 (accessed
26 January 2005).
22 John Telford and John Cosgrave, Joint Evaluation of the International Response to
the Indian Ocean Tsunami: Synthesis Report (London: Tsunami Evaluation Coalition,
2006), p. 33.
23 Edward Aspinall, “The Helsinki Agreement: A More Promising Basis for Peace in
Aceh?” Policy Studies, no. 20 (East–West Center Washington, 2005), p. 19.
24 Matthew N. Davies, Indonesia’s War over Aceh: Last Stand on Mecca’s Porch
(London: Routledge, 2006), p. 232.
25 Ibid.
26 Ibid.
27 “Ratusan Napi Pun Cari Selamat,” Kompas (3 January 2005), www.kompas.com/
utama/news/0501/03/141852.htm (accessed 5 January 2005).
28 Michael Morfit, “Staying on the Road to Helsinki: Why the Aceh Agreement Was
Possible in August 2005,” prepared for a conference on “Building a Permanent Peace
in Aceh,” sponsored by the Indonesian Council for World Affairs (14 August 2006),
p. 9. See also, Aspinall, “The Helsinki Agreement,” p. 19; and International Crisis
Group, “Aceh: A New Chance for Peace,” Asian Briefing, no. 40 (15 August 2005),
pp. 1–5.
29 Clare Harkin, The 2004 Tsunami: Civil–Military Aspects of the International
Response (London: Tsunami Evaluation Coalition, 2005), p. 2.
30 For details of U.S. military actions, this chapter relies mainly on Bruce A. Elleman,
“Waves of Hope: The U.S. Navy’s Response to the Tsunami in Northern Indonesia,”
Newport Paper, no. 28 (February 2007). His paper is based on interviews, oral his-
tories, and primary documents and provides the most detailed account available of the
U.S. military response.
31 Ibid., p. 28.
32 Ibid., pp. 11 and 23.
33 Ibid., p. 10.
34 Captain (USN) Lawrence D. Burt, “Surge Deployment and Operation Unified Assis-
tance,” presentation at the Naval Postgraduate School, 5 January 2006. Captain Burt
was Commander, Carrier Air Wing TWO, USS Abraham Lincoln.
35 Melanie Eversley, “Relief Groups Pick Up Where U.S. Leaves Off,” USA Today
(January 24, 2005), available at www.usatoday.com/news/world/2005–01–24-relief-
groups_x.htm (accessed 25 January 2005).
36 United Nations, “Regional Workshop on Lessons Learned and Best Practices in the
80 J. Piombo and M. Malley
Response to the Indian Ocean Tsunami: Report and Summary of Main Conclusions,”
Medan (13–14 June 2005), p. 3.
37 “Post-Tsunami Lessons Learned and Best Practices Workshop: Report and Working
Groups Output,” Jakarta, (16–17 May 2005), p. 4.
38 Lynne O’Donnell, “ ‘Trifling Do-Gooders’ vs. the U.S. Navy,” Far Eastern Economic
Review, vol. 168, no. 3 (March 2005).
39 Telford and Cosgrave, Synthesis Report, p. 60.
40 Burt, “Surge Deployment,” and Elleman, “Waves of Hope,” p. 56.
41 A detailed summary of this process can be found in Scott A. Weidie, “Multinational
Crisis Response in the Asia-Pacific: The Multinational Planning Augmentation Team
Model,” Liaison, vol. 3, no. 3 (2006), www.coe-dmha.org/Liaison/Vol_3No_3/
Dept16.htm (accessed 25 April 2007). Additional information may be found on the
MPAT website at www2.apan-info.net/mpat/index.aspx?ct=12.
42 The current version of the document is available at http://www2.apan-
info.net/mpat/index.aspx?ct=20.
43 Elize Leroux, “Interview: Major General Gary North,” Liaison, vol. 3, no. 3 (2006).
General North refers to MPAT as a “huge success.” www.coe-dmha.org/Liaison/
Vol_3No_3/Dept07.htm (accessed 24 April 2007).
44 The role of MPAT in tsunami relief is summarized in an official USPACOM brief
available at www.pasols.org/tsunami/USPACOM_ll_08.pdf (accessed 24 April
2007).
45 Elleman, “Waves of Hope,” p. 31, quoting news reports that quoted General Black-
man.
6 Blue water and muddy deck shoes
U.S. Navy support to the U.S. Marine
Corps in SSTR operations
Terry Terriff

In 2006 the U.S. Navy embarked on an effort to generate a new naval strategy to
meet the challenges of the twenty-first century. According to Robert O. Work, the
question faced by these strategists is “how do we describe the role of the Navy in an
expeditionary age when there’s no compelling naval threat?”1 Since September
11th, 2001, the U.S. Navy has had a comparatively low profile in U.S. operations in
Afghanistan, Iraq, and, more generally, in the so-called “long war.”2 Nonetheless,
thousands of sailors have traded navy blue for combat camouflage to serve in
various ways alongside the Navy’s sister services, and there will be continued pres-
sure for more sailors to serve on land. Yet, in spite of such pressure, the Navy
cannot trade so-called relevance today at the expense of giving up its mission of
maintaining maritime dominance and a long-term forward presence. The challenge
facing the Navy was well put by former Chief of Naval Operations, Admiral Mike
Mullen, when he noted, “[the U.S. Navy] will still need traditional warfighting cap-
abilities, of course, but given today’s incredibly complex and dynamic threats, not
to mention tomorrow’s uncertainty, we must be capable of much, much more.”3
The issue is what more the Navy can do without losing its capability to fulfill
its traditional roles and missions. Admiral Mullen was clear that the Navy needs
to develop Stability, Security, Transition, and Reconstruction (SSTR) cap-
abilities, saying that “[t]o be effective in this environment, combatant comman-
ders require tools that are not only instruments of war, but implements for
stability, security, and reconstruction in our global neighborhood.”4 This chapter
focuses on ways that the U.S. Navy could support the U.S. Marine Corps in
SSTR operations. It offers some innovative suggestions as to how the Navy can
do this without detracting from its many sea-based missions. The chapter does
not suggest that the Navy should develop a major land-based capability that
would entail a new, and fundamentally radical, SSTR mission for the Navy.
Instead, the suggestions offered are informed by the philosophy of E. F. Schu-
macher, who in his 1973 book, Small Is Beautiful, argued that the usual practice
in seeking the best solutions is to favor complexity and quality, “when simplic-
ity and fit-for-purpose are optimal.”5 The aim here is to identify some compara-
tively simple ways that the Navy can undertake to support and complement the
Marine Corps in SSTR without significantly detracting from its capability to
conduct its traditional blue-water roles and missions.
82 T. Terriff
This chapter starts with a brief examination of Marine Corps concepts relat-
ing to SSTR, and then examines a number of initiatives that the Navy could
undertake to provide support in the effort to influence events ashore.

Marine Corps concept of operations

The Marine Corps has not, as yet, generated a concept or doctrine specially
directed to address SSTR. A good starting point for understanding how it may
approach such concepts, however, is the Multi-Service Concept for Irregular
Warfare (MC/SO IW concept), which was issued jointly on 2 August 2006 by
the U.S. Marine Corps Combat Development Command (MCCDC) and the
U.S. Special Operations Command Center for Knowledge and Futures.6 The
MC/SO IW concept, which has been the subject of some discussion among
Marines at MCCDC, focuses on irregular warfare, and was conceived to
inform the Corps and Special Operations Command input into the Joint Cap-
abilities Integration and Development System. It explicitly states, however,
that it does not address the “conventional military defeat of regimes.” Hence,
the concept set forth encompasses operations that are broadly consistent with
the Marine Corps’ approach to developing concepts specifically designed to
address the U.S. Department of Defense Directive on SSTR. These lines of
operations are: information; providing essential services; training and equip-
ping local forces; combat operations; governance; and economic develop-
ment. The concept clearly notes that “[n]o finite list of lines of operations
cover every dimension” but does suggest that the above “lines of operation
cover the vast majority of anticipated lines of operations for campaign
design.”7
These lines of operations furnish a plausible framework for considering
SSTR concepts. The MC/SO IW concept document notes that:

the circumstances of any particular conflict may require that campaign

designers use more or fewer lines. Further, the nature of a conflict’s resolu-
tion may cause one or several lines to dominate or cause various lines to rise
to dominance and recede at different times as the campaign moves toward
its objectives. These lines, whatever their number, are meant to be fixed but
flexible tools applied in appropriate balance.8

The reference to the “nature of a conflict’s resolution” suggests that an implicit

assumption is that the IW campaign would most likely occur after a conven-
tional conflict has occurred, though clearly it is flexible enough that this need not
be the case.9
It is not possible here to describe each of these types of operation in detail.
Because it can be assumed that the Navy will continue to support the Marine Corps
in traditional ways, the chapter will assume that traditional warfighting operations
will continue to develop in innovative ways. The emphasis here is on information
operations, provision of essential services, and economic development, which are
 Blue water and muddy deck shoes 83
central to SSTR and encompass more non-traditional roles and missions for
the Navy.

Information operations
The importance of information operations in the twenty-first century is well
understood. As the Marine/SO IW concept notes, “IW is about winning a war of
ideas and perception.”10 Information operations must infuse all lines of opera-
tions so that every activity creates the correct perception among target audi-
ences. Another aspect involved in IW is that creating the correct perceptions
“requires an intimate understanding of the people, culture and mores of the oper-
ational area.”11 This section addresses some proposed initiatives that the Navy
could adopt to support the Marine Corps in the conduct of information opera-
tions by bringing to bear a “deep understanding” of culture.
One element of information operations (IO) comprises are psychological
operations (PsyOps). The Marine Corps today does not have any organic
PsyOps units and no organic equipment for disseminating products or broad-
casts.12 Thus, the Marines’ ability to apply well-designed IO campaigns, which
are mandated by the MC/SO concept, has been limited.13 The Navy could
provide the extra support the Marines need, or it could work with the Marine
Corps to develop a joint service PsyOps capability that leverages the respective
strengths of each service. The Navy has at least elements of the electronic infra-
structure needed for PsyOps, particularly when Marine ground operations take
place in regions adjacent to the littoral that can be covered by ship-based elec-
tronic broadcast (and jamming) capabilities.14 A joint Marine–Navy PsyOps
capability would be particularly useful in Navy–Marine expeditionary responses
in which the Army is not involved.
Information operations, however, encompass more than PsyOps. A key
element of information operations in an era of global media is the ability to
respond quickly to counter the welter of often misleading or mistaken news
reports and the ability to counter deliberate propaganda pushed through various
media. As the MC/SO IW concept notes, “Campaign Designers must develop
information contingency plans to serve as templates to counter with truth an
enemy’s propaganda.”15 Navy Public Affairs Officers (PAOs) need to work with
their Marine counterparts to develop IO contingency plans. Moreover, the Navy
should work with the Marine Corps to develop common operational IO concepts
to improve their ability to respond quickly to a demanding operational environ-
ment. The importance of common approaches and shared information cannot be
overstated in an era when an erroneous or deliberately false news report about an
ongoing or just completed combat or SSTR operation can travel around the
globe in a matter of minutes. Such reports, if not immediately countered, quickly
become the perceived truth, no matter how often and loudly they are subse-
quently denied.
An important aspect of information operations is the ability to monitor the
media on an ongoing basis to identify and assess news reports and propaganda
84 T. Terriff
that could adversely shape public perceptions. Developing a Navy–Marine
concept of IO could thus further be bolstered by the Navy working with the
Marines to create the capacity to fuse information,16 from international and local
public news media, local information derived from indigenous sources or street
rumors, and intelligence gathering.17 Shipboard systems could create this
information fusion center to support local IO initiatives. Such a capability would
allow PAO officers (or intelligence officers) to monitor the occurrence of mis-
leading news reports and, once alerted, to generate a rapid response to rebut mis-
taken news or deliberate propaganda.18 Further, PAOs need, as James Lacey has
argued, to be “actively engaged in making sure information gets out the door.”19
PAOs need to do more than simply respond; they must constantly be putting out
factual stories that create a consistent positive narrative about all aspects of
operations across the range of available media. The Navy can contribute to this
by providing the core, forward-deployed capability to monitor, alert, and
respond immediately to the media’s demand for information, actively dissemi-
nating important information about Navy–Marine operations. Navy PAOs or
intelligence officers, either alone or with Marine colleagues, may be able to
monitor and respond to breaking situations more readily, as their distance from
an operation means that they are less likely to be distracted by the immediate
demands of an SSTR operation. From their offshore position nearby, they have
the time and systems needed to integrate information about ongoing operations
with information drawn from the broader strategic and political context.

Cultural intelligence
An understanding of the cultural environment is a critical element of success in
all military operations. A key theme running through the MC/SO IW concept is
the need to plan and conduct operations with a “deep understanding” of the cul-
tural context. All U.S. military services today are keenly aware of the need for
cultural sensitivity, cultural knowledge and cultural intelligence; and that they
must develop the means to address the extremely important human domain of
modern war and operations.20 The Navy can offer significant help, either in
cooperation with Marines or alone, in developing and ultimately providing such
cultural understanding. In particular, the Navy can develop a significant capabil-
ity in the realm of cultural intelligence.21
Developing and sustaining a deep understanding of culture is a long-term
task, particularly given the global role of the U.S. military. Culture is not fixed
in its details or in the way it influences the behavior and interactions of indi-
viduals and groups within a society. Tracking shifts in a society’s culture and
how these influence behavior and international and domestic interactions is a
core task of rigorous cultural intelligence that will be of real operational value
for the planning and conduct of operations. This means that Navy (and Marine)
officers charged with developing cultural intelligence must have the intellectual
skills of a cultural anthropologist, a cultural sociologist, and indeed a cultural
ethnographer, as well as being sufficiently fluent to recognize and understand the
 Blue water and muddy deck shoes 85
subtleties of the relevant language(s).22 These skills are the products of lifelong
study and practice and require that the Navy set aside specific career tracks to
allow officers the time to understand the language, history, politics, language,
and culture of a specific country or region.
The Navy is well placed to develop a substantial cultural intelligence capabil-
ity; its forward-deployment task forces maintain a continuous presence in a
variety of important regions around the world. But developing this capability
means more than undertaking the reinvigoration of the Navy Foreign Area
Officer program.23 To develop and sustain a real cultural intelligence capability
means including in all Navy intelligence units – from shipboard units through
theater intelligence centers to the Office of Naval Intelligence – intelligence spe-
cialists whose task is specifically to gather, collate, interpret, analyze and dis-
seminate intelligence on culture, mores, beliefs, political, religious, tribal, and
clan links, and tribal and clan law, among other important aspects of local cul-
tures. Naval intelligence units shipboard24 could include officers with the intel-
lectual skills of regional specialization, including a knowledge of local
languages. Given the complexity of culture and the differing intellectual and
analytical skills needed to acquire a deep understanding of culture, more than
one cultural intelligence officer would probably have to be included in every
Navy intelligence unit throughout its intelligence hierarchy.
The reality of sailor rotations, home porting and operational movements sug-
gests that Navy cultural intelligence for any local area could be episodic.
Modern computer networks, however, furnish a means for information to be
stored, shared, and updated via a distributed network. One approach to
distributing this information would be to develop a U.S. Navy–Marine Corps
restricted, open-source, distributed, cultural information database focused on
culture and social systems, which Navy officers can access and update.25 Such a
computer network could also be linked to cultural intelligence generated by
other services, military attachés, American consulates and embassies, and the
Central Intelligence Agency to broaden the array of information available. Addi-
tionally, the Navy can tap the “1,000-ship navy” concept to leverage geographi-
cally, intellectually, and culturally its capacity to gather, collate, and analyze
cultural intelligence by networking with other nations’ navies. This type of
information network capability could be incorporated into the “massive informa-
tion network” that the Navy has started to develop.26
For the Navy to adopt this proposal would require a commitment of signific-
ant intellectual and capital resources. The Navy would need to encourage more
young Naval officers to pursue undergraduate and postgraduate degrees in the
social sciences and humanities.27 It would also mean a change in thinking about
the role of Naval intelligence. Yet, the acknowledged substantive contribution of
cultural knowledge and intelligence to all aspects of U.S. military operations,
including those of the U.S. Navy, provides a strong case for a rethink of Naval
intelligence and the entire system of career paths in the Navy to incorporate
operational useful cultural intelligence.28 A Navy capacity and capability to
provide a source of cultural information and intelligence would be of substantial
86 T. Terriff
use to itself, and to the Marine Corps (and the Army and Air Force), in terms of
developing operational campaigns and information campaigns, as well as for
Navy public diplomacy and coalition-building missions.29 In a period when no
one service is likely to be able to field the number of Foreign Area Officers for
all the different regions and locales in which Marine Corps and Navy contin-
gency operations may occur,30 Navy Foreign Area Officers or cultural intelli-
gence officers may be seconded to joint planning and even operational
headquarters, to provide cultural input as well as Naval operational input into
operational planning and red teaming exercises.31 The provision of cultural
knowledge and intelligence would be a major contribution to SSTR operations
(and to IW operations). The Navy could thus play a direct role in the U.S. global
fight against transnational terrorist groups – and Navy involvement and support
would be welcomed by the Marine Corps as well as the other U.S. services.

Provision of essential services

The provision of essential services is the line of operation in the MC/SO IW
concept most clearly equivalent to the core element of SSTR operations. Provid-
ing essential services includes furnishing clean water, better sewage control,
improved roads, reliable electricity, and village markets. The MC/SO IW
concept notes that these services must be defined by the norms of the local
society. Planners recognize that requirements cannot be determined by an
“objective standard set by planners distant from and inexperienced in the ‘con-
flict zone’.”32 If the Navy develops a cadre of cultural officers, even though it is
offshore, its forward-deployed units, operating with the Marines, should have a
better grasp of the needs and standards of the local culture and situation than
will planners back in Washington.33
The Seabees self-evidently will make a significant contribution in SSTR
operations, and indeed already do so in many places around the globe.34 The
Seabees operating in Afghanistan have developed common working concepts
with Marine Corps Engineers. This initiative should be extended to encompass
common Marine Corps–Navy working concepts and doctrines for SSTR opera-
tions so that the Seabees will be able to work with Marine Corps Engineers to
better support combatant Marines. But beyond the important contribution of
Navy engineering battalions, there are potentially other ways that the Navy can
support or contribute to SSTR.
The developing sea-basing concept should be adapted to support SSTR.35
Future Maritime Prepositioning Force (MPF) ships, for example, should be
loaded out with dedicated stocks of core equipment that can immediately con-
tribute to providing essential services in an SSTR environment. This is not a
major conceptual stretch, for many of the MPF ships already carry some stocks
of humanitarian supplies along with their combat loads. The key to one or more
such dedicated MPF ships is to recognize that, in supplying essential services,
particularly in terms of transitions from combat to stability and reconstruction
operations, speed and efficiency is essential to winning over the population, and
 Blue water and muddy deck shoes 87
so the approach should be informed by the philosophy of “small is beautiful.”
Support for the immediate needs of the population should be geared to the
technological level of the culture. For instance, in terms of providing power, it is
better to furnish 1,000 portable electrical generators that can be delivered
quickly than to rely on some big infrastructure project to become operational at
some unknown future date. Today in Baghdad, for example, there is no sus-
tained power due to the failure of such ambitious infrastructure projects
designed to supply electricity; yet, when the power goes out at night, there are a
host of oases of light powered from local generators.36 A “small is beautiful”
approach may not be able to deliver electricity for an entire city, but it can
provide for villages, small towns (if used in multiples) and even essential parts
of cities (i.e., markets, food processing, etc.), and help convince the local popu-
lation of America’s positive intentions.
An alternative approach to pre-positioning equipment is to procure the
needed supplies and equipment locally and regionally. An advantage of this
approach is that procuring as much as possible from local and regional sources
means that such supplies and equipment are more likely to fit closer with the
mores and technological capability of the population than supplies and equip-
ment procured in the United States. Local or regional purchases also could help
jump-start local economies, affording economic incentives in the effort to stabi-
lize communities. Planning for this type of local approach would require an ex
ante survey of local and regional businesses able to build or provide the equip-
ment, materials, and supplies that may be needed for SSTR or even humanitar-
ian operations. Such an approach requires first identifying what relevant
equipment is needed for an SSTR operation, and then identifying local and
regional suppliers and their likely inventories, so that the Navy can tap these
resources more quickly in response to a nearby crisis.37 The Navy is well suited
to developing and maintaining such a database because it already relies on a
forward-based logistics system in specific geographic regions.
The Navy could also directly invest in equipment or hardware in preparation
for SSTR contingencies. For example, the Navy could deploy, likely via con-
tractors, one or more ships in the MPF that act, in effect, as floating generators,
with the means either to connect into local grids while in port or while standing
close offshore. It has been suggested in an article in the U.S. Naval Institute Pro-
ceedings that the U.S. Navy could access the power plants of nuclear-electric
naval auxiliary transport ships, when they are not in military use, to generate
electrical power to be added to the U.S. electrical grid in times of national emer-
gency.38 The power that a single vessel could push into the U.S. electrical grid
was estimated to be 300 megawatts. Although this is not much in terms of
overall U.S. power consumption, this amount of power would be extremely
significant in many regions of the world, especially when local power supplies
have been disrupted. Even if these “power ships” were available, significant
advance planning would have to occur to make sure that the equipment was
compatible and that operators were trained properly.39 Security issues would also
become pressing, because ship-based power generation could become a lucrative
88 T. Terriff
target for terrorists or insurgents, especially if the target involved a nuclear
power plant. One way to alleviate a number of the issues related to nuclear
power plants would be to employ ships with fuel oil generators.40 The Navy
could develop this idea for SSTR or humanitarian operations by considering the
development and deployment of one or more ships outfitted specifically to
provide power for local use as part of the MPF.
These proposals suggest ways that the Navy can think about enhancing its
capability to support Marines operating effectively on shore from a logistical
perspective. The most valuable resources of the Navy, however, are not
necessarily the material resources it can contribute, but its people, who have a
vast array of useful knowledge and skill sets. Navy aircraft carriers are often
likened to a small city afloat in terms of the number of people aboard and the
complexity of their operations. This analogy highlights the fact that the crews of
Navy warships often possess skill sets that are found among those charged with
managing and maintaining a city, town, or village. In other words, there are
sailors with the requisite engineering and technical skills needed to help furnish
clean water, better sewage, improved roads, reliable electricity, and even village
markets in areas that are facing natural or political disasters. These skills repre-
sent the essential ingredients of stabilization and reconstruction operations.
During transitions from combat to post-conflict operations, time is of the essence
when it comes to winning over the local population. The Navy can respond to
this challenge by harnessing the potential of sailors and officers, by providing
training on how individual specializations and skills relate to the running and
management of a city, town, or village.41 Select sailors could receive training in
the area of urban management and maintenance relevant to their specialization.
They could also study how local or regional infrastructure systems are
constructed.
Sailors interested in taking on these kinds of missions would have to be vol-
unteers, for they would be operating outside of the Navy’s normal career tracks
and missions. But the Navy can offer a framework and resources for creating
teams that encompass the skills needed to maintain or rebuild village, town, or
city infrastructures.42 How one establishes these types of planning reconstruction
teams is an open question, but one model may be a framework analogous to
NATO’s Combined Joint Task Force Headquarters concept, which was based on
having predesignated command officers who could be detached from their
parent headquarters to form the nucleus of a new, deployable headquarters staff.
Such an approach would allow the Naval officers and technicians involved to get
to know each other, to discuss and plan to meet various contingencies. Planning
also might begin about how best to temporarily detach personnel from their
regular billets without harming day-to-day shipboard functions.
In an ideal world, informal SSTR teams would be available on forward-
deployed Navy carrier battle groups and expeditionary strike groups. These
teams would be drawn from personnel deployed among various ships that make
up these battle groups and act as a human repository of creative knowledge on
local infrastructure and potential reconstruction needs. Not only can these teams
 Blue water and muddy deck shoes 89
supply services ashore, they could also contribute valuable advice and informa-
tion to Navy or Marine commanders in terms of campaign planning and actual
operations.43 Depending on the operational tempo and threat level on shore and
at sea, these sailors could serve as visiting teams that go ashore to support and
advise locals on building or re-establishing essential services. They could also
provide advice and support on rebuilding local infrastructure in coordination
with Marine units. Helping several small villages may seem like a marginal con-
tribution when it comes to the size of some conflict-torn regions, but one village
helped is one more village less likely to support a potential or emergent insur-
gency. Many “smalls” do add up.
U.S. Navy personnel can vouchsafe that lasting gift of education and training
to the local population. As the international aid community has long been
preaching, the transfer of best practices and education can greatly improve local
conditions. Such training must of course be aimed to the local technology and
skill level, and be informed by the cultural mores of the society, but this should
not be a stretch for sailors, especially those who have been given the chance to
interact with the local population. Such training could be provided through
onsite visits if security is not an issue, or it could be conducted aboard ships if
local security is a problem.44 If the Navy wanted to deploy ships specifically
designed for SSTR operations, it could utilize a pre-positioning ship as a repair
shop and training facility providing support to sustaining local infrastructure,
using local materials, and, more importantly, imparting the knowledge and skills
so that local people can learn to support themselves in what is often a long
rebuilding process. In a sense, the Navy already has such a medical capability in
its two Naval hospital ships, that lend medical support to onshore operations.
These ships could also serve as an offshore training facility to upgrade local
medical skills. The provision of training for local personnel could also be under-
taken in the absence of SSTR operations as part of the Navy’s traditional
mission of regional public diplomacy.

Economic development
Many of the proposed ways for the Navy to contribute to reconstruction would
also contribute to economic development. Power supply, for example, is
absolutely essential for economic activity. Thus, the Navy could develop these
advisory teams in a manner designed to foster local economic development. Pro-
vision of some material, such as generators, might be undertaken by “selling”
them to a family (or some other local unit that fits cultural norms) so that a tradi-
tional social group or organization would be responsible for running and main-
taining the generator and lines, purchasing fuel, etc. These family or community
units could then sell electricity to their neighbors or businesses, giving villagers
an enormous stake in guaranteeing the success of the enterprise.45 Such transac-
tions may be done in a straightforward manner – by offering a generous subsidy
for the sale, or they may be facilitated by offering loans with generous repay-
ment provisions. Navy volunteer advisory teams could also deliver the impetus
90 T. Terriff
as well as organizational and technical know-how for local reconstruction, by
supplying funds for the creation of jobs for locals to do the actual work, and
indeed to buy materials needed for local reconstruction projects from the
locals.46 Sailors also could be trained to advise these kinds of small businesses.
Such advisers could help local business get back on its feet by negotiating small
loans to help businesses or emerging enterprises. Logistics specialists could also
help emerging enterprises by helping them take the first steps in contacting
distant distributors and customers.
If the Navy focuses on simple and mission-specific contributions to SSTR
operations, it has the intellectual and material resources needed to jump-start the
local economic development that comprises a key ingredient in SSTR opera-
tions. Provision of the essential services, reconstruction of critical infrastructure,
and boosting local economic development can contribute to governance and
broader stabilization efforts.

Conclusion
The Navy cannot wash its hands of SSTR because its leaders believe that it is
not suited to such operations or that SSTR operations would detract from tradi-
tional sea control and power projection missions. As Admiral Mullen made
clear, the U.S. Navy must develop instruments for stability, security, and recon-
struction if combatant commanders are to achieve mission goals. Mullen’s
message is that the Navy needs to recognize that sea control and power projec-
tion requires more than defeating an opponent in the open ocean or even the lit-
torals. To respond to contemporary challenges, the Navy has to think and act
beyond the sea to influence events on the land.
The critical issue for the Navy is to determine how to contribute to U.S. or
coalition SSTR operations without detracting from its prime missions. The sug-
gestion advanced here is to approach this issue not in terms of complex engin-
eering undertakings, but by recognizing that simple, tailored initiatives will
allow the Navy to contribute by developing new approaches and working with
the Marine Corps to devise joint operational concepts. Small can be beautiful,
and the Navy can embrace this approach in seeking to develop capabilities to
contribute to SSTR operations. Small, however, does not necessarily mean easy.
The suggestions offered here would be hard to develop because they will
inevitably draw resources away from traditional missions and career paths. In a
period when the Navy’s share of the budget will be constrained, the construction
of ships and systems tailored to SSTR operations could become problematic for
financial reasons.
Most of the suggestions offered here also do not conform to the platform-
centric organizational culture of the U.S. Navy. The implementation of these
concepts and ideas would involve introducing an element of muddy deck shoes
into U.S. Navy organizational culture. The so-called “Gator Navy,” – officers
and sailors who crew aboard amphibious assault ships – will likely be more
receptive to such suggestions, due their working relationship with the Marines,
 Blue water and muddy deck shoes 91
while carrier and other surface ship sailors (and submariners) will likely find
these ideas more alien.
But muddy deck shoes may not be that much of a conceptual stretch for the
individual sailor, especially if one considers the overall history of the U.S. Navy.
The U.S. military may be developing SSTR concepts and doctrines to serve the
national interest, but SSTR operations are fundamentally about helping people.
U.S. Navy personnel have a long history of committing their individual will,
energy, compassion, skills, and creativity to help strangers suffering from
humanitarian disasters. The need today is to enlarge and transform Navy cap-
abilities for humanitarian responses to the different, yet similar, demands posed
by SSTR operations through education, training, and planning. The key asset
that the Navy can bring to SSTR is not just what it can contribute materially or
logistically to some distant disaster area. Instead, it is the knowledge, skill, and
creativity of its personnel. The question remains whether the U.S. Navy can
break with its traditional preoccupations and develop the concepts and cap-
abilities needed to make a substantial contribution to SSTR operations.

Notes
1 Quoted in Art Pine, “Navy in Search of a Fresh Strategy for the 21st Century,”
GovExec.Com, 6 December 2006, at www.govexec.com/story_page.cfm?arti-
cleid=35616&dcn=e_ndw (accessed 8 December 2006).
2 W. J. Holland, Jr., “The Fleet: Low Profile Today, Vital Tomorrow,” Proceedings,
vol. 132, no. 5 (May 2006), pp. 52ff.
3 Mike Mullen, “What I Believe,” Proceedings, vol. 132, no. 1 (January 2006) pp. 12ff.
4 Ibid.
5 E. F. Schumacher, Small Is Beautiful: Economics as if People Mattered (New York:
Harper & Row, 1973).
6 U.S. Marine Corps Combat Development Command and the US Special Operations
Command Center for Knowledge and Futures, Multi-Service Concept for Irregular
Warfare, Version 2.0, 2 August 2006, Marine Corps Warfighting Laboratory website,
www.mcwl.usmc.mil/ (accessed 9 September 2006).
7 Ibid., p. 12.
8 Ibid.
9 In particular, the document stresses that, “Anyone – states, non-state entities, indi-
viduals such as terrorists, and the U.S. military – can practice irregular warfare”
(Multi-Service Concept for Irregular Warfare, p. 10). Further, the document notes
that “the specifically military components of IW include a wide variety of operations
and activities promoted in isolation, in combination, in alteration or as augmentation
to conventional combat operations or in which conventional combat augments IW
operations” (ibid., p. 11).
10 Ibid., p. 5.
11 Ibid., pp. 13–14.
12 John F. Dobrydney, “Marine Tactical PsyOp Teams,” Marine Corps Gazette, vol. 90,
no. 2 (February 2006), pp. 33ff. Marine units operating in Iraq were augmented by the
US Army PsyOps.
13 Frank Hoffman, “Changing Tires on the Fly: The Marines and Post-Conflict Stability
Ops,” Foreign Policy Research Institute E-Note, 10 September 2006, at www.fpri.
org/enotes/20060910.military.hoffman.marinespostconflictstabilityops.html (accessed
24 September 2006).
92 T. Terriff
14 Conversely, Marine operations in the Al Anbar Province in Iraq are so far inland
that ship-based augmentation for their psychological operations is likely largely
impractical.
15 Multi-Service Concept for Irregular Warfare, p. 15.
16 On the difference between fusing information/intelligence and interservice coopera-
tion, see Robert B. Watts, “Fusion Is More than Cooperation,” Proceedings, vol. 133,
no. 1 (January 2007), pp. 70ff.
17 Such a proposed system would be similar to, or part of, the Navy–Marine Corps
Intranet and ForceNet. On what these systems were supposed to provide, see Charles
L. Munns, “The Big Network Could Save Your Life,” Proceedings, vol. 130, no. 9
(September 2004), pp. 56ff.
18 For a case study of the need to counter such misperception derived from the Marine
Corps deployment to Haiti in 2004, see Bryan Salas, “Media Support in Joint Opera-
tions,” Proceedings, vol. 131, no. 11 (November 2005), pp. 74ff. On the importance
of public affairs in modern operations, see also Antony J. Andrious, “Image Is Every-
thing,” Marine Corps Gazette, vol. 91, no. 2 (February 2007), pp. 54ff.
19 James Lacey, “Who’s Responsible for Losing the Media War in Iraq?” Proceedings,
vol. 130, no. 10 (October 2004), pp. 37ff.
20 General Robert J. Scales, “Culture-Centric Warfare,” Proceedings, vol. 130, no. 10
(October 2004), pp. 32ff; and Mark Gorenflo and Mark R. Hagerott, “The Shifting
Domain of War,” Proceedings, vol. 132, no. 11 (November 2006), pp. 38ff.
21 For the purpose of this discussion, cultural intelligence can be conceived as being
analogous to military intelligence: the gathering and analysis of information on local
cultures and social structures.
22 On the need for cultural ethnography, see Fred Renzi, “Networks: Terra Incognita and
the Case for Ethnographic Intelligence,” Military Review (October 2006), pp. 180ff.
23 On the need to reinvigorate the Navy’s FAO programme, see Steve C. Boraz,
“Behind the Curve in Culture-Centric Skills,” Proceedings, vol. 131, no. 6 (June
2005), pp. 41ff. For more on the importance of language and cultural skills in the
Navy, see the comments on Boraz’s article in “Comment and Discussion,” Proceed-
ings, vol. 131, no. 7 (July 2005), pp. 6ff; and “Comment and Discussion,” Proceed-
ings, vol. 131, no. 8 (August 2005), pp. 6ff.
24 Reportedly, 46 percent of naval intelligence personnel are currently afloat, serving
predominantly on board aircraft carriers and big-deck amphibious ships (LHAs and
LHDs), manning the carrier intelligence and joint intelligence centers. See Richard B.
Porterfield, “Naval Intelligence: Transforming to Meet the Threat,” Proceedings, vol.
132, no. 9 (September 2005), pp. 12ff.
25 The Marine Corps is working on a culture Wikipedia as part of its effort to develop a
better knowledge and understanding of culture. An example of such topics is “Intelli-
pedia,” a classified form of Wikipedia, being experimented with by the Office of the
Director of National Intelligence. See Bill Gertz and Rowan Scarborough, “Inside the
Ring,” Washington Times, 5 January 2007, at www.washtimes.com/national/
20070104–112334–2238r_page2.htm (accessed 5 January 2007); and Clive Thomp-
son, “Open Source Spying,” NYTimes.com, 3 December 2006, at www.nytimes.com/
2006/12/03/magazine/03intelligence.html?pagewanted=print (accessed 3 December
2006). An alternative model, or complementary approach, for an open-source cultural
intelligence data/analysis network is John Collins’s “Warlord Loop.” See John
Collins, “Knowledge Is Power,” Proceedings, vol. 132, no. 9 (September 2005),
pp. 79ff.
26 See Daniel Pulliam, “Navy Developing Massive Information Network,”
GovExec.com, 29 January 2007, at: www.govexec.com/story_page.cfm?arti-
cleid=35978&dcn=e_ndw (accessed 6 February 2007). This system is ostensibly to
encompass all Navy digital systems, including the reportedly troubled Navy–Marine
Corps Intranet and ForceNet systems.
 Blue water and muddy deck shoes 93
27 For a similar, recently made argument, see Chris Rawley, “Naval Unconventional
Warfare: Supporting GWOT on the Cheap,” Small Wars Journal, vol. 7 (February
2007), at http://smallwarsjournal.com/documents/swjmag/v7/rawley-swjvol7.pdf
(accessed 14 February 2007). For why relying on “reach back” programs to use the
expertise of civilian academic cultural anthropologists is not a long-term solution, see
Marc W. D. Tyrrell, “Why Dr. Johnny Won’t Go to War: Anthropology and the Global
War on Terror,” Small Wars Journal, vol. 7 (February 2007), at http://smallwarsjour-
nal.com/documents/swjmag/v7/tyrrell-swjvol7.pdf (accessed 14 February 2007).
28 For arguments to revamp U.S. Naval intelligence to make it better able to deal with
more traditional operational intelligence in the post 9/11 world, see Jason Hines,
“Restore the Foundation of Naval Intelligence,” Proceedings, vol. 131, no. 2 (Febru-
ary 2005), pp. 36ff; and Mario I. Ona, “Overhaul Naval Intel to Support the War
Fighters,” Proceedings, vol. 131, no. 2 (February 2005), pp. 38ff.
29 For the importance of civil affairs, see Alan Spira, Paul E. Beckhart, and David R.
Woodard, “Civil Affairs Is the Invisible Force,” Proceedings, vol. 129, no. 11
(November 2003), pp. 40–3.
30 On the need to bolster the Marine Corps’ FAO program and training, including edu-
cating FAOs as cultural anthropologists, see Alfred B. Connable, “FAO Revisited,”
Marine Corps Gazette, vol. 91, no. 2 (February 2007), pp. 17ff. Major Connable is
Program Lead, Cultural Intelligence Program, Marine Corps Intelligence Activity,
Quantico.
31 Pat Paterson, “European Command Welcomes Navy Foreign Area Officers,” Pro-
ceedings, vol. 132, no. 10 (October 2006), pp. 71ff. Such a capability would as well
alleviate, albeit only marginally, concern about the paucity of Naval officers filling
assigned billets in joint operational commands. On this point, see Robert O. Wray, Jr,
“Baghdad: Help Wanted,” Proceedings, vol. 131, no. 1 (January 2005), pp. 45ff.
32 Multi-Service Concept for Irregular Warfare, p. 15.
33 This simple reality would be enhanced through Navy efforts to develop a deeper and
broader FAO programme and cultural intelligence capability, as discussed above.
34 For an examination of the effectiveness of 1st NCD and the Seabees’ employment of
two new concepts – the Marine Expeditionary Force (MEF) Engineer Group (MEG)
and Seabee Engineer Reconnaissance Teams (SERTs) – in Iraq both during the war
and afterwards in post-conflict reconstruction efforts, see Marshall T. Sykes, The
Effectiveness of the Seabees in Employing New Concepts during Operation Iraqi
Freedom, USAWC Strategy Research Project, U.S. Army War College (March
2005); accessible at: www.strategicstudiesinstitute.army.mil/pubs/display-
papers.cfm?q=123 (accessed 5 November 2006). Another example of the ongoing
work of the Seabees who have been active in Combined Joint Task Force-Horn of
Africa (CJTF-HOA); see David J. Danelo, “Around the Horn,” Proceedings, vol. 132,
no. 6 (June 2006), pp. 18ff.
35 For an argument reminding Navy personnel that sea-basing is in large part designed
to provide support to Marine Corps operations, see John J. Klein and Rich Morales,
“Sea Basing Isn’t Just about the Sea,” Proceedings, vol. 130, no. 1 (January 2004),
pp., 32ff.
36 James G. Lacey, “Sense and Nonsense,” Proceedings, vol. 131, no. 6 (June 2005),
pp. 32ff.
37 As an example that shows the spirit of this suggestion, carried out in an ad hoc
fashion, Expeditionary Task Group Five, which was directed to Indonesia to provide
humanitarian assistance in the wake of the 26 December 2004 tsunami, stopped off in
Guam to load supplies, and while there Rear Admiral Christopher Ames, the Strike
Group commander, reportedly “sent a party to the Ace hardware store near the port to
buy just about everything in stock – shovels, lumber, hammers, nails” (Dan Baum,
“Mission to Sumatra,” New Yorker, 7 February 2005, at www.newyorker.com/print-
able/?fact/050207fa_fact (accessed 4 February 2005)).
94 T. Terriff
38 Jose Femenia, “Nuclear Ships Can Help Meet U.S. Electrical Needs,” Proceedings,
vol. 130, no. 8 (August 2004), pp. 78ff.
39 On these, see Ray Fulton, Letter to the Editor, “Nuclear Ships Can Help Meet U.S.
Electrical Needs: Comment and Discussion,” Proceedings, vol. 130, no. 10 (October
2004), pp. 10ff.
40 See Jack Landesberg, Letter to the Editor, “Nuclear Ships Can Help Meet U.S. Elec-
trical Needs: Comment and Discussion,” Proceedings, vol. 130, no. 10 (October
2004), pp. 10ff.
41 General James T. Conway and Lieutenant General James N. Mattis, along with their
command staff, spent a week with Denver city officials learning what was involved in
running and maintaining a city before the 1st Marine Division deployed to Iraq in
March 2004. A form of reach-back to city planners in the United States could
enhance the capability of such teams to deal with local infrastructure problems.
42 This idea extends a concept in the developing Sea–Land strategy of the U.S. Navy,
which envisions engagement ashore through teams or groups, consisting of “sailors
with the language and cultural skills to interact directly with members of the host
nation to develop maritime security solutions,” that are provisional and “organized by
tasks, on an ad hoc basis for specific missions” Christopher R. Davis “Relevance: A
Necessary Strategy,” Proceedings, vol. 132, no. 5 (May 2006), pp. 64ff).
43 Such knowledge would also be valuable during humanitarian crises or repeated public
diplomacy visits in regions in which the United States wants or needs to remain
engaged. For an example of a goodwill visit, with some of the benefits, see Mike
Budney, “Mission Improbable: A U.S. Navy Charm Offensive in West Africa,” Pro-
ceedings, vol. 132, no. 7 (July 2006), pp. 32ff.
44 If there is an emerging or ongoing insurgency, bringing locals shipboard either on a
daily or extended basis carries certain security risks that would need to be carefully
managed.
45 For an example of how locals provide power from generators as a paid service, see
Sudarsan Raghavan, “Generator Men Let Baghdad See the Light, but at a Price,”
Washington Post, 19 November 2006, p. A22.
46 On the usefulness of spending money and creating jobs locally, see Kenneth Brown,
“Forward from . . . Bureaucracy,” Proceedings, vol. 131, no. 1 (January 2005),
pp. 41ff.
Part III

Cases
Implementing stability operations
7 An examination of maritime
peace support operations
Adam B. Siegel

Until the 1990s, few military planners or academics were concerned about the
roles that naval forces play in peacekeeping operations (PKOs). With the end of
the Cold War, the last decade of the century saw significant change in the nature
and concept of peacekeeping as the world community moved into and through
“second-generation” peace operations (POs).1 One part of the changing nature of
peace support operations (PSOs) was an increased involvement of naval forces
in POs starting in the early 1990s.2 Since the September 11th, 2001 terrorist
attack, these operations continue to undergo additional changes with the chal-
lenges posed by the “Long War”3 and demands of Stability, Security, Recon-
struction, and Transition (SSTR) operations.4
This chapter examines the unique benefits and problems of involving naval
forces in humanitarian assistance and peace operations, peace support opera-
tions, and SSTR. It begins with a discussion of the nature of naval missions in
these operations, including some historical examples. Based on the historical
record, the chapter turns to a discussion of the benefits and problems of naval
involvement in PSOs. Following a discussion of some technical and operational
issues related to such involvement, the chapter explores how the changing nature
of PSOs could affect navy force development requirements for the coming
decades.

Peace support operations

Peace support operations have evolved over the decades. Until the 1990s,
despite the Korean (1950–3) and Congo (1960–4) experiences, the term peace-
keeping conjured up an image of a blue-helmeted soldier, binoculars in hand,
observing cease-fire lines between two formerly warring parties. Peacekeepers
were invited by international organizations – usually the United Nations – to
monitor compliance with truces that had already been negotiated among the
parties involved in a dispute. This image no longer reflects the total reality of
peacekeeping. Second-generation peacekeeping often involves UN forces in
complex humanitarian emergencies,5 ongoing conflicts, and post-conflict opera-
tions such as East Timor. Peacekeeping, or more appropriately, peace support
operations, have become, according to Peter Haydon, “a form of shorthand for
98 A. B. Siegel
military and para-military operations to restore order in the international
system.”6 Peace support operations can range from humanitarian assistance
operations to aid distressed civilians (whether the distress derives from natural
or man-made causes) to combat operations otherwise known as warfare. This
concept includes not only UN-directed and authorized actions (whether under
Chapter VI or Chapter VII authorization), but also unilateral and multilateral
operations. Restoring order does not necessarily refer to armed conflict but it can
also include responses to the chaos that can follow in the wake of natural or
man-made disasters. In addition, there is the quite significant element within
PSOs of another aspect of “order,” which could be referred to as “law and order”
or the “justice sector.” This element of order can stretch Navy and maritime
roles related to SSTR/PSOs from the interdiction of illegal weapons-of-mass
destruction (WMD) movements through the Proliferation Security Initiative
(PSI) program to capacity building in an intervention through training, equip-
ping, and otherwise resourcing a local Coast Guard (or maritime customs’)
service.
There is a broad range of naval tasks in SSTR/PSO missions. These range
from the most benign (such as the opportune use of Navy vessels to transport
relief supplies or a UN contingent) to the most belligerent (such as the Toma-
hawk missile strikes against Iraq (1991, 1993, 1998, 2003), Bosnian Serbs
(1995), Serbia (1999), and Taliban in Afghanistan (2001)). Missions or tasks can
occur in a low-level (benign), mid-level (uncertain), or high-level (conflict)
operational and threat environment.7 Figure 7.1 depicts typology and provides
some examples of the mission types and tasks that naval forces might conduct at
these different threat levels.8 As Figure 7.1 suggests, many of these missions
(such as sealift) remain a potential naval task in all levels of peace support
operations, while others are likely to occur only in certain portions of this con-
flict spectrum.
One of the complexities of today’s peace operations and SSTRs is that many
PSOs will travel across this conflict spectrum depending on the passage of time
and the movement of an area of operations across a region. The shifting nature
of conflict of SSTR derives from the nature of today’s multinational peace
support operations. These operations are less likely to be cases of intervention
between two nation-states – each with clear command and control over disci-
plined forces that can control actions of field units across an entire geographic
“front.” As seen in Bosnia, Somalia, Iraq, East Timor, Afghanistan, and Sudan,
assuming true centralized command and control of any faction is most fre-
quently a dangerous assumption.
The recent surge in international terrorism has changed the nature of PSOs.
While threat environments vary from operation to operation, the delineation
between conflict and benign environments has come close to disappearing, espe-
cially for Western maritime forces. While threats may vary, the terrorist menace
will always exist and the situation facing friendly forces will remain “gray.” A
terrorist could strike a ship in port or at sea, with the same lethality that would
occur in the event of a missile strike during high-intensity conventional combat.
 Maritime peace support operations 99

Low-level/benign Mid-level/uncertain High-level/Conflict

(Peacekeeping) (Peace support) (Peace enforcement)

--------- Sealift ---------

Surveillance ----- Monitoring ----- Surveillance/targeting
Monitor shipping ------- --- Escort shipping --- Convoy escort/protection

Inspect/interdict shipping Interdict shipping

Mine clearance ----
Presence
Permissive evacuation
Search and rescue (SAR)
Conduct environmental
clean-up
Conduct self-defense and
limited reactive action to
protect others (if Rules of
Engagement (ROE) allow)
--- Mine clearance/
sweeping/preemption of
mine-laying
--- Preventive deployment–
Semi-permissive evacuation
or hostage rescue
SAR or combat SAR
(CSAR)
Conduct environmental
clean-up, monitor
Conduct limited combat
operations, including
proactive acts (as ROEs
allow)
--- Capacity building --
--------Maritime Domain
Awareness (MDA)--------
Mine clearance/sweeping/
preemption mine-laying/
laying mines
Demonstration – combat
Opposed evacuation
CSAR
Preempt or limit
environmental warfare
Conduct combat operations:
power project; air combat;
strike operations;
amphibious operations;
etc. ...

Figure 7.1 Conflict spectrum and some naval PSO tasks.

In terms of the role of navies in UN missions and, more broadly, SSTRs,

Figure 7.1 suggests that involvement in peace operations does not present navies
with missions that are at odds with training for traditional blue-water operations.
In other words, for navies, peacekeeping is not significantly different from
regular operations. In contrast to a ground unit which, for example, might
require significant retraining for the individual soldiers, few Navy personnel
conducting operations at sea will encounter training requirements beyond that
which they undertake for traditional tasks. The greatest differences between
traditional and peace support operations for Navy forces involve where those
operations take place and the joint nature of the exercises. The movement from
open-ocean operations to littoral operations represented a major shift for the
United States Navy in the 1990s. The recent surge in riverine, inland coastal
waterways operations, especially during the Second Gulf War, is reflected in the
creations of the U.S. Naval Expeditionary Command and the development of a
dedicated riverine warfare capability. Jointness, with U.S. Navy personnel
moving ashore into positions on joint staffs or assuming missions and roles
ashore, also creates new challenges for Navy planners.
100 A. B. Siegel
United Nations naval operations
UN naval operations have occurred via three routes: authorizations; designation;
or, the integration of naval assets into a land-based peace operation. Authoriza-
tion occurs when the United Nations authorizes nations to conduct an operation.
In these types of operations, deployed forces remain under their national flag.
Designation is when the United Nations designates a lead nation to conduct and
command a mandated operation; participating units remain under the “desig-
nated” nation’s (or a combined headquarters) command and control, rather than
under a United Nations command or commander. This command arrangement
occurred during the intervention in East Timor and the initial intervention in
Somalia. Integration takes place when naval assets are directly integrated into a
UN-controlled, ground-based operation. Naval units that are integrated into
peace support operations are often even repainted in a way similar to the blue
helmets worn by UN peacekeepers to clearly identify them as participants in a
UN operation.
Another type of naval participation in peacekeeping operations involves
naval forces in direct support of UN operations without the ships flying the UN
flag or without a specific request by the United Nations to participate in an
ongoing operation. Many Navy ships, used to transport UN personnel and equip-
ment, fall into this type of operation. The use of naval forces for suasion in
support of UN peace operations has typically occurred under national authority
without command association with the UN operation itself.
In terms of UN-flag operations, past taskings have included transport of UN
personnel and equipment (both under national and UN flags), riverine operations
(including monitoring in Cambodia9 and sanctions enforcement along the
Danube10), and monitoring missions. UN naval operations have also occurred in
circumstances where the UN authorized or designated a nation (or group of
nations) to undertake military operations in support of a UN resolution. Author-
ized missions have included the U.S.-led coalitions during the Korean War, in
the Persian Gulf (1990–1), in enforcement of the sanctions against Haiti
(1993–4), and in the entry of military forces into Haiti.11 The naval operations in
the Adriatic in the early 1990s were another example where multinational,
regional organizations acted to enforce UN sanctions (the Western European
Union and North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) both conducted patrol
operations). Additionally, the UN designated the United Kingdom to enforce
economic sanctions against Rhodesia in the 1960s and 1970s.
A variety of new kinds of UN naval mission is potentially on the horizon.
These new operations include the monitoring and interdiction of illegal drug,
refugee, and arms proliferation movements. Environmental monitoring and
enforcement could also emerge as new missions on the high seas in the future.
September 11 has changed the security agendas for many nations with the
ability to deploy naval forces far from their shores. The Global War on Terror
will create numerous opportunities for multinational naval operations, given that
large multinational armadas already operate in the Indian Ocean, North Arabian
 Maritime peace support operations 101
Sea, and Red Sea; NATO forces already operate in the Mediterranean; and com-
bined U.S.–Indian Navy patrols monitor ship movements through the Malacca
Strait. Eventually, some of these patrols will occur under UN Charter.
Today, naval peacekeeping support operations are proliferating. Support
operations are underway in response to ongoing contingencies in Afghanistan
and Iraq. Emergency naval operations, like disaster relief (such as tsunami relief
operations, 2004–512 and post-Hurricane Katrina, 200513) or noncombatant evac-
uations (like Lebanon, 2006), to strikes against terrorists are becoming increas-
ingly common. The Proliferation Security Initiative, a relatively informal effort
to stop trafficking in weapons of mass destruction and associated delivery
systems, is gaining momentum as governments around the world recognize the
threat posed by clandestine criminal and smuggling networks. Much of this
activity has occurred outside the formal framework of UN PSOs.

Why involve naval forces in peace support operations?

Naval vessels share a number of characteristics that make them valuable diplo-
matic tools.14 In Navies and Foreign Policy, Kenneth Booth listed seven qual-
ities that make warships ideal tools in peace support operations. First, navies
are versatile. Ships can accomplish a variety of tasks and change from one task
to another as the threat environment changes. Second, navies are controllable.
Because ships operate in international waters and can maneuver out of sight (if
not always out of harm’s way), they can modulate the level of provocation and
involvement in a situation. Ships are more easily introduced and withdrawn
from a situation than a ground or air force and their logistical tail is less
vulnerable to interdiction by local forces. Third, navies are mobile. Forces that
are not already in theater are capable of moving relatively quickly where they
are needed and can sustain local operations for months or even years. Fourth,
navies can project force ashore. Although amphibious, relief, and riverine
operations come to mind when talking about peace support operations, naval
forces can also affect the situation on land through air and missile strikes.15
Fifth, navies guarantee access from the sea to threatened areas and the ability
to move life-saving supplies to areas isolated by natural and man-made disas-
ters. The freedom navies have from restrictions on their operations means that
movement of significant forces and materials is easier across the sea than over
land or in the air. Sixth, naval operations are symbols of national resolve and
international interest. Like classic gunboat diplomacy, today a ship remains a
symbol of national power and international community. Forces at sea under
national command can stand ready to intervene with full combat capability to
protect or otherwise support blue-helmet forces ashore. These “reserves,”
retained under national control and national tasking, can implicitly give teeth
to a blue-helmet force ashore without the UN itself having to assert a combat-
ive posture. Seventh, large navies can maintain ships on specific stations
indefinitely. Ships can deploy for extended periods with auxiliary support
vessels in an area of operations. In the Beira patrol, for instance, Royal Navy
102 A. B. Siegel
ships deployed at sea for months at a time to enforce sanctions against
Rhodesia.16
Several key aspects of Booth’s characterization of naval forces are especially
relevant to potential PSOs. The endurance of maritime forces suggests the
ability to undertake sea-based operations: some units and their support elements
might actually be based at sea rather than ashore. Sea-basing reduces an opera-
tion’s footprint in the affected territory, thereby reducing the requirement to
protect forces and reducing the burden a military force will create on the society
and social order. This is a critical concern in humanitarian relief operations
where local infrastructure has been weakened, if not destroyed, by a man-made
or natural disaster. Sea-basing would also help provide security for peace
support forces. Sea-based forces remain – relative forces deployed ashore –
more secure from terrorist and other security threats in uncertain environments.
Naval forces, especially amphibious task forces, are the world’s best major
rapid-response capability in many situations. In particular, naval forces have
unique capacities to bring to bear in responding to many types of disasters. The
U.S. Navy and U.S. Marine Corps expeditionary strike groups (ESGs), which
are based on the combined amphibious ready group (ARG) and Marine expedi-
tionary unit (MEU), make up a constantly deployed, floating engineering,
medical, transportation (ground, water, and air), communication, and control
organization.17 Although these units are deployed in support of a variety of U.S.
national interests, the capabilities can be made available to respond rapidly to
disasters or complex humanitarian emergencies. If deployed into a disaster situ-
ation, the ESG capabilities can provide crucial support to a society as it copes
with disaster and moves toward recovery.
While the United Nations has not practiced traditional gunboat diplomacy,
the latent capability for intervention and support of peace operations has helped
achieve UN mission objectives in a number of operations. In 1974, for example,
as Turkish and Greek forces fought over Cyprus, the UN force on Cyprus strug-
gled to prevent Turkish forces from attacking and overrunning the airport. In
addition to diplomatic measures, the British airlifted additional forces to the
British bases on Cyprus and reinforced their UN contingent. At the same time,
British and U.S. Navy amphibious forces moved to positions off the island.
While these forces principally engaged in evacuations of endangered civilians,
the UK and U.S. forces clearly had the capability to intervene – perhaps
decisively. In any event, the Turks did not attack the UN force.18 In September
1992, a U.S. Navy amphibious task force (with 2,000 Marines embarked)
deployed off Mogadishu, Somalia, as U.S. Air Force aircraft airlifted 500 Pak-
istani peacekeepers into the country. Prior to the first aircraft flying into
Mogadishu, the ships steamed into sight of Mogadishu as a show of force to
intimidate anyone from taking hostile action against this airlift or against the
Pakistani soldiers.19
 Maritime peace support operations 103
Challenges of naval involvement in PSOs
While naval forces are inherently flexible, flexibility comes at a cost. Naval
forces are expensive and this expense can limit the UN’s ability to finance
extensive maritime operations. A U.S. Navy aircraft carrier, for example, would
cost the UN over $5 million per month in personnel costs alone at the UN’s
reimbursement rate for enlisted personnel. This amount does not account for the
costs of equipment depreciation (potentially quite a high cost for a warship that
costs over $5 billion to build and equip), fuel, and other supplies.20 Supporting a
large UN naval force in UN operations under UN control would shatter the
already broken UN budget.
Even small operations, such as the four-boat patrol in the Gulf of Fonesca,
are expensive. For this small operation, the UN paid for transporting the four
patrol craft from Argentina to Honduras, painting the ships in accord with UN
rules (all white), later repainting them to national colors, dismantling weapons
systems (and reinstalling them), undertaking environmental modifications to
enable the ships to operate in tropical waters, and depreciation costs. The UN
could have purchased the boats themselves once the total cost of the operation
was tallied. In addition to these system costs, the UN paid for the construction of
support facilities in the operational area, operating cost (including maintenance),
the salaries of Argentinean personnel, spare parts, insurance, fuel oil, and crew
rotations.21
In addition to financial costs, other problems emerge when it comes to utiliz-
ing naval forces in humanitarian assistance and peace support operations. While
naval PSOs often involve only one navy, the real challenges emerge when
attempting multinational naval operations.22 To operate effectively together,
naval forces must have some level of technical, procedural, and doctrinal com-
patibility.23 In addition, these forces must train together to move from compati-
bility to interoperability. On all fronts, the world’s navies have moved forward
on these issues. The US Naval Doctrine Command can be said to have led the
way, with the development of a multinational doctrine for multinational naval
operations. Partnership for Peace exercises are also spreading some degree of
interoperability outside traditional European alliance structures for lower-threat
operations, like disaster relief. The U.S. Navy’s concept of a “1,000-ship navy,”
which relies on the ability to form operationally capable coalitions of the willing
to confront new operational challenges and requirements, is helping to lay the
groundwork for coalition-based maritime support operations.
Navies enjoy certain advantages over ground forces when it comes to interop-
erability. A ship is an entity and deals with the outside world (whether other
ships from the same fleet, alliance partners, or other entities) as a single unit.
Thus, if key individuals can communicate clearly with partners, understand the
doctrine and mission, and there is connectivity in terms of voice and data com-
munications, operational integration should not pose insurmountable difficulties.
As the operational environment becomes increasingly hostile, the integration of
ship-based surveillance, command, and control becomes increasingly important.
104 A. B. Siegel
The ability of naval units to switch from one task to another also creates a lia-
bility. The inherent flexibility of maritime assets (ships) to switch from one task
to another also creates a liability. Local governments, factions, and/or civilians
might look to the ship’s capabilities as evidence that leads them to question the
maritime force’s benign intent. For example, inherent in the warships involved
in monitoring and observation missions is the capability to escalate from passive
observation to combat operations. Unlike terrestrial forces, it is difficult to
change maritime forces from their full combat capabilities to something less
than that – unlike an armor division, a ship cannot leave its tanks behind when
sent to a peace operation.24 Although small craft can be deployed without
weapons, and aircraft carriers can deploy without their combat aircraft and serve
as floating docks to support relief operations, most warships cannot easily
remove their weapons systems and become “unarmed” for a classic UN blue-
helmet observer role.25 It thus might be easier to transform a ground combat unit
to carry out a peace support operation than a maritime force.

Technology and naval involvement in PSOs

Unlike land operations, there are almost no naval technology developments that
are focused on peace operations.26 There is no oceanic equivalent to the develop-
ment of better mine-detection and -clearance systems to reduce the number of
maimed civilians. For the most part, sea-based technologies with applications in
PSOs will be procured by navies for other reasons and then applied in the peace-
keeping or peace-enforcement environment. There are steps related to techno-
logy and ship design that can help convert ships to carry out multinational
operations instead of traditional national operations. The Italian Navy, for
example, is acquiring new amphibious ships that are designed, in part, with the
idea of aiding in natural disasters. This design includes, for example, extra gen-
erators to provide electricity ashore, a common naval role following an earth-
quake. While this reduced the ships’ capacity for traditional combat operations,
the Italian Navy benefited from the design’s inclusion of extra generators
because it meant that the Italian disaster relief agency paid for one of the three
ships of the new class. The Danish Navy has also developed ship classes that
can easily be modified to better support peace operations.27
The U.S. Navy, which is increasingly interested in module design in future
generations of warships to include flexibility, carries noncombatant evacuation
operation (NEO) kits on all ships that, for example, include pediatric medical
devices not normally associated with traditional Navy combat missions.28 Navy
planners are further developing such ideas by pre-positioning other types of kits
that can be rapidly deployed on amphibious vessels to provide various types of
aid in disaster-relief missions.
The U.S. Navy’s littoral combat ship (LCS) program, with the use of modu-
larity to enhance operational flexibility, can be seen as the next generation of
modularity in operational capabilities. The LCS capabilities will be principally
in its modules, rather than embedded in the platform. This should enable rapid
 Maritime peace support operations 105
transformation of the warship to move from one operational requirement to
another. Several other ship design features can specifically aid multinational or
UN peace operations. Liaison officers between ships, naval units, and com-
mands can greatly help in creating a functioning multinational force.29 As liaison
officers are key, additional berthing capacity beyond normal shipboard opera-
tions will allow augmentation with liaison and UN personnel without disrupting
normal shipboard routine. In addition, including communication equipment and
channels for UN or multinational operations would be useful.
Interdicting shipping to enforce embargoes, stopping illegal refugee flows
and terrorist movements, and preventing the movement of weapons of mass
destruction and associated delivery systems are increasingly common missions
for twenty-first-century international maritime forces. Non-lethal methods to
slow or stop ships at sea are under development.

Conclusion
While the world community seems to have rediscovered naval roles in peace
support operations, the contribution that the world’s navies can make across all
SSTR missions is poorly understood by leaders and publics alike. For a variety
of reasons, navies are also under-utilized in peace support operations. It is
unlikely that traditional UN peacekeeping command arrangements will soon
become a standard method of managing major naval operations, if for no other
reason than the tremendous fiscal cost – the UN simply cannot afford to pay
countries for access to naval forces in the same way that it pays for ground units.
UN reluctance to engage in maritime PSOs is likely to continue as long as the
UN peacekeeping budget remains in arrears. Navies are simply too expensive
for the United Nations to engage on a routine basis in run-of-the-mill peace
support operations.
The challenge facing navy planners is to consider how national or multina-
tional naval forces can be more effectively exploited across the range of PSOs to
achieve international objectives, whether these objectives are to render assis-
tance or to end a conflict. As the UN and international community has moved
from the use of military force to monitor and maintain the peace among nation
states to its use to create peace in internal conflicts, the world community needs
to consider new means, methods, and tools to achieve its objectives. A challenge
before U.S. Navy planners is to determine how maritime forces can be better
integrated into UN operations and ensure that independent operations support
PSOs better. Navy planners should also begin to explore which modifications or
developments within and among maritime forces can enhance the potential for
operational success when undertaking PSOs.

Notes
1 In general, “second-generation” peacekeeping focuses on the gray environment
between clear Chapter VI missions (observers supporting a peace agreement between
106 A. B. Siegel
nations as a confidence-building tool) and Chapter VII warfighting à la Korea,
1950–3, or Kuwait in 1991. For a discussion of “second-generation” operations, see:
John Mackinlay and Jarat Chopra, A Draft Concept of Second Generation Multina-
tional Operations (Providence, RI: Brown University, 1993); and Marianne Heiberg,
Ethnic Conflict, Peacekeeping, and Peacemaking towards 2000: Second Generation
Peacekeeping, Notat Paper no. 442 (Oslo: NUPI, April 1991).
2 In terms of scholarly attention see, for example, Capt George Allison, USN, “The
United States and United Nations Peacekeeping Operations,” Naval War College
Review (Summer 1993), pp. 22–35; C. Uday Bashar, “Navies in UN Peace-
Keeping: Need for Conceptual Reappraisal,” Strategic Analysis (India), April 1994,
pp. 123–38; Lt Col L. J. Bockman, USMC, Cdr Barry L. Coombs, USN, and Cdr
Andrew W. Forsyth, RN, The Employment of Maritime Forces in Support of United
Nations Resolutions (Newport, RI: Naval War College, August 1993); Dr Donald
C. F. Daniel and Capt Bradd Hayes, USN, Blue Helmets and White Hulls: Expand-
ing the Coast Guard’s International Missions (Newport, RI: Strategic Research
Department, Naval War College, February 1995); Jeremy Ginifer, “The UN at Sea?
The New Relevance of Maritime Operations,” International Peacekeeping, vol. 1,
no. 3 (Autumn 1994), pp. 320–35; Eric Grove, “Navies Play Their Part in Peace
Support Operations,” Jane’s Navy International, vol. 104, no. 2 (March 1999), pp.
26–9; Peter Haydon, “Naval Peacekeeping: Multinational Considerations,” in Alex
Morrison (ed.), The New Peacekeeping Partnership (Clementsport, Nova Scotia:
Pearson Peacekeeping Centre, 1995), pp. 105–24; Peter Haydon, “Navy and Air
Force Peacekeeping: An Expanded Role,” in Alex Morrison (ed.), The Changing
Face of Peacekeeping (Toronto: Canadian Institute of Strategic Studies, 1993);
T. G. Neethling, “The South African Navy in a changed Environment – Facing the
Challenges of Peace-Keeping Responsibilities,” Wits Discussion Papers in Inter-
national Relations, vol. 2, no. 3 (1998), pp. 1–19; Juan Carlos Neves, “The Argen-
tine Navy and United Nations Peace-Keeping Operations in the Gulf of Fonseca,”
Naval War College Review (Winter 1994), pp. 40–67; Sir Julian Oswald, “U.N.
Maritime Operations: “Realities, Problems, and Possibilities,” Naval War College
Review (Autumn 1993), pp. 124–9; Gwyn Prins, “The United Nations and Peace-
Keeping in the Post-Cold War World: The Case of Naval Power,” Bulletin of Peace
Proposals, vol. 22, no. 2 (1991); Michael Pugh, The Employment of Maritime
Forces in Support of United Nations Resolutions, Strategy and Campaign Depart-
ment Research Report 6–93 (Newport, RI: Naval War College, 11 August 1993);
Michael Pugh (ed.), Maritime Security and Peacekeeping: A Framework for United
Nations Operations (New York: St Martin’s Press, 1994); Cdr Jorge H. Recio,
Argentine Navy, Argentine Navy Units’ Participation in UN Haiti Blockade:
Permanent or Selective Engagement? (Newport, RI: Strategic Research Department
paper 7–98, Naval War College, 1998); Jeffrey I. Sands, Blue Hulls: Multinational
Naval Cooperation and the United Nations (Alexandria, VA: Center for Naval
Analyses Research Memorandum (RM) 93–40, 1993); Cdr D. L. W. Sim, Royal
Navy, Men of War for Missions of Peace: Naval Forces in Support of United
Nations Resolutions (Newport, RI: Strategic Research Department Paper 8–94,
Naval War College, August 1994); and Robert Stevens Stanley II, The Wave of the
Future: The United Nations and Naval Peacekeeping (Boulder, CO: Lynne
Rienner, 1992).
3 Such as the development of the Proliferation Security Initiative, which is principally
focused on controlling the proliferation of weapons of mass destruction (WMD). For
information about the PSI, see, for example: www.proliferationsecurity. info/;
Richard Bond, “The Proliferation Security Initiative: Three Years On,” British Amer-
ican Security Information Council, BASIC Notes, 2 August 2006,
www.basicint.org/pubs/Notes/BN060802.pdf; Mark J. Valencia, The Proliferation
Security Initiative: Making Waves in Asia, International Institute for Strategic Studies,
 Maritime peace support operations 107
Adelphi Paper 376, October 2005; and Ron Huisken, The Proliferation Security Initi-
ative: Coming in from the Cold, Nautilus Institute, Austral Policy Forum 06–13A, 20
April 2006, www.nautilus.org/~rmit/forum-reports/0613a-huisken.html.
4 DoD Directive 3000.05, “Military Support for Stability, Security, Transition, and
Reconstruction (SSTR) Operations,” 28 November 2005, www.dtic.mil/whs/direc-
tives/corres/html/300005.htm.
5 Complex humanitarian emergencies are situations where conflict aggravates some
type of disaster (such as conflicts in the Horn of Africa aggravating drought con-
ditions there), creates the humanitarian crisis (such as Bosnia and Kosovo), and/or
where the conflict complicates humanitarian relief efforts (such as the presence of
Iraqi forces in northern Iraq and Kurdish guerrilla activities in Turkey, which compli-
cated caring for Kurdish refugees in 1991)
6 Haydon, “Navy and Air Force Peacekeeping,” p. 83.
7 Another similar breakdown lists three broad types of peace operations:
• Observation or verification: neutral military observers monitor or mediate cease-
fires, etc.
• Containment: impartial armed forces act as a buffer between belligerents; super-
vise elections; assist in maintaining law and order; or protect the delivery of
humanitarian assistance.
• Peace restoration (police actions, collective security operations, or peace enforce-
ment): limited force used to restore peace and security.
(LTC Neil James, Australian Army, “Appendix A: A Brief History of
Australian Participation in Multinational Peacekeeping,” in Hugh Smith (ed.),
Peacekeeping: Challenges for the Future (Canberra: Australian Defence Studies
Centre, 1993), p. 196)
8 For another list of such missions, see, for example, Bockman et al., The Employment
of Maritime Forces, p. 12. For another nation’s perspective and operations, for
example, see Database of Royal Australian Navy Operations, 1990–2005 (Canberra:
Sea Power Centre, Working Paper no. 18, 2005), www.navy.gov.au/spc/workingpa-
pers/Working%20Paper%2018.pdf.
9 LCDR Doug Thomas, “Cambodia: Naval Observers,” Maritime Affairs (Spring/
Summer 1998), pp. 18–22.
10 Captaine Dieier Chiproy, “La mission ‘Danube’: Temoignage,” Revue de la Gen-
darmerie Nationale, 3eme Trimestre, 1995, pp. 27–8. Almost half (120 of 250) of the
West European Union (WEU) officers assigned to help enforce the embargo along the
Danube were housed in a former naval vessel due to hotel constraints in Calafert,
Romania. This mission was not solely maritime in nature and represented the first
WEU non-maritime, paramilitary operation.
11 On Haiti, see, for example, Adam B. Siegel, The Intervasion in Haiti (Alexandria,
VA: Center for Naval Analyses, August 1996).
12 On tsunami relief, for a brief overview of U.S. Navy contributions to Joint Task Force
536, see www.history.navy.mil/faqs/faq130–4.
13 On Katrina operations, in addition to U.S. Navy forces, the Royal Navy (UK), Cana-
dian, and Mexican navies all sent ships to aid in relief efforts. (For a brief discussion,
see: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hurricane_Katrina_disaster_relief.)
14 For an examination of the role of military forces for diplomatic purposes, see Barry
Blechman and Stephen S. Kaplan, Force without War (Washington, DC: Brookings
Institution, 1978). The classic study of the role of naval forces in this regard is James
Cable, Gunboat Diplomacy, 1919–1979, 2nd edn (New York: St. Martin’s Press,
1979). For an examination focusing on U.S. forces, see Adam B. Siegel, The Use of
US Naval Forces to Compel, Deter, and Reassure (Alexandria, VA: Center for Naval
Analyses Research Memorandum (RM) 94–193, February 1995).
15 This capability is growing with “information warfare” and the growing importance of
108 A. B. Siegel
information technologies; naval capabilities in this arena offer another potential
means of power projection.
16 On the Beira patrol, see Adam B. Siegel, “Naval Forces in Support of International
Sanctions: The Beira Patrol,” Naval War College Review, vol. XLV, no. 4 (Autumn
1992), pp. 102–4; F. E. C. Gregory, “The Beira Patrol,” RUSI, December 1969, pp.
75–7; James Cable, Gunboat Diplomacy, 1919–1979, 2nd edn (New York: St
Martin’s Press, 1981), pp. 123–9; and, Richard Mobley, “The Beira Patrol: Britain’s
Broken Blockade against Rhodesia,” Naval War College Review, Winter 2002, pp.
63–84. The Beira patrol represents one of the clearest cases of the value of one ship
characteristic: independent steaming endurance. While the Royal Navy was able to
maintain the patrol, the logistics and other requirements stretched the force at times in
ways that would have been eased if the involved surface combatants had had longer
endurance.
17 For a discussion of some of the history of these operations, see Adam B. Siegel,
Requirements for Humanitarian Assistance/Peace Operations: Insights from Seven
Case Studies (Alexandria, VA: Center for Naval Analyses, March 1995). For short
descriptions of many operations, see Adam B. Siegel, A Chronology of U.S. Marine
Corps Humanitarian Assistance and Peace Operations (Alexandria, VA: Center for
Naval Analyses, September 1994).
18 For the UN force tension during the 1974 war, see Francis Henn, “The Nicosia
Airport Incident of 1974: A Peacekeeper’s Gamble,” International Peacekeeping, vol.
1, no. 1 (Spring 1994), pp. 80–98. The Greek coup occurred on 15 July 1974 and the
Turkish military operation to seize Cyprus began on 20 July. HMS Hermes, with the
41st Royal Marine Commandos aboard, was off the Cyprus coast from 20 July (Henn
1994: 80). The U.S. Navy presence included two aircraft carriers and the Mediter-
ranean amphibious ready group (MARG). In an example of multinational coopera-
tion, British helicopters carried evacuees to USS Trenton (on 24 July) as UK and U.S.
forces evacuated noncombatants from amid the conflict. U.S. Navy forces evacuated a
total of 752 noncombatants (Siegel, The Use of Naval Forces in the Post-War Era),
19 The utility of forces for deterrence, reassurance, and compellence is essentially
impossible to prove (the challenge of proving a negative). For the author’s views on
the subject, see Adam B. Siegel, The Use of US Naval Forces to Compel, Deter, and
Reassure.
20 Following the destructive cyclone that hit Bangladesh in May 1991, the United States
conducted Operation Sea Angel to assist recovery from this disaster. At one point, the
U.S. government considered sending an aircraft carrier battle group to assist. In addi-
tion to the not inconsiderable question of uncertainty as to whether these assets could
provide important augmentation to the operation, the question of the daily incremen-
tal cost of involving these forces in the operation led to a decision against their
involvement.
21 CDR Juan Carlos Neves, Argentine Navy, United Nations Peace-Keeping Operations
in the Gulf of Fonesca by Argentine Navy Units (Newport, RI: Strategic Research
Department Research Report 1–93, Naval War College, 1993), pp. 26–7. Interest-
ingly, this case provides a reasonable case study about the potential for capacity
building for regional security initiatives. Would the region have enjoyed better long-
term security if the UN had procured the ships and built the infrastructure for use by
UN forces (Argentine sailors), which would then have the responsibility for
training/developing indigenous capabilities to operate (and maintain) the patrol craft?
22 As with discussion of naval involvement in UN operations, multinational naval opera-
tions received increased focus from the early 1990s. See, for example, LT Ardan
Kiratli, Turkish Navy, The Establishment of a United Nations Standing Multinational
Force – A Dream? Master’s Thesis, Naval Postgraduate School, Monterey, CA,
1997; CDR Juan Carlos Neves, AN, Military Cooperation between NATO and Non-
NATO Countries: A Proposal to Improve Interoperability in Multinational Coalitions
 Maritime peace support operations 109
under UN Auspices (Newport, RI: Strategic Research Department Research Report
03–93, Naval War College, 30 June 1993); John B. Hattendorf, ed., Twelfth Inter-
national Seapower Symposium, Report of the Proceedings of the Conference, 7–10
November 1993 (Newport, RI: Naval War College Press, 1994), pp. 95–131; Jeffrey
I. Sands, Multinational Cooperation in a Changing World: A Report of the Green-
wich Conference, 12–13 December 1991 (Alexandria, VA: Center for Naval Analy-
ses, 1992).
23 Doctrine refers to general concepts about the way to conduct business that are sugges-
tive rather than prescriptive. This can include, for example, concepts about how to
best organize a force for different missions (command and control arrangements) and
thoughts on options to dissuade a potential enemy from escalating from tension to
conflict. In gross terms, doctrine refers to concepts for which there is not a single
accepted way of doing business that applies in all circumstances. Procedural interop-
erability refers to having similar (or the same) ways of doing business in terms of
rather specific tasks. Procedures refer, for example, to the way a naval force might
conduct logistics at sea or the terms pilots use to speak to each other in combat. To
provide a specific example, procedural interoperability would mean using similar
formats for daily situation reports, reporting the same information categories in a
generally similar way. Technical compatibility refers to the necessity to have hard-
ware and (ever more importantly) software that can function together. Technical com-
patibility includes, for example, having submarine escape hatches of the same
dimensions to allow marriage with other nations’ rescue equipment or employing
word processing software that can exchange information with partners’ information
systems.
24 As an example, when sent to Haiti, both the U.S. Army’s 10th Mountain Division
(1994) and 25th Infantry Division (1995) did not deploy their artillery with the rest of
the division.
25 This has been done a number of times, with instances including: Canadian use of an
aircraft carrier to transport troops to Middle East peacekeeping (1956–7); French use
of an aircraft carrier to carry forces to Saudi Arabia (1990); the deployment of US
Army units on two aircraft carriers for operations against Haiti (1994); and the opera-
tion of Special Forces units from USS Kitty Hawk during Operation Enduring
Freedom (Afghanistan, 2001–2).
26 The only significant exception that comes to mind would be maritime non-lethal
weapons, which have applicability in a range of operational environments – such as
interdiction of smuggling (of any sort) at sea.
27 John Roos, “In Sync with the Times: Denmark Eyes Multi-Role Ship for Peace-
Support Operations,” Armed Forces Journal International, vol. 137, no. 7 (February
2000), pp. 26–7.
28 One medical lesson learned from Operation Eastern Exit, which had perhaps the first
Caesarean section birth aboard a U.S. Navy combatant, was the need to check and
turnover these supplies more frequently. The surgeon involved was a pediatric spe-
cialist, who commented that the equipment was several generations old. On Eastern
Exit, see, for example, Adam B. Siegel, “Lessons Learned from Operation Eastern
Exit,” Marine Corps Gazette, June 1992.
29 This is true in all but the most limited circumstances. Exceptions can be found only in
forces that have a long history of training and operating together (in unison). Thus,
Royal Navy (UK), Canadian Navy, and U.S. Navy surface ships can often join
together for combined operations without assigning liaison officers. Even from within
long-standing alliances, however, it can be difficult to combine elements. NATO’s
standing maritime forces often find it necessary to have a ramp-up time in terms of
capability as the ships and crews learn how to work with each other.
8 Passing the trident
The role of naval international
programs in SSTR operations
Sam J. Tangredi

United States involvement in low-intensity conflict, which has alternatively gone

by the names of “small wars,” “insurgencies,” “low-intensity conflict,” “third
world wars,” or “irregular warfare,” was often discretionary. During the Cold
War, U.S. policymakers, officers, and scholars viewed these conflicts through
the prism of the struggle against the Soviet Union, and were thus motivated
towards occasional involvement in the effort to counter Communist-inspired
insurrections, but with mixed results. The mixed results were partially due to the
fact that most Americans indeed believed that involvement in these conflicts
remained discretionary. To avoid a direct war with the other superpower, we
could abandon a state to its fate in the hopes of fighting the next round of the
Cold War on more hospitable terrain.
But in the post-9/11 world of globalized terrorism, much of it directed against
the hegemonic position of the United States, involvement in many stabilization
operations is no longer discretionary. If the United States is to survive as the
benign hegemon – the global power that both inspires and benefits from world
political and economic freedom – it must seek to prevent or defeat terrorism
wherever it can, with both its diplomatic strength and its armed forces. If they
are to prevail in this “Long War,” the armed forces of the United States must
remain involved in simultaneous operations in many locales. This involvement
can range from training the indigenous military and security forces, to the full-
scale Stability, Security, Transition, and Reconstruction (SSTR) operations
being carried out in Iraq and Afghanistan today.
The purpose of this chapter is to explore an often ignored component of
SSTR operations: supply and training of indigenous forces. To explore this
issue, the chapter will first highlight how SSTR operations inevitably involve
close collaboration with local forces, collaboration that is facilitated by modern
equipment and training. The chapter then highlights the various types of so-
called “international programs” undertaken by the United States government to
bolster cooperation and collaboration with friendly and allied military organi-
zations. It also addresses some of the complaints made about the appropriateness
of international programs in an SSTR situation. In effect, the chapter addresses
whether naval international programs are appropriate elements of SSTR. Do we
prefer to be the primary force performing the SSTR functions, or do we prefer
 Passing the trident 111
that the host nationals and other coalition members, particularly the lesser-
developed, non-traditional partners, take the lead? And if we prefer host nation-
als and non-traditional partners in the lead, how will we train and equip them to
carry the burden of maintaining security in their own countries?

SSTR in the context of “traditional” military assistance:

elements and phases
SSTR is but a new term for traditional military roles and missions. American
faith in the universal yearning for democracy aside, postwar stability rarely
develops easily. Powerful nations – including the United States – have used their
militaries more frequently for SSTR than for war against conventional and
legitimate military forces (forces defined as legal combatants by the Hague and
Geneva Conventions), particularly in the so-called “post-hostilities phase” of
conflict. This is a tradition that is more likely to be accentuated in the years
ahead.
SSTR can be thought of as exclusively an element of post-hostilities, or of
pre-hostilities, but only if hostilities are defined as combat against conventional
forces. Otherwise, SSTR is but a shallower end of the classic spectrum of mili-
tary operations ranging from strategic nuclear war to domestic humanitarian
assistance. And because it is part of a spectrum of activity, it is difficult to
identify exactly where it begins and where it ends. It is simply an element of the
political relationship that the United States has with another state, one that is
carried out by armed forces. Part of this spectrum was previously covered by the
Clinton-era term “military operations other than war” (MOOTW), and the more
recent stillborn term “Stability and Support Operations” (SASO).
Breaking the elements apart does not seem to point to a clear distinction
between the four phases of SSTR operations. Stability would imply the protec-
tion of civil order under chaotic or challenging conditions, but security would
seem to be a most important component of stability rather than a state in itself.
One could assume that security identifies operations conducted in a less chaotic
environment, one that was more stable. The crossover point between stability
and security operations, however, is difficult to find. Transition is a more self-
evident term, implying the turning over of stability or security operations from
U.S. or Coalition forces to local governing authorities. To conduct a transition
would imply that local military or security forces have sufficient training and
equipment strength to carry out these operations. Reconstruction implies the
redevelopment of effective governance, civil society, physical infrastructure,
and, as necessary, secure borders. An almost boundless number of activities can
thus be expected to make essential contributions to SSTR.
Prior to 9/11, the Bush Administration was accused of ignoring the necessity
of SSTR, lumping it under the word “peacekeeping.”1 Then, following the Iraq
War of 2003, the Department of Defense was criticized “for neglecting to plan
sufficiently for the aftermath” of the conflict against Saddam Hussein’s forces.2
Whatever the validity of these criticisms, the Department of Defense issued
112 S. J. Tangredi
Directive Number 3000.05 on 28 November 2005, as Military Support for
Stability, Security, Transition, and Reconstruction (SSTR) Operations, with the
express purpose of laying out responsibilities for SSTR among the defense agen-
cies, military services, Joint Staff and combatant commands (COCOMs).3
Unfortunately for those who seek clear-cut definitions for defense terminol-
ogy, Directive Number 3000.05 does not attempt to define much beyond the
term stability operations, and even then it simply confirms the above conclusion
that they are part of the spectrum of conflict: “Military and civilian activities
conducted across the spectrum from peace to conflict to establish or maintain
order in States and regions.”4 Military support to Stability, Security, Transition,
and Reconstruction is rather redundantly defined as: “Department of Defense
activities that support U.S. Government plans for stabilization, security, recon-
struction and transition operations, which lead to sustainable peace while
advancing U.S. interests.”5
SSTR thus conjures up an image of Department of Defense activities con-
ducted in an unstable or potentially unstable political environment directed at
building a sustainable peace and advancing U.S. interests. This task must
involve more than U.S. military forces and operations; it requires close collabo-
ration with local forces. To build a sustainable peace in an unstable environment
inevitably requires the training and equipping of indigenous armed forces.

What are international programs?

The term “international programs” is used to designate activities that involve the
training and equipping of foreign armed forces. Such training and equipping
activities require planning, management, and funding. Within the Department of
Defense (DoD), the term international programs refers to a specific family of
cooperative efforts that seek to help improve the security posture of another
nation, and, in so doing, support U.S. defense objectives.6 International pro-
grams usually fall into one of six kinds of activities:

1 Security assistance, which involves funding for local programs and

activities;
2 The transfer of excess defense articles;
3 International cooperative armaments agreements;
4 Information and personnel exchanges;
5 Foreign comparative testing and evaluation; and,
6 International military education and training (IMET).

In current Pentagon terminology, these programs are intended to “increase

partner capacity” in providing for its own self-defense and in participating (in
some fashion) in the Global War on Terror.
In fiscal year (FY) 2006, an additional program, known as the 1206 Program,
was established by the provisions of Section 1206 of Public Law 109–163, the
National Defense Authorization Act for Fiscal Year 2006 [HR 1815]. The 1206
 Passing the trident 113
Program allows the Secretary of Defense to allocate up to $200 million from the
defense budget “for the provision of equipment, supplies and training” to a foreign
country’s national military forces in order for them to “(1) conduct counterterrorist
operations, or (2) participate in or support military and stability operations in which
the United States Armed Forces are a participant.” Although it is likely that Con-
gress will include a similar provision in the FY 2007 defense authorization bill,
1206 has not yet entered the canon of permanent international programs.
International programs are but a part (albeit a major part) of the DoD’s
overall effort at security cooperation, which is the Pentagon’s current term for
almost all interaction with foreign militaries, from military staff meetings to
training provided by special forces, to joint and combined exercises. It is a form
of military engagement that is intended to bolster friends and allies and to create
the basis for future diplomatic or military cooperation.

Security assistance
Security assistance is a term that is frequently used as synonymous with security
cooperation, but it actually has a more specialized meaning, referring to the sale
or grant of new defense articles or related services, such as logistics and tech-
nical support. Sales are conducted in two different ways: under the foreign mili-
tary sales (FMS) program or as a direct commercial sale (DCS).7 In both cases,
the equipment is procured from a defense contractor (or other commercial busi-
ness) for the foreign government. FMS, however, carries the “full faith” of the
U.S. government in guaranteeing the equipment and usually provides a long-
term training and maintenance contract, which may be conducted by U.S. mili-
tary personnel. The foreign government deposits money into a case account
managed by the U.S. government which, in turn, manages the case as if it were
its own DoD acquisition program. This lowers the foreign government’s risk
significantly (from contractor non-performance, program management dif-
ficulties, etc.) and insures a degree of long-term commitment on the part of the
DoD, although it potentially raises the cost of the contract through a program
management surcharge, which is currently above 3 percent of the total cost. The
surcharge is representative of the primary legal requirement of all security assis-
tance programs: they are conducted at “no cost” to the U.S. government.
There is a counterpart to the no-cost programs that does involve U.S. finan-
cial aid applied towards defense purchases. Foreign military financing (FMF)
operates similarly to FMS; however the money in the foreign government’s
accounts comes from foreign assistance that is authorized by legislation passed
by Congress. Unlike other foreign assistance programs, FMF money must be
spent on the products or services of an American defense contractor, and the
case is processed as if it were FMS. Although FMF would appear to be an out-
standing program for building partner capacity for the Global War on Terror or
an important element in SSTR, as a practical matter it is quite limited. The vast
majority of FMF funds are allocated by Congress to two nations, Israel and
Egypt. Although a historical legacy from the peace treaty of 1973, all
114 S. J. Tangredi
subsequent efforts to persuade Congress to shift more than token funding to
other nations have been rebuffed.
In contrast to FMS/FMF, direct commercial sales are exactly that, contracts
made directly between the foreign government and an American contractor. The
U.S. government does have some involvement in DCS in that, by law, it must
issue an export license to the contractor and it must certify that any resulting
transfer of technology is in the interest of the United States. The U.S. govern-
ment, however, neither guarantees the proper operation of the product nor
commits itself to facilitating long-term maintenance support or training once the
product is delivered to the buyer.
Choosing DCS over FMS may make sense for a foreign government when
procuring routine or well-proven military equipment because it avoids the FMS
surcharge and allows for greater flexibility when negotiating with the
contractor.8 Additionally, the foreign government may seek to demonstrate its
“independence” from U.S. policies by avoiding direct dealings with U.S. offi-
cials in making an equipment purchase. When purchasing new systems that
incorporate advanced technologies, most customers find it prudent to utilize the
FMS system. But there have been foreign governments that, perceiving an
opportunity for shrewd bargaining or perhaps applying their own cultural norms,
have sought to gamble that the U.S government would “bail out” an American
contractor if it appeared that they were about to “non-perform” on a contract
with a foreign government. This gamble rarely pays off.

Excess defense articles

Transfer of excess defense articles conjures up the image of supplying poorer
nations with decommissioned ships and aged aircraft. The majority of excess
defense articles (EDA), however, goes to medium powers and consists of well-
maintained vessels, aircraft, and Marine and Coast Guard equipment being sacri-
ficed early to free funding for other, higher-priority programs. For example, the
S-3B Viking aircraft carrier-based anti-submarine warfare/maritime patrol air-
craft is being “sun-downed” out of the U.S. Navy inventory in FY 2007–8
because that mission is no longer considered a priority. Average flight hours for
the aircraft are approximately 11,000 out of a potential life of 22,000 hours or
more. At the same time the U.S. Navy is divesting itself of its entire MHC
(Minehunter) fleet, with most vessels of 10–12 years of age in a life expectancy
of 30 years. Most EDA is sold at 10 percent of value or is given as grant aid, so
that nations that are interested in greatly increasing their maritime patrol or
mine-hunting capabilities could do so at bargain prices.
The main limiting factor for foreign governments considering requesting
American EDA is the cost of long-term maintenance and repair. Prior to EDA
transfer, the U.S. government will identify these life-cycle costs, and, if
requested, facilitate commercial support contracts. These contracts are priced at
fair market value, not at a discount. Calculated based on ten years of life-cycle
costs, these contracts may cause some “sticker shock” for foreign militaries not
 Passing the trident 115
used to planning such maintenance in advance. Another issue that complicates
EDA concerns the long-term continuation of commercial support services from
American contractors after all units have been transferred out of the U.S. inven-
tory. Nations operating only a handful of platforms may worry that service
requirements do not create enough of a business case to justify continuing
support by the original contractors.
The United States is not alone in its EDA efforts. Many of the other major
North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) navies also have EDA programs
that can be considered competitors to the programs sponsored by the U.S. Navy.
Both the United Kingdom and the Netherlands, for instance, have transferred
vessels to Chile and Greece. France, too, has transferred EDA; however, UK and
Dutch ships are preferred because they are compatible with U.S. weapons
systems, particularly the SM-2 surface-to-air missile and the Harpoon anti-ship
cruise missile. The Dutch have gone so far as to integrate EDA planning into the
life cycle of their ships in an effort to guarantee Dutch shipbuilders steady
orders, frequently decommissioning and transferring vessels at the ten-year point
to provide money and crews for new construction.9

International cooperative armaments agreements

Known simply as cooperative agreements or armaments cooperation, these pro-
grams are formal bilateral or multilateral agreements committing foreign gov-
ernments to sharing the costs and benefits of a defense acquisition program with
the United States. A current example of a cooperative agreement is the inter-
national development of the joint strike fighter.
Up-front participation allows a foreign partner to have a major say in the
characteristics of a weapons program. Sometimes the national investments are
equal, such as in the development of new ordnance. But frequently the amount
of investment the United States is able to put towards acquisition of a major
platform dwarfs that of its partners. Depending on the political needs of the
moment, this imbalance of investment may force the allied partners to accept
dominant American decision-making, or, conversely, give the smaller partners a
decision-making weight out of proportion to their financial contributions.
Armaments cooperation allows U.S. and foreign partners to standardize their
purchase and use of weapons systems, ordnance, and munitions so as to provide
for commonality and weapons interoperability. As an organization, NATO has
been at the forefront of standardization (which is why the British and Dutch
frigates are armed with SM-2 and Harpoon).10 The United States has similar
bilateral agreements with its Pacific region partners.
Cooperative armaments agreements are generally conducted by the military
services on a bilateral basis or with a small group of partners. For the U.S. Navy
and U.S. Marine Corps, the actual negotiation of cooperative armaments agree-
ments with foreign governments is conducted by specialists working in the Navy
International Programs Office (NIPO), the same organization that supports the
Navy’s security assistance and EDA programs.
116 S. J. Tangredi
Information and personnel exchanges
Data exchanges and scientific and engineering personnel exchanges are con-
ducted on a bilateral basis between the U.S. and foreign governments under
negotiated International Exchange Agreements (IEAs) and the Engineer and
Scientist Exchange Program (ESEP). Since the exchanges are directed at data
sharing rather than training, these programs are not normally useful for SSTR.
There may be local technical methods, such as the disabling of improvised
explosive devices, however, that could be identified during SSTR and merit a
formal exchange agreement. It would be more likely that technical information
would be obtained through foreign comparative testing and evaluation programs.

Foreign comparative testing and evaluation (T&E)

Foreign comparative testing and evaluation is a collaborative research and
development function in which the United States evaluates and potentially uti-
lizes technology being developed by a partner country. Comparative testing
often involves the sharing of scientific data or the adaptation of emerging
technology for purposes previously unexamined by the country of origin. The
extensive financial investment that the United States or U.S. corporations can
bring to RDT&E is a prime motive for participants to enter into these partner-
ships. Test and evaluation requires technical expertise on both sides of a poten-
tial partnership, so this type of collaboration generally occurs with nations
possessing an advanced industrial base.

International military education and training (IMET)

Out of all U.S. security assistance programs, IMET, which generally utilizes the
extensive network of training and education the United States routinely supplies
to its own armed forces, is probably most in demand. Many more nations are
interested in training than equipment, if only because training can be obtained at
a much lower cost and can provide for future indigenous training, an approach
referred to as “training the trainers.”
IMET is usually divided into two types of training based on geographic loca-
tion. Some training is delivered by deployed instructors, primarily mobile train-
ing teams (MTTs) designed to teach particular skills to soldiers in their own
country, engaging their own (or recently acquired) equipment. For example, the
U.S. Marine Corps provides MTTs to foreign nations to teach basic infantry
combat skills, or more advanced skills, such as planning amphibious operations.
These are deployments specifically undertaken to train foreign personnel. Since
IMET is a separately funded program, it does not normally include the on-the-
job type of military training conducted as a part of combat operations, such as
the training of the Iraqi army counterparts by U.S. forces in the Iraqi cities.
Special Forces functioning in an advisory role would also not normally be con-
sidered IMET.
 Passing the trident 117
A second and more visible component of IMET is the training and education
of foreign military personnel in the United States. This often involves the enroll-
ment of individual foreign military personnel in ongoing curricula offered at
educational institutions maintained by the U.S. military. These programs are so
popular that they have been integrated into the normal career path of many
foreign officer corps.
A number of studies have identified IMET as the most effective way to foster
long-term cooperation with a foreign military, even when that military operates
non-U.S. weapons systems.11

Section 1206 programs

Section 1206 authority was sought by the Department of Defense to bypass the
normal bureaucratic and (some) legislative requirements of FMS/FMF and to
furnish other countries with capabilities that would allow them to be effective
coalition members in the Global War on Terror.12 Congress provided this
authority in FY 2006, with a budget limit of $200 million. For FY 2007 and
2008 it is $300 million. But since this represented the reprogramming of exist-
ing funds, rather than additional funding, implementation was slow while the
DoD comptroller assessed the effects on the overall defense budget. Programs
are recommended by the regional COCOMs or Service Component Comman-
ders. In the case of the Department of the Navy, these include the Naval
Component Commander and the Marine Component Commander. Actual
program execution is the responsibility of the Navy Department and the other
Military Departments.
Section 1206 programs require Presidential approval and Congressional noti-
fication, and are to be managed as if they were FMS cases even though the
equipment or training is procured directly by the United States government and
provided at no cost to the recipient government. Unlike FMS, the COCOM
rather than the recipient is the originator of the request, and Section 1206 agree-
ments between the United States and recipient governments have thus far been
on an informal basis. Because of the newness of the authority, only a few of the
approved programs have been fully executed, making it difficult to assess the
impact of the program.

Combinations and effects

The type of international program initiated with another nation depends on its
government’s perception of threat and desired security posture, its available
resources, the sophistication and robustness of its defense industry, and U.S.
objectives in the region. This variance is wide. Sometimes new systems are
created through collaboration. Under a cooperative agreement, for example, the
United States and Germany jointly developed the RAM (Rolling Airframe)
missile, which was subsequently adopted by other nations. At other times,
collaboration can re-equip a country’s entire military. Through provision of
118 S. J. Tangredi
decommissioned Coast Guard vessels, for instance, the United States has
provided West African countries with a significant portion of their total naval
capabilities.
The greatest successes in terms of building partner capacity often follow the
implementation of a combination of international programs, because programs
can be mutually supportive. An EDA vessel can be procured by a partner nation
at relatively low cost, and its weapons systems can be upgraded through FMS.
At the same time, training to insure that the foreign crew is capable of opera-
tions and maintenance can be undertaken in the United States and in the partner
nation. If the EDA vessel can be turned over in a “hot” condition – that is, while
still in full operation – the foreign crew has the opportunity to train aboard
alongside the U.S. personnel, gaining direct access to the people who are most
knowledgeable about operating the ship.
For the most technologically advanced U.S. allies, all six international pro-
grams can be offered to bolster their militaries. IMET, Section 1206, security
assistance (FMS/FMF), and EDA transfers (in that order) are the appropriate
programs for those nations that are at the center of SSTR operations.

Roadblocks to international programs as elements of defense

policy
Under current legislation, it is easier for the President to land troops to intervene
in another nation’s struggle than it is to provide weapons systems to a long-term
ally. This is because weapons transfers and international training are subject to a
legislative and regulatory process fashioned during the arms control-centric
Cold War era – a process that is bureaucratically biased against such transfers.
Like recent Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld and current Secretary Robert
Gates, every Defense Secretary has repeatedly stated that security cooperation is
a critical element of their overall defense program. But not all of the elements of
security cooperation are controlled by the Secretary of Defense.
In accordance with the Foreign Assistance Act of 1961, as amended, and the
Arms Export Control Act of 1976, as amended, it is the Department of State that
has the authority and executive responsibility for all arms transfers and military
training afforded to non-U.S. forces. Although most equipment transfers and
training are either carried out or contracted by the DoD, the Department of State
remains both the budget and approval authority and delivers the required notifi-
cation to Congress about impending transfers of equipment or training.
With the exception of Section 1206 programs, authorized by the Defense
Authorization Act (a purview of the Congressional Armed Services Committees
rather than the Congressional Foreign Relations Committees), the DoD cannot
embark on any assistance program, training, sale, or transfer without a laborious
approval process within the State Department’s Bureau of Politico-Military
Affairs and (depending on work scope or dollar value) a State Department-
initiated 30-day Congressional notification period. Even with DoD and Depart-
ment of State staff working together (generally the case) and with Department of
 Passing the trident 119
State staff and Congressional Committee staffs maintaining amicable profes-
sional relations (not always the case), approval can rarely be considered timely.
Moving from a Letter of Request by a foreign government for an international
program to a Letter of Agreement signed by the United States and a foreign
government concerning the financing and initiation of the program typically
takes up to 120 days. This does not include the 30-day Congressional notifica-
tion period. In theory, State Department control allows for the coordination of
international programs (particularly arms transfers) with other diplomatic tools.
But as a practical matter, this coordination occurs in-country through the efforts
of the U.S. Ambassador, as advised and assisted by the Military Assistance
Group, Security Assistance Office, or Office of Defense Cooperation (all names
for the same functional organization), which are funded and controlled by the
Department of Defense (via the COCOMs). Ambassadors sometimes play the
same adversarial role towards their own Bureau of Politico-Military Affairs as
the Defense Department plays towards the Bureau, continually questioning why
the approval processes for international programs take so long. To those in-
country, the approval activities often seem to act as a roadblock to achieving the
intended result of security cooperation: a strong working relationship with a
foreign military and foreign government. This reflects a structural arms control
bias in the process, a feature preferred by Congress.
Congress itself can be viewed by security cooperation advocates as a road-
block, but it is constitutionally the source of all authority for U.S. security coop-
eration – thus it is the road itself. Control of security cooperation is jealously
protected by the Legislative Branch against any encroachment by the Executive.
The protection is in the form of the approval process; none of the members of
Congress or staff members appears to think that the process is too slow. Rather,
it is in their view deliberate, allowing for the potential for reflection and debate.
This debate can take the form of an “American forces first” argument, a defense
equivalent to the “buy American” movement, or the form of a technology secur-
ity concern: why should we allow foreigners to have our technology? It also
permits Congressmen to express (and ultimately affect) specific country con-
cerns, notably Greece–Turkey–Cyprus, potential human rights violators, and
Israel. Since the State and Defense Departments are both involved in the
decision to allocate resources, Congressional Foreign Relations Committees can
have just as much of a role as the Armed Services Committees in directing DoD
actions within the realm of security cooperation.
The process of allocating security assistance is bureaucratically difficult and
slow by Congressional design. Defense and State Department bureaucracy and
Congressional approval combine to make international programs a multi-year
endeavor from conception to implementation. The important question is whether
this eliminates international programs as an effective tool in the fluid and rapidly
moving environment of SSTR.
120 S. J. Tangredi
Training and security assistance as elements of SSTR
International programs, to some degree, have to be elements of SSTR. If they
are going to assist in their own stability and security, the indigenous armed
forces (and police) require training and equipment. This material could be pro-
vided by another Coalition member, and it is certainly desirable to have other
Coalition members play significant roles. But since no one has as robust a mili-
tary as the United States, it seems inevitable that any SSTR situation in which
U.S. forces are involved will require U.S. training and equipment.
Because it is obvious that training and equipment are important to the success
of SSTR, many observers believe that training and equipment transfers are easy
to coordinate in SSTR. In fact, a recent proposed reorganization of the office of
the Under Secretary of Defense (Policy) includes the creation of Deputy Assis-
tant Secretaries for Building Partner Capacity Strategy and Security Cooperation
Operations, but puts them in a different “stovepipe” than the Deputy Assistant
Secretary for Stability Operations (SSTR).13 This may not lead to the closest of
interactions among critical sections of important segments of the Federal
bureaucracy.
The U.S. Army, however, has formally acknowledged the role of security
assistance in SSTR by including it as one of the “Additional Stability Opera-
tions” discussed in the current Field Manual (FM) 3–07, Stability Operations
and Support Operations, breaking it into the components of “providing equip-
ment, services, and training.”14 But FM 3–07 makes no effort to describe how
security assistance can be coordinated within an SSTR situation, or in which
phases security assistance or other international programs can be included.
Referring to our earlier discussion of elements and phases, it is possible to
logically distinguish between the appropriateness of the various programs to the
individual “phase” of SSTR. In the combat phase of stability operations, chaos
and immediate operational needs would preclude the implementations of many
formal programs. Those that can be utilized must be timely, directed towards

Table 8.1 SSTR phases and international programs

Stability Security Transition Reconstruction

operations operations operations operations

Security assistance (FMS

and FMF) X (FMF) X X X
EDA X X X
Cooperative armaments
agreements X
Information and personnel
exchanges (IEAs/ESEP)
Foreign comparative testing X
International education
and training X X X X
1206 programs X X X X
 Passing the trident 121
immediate military needs, and self-financing. This group would include 1206
programs, IMET in the form of MTTs, and security assistance in the form of
FMF. The former would be undoubtedly be the swiftest, with the latter two
subject to increasing constraints.
Security assistance, IMET and 1206 programs are useful throughout all the
phases of SSTR. The other programs are more likely to prove beneficial in the
later phases, particularly during reconstruction. These programs also have great
symbolic effect – demonstrating continued U.S. support for a reestablished
government. Table 8.1 summarizes the appropriateness of international pro-
grams at various times in the SSTR process.

Naval roles in training and security assistance

Naval international programs include the Marine Corps as well as the Navy (and,
by agreement, the Coast Guard). Hence, there is a naval component in some
ground combat programs, especially programs that include training. The U.S.
Marine Corps maintains an extensive network of global MTTs capable of teaching
basic and advanced infantry combat skills, as well as Military Operations in an
Urban Terrain (MOUT), skills that are most helpful for the host-nation military in
the stability and security phases of SSTR operations. While there is the potential
for overlap with U.S. Army efforts, host-country officials rarely complain that
there are too many trainers teaching military personnel in unstable areas.
Each of the military departments maintains international training and security
assistance structures tailored to their own systems. But there is little overlap
across these programs since the demand is so high. For naval forces, cross-
service security assistance is common; many foreign air forces fly the F/A-18,
H-60, H-53 or other U.S. Navy, U.S. Marine, or U.S. Coast Guard aircraft.
On the international training side, U.S. Navy IMET programs are jointly con-
trolled by the Navy International Programs Office and the Chief of Naval Educa-
tion and Training via the staff of the Navy Education and Training Security
Assistance Field Activity (NETSAFA). NETSAFA coordinates the training; it is
up to other naval organizations to supply the actual course content.15 The Navy
offers several programs for training foreign personnel in the United States,
notably flight-crew training and professional education for officers, but it offers
fewer opportunities in MTTs. The Navy Small Craft Instruction and Technical
Training School (NAVSCIATTS), previously located in Panama, but relocated
to Gulfport, Missouri in 1999, provides an extensive array of resident and MTT
training in riverine warfare and small boat repair and maintenance, primarily
directed towards Latin American navies. Of note is that the school, while admin-
istered by Navy personnel, is now under the operational control and funding of
the U.S. Special Operations Command (SOCOM). NAVSCIATTS has con-
ducted MTTs during combat operations undertaken against insurgent units, situ-
ations that are similar to stability or security ops.
On 13 January 2006, the U.S. Navy established the Naval Expeditionary
Combat Command (NECC) to better coordinate its efforts ashore in the Global
122 S. J. Tangredi
War on Terror and SSTR. NECC has identified an extensive list of existing force
capabilities: Explosive Ordnance Disposal, Naval Coastal Warfare, Mobile Secur-
ity Force, Naval Construction (Seabees), Port Handling/Expeditionary Logistics,
Mobile Diving and Salvage, and Navy Riverine (warfare). NECC also identified
the following “new capabilities,” soon to be established: Maritime Civil Affairs,
Expeditionary Training, Expeditionary Security, and an Expeditionary Combat
Readiness Center. The existing capabilities include functions that have long had a
“blue-water” focus but are now oriented towards the Global War on Terror and
SSTR. These new capabilities are designed with SSTR in mind, and it is logical to
believe that, if a robust U.S. Navy SSTR training/readiness program is created, it
would eventually lend itself very well to international training.
On the material side, the Navy Systems Commands, coordinated by NIPO,
could provide for a wide range of combat and command, control, communica-
tions, computers, intelligence surveillance, and reconnaissance (C4ISR) equip-
ment to foreign forces in an SSTR situation if authorized and funded. Section
1206 programs are designed to be able to do this; however, the Navy’s portion
of the Defense Department limit of $300 million remains relatively small. The
equipment could be complemented by tailored training via NETSAFA. This
training can be conducted by private contractors or by naval personnel.
The U.S. Marine Corps maintains a significant effort at exportable training
and MTTs led by the Security Cooperation Education and Training Center
(SCETC) at Quantico, Virginia. SCETC evolved from the Coalition and Special
Warfare Center (CSWC) in 2004, which had previously focused on training
deploying Marine units.16 Representative of the renewed Department of Defense
interest in security cooperation, SCETC focuses on training foreign instructors
and deploying MTTs at the request of COCOMs or foreign governments. Recent
emphasis has been on training in sub-Saharan Africa, with the objective of
developing militaries that can prevent terrorists or insurgents from fostering an
SSTR-necessitating situation. SCETC can be seen as the Marine counterpart to
NETSAFA; however, unlike NETSAFA, many of the trainers are directly
assigned to SCETC, rather than other commands.
Material security assistance by the Marine Corps includes land anti-air
weapons systems, helicopters, spare parts for common Army–Marine equip-
ment, and small unit assets and logistics. Although it has its own individual
Systems Command, much Marine systems acquisition is done jointly with the
Navy, under the direction of the Assistant Secretary of the Navy (Research,
Development, and Acquisition).17
The U.S. Coast Guard also maintains mobile training capability in the areas
of maritime law enforcement, basic seamanship, and small-boat maintenance,
carried out by its International Training Division (ITD) in Yorktown, Virginia.
Additionally, Coast Guard cutter deployments have been tailored to provide
direct training opportunities to foreign coast guards and navies. With their focus
on near-shore operations, traditional Coast Guard activities more closely mirror
those of the majority of world navies, which provides experience and entree to
facilitate the training.
 Passing the trident 123
Coast Guard material security assistance is coordinated by NIPO, which
fosters close Navy–Coast Guard collaboration. In the past, these efforts have
focused on the construction of small boats for foreign governments and the EDA
transfer of a once-large inventory of smaller U.S. Coast Guard vessels. With the
development of the Deepwater acquisition program, the Coast Guard also has
sophisticated international assets available, including unmanned aerial vehicles
(UAVs) and maritime patrol aircraft.
The Navy–Marine Corps–Coast Guard team can furnish unique training
throughout all phases of SSTR that focuses on riverine, near-shore and offshore
operations. Specified training on the interdiction of terrorists or potential insur-
gents by sea or rivers would be helpful in the stability and security phases of
SSTR operations. Additionally, the Marine Corps, and eventually NECC, could
deliver training for land-based activities such as small-unit combat, area secur-
ity, and construction. This assistance can be offered as an adjunct or replacement
for that lent by the U.S. Army.

Are naval international programs effective SSTR tools?

A number of arguments can be made against the idea that naval international
programs can play significant roles in SSTR. Most of this criticism is based on
the idea that such programs were designed with permanent allies in mind (such
as NATO members) and are thus difficult to adapt to the SSTR environment.
Some observers might argue that Navy international programs simply take too
long to be of any significant benefit in acute efforts to reduce chaos and disorder in
specific countries. Given their lengthy bureaucratic approval process, most inter-
national programs execute too slowly to be useful in SSTR. In fact, in his Report
to Congress on the Situation in Iraq, General David H. Petraeus stated that he
appreciated “the attention that some members of Congress have recently given to
speeding up the FMS process in Iraq.”18 The only effective programs are those that
can provide equipment to the host nation immediately, something that only
Section 1206 programs can occasionally achieve. The process of building partner
capacity is important, but it is actually part of the post-reconstruction phase; thus,
international programs offer little to SSTR operations.
This argument has considerable merit. The process of security aid and assis-
tance through international programs is slow by design. But that does not mean
that Congress, as creator of the process, could not be persuaded to modify it if a
persuasive case is made that international programs are critical to an ongoing
SSTR operation. To a considerable extent, authorization of Section 1206 pro-
grams already demonstrates a recognition that the process must be modified to
deliver capabilities to partners in a timely fashion. Both the funding limits and
the engagement of existing bureaucratic processes continue to create a drag. The
personal attention of senior officials within the Defense Department when cir-
cumstances are critical can make bureaucratic impediments melt away.
Critics also note that international programs traditionally supply high-
technology systems, such as multi-role combat aircraft and surface-to-air missile
124 S. J. Tangredi
systems that do not provide the capabilities critical to success in SSTR. More-
over, the detailed staff requirements combine with high costs to place most
international programs out of the reach of lesser-developed nations. This criti-
cism, however, is not accurate. Expensive, high-technology weapons systems
attract the most attention when they are offered as part of security assistance
programs, especially since these are programs that can generate the highest
profits for defense industries. Nevertheless, the majority of FMS programs
involve less expensive equipment or training that is useful for SSTR, and even
the poorest countries can overcome the bureaucratic impediments. Among the
top programs being executed by the Navy International Program Office are
small, boat purchases by African and Asian countries and 1206 programs pro-
viding maritime counter-terrorist surveillance capabilities to similar countries.
Some observers note that SSTR is all about combat presence and the manage-
ment of civil–military affairs in a chaotic environment and that there are never
enough assets to complete the mission. Activities that take away from the opera-
tional focus of units engaged in SSTR thus place the cart far before the horse.
Expectations of “promised goods” by host-nation forces will break their focus
and skew their motivation. This criticism presumes a chaotic environment in
which assets are tied down by ongoing combat. IMET training, however, can
come in the form of additional advisors to host-nation units, which will not
detract from U.S. support to ongoing efforts in the field. Likewise, the other pro-
grams bring personnel assets with them and, managed carefully, need not inter-
fere with ongoing operations.
Nevertheless, some critics believe that international programs can take on a
life of their own. In other words, not only does the “tail” of international pro-
grams reach to Washington, but its “head” remains ensconced at headquarters as
well. Those controlling international programs are thus insulated from activities
on the ground and do not have to pay for any of their mistakes, particularly the
diversion of host-nation assets in order to gain the benefits of the programs.
There is no reason, however, why part of the management structure, for example
the security assistance officers who reside in-country, cannot furnish information
about local conditions to help shape international program decision-making.

Integrating international programs into the Global War on

Terror and the 1,000-ship navy/global maritime partnerships
One of the leadership and management issues involved in SSTR is determining
whether or not the host-nation forces possess the equipment and training
required for true integration with U.S. forces. This has been a question of great
interest to both the current Chief of Naval Operations, Admiral Mike Mullen
(now JCS Chairman), and his successor, Admiral Gary Roughead. Under their
direction, the Navy is making its shift towards greater relevance in fighting the
“Long War” against global terrorists. Such a shift must be made without slight-
ing the U.S. Navy’s continuing geo-economic mission of keeping open the sea-
lanes and access to materials that fuel the globalized economy.19
 Passing the trident 125
The concept of a “1,000-ship navy,” known since the issuance of A Coopera-
tive Strategy for the 21st Century Seapower in October 2007 as “global maritime
partnerships,” consisting of a networked coalition of world navies, was origin-
ally unveiled by Admiral Mullen in September 2005. The primary idea behind
the initiative is to protect the global commons. To be inclusive, the concept
steers away from emphasizing its role in the war on terror or as being directed
towards SSTR. The creation of a networked fleet with global maritime surveil-
lance capability (referred to as “Maritime Domain Awareness” by the Depart-
ment of Homeland Security, and “Global Maritime Awareness” by the Navy)
and rapidly deployable combat power, however, could help secure the seaward
side of an SSTR environment. More importantly, training and equipping devel-
oping navies could generate a force for stability that may be the key to deflecting
a potential SSTR situation in the future.
The “1,000-ship navy” could realistically morph into an effective coalition of
the willing that could provide combined assets in an SSTR situation. Sailors and
Marines also represent trained military manpower that can perform a variety of
functions ashore – which is the exact purpose of the U.S. Navy’s NECC.
The success of a “1,000-ship navy”/global maritime partnerships relies pri-
marily on developing a significant level of interoperability. It is difficult to quan-
tify levels of interoperability and establish requirements for participation.20 But
one thing is certain: security assistance programs (and potentially EDA pro-
grams) and IMET will be needed to help increase the command and control cap-
abilities of the developing navies. And every increase in interoperability with
U.S. and coalition forces is an increase in the capacity to conduct SSTR ops.
Naval assets are theoretically less likely to be destroyed or disrupted by insur-
gencies (or at least have greater potential protection).

Conclusion and recommendations

International programs can be significant SSTR tools if they are timely and tai-
lored directly to local needs. The international program of greatest need and
value is IMET, since it definitively applies across the board – from stability to
reconstruction – in SSTR. Section 1206 programs can also apply across the
board; however, Section 1206 is not a permanent piece of legislation and there is
no guarantee that future administrations will ask Congress to grant such author-
ity. Security assistance can also be considered an across-the-board SSTR tool;
however, it is unlikely that a government facing grave instability can afford to
finance an extensive security assistance program. Theoretically, FMF funds
could be enlisted to pay for the security assistance; however, FMF has become
the equivalent of an entitlement program. FMF recipients can only be changed
with great difficulty.
To maximize the potential for 1206, security assistance and IMET, the staff
structure of major SSTR commands should include at least one experienced
security cooperation specialist. This could be an operational assignment for a
security assistance officer already within the region, if an asset could not be
126 S. J. Tangredi
assigned from the Defense Security Cooperation Agency, or the Navy Inter-
national Program Office, or the other service counterparts.
EDA transfers can be a low-cost way of building military capacity; however,
they are also subject to State Department and Congressional approval, particu-
larly for naval vessels. EDA transfers – which involve systems that were origin-
ally designed for use by U.S. forces – usually feature high-technology systems
(by SSTR standards) that require trained personnel. It is rare that a government
facing instability can allow some of its most capable and motivated military per-
sonnel to spend time training for a high-technology system. Generally, no
indigenous personnel with previous training are available or ready to take pos-
session of an EDA system. Given these constraints, U.S. policymakers should
not rely on EDA for assets in the initial stability phase, but only later, once a
cadre of personnel can be spared for training. Capable and interoperative vessels
organized as part of the 1,000-ship navy/global maritime partnerships concept,
however, could prove to be useful SSTR assets, including as a national
command and control nucleus.
Naval forces can train host-nation forces to perform critical functions ashore
in support of SSTR. Once NECC has met its initial objectives, its leaders should
develop an international training component, similar in purpose to SCETC. This
would increase the training throughput of host-nation forces and allow for the
inclusion of unique naval aspects in the training.
Once into the transition and reconstruction phase, provincial reconstruction
teams or their equivalent should have at least one security assistance specialist
assigned from the Navy International Program Office and one IMET specialist
from NETSAFA or SCETC (or, in some cases, Coast Guard ITD) to insure that
no opportunity for security assistance training is overlooked and that the “boots
on the ground” view is transmitted back to Washington. These billets could
potentially be filled by security assistance officers.

Notes
1 Harold Kennedy, “U.S. Shifting Focus to ‘Stability Operations,’ ” National Defense:
NDIA’s Business and Technology Magazine, August 2005, available at www.nation-
aldefensemagazine.org/issues/2005/Aug/US_Shifting.htm.
2 Bradley Graham, “U.S. Directive Prioritizes Post-Conflict Stability,” Washington
Post, 1 December 2005, p. A21, available at www.washingtonpost.com/wp-
dyn/content/article/2005/11/30/AR2005113002076.html.
3 It is important to note the implications of the title of the Directive. It is Military
Support for Stability . . . and not simply Stability, Security. . . . This implies that other
non-DoD entities are also responsible for providing support, and that there is a natural
limit to the type and amount of support that the Department of Defense can or should
provide.
4 U.S. Department of Defense, Directive Number 3000.05, Military Support for
Stability, Security, Transition, and Reconstruction (SSTR) Operations, 28 November
2005, p. 2.
5 Ibid. The lack of effort by the Office of the Secretary of Defense staffers to lay out a
more exacting definition may indicate that such would fall within the responsibilities
of the Joint Staff, and indeed the intellectual work behind SSTR and its predecessor
 Passing the trident 127
terms was primarily done at Joint Forces Command as the transformation agent for
the Joint Staff.
6 This represents the Department of the Navy’s delineation as to what constitutes
“international programs,” and indeed the Navy International Programs Office is
organized to direct those programs. The other Services have slightly different combi-
nations of functions, but similar in intent.
7 Others have argued that direct commercial sales (DCS) should not be considered part
of security assistance, since they are not agreements in which the U.S. government is
directly involved. But because every aspect of DCS must be licensed by the DoD and
the State Department, it would appear that DCS can be indirectly shaped and con-
trolled for use as a security assistance tool (even if that is not openly acknowledged).
8 Almost all international arms sales today involve the use of offsets, a commitment by
the seller to invest a certain proportion of its profits in the economy of the purchas-
ing nation. Offsets make the purchase of foreign defense items more politically
palatable to some governments, both in the sense of using the national treasure to
buy weapons and as a justification for purchasing foreign products. Some offset
demands are an attempt at technology transfer; others may represent a way of fun-
neling funds into businesses owned by government officials and their friends.
Because of strict U.S. laws against the use of bribery in international business by
American companies, the latter attempt must be carefully concealed. Most pur-
chasers require a certain percentage of offsets, but do not necessarily direct the
American contractor to invest in a certain sector; hence, offsets could theoretically
be quite profitable. A survey of cases indicates that they are either moderately prof-
itable or break even, insuring that the contractor effectively receives its anticipated
profit from the sale. The U.S. government refuses to acknowledge the existence of
offset agreements.
9 My discussions with senior officers of foreign navies indicate a general preference for
U.S. EDA vessels when they are available with the desired characteristics. As one
foreign admiral explained:
Dutch ships last only 20 years, whereas the U.S. ships will last 35 or more. If you
can get a U.S. ship at its 15–20 year point, it is still a better deal than a Dutch ship
at its 10-year point.
10 Agreements are negotiated as bilateral or multilateral treaties with other nations, not
with NATO as an individual entity.
11 This is particularly the view of “traditional” American allies. See Stephen Price,
“Sharp Guard Maritime Operations and the Former Yugoslavia, 1991–6” (DVD,
Naval Historical Branch, United Kingdom, 2006) and David Stevens, “East Timor:
‘Operation Stabilise’ ” (DVD, Royal Australian Navy Sea Power Centre, Canberra,
2006). Both are obtainable from the Center for Naval Analyses, Alexandria, Virginia
(POC: Peter Swartz).
12 To some extent this is largely a perception since 1206 programs must follow the same
procedures as FMS. However, the fact that it is DoD money being provided to part-
ners via the COCOMs brings a sense of urgency that appears lacking in most
recipient-requested FMS cases. Any 1206 cases, by their very nature as part of a new
initiative, attract more (positive) high-level attention.
13 Department of Defense, Under Secretary (Policy) PowerPoint slide entitled “Future
Organization,” released within DoD on 29 August 2006.
14 Department of the Army, Field Manual 3–07 (formerly FM 100–20), Stability Opera-
tions and Support Operations, February 2003, pp. 5–1 to 5–5.
15 An instructive description and history of NETSAFA is Robert B. Pemberton and
Larry Surtees, “NETSAFA,” at http://disam.osd.mil/itm/Articles/NETSAFA.htm.
16 A copy of the Commandant, Marine Corps’ message establishing SCETC can be
found at http://disam.osd.mil/itm/Messages/MarCorps%20ReOrg.htm.
128 S. J. Tangredi
17 ASN (RDA) is also the direct supervisor of NIPO, giving an acquisition emphasis to
naval international programs.
18 General David H. Petraeus, Commander, Multi-National Force-Iraq, Report to Con-
gress on the Situation in Iraq (10–11 September 2007), pp. 5–6, available at
www.defenselink.mil/pubs/pdfs/Petaeus-Testimony20070910.pdf.
19 For a full dose of this argument, see Sam J. Tangredi, ed., Globalization and Mar-
itime Power (Washington, DC: National Defense University Press, 2002). It has sub-
sequently become part of the official policy of the U.S. Navy, U.S. Marine Corps and
U.S. Coast Guard. See U.S. Navy, A Cooperative Strategy for 21st Century
Seapower, October 2007, especially pp. 2–5.
20 See, for example, George Galdorisi and Darren Sutton (Navy Space and Naval
Warfare System Command, San Diego, California), “Coalition Interoperability: How
Much Is Enough and How to Quantify It,” paper presented at the Royal United Ser-
vices Institute conference Stepping Networked C4STAR into the Future, London, Sep-
tember 2006.
9 Security and stability on the
inland waterways
Naval riverine forces
John W. Stolze

The United States Navy has a long history of conducting riverine operations.
Riverine forces have been called upon to undertake a wide variety of missions
ranging from traditional maritime combat operations to humanitarian aid and
disaster relief. Their design, training, and experience in this unique operating
environment make naval riverine forces ideally suited for employment in a
range of Stability, Security, Transition, and Reconstruction (SSTR) operations.
Because of these distinctive capabilities and dual-use functionality, riverine
forces rank among the top U.S. naval assets capable of supporting military
operations other than war (MOOTW).1 For these reasons, riverine forces have
played a significant part in the history of U.S. naval involvement in SSTR opera-
tions. In fact, the history of naval involvement in SSTR operations along inland
waterways began before the American Revolution.
This chapter begins by highlighting the strategic importance of riverine
forces and the significance of rivers and littorals in SSTR operations. It then
explores how U.S. naval riverine forces have been employed to support SSTR
operations. It also describes the recent re-establishment of the Navy’s brown-
water fleet and considers how this current incarnation of naval riverine forces
will support current and future SSTR operations.
The chapter calls the readers’ attention to three observations about riverine
operations and SSTR. First, in many parts of the world the ability to exploit a
riverine environment is critical to supporting SSTR efforts. Second, the U.S.
Navy has been conducting maritime-based MOOTW and SSTR operations for a
very long time and is well positioned to undertake these types of operations
today. Third, the recent re-establishment of a naval riverine force is evidence
that the Navy is committed to supporting a variety of missions along the inland
waterways of the world, including SSTR operations.

The strategic importance of the riverine environment SSTR

operations
Human beings are uniquely dependent on water because it is the single most
important natural resource needed to sustain human life. We consume
water regularly to regulate the balance of our biological systems. We eat fish,
130 J. W. Stolze
vegetation, and other food sources produced by the world’s seas, lakes, and
rivers. With these same waters, we irrigate the land and support agricultural
growth. We have harnessed the raw power of running water to drive hydraulic
machines and generate electricity. And, since the beginning of human history,
water has been utilized as a primary means of transportation, communication,
and exploration around the globe.
The absolute importance of water to human life is best illustrated by compar-
ing the proximity of the world’s largest population centers to the locations of its
major water sources. More than 70 percent of the Earth’s surface area is covered
by water. The majority of this water is concentrated in the world’s seas and
oceans. These, in turn, are ringed by more than 356,000 km of beach and coast-
line.2 It is estimated that approximately 39 percent of the world’s 6.5 billion
people3 live within 100 km of these shorelines.4 Ocean fishing is still a major
source of food around the world and more than 80 percent of the world’s total
commerce, and 50 percent of the world’s daily oil supply, is transported across
maritime trade routes.5
When these statistics are added to figures generated by the rivers, lakes, and
inland waterways of the world, the numbers become even more dramatic. There
are 113 major river systems throughout the world. These carry approximately 15
percent of the world’s total commerce from coastal maritime trade routes to final
inland destinations. Hydroelectric power generated by these inland waterways is
still the primary source of electricity in certain parts of the world; and, the
highest concentrations of human population reside alongside the major river and
delta systems of the world. Current estimates indicate that some 80 percent of
the world’s total population lives within 100 km of the world’s major river
basins.6
Human life and civilization was born from, and flourished in, these littoral
and riverine environments. Mesopotamia, the so-called “cradle of civilization,”
owed its productivity, prosperity, and longevity to the twin river basins of the
Tigris and Euphrates rivers. The Nile, Amazon, Yangtze, Mekong, Niger,
Congo, Ganges, and Brahmaputra river and delta systems have all supported
human civilizations since the beginning of recorded history. In these places, to
control the rivers is to control society.
The role of rivers in potential conflict is highlighted by the fact that the
world’s major population growth is occurring near rivers. It is estimated that,
through the year 2025, 95 percent of the world’s population growth will occur in
the poorest areas around the globe.7 A great many of these can be found in the
world’s littoral and riverine locales. The combination of this population growth
with the relatively poor conditions of these underdeveloped locations, has the
potential to prompt instability, conflict, and crisis.8 Future efforts to promote
peace, security, and stability in the developing nations of the world are likely to
occur within global littoral and riverine environments.
These rivers and inland waterways also constitute a way of accessing the
places where SSTR operations are most often required. In some developing
countries, there are actually more navigable inland waterways than there are
 Security and stability on inland waterways 131
paved roads. In other locations, rivers provide a complementary transportation
system to available road networks.9 Because of this, riverine forces have a
unique advantage in accessing locations that may require SSTR operations and
denying the forces of instability and chaos access to local waterways.
For all of these reasons, the rivers and inland waterways of the world are of
particular importance in promoting Stability, Security, Transition, and Recon-
struction operations around the globe. Because naval riverine forces have a
unique advantage in operating in this kind of environment, they can offer vital
support to international efforts to undertake SSTR operations.

History of U.S. naval riverine operations

The U.S. Navy has a long history of conducting riverine operations. Whether it
was defending the American homeland along its own inland waterways, con-
ducting hydrographic surveys and counter-narcotics operations in South
America, protecting American commercial interests in China, fighting insurgents
in Southeast Asia, providing humanitarian and disaster relief at home and
abroad, or supporting offensive military operations in the Middle East. The U.S.
Navy has conducted riverine operations during every chapter of modern history,
in almost ever corner of the globe. These riverine forces have proven that they
are equally fit to conduct traditional military operations and smaller contingency
operations. This makes naval riverine forces among the most versatile and
adaptable of the military’s operating units, and one of the most important types
of units operating in support of SSTR operations. What follows are brief
descriptions of the wide variety of MOOTW and SSTR operations that naval
riverine forces have undertaken in previous conflicts.

American Revolutionary War (1775–81)

Before the U.S. Navy even existed, a ragtag collection of shallow-draft sailing
vessels was conscripted into service from the Continental and state navies and
the civil merchant fleet to fight along the waterways of North America. This
shallow-water fleet, the nation’s first rudimentary riverine force, was expected to
protect the American colonies from the penetration of British military forces
into the inland waterways of North America. In the St Lawrence River, the
Chesapeake Bay, Lake Champlain, and the Delaware River, American naval
forces repelled advancing British forces by engaging them in the restricted con-
fines of inland waterways and taking advantage of an operational environment
that they could more easily control and dominate. These riverine force also
sought to slow the movement of British ground forces by harassing them with
naval gunfire from nearby inland waterways. Despite their successful efforts,
these first U.S. riverine forces played a relatively minor role in the American
Revolutionary War.
In addition to engaging the enemy from these inland waterways, American
colonists also took advantage of the rivers and streams to quickly and
132 J. W. Stolze
surreptitiously transport American forces for the purpose of engaging and escap-
ing enemy forces. There is no better example of this than George Washington’s
iconographic crossing of the Delaware River to surprise and defeat the Hessian
soldiers garrisoned in Trenton, New Jersey. Though it was a minor tactical
victory, this maneuver served as a rallying point in the American Revolution and
provided a much-needed boost to the waning morale of the Continental Army.
This act is often credited with breathing new life into the faltering American
revolutionary movement.
Even at the end of the war, Washington continued to rely on these riverine
fleets for the transport of Continental forces. After the French defeat of British
naval forces in the Chesapeake, Washington moved a large force of men up the
York River and inserted them into southeastern Virginia. These forces would go
on to launch the assault against Yorktown which led to the surrender of British
forces and ultimately the independence of the American colonies.10
These illustrations demonstrate the earliest participation of American naval
forces in riverine operations. Because the majority of these missions were
focused on the defense of the American homeland, they can clearly be included
in the list of missions known as security operations. And because the goal of
some of these operations was ensuring freedom of navigation within colonial
waterways, they can be considered a form of stability operations. They helped
protect maritime commercial ventures and military operations alike.

Second Seminole War (1835–42)

After acquiring Florida from the Spanish in 1821, the U.S. government relocated
the indigenous Indian tribes of the region to government-designated reservations.
This cleared the way for the introduction of white settlers and plantation owners.
After a number of skirmishes between these newcomers and members of different
Indian tribes, the government decided that these Natives must once again be relo-
cated, this time west of the Mississippi. The refusal of these Indian tribes, who
became collectively known as the Seminoles, to comply with this second forced
deportation prompted government crackdowns that forced the Indians to flee the
reservations and seek sanctuary in remote parts of the southern United States. The
Seminoles took refuge in the Everglades and began launching guerilla-style cam-
paigns against the government forces of the United States. Though the United
States had fought wars against Native American Indian tribes before, this would
become the longest and most costly of these engagements.11
Because this conflict involved a national government attempting to suppress a
violent uprising by a minority subset of its population, the Second Seminole
War could be considered, in modern terms, a counter-insurgency operation.
Counter-insurgency operations are just one among the litany of missions that fall
into the broad category of SSTR operations. What makes this case especially
relevant is the fact that the government forces that dealt with this Indian uprising
were comprised of both Army and Navy units that operated jointly along the
inland waterways of the Everglades in their hunt for the Seminole Indians.
 Security and stability on inland waterways 133
Navy Lieutenants Levin Powell and John McLaughlin would both command
joint Army–Navy forces that scoured the coast, inlets, and rivers of southern
Florida seeking out the Seminoles. They used small sailing ships and barges to
patrol the Florida coastline and disembarked in canoes and row boats, with
Marine security detachments, to follow the Indians inland. Unfamiliarity with
the territory, swamp-borne illness, and the ingenuity of their Indian adversaries
would all take a toll on these early brown-water sailors, but the lessons that the
Navy learned in the swamps of the Everglades would help it draft the first-ever
U.S. tactical riverine doctrine.12

South American River Surveys (1853–5, 1878, 1899–1900)

Between 1853 and 1855 the Navy’s steam-powered gunboat, USS Water Witch,
patrolled and charted the rivers and inland waters of Uruguay, Panama, and
Paraguay. This mission was interrupted in 1856 when the Water Witch came
under fire from a Paraguayan fort, killing a sailor on board, damaging the ship,
and forcing it to withdraw from the area. Three years later, in 1859, a 19-ship
Navy contingent sailed back up the River Plate to extract an apology for the
incident and convince the government of Paraguay to sign a commercial treaty
with the United States. This mission was successful on both counts and
demonstrated that gunboat diplomacy could work on the inland waterways of
South America.13
The Water Witch was not the only gunboat to ply South American rivers. In
1878, the USS Enterprise, a screw sloop, surveyed more than 1,500 miles of the
Amazon and Madeira rivers to promote American construction efforts along
those waterways.14 In 1899 and 1900 the gunboat USS Wilmington conducted
hydrographic surveys along the Orinoco River in Venezuela and Amazon River
into Peru.15 In each of these cases, U.S. Navy vessels were utilized for hydro-
graphic survey operations in foreign inland waterways to develop new naviga-
tion aids and investigate potential commercial opportunities for American
companies in these distant lands. Collectively, these operations helped promote
cooperative military and commercial ventures between the United States and
participating South American nations, albeit occasionally employing some
heavy-handed tactics.

Yangtze River Patrols (1854–1941)

In 1854, vessels from the U.S. Navy’s Asiatic Squadron began patrolling the
lower reaches of China’s Yangtze River to protect American financial interests
in the region. American companies enjoyed profitable commercial operations in
the area, which utilized the treaty port system put in place after China’s defeat in
the Opium Wars. These concerns began to suffer, however, as a result of local
uprisings promoted by disgruntled Chinese businessmen who sought to destabi-
lize American commercial ventures and regain financial dominance over the
region. Gradually these challenges were overcome and American river-based
134 J. W. Stolze
commerce, and accompanying Navy patrols, penetrated further up the Yangtze
River. Over time, the Navy developed specialized shallow-draft vessels for
operations along the Yangtze, and in 1919 the new Yangtze River Patrol
Squadron was officially commissioned. This new squadron patrolled the middle
and upper reaches of the Yangtze and was responsible for safeguarding the
expanding commercial ventures of the United States, battling river-borne pirates
and banditry, and protecting American missionary interests.
During the 1920s and 1930s, these naval vessels operated under increasingly
dangerous conditions as internal struggles within China pulled that country
toward civil war. In their effort to exert control over China’s natural lines of
communication, Chinese warlords and emerging Communist forces attacked
U.S. vessels operating in the region, making the Yangtze a veritable war zone.
When the Japanese invaded China in the course of World War II, warlords
seized control of the lower Yangtze, all but ending American commercial ven-
tures in the region. This prompted the withdrawal of U.S. naval vessels and the
disestablishment of the Yangtze River Patrol Squadron in 1941.16
This episode was unique because it was one of the few times in American
naval history that a specialized naval force was created to operate specifically
within the riverine environment and with the explicit intention of conducting
missions other than traditional naval warfare. This riverine fleet received long-
term funding, enjoyed both civil and military support, and benefited from the
development of specialized doctrine, training, and shallow-water boat design.
So, while the Vietnam conflict may have seen the development of the largest
U.S. brown-water force designed to conduct riverine warfare, the Yangtze River
patrols may have been the halcyon of naval riverine SSTR operations.

Latin American Riverine Assistance (1980s and 1990s)

Throughout the late 1980s and 1990s, American riverine forces found them-
selves in South and Central America once again. This time, elements of the
Naval Special Warfare community and the Marine Corps’ small-craft company
traveled the inland waterways of Peru, Bolivia, Colombia, and elsewhere to
assist local governments with counter-narcotics and counter-insurgency opera-
tions. U.S. forces were usually called upon to provide training and material
support to these countries, allowing them to build up their own indigenous river-
ine capabilities. On occasion, however, American forces were required to play a
combat support role. Regardless of the amount of direct U.S. intervention in
these local problems, all of these missions shared one similar characteristic.
They were all undertaken to promote security and stability within the region.17
By design, these missions were conducted to eliminate subversive groups,
stem the tide of illegal commerce, insure safe and free navigation of vital inland
waterways, and promote civil and military cooperation between the United
States and participating nations. These Latin American missions were at the very
core of SSTR operations. They promoted local maritime security, bolstered eco-
nomic stability, and helped regain control over portions of these countries that
 Security and stability on inland waterways 135
had been lost to bandits, organized crime, and narco-terrorists. They also helped
build lasting ties between friendly governments and military forces, which ulti-
mately led to increased stability throughout the region.

Operation Iraqi Freedom (2003–)

The involvement of American riverine forces in Iraq is reminiscent of the Latin
American missions undertaken by the Navy and Marines towards the end of the
last century. The Marine Corps and Naval Special Warfare community have
been called upon again to support counter-insurgency operations and to help
maintain safe and free navigation along the Tigris and Euphrates rivers. The
presence of large numbers of American military forces and civilian contractors,
however, makes the need for security and stability extremely urgent. Today’s
stability operations undertaken along the Tigris and Euphrates rivers are
absolutely critical in supporting regional security and reconstruction in Iraq.
The Tigris–Euphrates River Valley forms the very center of Iraq. It serves as
the lifeblood of Iraqi society. The nation’s capital, Baghdad, is nestled in this
historic river basin with the Tigris River bisecting the city and providing vital
natural resources to Iraq’s largest urban population center. This river basin is the
single largest center of agricultural production in Iraq. Its 5,000 km of navigable
waterways form a critical part of Iraq’s national transportation system, not only
for its oil industry, but its entire economy. The Tigris is used for potable water,
electro-power generation, and recreation. The restoration of security along Iraq’s
inland waterways is thus crucial to reconstruction efforts in postwar Iraq.
But the importance of the Tigris and Euphrates is not limited to civilian pur-
poses. Recently, the Tigris and Euphrates rivers have become major lines of
communication for both friendly and insurgent military forces. As the Viet Cong
used the rivers and canals of the Mekong Delta, so too are Iraqi insurgents using
the inland waterways of Iraq to move troops, transport weapons and explosives,
and avoid capture by coalition forces. Recognizing the strategic importance of
the Tigris and Euphrates, the U.S. Navy has dedicated increasing amounts of
time, money, and attention to policing these waterways. Securing peace and
security in Iraq will only occur when Coalition forces control the country’s
inland waterways.18

Natural disaster relief and humanitarian aid (2004–5)

In the first part of the twenty-first century, natural disasters highlighted the
ability of the U.S military to provide aid and relief quickly following catas-
trophic events in distant lands. Earthquakes in Pakistan, tsunamis in Southeast
Asia, and hurricanes in the United States, have forced civil and military leaders
to contemplate the role military forces play in averting the loss of human life
during these disasters and helping to rebuild regions after they have passed.
There are many types of units within the U.S. military that serve in this capacity.
For example, the Navy deployed a nuclear-powered aircraft carrier, USS
136 J. W. Stolze
Abraham Lincoln, and the hospital ship USS Mercy to Southeast Asia following
a severe earthquake in Indonesia that produced devastating tsunamis affecting
people as far away as India and the eastern coast of Africa. Navy ships were able
to alter their existing missions to deliver aid, relief, and medical support to
foreign nations and people in need.19
While U.S. riverine forces did not take part in this particular disaster-relief
effort, brown-water assets could also contribute to this kind of mission. Their
size and speed would have made brown-water rivercraft the perfect platforms for
launching survey missions, traversing the waterways of the affected area, and
identifying locations most in need of assistance. They could also have offered
rapid search, recovery, and rescue capabilities in the early hours of the disaster,
evacuating personnel from devastated areas and transporting medical crews and
other relief personnel into isolated areas. Once deployed, riverine forces can
play a significant part in relief operations.
When Hurricane Katrina hit the U.S. Gulf Coast along the Louisiana–
Mississippi state border, it caused levees to break, flood waters to rise, and
homes across hundreds of miles to be inundated and leveled. Roads all along the
Gulf Coast were under water and land-based emergency relief crews were
unable to travel to the most affected areas. Within hours, members of Naval
Special Warfare’s Special Boat Team-22, the Navy’s only dedicated riverine
unit, launched their boats from their river training facility in Stennis, Mississippi
to assist in relief efforts. Their specially designed riverboats allowed them to go
where washed-out roads used to be. They conducted search and rescue opera-
tions in the rising flood waters and delivered food and water to stranded
citizens.20 This operation demonstrated how naval riverine forces were able to
respond at a time when civil relief efforts were still floundering to get underway.
This event, perhaps more than any other, proved the civil applicability of naval
riverine forces and the valuable role that they can play in SSTR operations.
As these vignettes show, naval riverine forces, because of their dual-use func-
tionality and unique capabilities, have long participated in non-traditional mar-
itime military missions and SSTR operations. Their value has been proven
through both civil and military application in a number of locations around
the world.

The future of U.S. naval riverine forces and the Navy’s

commitment to SSTR operations
While the Navy has long undertaken riverine operations, its conduct of opera-
tions along inland waterways has been inconsistent and episodic. Riverine
operations have not traditionally been at the forefront of Navy planning. In most
cases, riverine operations have only been undertaken under extreme circum-
stances, when world events have made it impossible for naval officers to avoid
combat realities. Typically these periods of brown-water operations have been
punctuated by the disestablishment of riverine units and a drawdown of related
naval forces.
 Security and stability on inland waterways 137
This trend is perhaps best illustrated by the drawdown of riverine forces
following the U.S. withdrawal from Vietnam. In 1969, at the height of the
American riverine presence in Vietnam, the U.S. Navy was operating more than
500 riverine and coastal watercraft that were divided into more than 30 military
units. Four years later, in 1973, the Navy was down to half a dozen combined
coastal–river divisions. By 1979, these units were removed from the inventory
of the mainstream Navy and assigned to the Naval Special Warfare community.
By 2005, Naval Special Warfare was operating just three special boat teams,
only one of which, Special Boat Team-22, was dedicated to the preservation of
the Navy’s riverine capability. Meanwhile, the United States Marine Corps
stood up a single small-craft company, which it used to help fill the gap left by
the loss of the Navy’s mainstream riverine community. Until recently, it has
been the Marine Corps that has served as the primary military resource for main-
taining a U.S. riverine warfighting capability and doctrine.21
In the years following the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks, the U.S. mili-
tary has found itself stretched increasingly thin as it attempts to keep up with the
operational requirements created by missions in Iraq, Afghanistan, and the
Global War on Terror. Both the Marine Corps and the Naval Special Warfare
community have been particularly hard hit by these demands. The result has
been that neither of these services has the time, money, or manpower to focus
dedicated efforts on sustaining the military’s riverine operational capabilities.
Recognizing the demands being placed on these services, the Chief of Naval
Operations, Admiral Vernon Clarke, issued a memorandum to the Navy Staff in
July 2005, directing a series of new initiatives to be undertaken by the Navy to
help alleviate pressure being placed on the Army, Marine Corps, and Special
Operations Command. Among these new initiatives was a call to revive the
Navy’s mainstream riverine warfare capability and return primary control over
the conduct of military riverine operations to the Navy.22
The Navy’s new plan calls for the establishment of three operational riverine
squadrons (RIVRONs) and a coordinating riverine group (RIVGRU) command
under the new Navy Expeditionary Combat Command (NECC).23 The NECC,
which was formally established in January 2006, is headquartered at Naval
Amphibious Base, Little Creek, Virginia and will be used to consolidate many
of the previously dissociated expeditionary components under the Navy’s
control. Under the new NECC umbrella, naval construction, salvage, and explo-
sive ordinance disposal units will be horizontally integrated with naval security,
coastal warfare, and riverine forces. The overall result of this initiative will be
the creation of a new master command that will oversee the Navy’s
expeditionary-related missions as they move inland from the sea.24
As part of this expeditionary warfare-focused command, the Navy’s new
riverine force will be expected to help project the Navy’s influence from its
normal operating environment in the open ocean into the rivers and inland
waterways of the world. Their immediate focus will be supporting operations in
Iraq, but, the leadership of the riverine community is quick to point out that
these forces will be prepared to deploy anywhere in the world they are needed.
138 J. W. Stolze
The establishment, manning and training of these new riverine squadrons is
already underway. The first squadron was ready for deployment in 2007. This
development signals the start of a new episode in naval riverine operations.25
While there will be certain differences between this new riverine force and
those of the past, it will still maintain the same flexibility when it comes to
undertaking both combat and stability operations. Accordingly, concept-of-
operation documents for these new riverine squadrons list an extensive array of
military and non-traditional missions that these operators will be trained to
support. While they will still be used to engage certain enemy forces, they will
also be expected to undertake a wide variety of SSTR operations.26 These will
include maritime security, river patrol and interdiction, anti-piracy, maritime
interception operations, hydrographic surveys, surveillance, reconnaissance and
intelligence collection, counter-narcotics and counter-insurgency missions,
theater security cooperation, humanitarian assistance, and disaster relief.27 All of
these have direct applicability to the Navy’s capacity for supporting SSTR
operations. In fact, recent projections regarding the anticipated operational cap-
abilities of these squadrons over the next three years indicate that they will be
best suited to undertake humanitarian assistance, counter-narcotic, and security
assistance missions, followed closely by counter-insurgency, unconventional
warfare, and combating terrorism operations. At least in the short term, these
squadrons will be better prepared to support SSTR operations than any other
type of mission set.28

Conclusion
Rivers and inland waterways are strategically important because they provide
access and natural resources to much of the world’s population. Furthermore,
they present a vital operating environment in the provision of security and
stability throughout much of the developing world. The U.S. Navy has a long
history of developing naval riverine forces specifically trained to exploit this
unique operating environment. At many points over the course of their history,
these forces have served to support both combat operations and SSTR missions.
Despite arguments that maintaining a naval riverine force and supporting
SSTR operations have never been central to its military culture or ethos, the
United States Navy is creating three new operational riverine squadrons that will
be ideally suited for supporting SSTR missions. While critics and skeptics may
wonder how long this current riverine force will survive, its existence, training,
and mission focus seem to indicate that the Navy recognizes the importance of
SSTR missions in today’s operating environment, and that it is being shaped to
better undertake these operations. Perhaps the best metric of the Navy’s con-
tinued commitment to SSTR operations will be the material and monetary
support that vouchsafes it to the NECC and its subordinate commands, like the
new riverine force, over the next several years.
 Security and stability on inland waterways 139
Notes
1 The phrase “military operations other than war,” or MOOTW, typically refers to mis-
sions undertaken by military forces that do not directly relate to combat operations.
For more specific definitions and examples of this concept, see Joint Chiefs of Staff,
Joint Pub 3–07: Joint Doctrine for Military Operations Other than War (Washington,
DC: GPO, June 1995).
2 Central Intelligence Agency (CIA), The World Fact Book, www.cia.gov/cia/publications/
factbook/geos/xx.html (accessed February 2007).
3 This figure is based on a July 2006 population estimate published in CIA, The World
Fact Book.
4 Commander, U.S. Fleet Forces Command, U.S. Navy Riverine Group Concept of
Operations (Norfolk, VA: Department of the Navy, September 2006), p. 22.
5 Robert Benbow, Fred Ensminger, Peter Swartz, Scott Savitz, and Major Dan Stimp-
son, Renewal of Navy’s Riverine Capability: A Preliminary Examination of Past,
Current, and Future Capabilities (Alexandria, VA: Center for Naval Analyses,
March 2006), p. 39.
6 Fleet Forces Command, U.S. Navy Riverine Group Concept of Operations, p. 22.
7 Paul Kennedy, Preparing for the Twenty-first Century (New York: Vintage Books,
1993), p. 24.
8 Sidney Ellington, Special Operations in Littoral Warfare (Monterey, CA: Naval Post-
graduate School, December 1995), p. 4.
9 This information is based on a study conducted by the Marine Corps Intelligence
Agency (MCIA) in 1993 and continued in Benbow et al., Renewal, pp. 141–51. The
actual figures used in these studies come from CIA, The World Fact Book.
10 For more information on the role of riverine forces in the American Revolutionary
War, see R. Blake Dunnavent, James C. Bradford and Gene A. Smith (eds), Brown
Water Warfare: The U.S. Navy in Riverine Warfare and the Emergence of a Tactical
Doctrine, 1775–1970, Chapter 1, pp. 1–13; Naval Historical Center, Riverine
Warfare: The U.S. Navy Operations in Inland Waters (Washington DC: Department
of the Navy, April 29960, www.history.navy.mil/library/online/riverine.htm
(accessed February 2007); and Benbow et al., Renewal, p. 85.
11 For more information on the role of riverine forces in the Second Seminole War, see
John Mahon, History of the Second Seminole War (Gainesville: University of Florida
Press, 1967); George Buker, Swamp Sailors: Riverine Warfare in the Everglades,
1835–1842 (Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 1975); Dunnavent, Brown
Water Warfare, Chapter 3, pp. 32–44; and Benbow et al., Renewal, p. 86.
12 Dunnavent, Brown Water Warfare, Chapter 3, pp. 32–44; and Benbow et al.,
Renewal, p. 86.
13 For more on the Water Witch incident, see John Hoyt Williams, “The Wake of the
Water Witch,” Naval Institute Proceedings Supplement (1985), pp. 14–19; and
Benbow et al., Renewal, p. 88.
14 For more on the Enterprise and Wilmington incidents, see Captain Paul M. Simoes de
Carvalho, “Gunboat Diplomacy on the Orinoco,” Naval History, 17 (August 2003),
pp. 42–7; and Benbow et al., Renewal, pp. 91–2.
15 Ibid.
16 For more on the Yangtze River patrols, see Robert E. Johnson, Far China Station:
The U.S. Navy in Asian Waters, 1800–1898 (Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press,
1979); Kemp Tolley, Yangtze Patrol: The U.S. Navy in China (Annapolis, MD: Naval
Institute Press, 1971); Dunnavent, Brown Water Warfare, Chapter 7, pp. 87–109; and
Benbow et al., Renewal, pp. 90, 93.
17 For more on U.S. riverine operations in South America, see Paul F. Willey, The Art of
Riverine Warfare from an Asymmetrical Approach (Monterey, CA: Naval Postgradu-
ate School, March 2004).
140 J. W. Stolze
18 For more on naval riverine operations during Operation IRAQI FREEDOM, see
Jason B. Scheffer, The Rise and Fall of the Brown Water Navy: Changes in United
States Navy Riverine Warfare Capabilities from the Vietnam War to Operation Iraqi
Freedom (Fort Leavenworth, KS: U.S. Army Command and General Staff College,
2005); and Michael Newsom, “Special Delivery: Navy Riverboat Team Assists U.S.
Missions in Middle East,” Sun-Herald (Mississippi, 28 July 2005).
19 Cassie Duong, “U.S. Navy Ship Mercy Returns to Indonesia on Aid Mission,” (U.S.
Department of State, 18 July 2006), http://usinfo.state.gov/xarchives/display.html?
p=washfile-english&y=2006&m=July&x= 20060718130437cagnoud3.048342e-02
(accessed February 2007).
20 Scott Boyle, “Naval Special Warfare Comes Through at Crunchtime,” Navy press
release found on Gamewardens of Vietnam Association website, www.tf116.org/
katrinaSBT22.html (accessed February 2007).
21 Scheffer, The Rise and Fall, pp. 50–72.
22 Ronald O’Rourke, Navy Role in Global War on Terrorism (GWOT) – Background
and Issues for Congress (Washington, DC: Library of Congress Congressional
Research Service, 6 February 2006), p. 3.
23 Fleet Forces Command, U.S. Navy Riverine Group Concept of Operations.
24 O’Rourke, Navy Role, pp. 4–5.
25 Fleet Forces Command, U.S. Navy Riverine Group Concept of Operations.
26 The Navy’s new riverine forces are only being developed to support operations
against Level II threats. These include unconventional warfare forces, insurgents, and
guerillas. Unlike the riverine forces of the Vietnam era, they will not be expected to
support Level IV, large-scale force-on-force, engagements (Fleet Forces Command,
U.S. Navy Riverine Group Concept of Operations, p. 8).
27 Fleet Forces Command, U.S. Navy Riverine Group Concept of Operations.
28 Benbow et al., Renewal, pp. 64–6.
10 Civil–military teams
The PRT model in Afghanistan
Nicholas Tomb

Reconstruction efforts in insecure environments create challenges for politi-

cians, development experts, and ordinary citizens. It is difficult to promote eco-
nomic growth without security, but without economic opportunities and growth,
communities can enter a downward spiral of stagnation and desperation.
Without jobs, people will turn to crime; yet crime stifles investment and the
entrepreneurial spirit necessary to create jobs. In the wake of the September
11th, 2001 terrorist attacks, the threat presented by an insecure, underdeveloped,
“failed state” became tragically evident. It is now clear that poverty and violence
can affect the livelihoods and safety of those enjoying the affluence and security
of stable democracies.
Following the U.S. invasion of Afghanistan and subsequent overthrow of the
Taliban in December 2001, policymakers in Washington, DC addressed the
challenge of fostering economic development and physical security by returning
to a traditional model of civil–military cooperation, but with a new twist:
Provincial Reconstruction Teams (PRTs) that combined military and civilian
personnel so that security challenges and the promotion of economic growth
could be simultaneously addressed. These joint, interagency teams now operate
in remote, rural provinces to extend the authority of the Afghan central govern-
ment, enhance security, and facilitate relief and reconstruction operations. Their
success is far from certain.
PRTs have generated their fair share of controversy and debate. While propo-
nents tout their effectiveness, critics point to a series of deficiencies and con-
tentious issues surrounding PRTs. In terms of doctrine and organization, PRTs
have been hampered by vague standard operating procedures, the absence of a
standardized organizational arrangement, difficulties integrating civilian and
military personnel, a lack of team training, and insufficient resources.1 In terms
of external challenges, confrontations with intergovernmental organizations
(IGOs) and non-governmental organizations (NGOs) over PRT activities, which
often reflect the highly debated concept of “humanitarian space,” have led to
strained relations with what should have otherwise been valuable civilian part-
ners in the reconstruction process.2
Although PRTs represent only a small fraction of the total troop deployment
in Afghanistan, they also reflect one of the best strategies for stabilizing and
142 N. Tomb
reconstructing societies torn apart by war and ethnic conflict. Traditionally,
civilian efforts to rebuild societies ravaged by war have been more successful
than attempts to restore order and prosperity that relied solely on military units.
By combining civilian and military efforts to promote the authority of the central
government, PRTs shine a dim light of hope in a country that seems to be slowly
and tragically slipping back into the throes of instability.
With the experience of three years of operations in Afghanistan, and with the
introduction of PRTs into Iraq, the time has arrived to explore the strengths and
weaknesses of the Provincial Reconstruction Team. To facilitate future opera-
tions and scholarship, it would also be important to begin to compile a list of
lessons learned and to identify best practices when it comes to the operations of
civil–military reconstruction efforts. An objective evaluation of PRTs is espe-
cially important to donor governments that increasingly recognize the important
role that stabilization and reconstruction activities play in promoting global
security.3 By grappling with the controversies surrounding PRTs, setting clear
operational guidelines for their future use, and learning from their experiences in
the field, it may be possible to improve the prospects for success in current and
future stabilization operations.
To address the strengths and weaknesses of current reconstruction efforts,
this chapter first describes the mission, composition, and command structure of
Provisional Reconstruction Teams. Because the composition of PRTs can be
diverse, this chapter focuses on U.S.-led PRTs, but the recommendations for
improvement can easily be applied to PRTs led by members of the North
Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), as well. The chapter also assesses the
effectiveness of ongoing PRT operations and the controversies that surround
today’s efforts at stabilization and reconstruction in Afghanistan. It closes by
describing the U.S. Navy’s contribution to PRTs and concludes by offering
some recommendations to improve future PRT operations in Afghanistan.

PRTs: mission, force composition, and command structure

PRTs operate in Afghanistan at the invitation of President Hamid Karzai. Their
mission is to promote security, participate in reconstruction efforts, and, through
these activities, extend and promote the authority of the Afghan central govern-
ment and nascent provincial governments.4 This broad mandate results in PRT
participation in a wide range of activities, including security-sector reform,
demobilization, disarmament and reintegration, counter-insurgency operations,
and reconstruction projects. The range of operations involving PRTs and the
variety of tactics that they use to implement their missions, can be seen as a
great strength – and a great weakness. While the authority granted to PRT com-
manders allows them to prioritize activities based on the unique needs of a spe-
cific province, the lack of standard operating procedures and standing doctrine
leads to ad hoc means of decision-making, planning, and operations. Operations
mandated by a commander in one province may be prohibited to other comman-
ders operating in different provinces. The overall effectiveness of an individual
 Civil–military teams in Afghanistan 143
PRT is thus largely dependent upon its composition and the quality of its leader-
ship. Good commanders and troops adopt effective doctrine and operations to
meet the demands of their operating area, but there is no way to communicate
and adapt these practices across an entire theater of operations.5
While the basic design of PRTs is simple, with personnel from various mili-
tary and civilian agencies working side by side, there is great diversity in the
actual make-up of the teams in the field. In Afghanistan, this diversity is largely
due to the large number of countries participating in Provisional Reconstruction
Teams. As of October 2006, for example, there were a total of 12 coalition part-
ners, including personnel from U.S. military units and government agencies,
participating in PRTs in Afghanistan.6 The situation is further complicated by
the fact that PRTs can operate under two distinct lines of authority. U.S.
Coalition-led PRTs operate under the authority of the Afghan Central Govern-
ment, and NATO-led PRTs operate under the authority of United Nations Secur-
ity Council Resolution 1386. Thus, while their overall mission remains the
same, PRTs come in various sizes, include personnel from various departments
and agencies, and speak a variety of languages. (See Figure 10.1 for a listing of
contributing countries and PRT locations.)
U.S.-led PRTs are made up of approximately 75 personnel, although some
NATO-led PRTs are two to three times larger. Most of the individuals in a U.S.
PRT are military personnel. The vast majority of military personnel are involved

Figure 10.1 PRT contributing countries and geographical locations (source: based on
information collected by the author).
144 N. Tomb
in support activities, ensuring force protection, providing language skills, and
implementing routine logistical tasks associated with maintaining an organi-
zation in a semi-hostile environment.7 The “tip of the spear” is comprised of two
civil affairs teams of four personnel each that interact with local Afghans. These
civil affairs teams move about within their assigned areas of operation, meeting
with local leaders, and discussing or assessing reconstruction projects. These
civil affairs teams are the part of the PRT that provides a visible presence in the
countryside by offering advice on how to rebuild local infrastructure.8
Several civilian agencies within the U.S. government have personnel directly
assigned to the PRTs. The U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID)
and the U.S. Department of State (DoS) are the primary sources for civilian per-
sonnel. The U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) also has a limited number
of employees assigned to PRTs. Civilian agencies usually supply one of their
number to each PRT, but some teams lack even this limited amount of civilian
representation. A lack of resources and the limited commitment on the part of
civilian agencies themselves to the reconstruction effort is largely responsible
for the relatively low number of civilian participants.
Civilian and military cultures are different and relationships between civilian
and military personnel are complex, depending on strong leaders and trusted
personal relationships for success. In some cases, the civilian and military com-
ponents of PRTs work well together, in other cases hardly at all. Ideally, the
PRT commander will consult with his civilian counterparts on priorities, goals
and objectives, and courses of action. Because civilian personnel are account-
able to, and report to, their offices of origin (USAID, DoS) rather than through
the military command structure, communications, coordination, and consulta-
tions are not always constructive. Additionally, insufficient funding – particu-
larly on the civilian side – has led to tension between civilian and military
components of PRTs. Operating in insecure and (frequently austere environ-
ments (especially for the civilians) can strain any organization, and PRTs are no
exception. Under these circumstances success frequently comes down to person-
alities and leadership styles on the ground.9 See Figure 10.2.
Although PRTs combine civilian and military personnel in a field unit, they
have more in common with military forces that operate in dangerous, insecure
environments, than with civilian disaster and relief workers, who generally operate
in noncombat areas. Thus it makes sense that PRTs are commanded by military
officers. Command organizations generally follow a staff structure favored by the
military organization. The military component of the PRT assumes responsibility
for force protection, USAID personnel take the lead on reconstruction operations,
and State Department officials have responsibility for political oversight,
coordination, and reporting.10 Civilian personnel in PRTs, however, often maintain
their own reporting channels to the country embassy or mission to report on their
areas of responsibility to their home agency in Washington, DC.
Deployments to Afghanistan are difficult and sometimes dangerous, and
these challenges are exacerbated by the rapid turnover of personnel in the PRTs.
In 2004, the U.S. Department of Defense (DoD) extended tours of duty in
 Civil–military teams in Afghanistan 145

= Control
= Info sharing DoS
PRT
commander DOJ DOT USAID

Future PRT USDA

partners?
Afghan
Security Civil
HQs Ministry
section section
of the
Ops Security CMOC/ Interior
sector CIMIC
Support coordinator ITGA
element rep
Patrols Patrols
Force IO/NGO
protection Military
CA
element observer UNAMA
team
Security Co-located in
Linguists PRT compound
observer
Located near
PRT compound

Figure 10.2 Typical PRT organizational structure (source: the author).

Afghanistan from six (or in some cases three) months to one year, which was an
important step in strengthening PRTs. Civilian agencies also have increased the
length of time that their personnel serve on PRTs, typically from 90 days to one
year. Better coordination in the rotation of PRT personnel could further improve
the continuity and institutional memory of PRTs operating in the field.11

Effectiveness and controversies

PRTs are involved in a variety of stabilization and reconstruction activities and
have done a relatively good job of coordinating their activities with the comprehen-
sive development strategies that have been adopted by the Afghan central govern-
ment. The coordination of the overall stabilization effort and the assessment of
specific reconstruction projects have been enhanced by the presence of USAID per-
sonnel, who have significant experience and expertise in overseeing development
activities.12 While coordination and assessments are critical to the success of spe-
cific development strategies, however, it is easier to develop various quantitative
measures of effectiveness than to assess the direct influence that PRT operations are
having on the perceptions of the Afghan people. In other words, while efforts to
build schools and supply medical clinics can be assessed in terms of the number of
structures completed or the amount of materials that are expended, it is harder to
determine whether PRTs are succeeding in “winning the hearts and minds” of the
Afghan population. Developing meaningful metrics is no small matter because
obtaining the support of the Afghan population and legitimizing the role of the
146 N. Tomb
Afghan central government can help to achieve the broader goal of stabilizing and
reconstructing the country. Five years after the fall of the Taliban many of the
hopes, dreams, and expectations of the Afghan population have not been met. This
is evident in the complaints expressed by ordinary citizens, and in the surprising
resurgence that Taliban forces are making across the country, especially in the
south and east of the country, but also, alarmingly, in urban centers. According to
Thomas Johnson, “In the first five months of 2006 there was a 200 percent increase
in insurgent attacks compared to the first five months of 2005.”13
Given the enormity of the reconstruction challenge facing Afghanistan,
perhaps it is not fair to assess the effectiveness of PRTs based on the economic
and political expectations of the Afghan population. Despite the best intentions
and valuable contributions that PRTs may make, Afghanistan is a large, war-
torn country lacking in infrastructure and natural resources. It is perhaps unreal-
istic for the Afghan population to expect too much; the best way forward might
be to manage local expectations about the progress that can be made in the short
term. The same should also be said for donor-country expectations given the
starting point at which reconstruction operations began. But because U.S. and
NATO involvement in Afghanistan cannot succeed unless ordinary Afghans
believe that their future is indeed brighter, PRTs need to improve their efforts
and metrics to make good on the promises of a more prosperous, peaceful, and
democratic Afghanistan. If they leave open a void, the Taliban, and their al
Qaeda allies, are more than willing to offer a competing vision of the future.
In addition to the civilian–military challenges that have faced PRTs, they
have been controversial, particularly with non-governmental organizations
(NGOs) and intergovernmental organizations operating in Afghanistan. The
most common complaint is that, by participating in traditional relief and recon-
struction activities, PRTs are blurring the lines surrounding the delivery of
humanitarian assistance, commonly referred to as “humanitarian space.”14
Non-governmental organizations and intergovernmental organizations operat-
ing in insecure environments have traditionally relied on independence, impar-
tiality, and the morality of their activities to insure the security of their
personnel. By providing assistance to populations in need regardless of ethni-
city, religion, or political persuasion, civilian humanitarian relief agencies have
obtained remarkable levels of access and have been relatively secure in even the
most dangerous situations. Since the introduction of U.S. and coalition forces
into Afghanistan, however, many IGOs and NGOs have expressed concern that
the public might believe that they are working with or are a part of the armed
forces. While some activities (such as collaborating on specific reconstruction
projects) would clearly lead to such impressions, other, seemingly innocent
activities (such as coordinating separate field efforts) can also have serious con-
sequences for the security and perceived neutrality of IGO/NGO personnel. In
other words, if insurgent forces see military personnel from PRTs involved in
the construction of schools or medical clinics, and then see IGO/NGO personnel
involved in similar activities, they may come to believe that these groups are
working together, or at least the lines of distinction have become blurred.
 Civil–military teams in Afghanistan 147
IGO/NGO personnel thus run the risk of being perceived as similar to PRT per-
sonnel, who are seen as legitimate military targets. Blurring of the distinction
between PRTs and other civilian organizations could prompt attacks on
IGOs/NGOs. The situation can become further confused when PRT personnel
work in the field without wearing uniforms, which makes it impossible to
identify civilian and military personnel from a distance.
Another common complaint from IGOs/NGOs is that PRTs frequently
operate not in the most insecure regions of the country, but in relatively secure
regions where NGOs and IGOs are also implementing development and relief
activities. This is a contentious issue because many PRT supporters insist that
PRTs are focusing their operations in remote, insecure regions where NGOs and
IGOs are not present.15 Rather than get drawn into this debate, it would be con-
structive for PRT commanders to carefully consider the concerns of NGOs and
IGOs on the ground, and NGO/IGO personnel should do their best to accept the
challenges facing PRTs. See Figure 10.3.

PRTs and the Navy

Afghanistan is a land-locked country in central Asia, thousands of feet above sea
level and hundreds of miles north of the nearest substantial body of water, the
Arabian Sea. Despite this distance from the nearest ocean, the U.S. Navy has
been an important source of personnel for stability and reconstruction operations
and has provided significant leadership for PRTs working in rural Afghanistan.
Of the 12 U.S.-led PRTs operating in the country, six are currently commanded
by Navy officers (the other six are led by U.S. Air Force officers). In addition to
leadership positions, there are over 500 Navy personnel, both active duty and
reservists, working with PRTs in various capacities.16

Aid workers and development contractors killed each

year according to ANSO
35
30
Number of fatalities

25
20
15
10
5

0
2003 2004 2005 1/1/2006–6/21/2006
Year

Figure 10.3 NGO casualties in Afghanistan (source: Afghan NGO Security Office).
Note
See www.icasualities.org (accessed November 30, 2006).
148 N. Tomb
Navy personnel are joining the traditionally U.S. Army-staffed PRTs through
the Individual Augmentee (IA) program. The program recently added a series of
incentives that reward Navy personnel operating in combat zones with points for
advancement in their military careers.17 An interesting aspect of the IA program is
the joint training that Navy and Army personnel go through in preparation for
deployment to Afghanistan. Several joint training programs are currently in opera-
tion, including a two-week combat training course at Fort Jackson, South
Carolina18 and a two-month course at Fort Bragg, North Carolina.19 Jim Hamblet,
a Navy officer who undertook a joint training program in preparation for com-
manding a PRT in Ghazni, a central Afghan province, said of the training,

It has been a very interesting mix of the Navy and Army cultures. A big part
of the Army’s training has been building team confidence – confidence not
only in our individual skills, but that we can operate together as a unit in a
very complex environment.20

This joint training is an important step in improving PRT operations, and should
be expanded to include government civilians preparing to work with PRTs.
Despite efforts to augment PRTs with Army and Air Force officers, an aug-
mentee program is required because the Army is stretched so thin by various
combat commitments that it no longer has the capacity to lead and staff PRT
operations in Afghanistan. This is a grim situation, because five years after the
fall of the Taliban, the resources necessary to stabilize and rebuild the country
have not yet been committed. In fact, using one measure, the deployment of
peacekeeping personnel in Afghanistan represents the lowest per capita commit-
ment of peacekeeping personnel in any post-conflict environment since the end
of World War II. While the ratio of peacekeepers to citizens in Bosnia was 1:48,
in Afghanistan the figure hovered around 1:2,000 for the first three years of
“reconstruction,” and has increased to roughly 1:1,000 today, following the
addition of increased U.S. force levels and an influx of NATO troops.21 These
sorts of force ratios do not lend themselves to effective reconstruction.
While Navy officers are not traditionally involved in land-based, civil affairs
operations, their leadership in PRTs is not necessarily a negative development.
According to Major Glenn Woodson, an Army civil affairs officer who worked
with PRTs as the Chief of Plans for the U.S. Army’s Civil Affairs and Psycho-
logical Operations Command,

even without civil affairs experience these Navy and Air Force officers may
be smart, good people. Most of civil affairs is about common sense . . . it’s
not about helping individuals, it’s about building capacity. PRTs are uncon-
ventional in that they are about developing systems, governance.22

Therefore, as long as the Navy personnel leading PRTs are good leaders and
good problem solvers, with adequate resources and support, they can make
significant contributions to PRT efforts to rebuild Afghanistan.
 Civil–military teams in Afghanistan 149
Recommendations
The situation in Afghanistan has steadily deteriorated following a brief period of
optimism after the fall of the Taliban in December 2001. Despite the infusion of
over $8 billion in international assistance over the last five years, the inter-
national reconstruction effort and the Karzai administration have failed to meet
the expectations of the population. The country remains one of the poorest in the
world and basic necessities such as access to food, shelter, electricity, and clean
drinking water remain out of reach for vast segments of the population.23 Illicit
poppy cultivation has skyrocketed, currently accounting for approximately one-
third of all economic activity in the country.24 Outside the capital of Kabul, the
security situation is dire. Insurgent attacks are becoming increasingly common
and vast segments of the population find themselves caught between invigorated
Taliban forces and an underdeveloped Afghan Army and its Coalition allies.
Attacks against NATO forces are increasing, with the month of October 2006
being one of the bloodiest since international forces were introduced into the
country nearly five years ago.25 See Table 10.1 for Coalition fatalities.
It is against this backdrop that PRTs are interacting with Afghan citizens in
an attempt to “win the hearts and minds” of the population. While the challenge
is great, the cost of failure is much greater. Progress made over the past six years
is at risk of being undermined, and the Taliban regime that hosted the al Qaeda
terrorists behind the September 11th attacks is jockeying for a return to power in
the country.
It is therefore critical that the PRT model be continually re-examined and
fine-tuned to improve success in the field. In order for PRTs to be effective, their
numbers must be dramatically increased. There are approximately 10,000 U.S.
troops and 32,500 NATO troops (including about 11,800 U.S. troops under
NATO command) currently stationed in Afghanistan.26 Of these less than 10
percent are working with PRTs, and only a couple of hundred are serving on the
civil affairs teams that are actually interacting with Afghan citizens. If one con-
siders that there are somewhere between 28 and 32 million Afghans and 34
Afghan provinces, then the typical Afghan province has hundreds of thousands
of people living in it. Expecting a 75-person PRT and two four-person civil
affairs teams to have a major or long-lasting impact in such a situation is simply

Table 10.1 Coalition fatalities in Operation Enduring Freedom

Period U.S. Other Total

2006 96 90 186
2005 99 31 130
2004 52 6 58
2003 48 9 57
2002 48 20 68
2001 12 0 12
Total 355 156 511
150 N. Tomb
unrealistic. Rather than focusing on provinces, every district (or at least most
districts) within each province should have its own PRT – or what could be
termed “District Reconstruction Team.”27 In addition to increasing their number
and altering the way that they are deployed, PRTs should be resourced to fulfill
their mission by being provided with better transportation and communications
equipment. Many NATO PRTs use different types of communication devices,
making communication difficult or impossible. Standardizing transportation,
communications, and air support equipment and operations would allow PRTs
to focus more on delivering services to the Afghan people and less on adminis-
trative tasks. More funding to implement a wider array of reconstruction projects
would also help PRTs have a greater impact in the countryside.
Second, the number of Army civil affairs teams working with PRTs and
interacting with the Afghan population should be increased. Expecting eight
people to cover an entire province – or even a provincial district – and have a
meaningful impact is unrealistic. The number of civil affairs teams should be
reviewed to determine whether and where increases could be most beneficial.
Third, civilian and military personnel must better coordinate their activities to
achieve their objectives more effectively. The interagency community should
develop clear guidance outlining the roles and responsibilities of each department
or agency participating in a PRT. The security threats facing the United States have
evolved from large armies on battlefields to small insurgent groups operating within
civilian populations. To address contemporary threats, diplomats, cultural experts,
and soldiers must be able to work together effectively. This will require a mental
shift in Washington as bureaucrats evolve from viewing each other as competitors
to seeing each other as partners. Career-long, interagency training and deployments,
such as were implemented within the armed services under the Goldwater–Nichols
Act of 1986, would be an important step in implementing this goal.
Fourth, PRT commanders should be encouraged to incorporate non-DoD rep-
resentatives into PRT decision-making. While different departments are tasked
with overseeing different objectives (military officers should focus on security,
for example, while State Department officials should focus on governance) the
successful reconstruction of Afghanistan will ultimately depend on all depart-
ments and agencies achieving their goals. An important step in realizing this
goal will be to increase the number of civilian personnel serving on PRTs, from
one per department to two, or even four or six. By working together effectively,
and by incorporating civilian expertise into the decision-making process, PRTs
can be more valuable to the citizens of Afghanistan and the world.
Fifth, PRT commanders should do their utmost to create positive relation-
ships with IGOs/NGOs operating in Afghanistan. Intergovernmental organi-
zations and NGOs will continue to play a valuable role in the long-term
development of Afghanistan. PRT commanders should focus on the most inse-
cure parts of the country where IGOs/NGOs cannot operate due to a lack of
infrastructure or security. Additionally, mutually acceptable means of communi-
cation and information sharing should be established between IGOs, NGOs, and
PRTs. Such systems could take the form of Internet websites, Humanitarian
 Civil–military teams in Afghanistan 151
Information Centers, Humanitarian Operation Centers, out-of-country meetings,
or organizational liaisons. While it will be difficult to overcome many of the
stereotypes and tensions that have developed between PRTs (which use force to
implement political goals) and IGOs/NGOs (which are dedicated to impartial,
neutral relief activities), ultimately it is in the interest of all groups to create a
secure, prosperous Afghanistan. By respecting each other and cooperating –
though not necessarily collaborating – PRTs, NGOs, and IGOs all stand to
improve the chances of realizing their goals and objectives.
Sixth, PRTs should increase the participation of local Afghans in reconstruc-
tion and security-building activities. Ultimately, the Afghan people will have to
take responsibility for their own country. PRTs can help them prepare for ensur-
ing security and promoting development. Close relationships with Afghan
nationals will give PRTs greater credibility as they interact with local popula-
tions, as well as instill the understanding that the Afghan Central Government is
taking charge of the country.
Implementing these recommendations will be expensive and politically difficult.
At a NATO meeting in Riga, Latvia on 28 November 2006, NATO leaders hailed
efforts to relax the curbs on deployment that many member states had placed on
their troops in Afghanistan.28 Under strong pressure from the United States, several
NATO members will now allow their troops to operate where they are needed
most, along the southern and eastern border with Pakistan. Additionally, a few
countries offered to commit more soldiers to the effort and France agreed to send
more helicopters and aircraft. Despite the diplomatic efforts expended, however,
these measures will result in the movement of approximately 2,500 troops into the
theater of operations, and will have an extremely limited impact on winning the
support of ordinary Afghans. The relatively modest efforts made to “win the peace”
in Afghanistan are unfortunate. The international community failed to engage
Afghanistan after the Soviet withdrawal in 1979, which led to the rise of the
Taliban and its support of al Qaeda and Osama bin Laden. To a very large degree
the international community is again failing to engage Afghanistan, and the con-
sequences could be disastrous. PRTs represent the best strategy to stabilize the mili-
tary and political situation in Afghanistan to promote its economic development,
and to support its fledgling central government. With adequate support they may
yet meet this incredible challenge. Without adequate support they will not, and the
world will be a much more dangerous place.

Notes
1 Provincial Reconstruction Teams in Afghanistan: An Interagency Assessment.
USAID document, June 2006.
2 Gerard McHugh and Lola Gostelow, Provincial Reconstruction Teams and Humanitarian–
Military Relations in Afghanistan, study prepared by Save the Children, 2004.
3 Stephen Krasner and Carlos Pascual, “Addressing State Failure,” Foreign Affairs, vol.
84, no. 4 (July/August 2005).
4 Robert Perito, USIP Special Report 152, “The U.S. Experience with Provincial
Reconstruction Teams in Afghanistan,” October 2005.
152 N. Tomb
5 Michael McNerney, “Stabilization and Reconstruction in Afghanistan: Are PRTs a
Model or a Muddle?” Parameters (Winter 2005–6).
6 CRS Report for Congress: “Afghanistan: Post-War Governance, Security and U.S.
Policy,” 23 August 2006.
7 Perito, “The U.S. Experience with Provincial Reconstruction Teams in Afghanistan.”
8 Interview with MAJ Glenn Woodson, U.S. Army Civil Affairs and Psychological
Operations Command, 31 October 2006.
9 Provincial Reconstruction Teams in Afghanistan.
10 Ibid.
11 Interview with Woodson.
12 Andrew Natsios, “The Nine Principles of Reconstruction and Development,” Para-
meters, vol. 35, no. 3, 22 September 2005.
13 Thomas Johnson and M. Chris Mason, “Understanding the Taliban and Insurgency in
Afghanistan,” Orbis: A Journal of World Affairs, vol. 51, no. 1 (2007).
14 Conference Report, “Humanitarian Roles in Insecure Environments,” prepared by the
Center for Stabilization and Reconstruction Studies, Naval Postgraduate School,
January 2005.
15 Michael Dziedzic and Michael Seidl, USIP Special Report 147, “Provincial Recon-
struction Teams and Military Relations with International and Nongovernmental
Organizations in Afghanistan,” September 2005.
16 Kate Wiltrout, “Navy’s Role in Afghanistan Grows,” Virginia Pilot (21 May 2006).
17 “Navy Offers Advancement Points as Part of New IA Initiatives,” Navy Newsstand
(17 October 2006).
18 Ibid.
19 “CNO Meets with PRT Commanders Headed to Afghanistan,” Navy Newsstand, (15
April 2006).
20 Wiltrout, “Navy’s Role in Afghanistan Grows.”
21 Johnson and Mason, “Understanding the Taliban and Insurgency in Afghanistan.”
22 Interview with Woodson.
23 The Economist Pocket World in Figures, 2006 edition.
24 CIA World Factbook, https://cia.gov/cia/publications/factbook/geos/af.html (accessed
4 November 2006).
25 David Rohde and James Risen, “C.I.A. Review Highlights Afghan Leader’s Woes,”
New York Times (5 November 2006).
26 “NATO Hails Shift on Afghan Combat,” BBC News, http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/
europe/6191504.stm (accessed 29 November 2006).
27 Thomas Johnson, “The Other War We Are Losing,” presentation at the Common
Wealth Club of California, San Francisco, 16 November 2006.
28 “NATO Hails Shift on Afghan Combat.”
11 A small intervention
Lessons from Liberia 2003
Alan J. Kuperman

Despite logistical limitations and potential unintended consequences,1 humani-

tarian military intervention into ongoing conflicts can in some cases save many
lives with relatively small military force deployments. An excellent example, in
2003, was Joint Task Force (JTF) Liberia. Comprising only a single Marine
amphibious ready group (MARG) of just over 2,000 troops, and deploying only
320 of those troops ashore, the operation facilitated the end of a civil war,
helped avert a bloodbath, and paved the way for a democratic transition in a
country that had long been wracked by violence.
The remarkable success of JTF Liberia is underscored by comparison to a
previous U.S. military operation in the same country. In 1990, Liberia had
experienced instability quite similar to that in 2003. In both cases, two rebel
groups converged on the capital, threatening to overthrow the president, and the
United States deployed a MARG offshore. But in 1990, the U.S. troops avoided
entanglement in Liberia’s internal conflict and instead conducted only a non-
combatant evacuation operation (NEO) of foreign nationals. The rebels pro-
ceeded to occupy the capital and assassinate the president, triggering 13 years of
civil war in Liberia that killed tens of thousands and sparked wars in neighbor-
ing Sierra Leone and Ivory Coast that killed tens of thousands more.
The stark contrast between the outcomes in 2003 and 1990 raises tantalizing
questions: Did the relatively small JTF Liberia really account for the vastly
improved outcome in 2003, and if so, how? Were other preconditions essential
for success? Most important, can this operation serve as a model for future suc-
cessful U.S. humanitarian military intervention without large ground forces?
The remainder of this chapter responds to these questions.

Similar crises + different U.S. missions = vastly different

outcomes
The crises and interventions of 1990 and 2003 had much in common, yet they
led to vastly different outcomes, making them ideal for comparative study.
There were several significant similarities between the two events: in each case
the capital, Monrovia, was besieged in a pincer by two rebel groups; the United
States deployed offshore a MARG of about 2,000 troops; and West African
154 A. J. Kuperman
states initially deployed about 3,500 peacekeepers into Liberia in hopes of facili-
tating a cease-fire. In both cases, it was hoped that intervention would be fol-
lowed by a transitional government and democratic elections. But the former
intervention led to chaos while the latter produced stability.
The roots of both crises date to 1980. Until then, Liberia had been ruled by
a small elite descended from the former American slaves who founded the
country in 1822, rather than the 14 native tribes that comprise more than 90
percent of the population. This changed in 1980 when the army launched a
coup, killing President William Tolbert and replacing him with Master
Sergeant Samuel K. Doe, a member of the small Krahn tribe. In 1985, Doe
won rigged elections, but then faced a coup attempt himself. He defeated the
putsch and retaliated brutally against the Gio and Mano tribes of central
Liberia that he suspected of supporting it.
In late 1989, Charles Taylor, a former Doe official who had fled six years
earlier under corruption charges, invaded the country with a small rebel group –
the National Patriotic Front of Liberia (NPFL). Taylor easily recruited sup-
porters among the alienated Gio and Mano tribes, and within months controlled
much of central Liberia, converging on Monrovia from the east.2 In February
1990, one of Taylor’s top deputies, Prince Johnson, split off and formed his own
rebel group, the Independent National Patriotic Front of Liberia (INPFL), which
converged on the capital from the north. By July 1990, Johnson controlled the
free port that was Monrovia’s commercial lifeline, Taylor held Roberts Inter-
national Airport, and Doe was holed up in his presidential mansion in the
capital, as the two rebel groups closed their pincer around him. Thousands of
civilians, especially of tribes not associated with the rebels, sought refuge in
Monrovia, where the humanitarian situation grew increasingly desperate.3

1990: avoiding involvement exacerbates chaos

The U.S. military response to the first crisis began on 25 May 1990, when
MARG 2–90 was ordered to deploy to Liberia in preparation for a noncombatant
evacuation operation. The MARG included four ships, the 2,100 Marines of the
22nd Marine Expeditionary Unit (MEU), 11 transport helicopters, four Cobra
attack helicopters, and ten AV-8B Harrier jets.4 A two-person, forward command
element arrived at the Monrovia embassy on 31 May. On 1 June the State Depart-
ment ordered all non-essential personnel to leave Liberia.5 The MARG, which
had been in France, required just two days to load out, and arrived off the coast of
Monrovia on 3 June. During the next two months, however, as the rebels con-
verged on the capital, the MARG did nothing in Liberia.
That changed on 4 August, when INPFL leader Prince Johnson declared he
would begin seizing Westerners the next day to compel international inter-
vention. Strangely, he believed that this action would facilitate his assumption of
power. On 5 August, the MARG commenced evacuation Operation Sharp Edge.
A reinforced rifle company of 237 Marines deployed via helicopter to the U.S.
embassy to protect it, provide logistics, and organize the bulk of the evacuation.
 Lessons from Liberia 155
Two other small units deployed briefly via helicopter to evacuate 21 Americans
from two intelligence communication sites used by the Voice of America. Eight
days later, on 13 August, the embassy contingent was downsized to 65 Marines.
On 20 August, MARG 2–90 was relieved by MARG 3–90 including the 26th
MEU.6 Over the next five months, the operation evacuated 2,400 foreign nation-
als, including 226 Americans, and flew 1,600 helicopter sorties of logistics to
the embassy, including 35,500 gallons of fuel in 500-gallon bladders.7 But U.S.
forces did not intervene in the Liberian conflict to reduce violence or even
provide humanitarian assistance – they simply enabled the evacuation. The oper-
ation terminated and the Marines departed the coast of Liberia on 9 January
1991.
In the absence of U.S. intervention, Liberia’s West African neighbors, who
were inundated with refugees from the conflict, attempted to manage the situ-
ation themselves. On 6 August 1990, a Standing Mediation Committee of five
neighbors approved a plan for an immediate cease-fire, deployment of peace-
keeping troops from the Economic Community of West African States
(ECOWAS) to monitor the cease-fire, establishment of an interim government,
and eventual elections. On 24 August, 4,000 peacekeepers, primarily Nigerians,
began deploying to Liberia under the banner of the ECOWAS Monitoring
Group (ECOMOG). But there was no cease-fire for them to monitor. Although
Johnson welcomed the intervention openly, and Doe may have done so tacitly,
Taylor’s rebels attacked the peacekeepers upon their arrival.8
President Doe initially clung to his office, perhaps encouraged by the U.S.
troop presence offshore. As one Western diplomat explained in June 1990:
“Sending the Marines here has sent Doe the wrong signal. He thinks he can hang
on until the bitter end.”9 In defiance of Doe, Liberian civil-society figures
appointed a new acting president and interim government at a meeting in Banjul,
Gambia on 2 September 1990.10 A week later, while Doe was visiting
ECOMOG headquarters in Monrovia, the peacekeepers permitted the rebel
leader Prince Johnson to enter the site. Johnson and his men seized Doe, tortured
him, and then executed him at the peacekeeping headquarters.11
Rather than containing Liberia’s civil war, the poorly disciplined ECOMOG
troops became party to it – not merely battling armed elements but engaging in
widespread looting and violence against civilians.12 By November 1990, an esti-
mated one-half of Liberia’s population of two million had fled as refugees to
neighboring states, and others were displaced internally.13 In 1991, former
government troops formed their own rebel group, the United Liberation Move-
ment of Liberia for Democracy (ULIMO), and other groups subsequently arose
or split off from existing ones. Taylor, seeking diamond revenue and angry at
neighboring Sierra Leone for providing a base for the ECOMOG force, spread
the war to that country in 1991 by sponsoring the Revolutionary United Front
(RUF), which soon became infamous for hacking off the limbs of children as a
method of intimidation.
Liberia’s civil war raged on for seven years in this initial phase, interrupted
only by temporary peace plans and cease-fires that Taylor typically broke
156 A. J. Kuperman
because he had no intention of sharing power.14 (Indeed, the U.S. military was
compelled to conduct a second NEO, Operation Assured Response, in spring
1996, evacuating an estimated 2,444 foreign nationals, including 485 Ameri-
cans.)15 Ultimately, the international community and Liberians acquiesced to
Taylor’s ascension to power. During implementation of the 1996 Abuja II peace
agreement, ECOMOG disarmed Liberia’s weaker rebel factions but failed to
confront Taylor’s prior to organizing elections. Because Taylor still controlled
most of the country, the war-weary Liberian populace opted for peace by elect-
ing him president in July 1997. Stability was achieved, at least temporarily, but
only after seven years of war that had cost tens of thousands of lives in both
Liberia and Sierra Leone.

2003: intervention leads to democratic transition

Despite his electoral mandate, Charles Taylor continued to rule by force. His
army, police, and militias exacted a severe toll on civilians, especially the Krahn
and Mandingo ethnic groups associated with the preceding Doe regime. Accord-
ing to one retrospective report: “The militias were generally unpaid and engaged
in widespread intimidation, extortion and looting of the general population and
internally displaced persons.”16
By 1999, remnants of Doe’s forces had combined with exile groups to form a
new rebel movement, the Liberians United for Reconciliation and Democracy
(LURD), which in 2002 splintered, creating the Movement for Democracy in
Liberia (MODEL). The LURD eventually comprised 3,000 to 5,000 mainly
Mandingo fighters, based in northern and central Liberia, while MODEL grew
to 1,500–3,000 mainly Krahn rebels, concentrated in southern and eastern
Liberia. Taylor inadvertently helped the rebels by his foreign adventurism. In

Figure 11.1 Two rebel groups converge on Monrovia in 2003.17

 Lessons from Liberia 157

Figure 11.2 LURD rebels drive refugees into Monrovia.18

2000, his forces crossed into Guinea in search of diamonds, but that country
took revenge by supporting the LURD. In 2001, the UN imposed an arms
embargo on Liberia due to Taylor’s support of Sierra Leonean rebels.19 In 2002,
he supported two rebel factions in neighboring Ivory Coast, but that government
retaliated by backing MODEL.20
Although the rebels were ragtag, included many child soldiers, they made
steady progress against Taylor’s forces, who were handicapped by their own
child soldiers, poor morale, drugs, alcohol, and the arms embargo. By June
2003, Taylor found himself in the same position as Doe in 1990, facing two
rebel groups converging on the capital in a pincer – the LURD from the north
and MODEL from the east (see Figure 11.1). On 17 June ECOWAS mediated a
temporary halt in the fighting.21 But within days the crisis escalated as the
cease-fire failed and the LURD advanced to occupy part of Bushrod Island, imme-
diately north of Monrovia and home to the free port that is the capital’s lifeline. By
late July, the LURD held the free port, while MODEL had captured Liberia’s
second city, Buchanan, and its port east of Monrovia.22 See Figure 11.2.
The reaction of the United States and ECOWAS was initially similar to that
in 1990, but it then evolved in important ways. On 9 June 2003, the United
States ordered Operation Shining Express, led by the USS Kearsarge, to deploy
to the coast of Liberia in preparation for possible evacuation of noncombatants.
President George W. Bush also called on Taylor to step down, but initially to no
avail. On 2 July, ECOWAS authorized a peacekeeping operation called the
158 A. J. Kuperman
ECOWAS Mission in Liberia (ECOMIL).23 On 17 July, the United States
ordered formation of Joint Task Force Liberia, which required 12 days to stand
up, including four days’ travel to the theater from the Horn of Africa – so that on
29 July it took up positions 20 miles off the coast of Monrovia.24 On 1 August,
the United Nations authorized ECOWAS to utilize in Liberia assets from a UN
peacekeeping mission in Sierra Leone. This set the stage for the order of battle
shown in Figure 11.3.
The military assets of JTF Liberia were limited but well suited to the chosen
tactics (see Figure 11.4). The core of the task force was the Iwo Jima amphibi-
ous ready group, comprising three ships, and the 26th MEU, comprising 2,200
Marines, 24 aircraft, and motorized vehicles for combat and support.25 In addi-
tion, the 398th Air Expeditionary Group was attached to evacuate noncombat-
ants. To insure that ECOMIL forces were suitably prepared for the operation,
they were assessed in advance through site visits by the Army 1st Battalion, 10th
Special Forces Group. The headquarters for the operation was a continent away,
at the U.S. Army Europe’s 21st Theater Support Command near Vicenza, Italy.
Active liaison was conducted with the U.S. Embassy in Monrovia and with
ECOWAS.26 Logistics – including housing, office equipment, communications,
and stores – were provided by a private contractor, Pacific Architects and Engi-
neers Incorporated (PAE).

Government
Army 12,000
Irregular forces 10,000
Rebels
LURD 5,000
MODEL 3,000
Interveners
ECOMIL (Nigeria-led) 3,500
U.S.A. 2,200

Figure 11.3 Order of battle in Liberia, 2003 (source: the author).

• Iwo Jima ARG (3 ships)

• 26th Marine Expeditionary Unit
– 2,200 marines
– 24 aircraft
– combat and support vehicles
• 398th Air Expeditionary Group (for NEO)
• Army 1st Btln, 10th Special Forces Group (to assess
ECOMIL contributors)
• U.S. Army Europe’s 21st Theater Support Command
• Contractor logistics (PAE): housing, office equipment,
communication, stores, etc.
• Liaison with U.S. Embassy and ECOWAS

Figure 11.4 JTF Liberia – force structure (source: the author).

 Lessons from Liberia 159
President Taylor, under pressure militarily from the rebels and diplomatically
from the international community, announced on 2 August that he would leave
office on 11 August.27 On 4 August, with Taylor’s permission, ECOMIL entered
the country, initially deploying by air its first Nigerian battalion (NIBATT-1) to
secure Roberts International Airport, approximately 40 km east of downtown
Monrovia.28 ECOMIL’s mission was primarily to establish separation zones
between the belligerent factions, as well as corridors for humanitarian assis-
tance. Its two main battalions were Nigerian, comprising 1,500 troops, but seven
other West African countries contributed to three other battalions, for an even-
tual force of about 3,500 troops in-country by 10 September.29
On 7 August, Taylor delivered his resignation to Liberia’s Congress. On that
same day ECOMIL troops at the airport intercepted a shipment of arms and
ammunition destined for the government, thereby undercutting Taylor’s ability
to hold power by force, if he still entertained that option.30 On 11 August, as
pledged, Taylor left the country for asylum in Nigeria, and the U.S. MARG
deployed closer to the capital, within sight barely three miles offshore.
The day of 14 August was perhaps the most important of the military opera-
tion. The United States deployed 320 troops ashore, including 150 Marines to
Roberts Airport as a quick reaction force (QRF), and an 80-Marine engineering
unit to Bushrod Island to rehabilitate the free port. The task force also com-
menced air patrols, covering the deployment by land of ECOMIL’s second
Nigerian battalion (NIBATT-2) from the airport, where it had arrived from
Sierra Leone, to Bushrod Island. At the same time, the LURD withdrew from
Bushrod to positions above the Po River, as it had agreed after Taylor departed
and in anticipation of ECOMIL’s arrival. Four days later the government and
both rebel groups signed a comprehensive peace agreement, authorizing
ECOMIL to protect senior officials, monitor cantonment of weapons, and
prepare for demobilization, disarmament, rehabilitation, and reintegration
(DDRR) of fighters. On the same day, President Bush announced that U.S.
troops would withdraw by 1 October.31
On 24 August, having spent only 11 days ashore, the QRF returned to the
ships, now positioned off Bushrod Island. Despite the absence of U.S. ground
support, ECOWAS troops quelled looting in the capital, rather than perpetrat-
ing it as they had in 1990. Indeed, the peacekeepers were so disciplined that
they reportedly succeeded “without firing a shot.”32 ECOMIL barely had
enough peacekeepers for its mission in the capital, so violence continued in
the countryside, but on 8 September the mission did attempt to send a deter-
rent signal by deploying 55 troops to two towns 150 km north of the capital,
covered by the JTF’s aerial reconnaissance.33 On 19 September, the United
Nations approved a new United Nations Mission in Liberia (UNMIL), absorb-
ing the 3,500 ECOMIL forces and authorizing an increase to 15,000 troops,
while expanding the mandate to include port security, facilitation of humani-
tarian aid, implementation of DDRR, security-sector reform, protection of
civilians, and preparation for democratic elections.34 On 26 September, the
MARG deployed back over the horizon, and the last JTF troop departed
160 A. J. Kuperman

Figure 11.5 Humanitarian access to rural Liberia via Monrovia.35

Liberia four days later. On 1 October, ECOMIL was formally re-hatted as a

UN mission.36 See Figure 11.5.
Little more than a year later, in December 2004, UNMIL declared that it had
demobilized 100,000 fighters and collected 27,000 weapons.37 The following
year, in November 2005, Ellen Sirleaf-Johnson was elected president. In March
2006, Nigeria announced plans to revoke Charles Taylor’s asylum and hand him
to the special court for war crimes in Sierra Leone, which it did after he briefly
escaped and was recaptured at the Cameroon border. See Figure 11.6 for a time-
line of the 2003 crisis.
The contrast in outcomes between 1990 and 2003 is stark. In the earlier case,
U.S. forces evacuated foreign nationals and then departed, allowing Liberia to
descend into a civil war that spread to its neighbors and killed tens of thousands
over the next 13 years. In the later case, U.S. forces worked with neighboring
states, especially Nigeria, to end Liberia’s civil war and facilitate a peaceful
democratization. At the time of this writing, Liberia remains a stable democracy.

Keys to strategy: diplomacy, alliances, and coercion

JTF Liberia aimed to accomplish a lot, with limited resources, through efficient
tactics that served as a force multiplier, and managed to achieve all four of its
 Lessons from Liberia 161

• 17–25 June – Ceasefire breaks down; LURD partly occupies Bushrod Island
• 2 July – ECOWAS authorizes ECOMIL
• 17 July – U.S. order to form JTF; 12 days to stand up (including four days travel)
• 29 July – MARG arrives 20 miles offshore
• 4 Aug – ECOMIL deploys to secure airport with NIBATT-1
• 11 Aug – Taylor goes into exile; MARG moves to three miles offshore
• 14 Aug – U.S. QRF to airport, engineers to port; NIBATT-2 to Bushrod; LURD withdraws
• 18 Aug – CPA signed by GOL, LURD, MODEL; Bush announces withdrawal by 1 Oct
• 24 Aug – QRF back to ships (nearer Bushrod)
• 8 Sept – ECOMIL deploys beyond capital
• 30 Sept – Last Marines deploy back to ship
• 1 Oct – ECOMIL (3,500 troops) transfer to UNMIL (15,000 troops)
***
• Nov 2005 – Sirleaf-Johnson elected president
• Mar 2006 – Nigeria revokes Taylor’s asylum and remands him to Special Court

Figure 11.6 Timeline of 2003 crisis (source: the author).

stated objectives in sequence: political, security, humanitarian, and transition

(see Figure 11.7). Politically, the goal was to facilitate the peaceful departure of
Charles Taylor, to avoid a bloody culminating battle between government forces
and the rebels as well as possible follow-on hostilities between rebel factions
fighting over the spoils. In the security realm, the task force aimed not to func-
tion as a robust ground presence itself, but rather to facilitate the operations of
ECOMIL. That enabled African peacekeepers to secure checkpoints, control the
airport to block resupply of arms to Taylor’s government, and insure the with-
drawal of rebel forces from Bushrod Island to permit unfettered humanitarian
access to the seaport. On the humanitarian front, the goal was to restore Mon-
rovia’s seaport to enable delivery of relief supplies to tens of thousands of civil-
ians already displaced by the rebel advance. The task force also aimed to
facilitate two transitions: installing an interim government to replace Taylor’s
regime; and handing off the international role from JTF Liberia and ECOMIL to
a new UN mission.38
To facilitate Taylor’s departure, the United States employed three diplomatic
tactics. First, Washington prevailed upon Nigeria to offer asylum to the Liberian
president. Second, America gave the rebels a tacit green light to converge on
Monrovia until Taylor departed. Third, the United States refused to deploy its
forces ashore until Taylor departed.39 This conveyed to Taylor that, if he
remained in Liberia, the rebels would soon capture and possibly kill him, and
the United States would not deploy to protect him, but that he had a soft landing
in Nigeria if he were willing to take it, which ultimately he did. The subsequent
revocation of Taylor’s asylum was applauded by human-rights organizations,
but it could impede diplomatic resolution of future conflicts by discouraging
besieged leaders from accepting asylum offers and encouraging them to fight to
the end.
Militarily, JTF Liberia employed five main tactics. Most importantly, it
deployed a quick reaction force of 150 troops to Roberts Airport. Although this
162 A. J. Kuperman
troop level was quite modest, the combination of U.S. ground presence and
rapid-reaction capability from on- and offshore assured the Nigerian peacekeep-
ers that they could deploy from the airport to Bushrod Island without fear of
ambush or being constrained to use gratuitous force that might have sparked
hostilities with local forces. The onshore U.S. presence also facilitated deter-
rence of local forces, including MODEL rebels who had been advancing on
Monrovia from the east. See Figure 11.7.
The second tactic was flying air patrols over Monrovia – initially employing
Harrier jets and Cobra helicopters, and subsequently P-3 aircraft – for reconnais-
sance, rapid reaction (if necessary), and deterrence. Third, the MARG moved
from 20 miles to three miles offshore so that it could be seen from the city and
Bushrod Island (where LURD rebels were located) to enhance the deterrent
factor. Fourth, information operations communicated deterrent threats to Liberi-
ans via radio, newspaper, and leaflets, underscoring that U.S. forces were willing
and able to react quickly if anyone challenged the peace process. Finally, 80
Marines conducted engineering to rehabilitate the seaport.40
Rather than employing a large U.S. occupation force, such as was sent to
Somalia in 1992, JTF Liberia succeeded through diplomacy, alliances, and coer-
cion. Diplomacy facilitated the voluntary departure of Charles Taylor by grant-
ing him asylum in Nigeria, so that government forces and rebels did not have to
fight to the bitter end in Monrovia. Alliances meant that most of the ground
forces needed to occupy strategic locations – Roberts Airport, Bushrod Island,
and key checkpoints – were supplied by Nigeria, which reduced the demand for
American troops and thereby made it easier logistically and politically for the
United States to intervene. Coercion was achieved by demonstrating U.S.
resolve – through air patrols, gunboat diplomacy, information operations,
deployment of the ground-based quick reaction force, and maintenance of a
reserve force offshore – to deter any challenge to ECOMIL, humanitarian relief,
or American forces.

Objectives Tactics

• Political: Taylor’s departure • QRF to airport

• Humanitarian: Open ports • Engineers to seaport
• Transition: Facilitate shift to • Air patrols
UN and transitional government • MARG near shore
• Security: Facilitate ECOMIL • Info ops (radio, newspaper,
deployment so that it can: leaflets)
– Secure checkpoints
– Ensure withdrawal of rebel
forces; pacify port and
Bushrod
– Control airport (block arms
imports to Taylor)

Figure 11.7 JTF Liberia’s objectives and tactics (source: the author).
 Lessons from Liberia 163
A new model of intervention?
Some have credited the U.S.–ECOMIL multilateral intervention for Liberia’s
happy ending in 2003, asserting that it represents a new model for effective
intervention without significant use of force. For example, the ECOWAS after-
action review states: “Success of ECOMIL was achieved without firing a shot
and without any major complaints from the warring factions about the legality or
legitimacy of the intervention. . . . [It] forestalled great loss of life, indescribable
suffering and widespread destruction.”41 Likewise, the U.S. Army’s Southern
European Task Force (SETAF) characterized the intervention as follows: “An
unqualified success, this mission serves as a highly successful model for future
support and stability operations.”42
Before jumping to such conclusions, however, it is necessary to explore two
questions. Does the U.S.-led military intervention really deserve credit for
Liberia’s positive outcome in 2003, or were there other differences from 1990
that may explain the improved outcome in the later case? To the extent that the
2003 intervention does deserve credit in Liberia, would such an operation be
likely to succeed in other conflicts?
Compared to 1990, there were at least four different circumstances in 2003 –
other than the extent of U.S. military intervention – that help account for
Liberia’s soft landing. First, unlike Samuel Doe in 1990, President Charles
Taylor agreed to leave the country, thereby eliminating the rebels’ main casus
belli. Since the rebels no longer had to capture Monrovia to remove the presid-
ent, they were willing to accept a cease-fire that truncated fighting against
government forces and averted a potential subsequent battle among the rebels.
Ironically, in 1990, the United States had considered but rejected a similar plan,
according to former U.S. Assistant Secretary of State for Africa, Herman Cohen:

In the State Department’s Africa Bureau at the time [1990], we proposed a

dramatic diplomatic intervention that would have taken the then President
Samuel Doe into exile in a U.S. military aircraft, opened the border into
Sierra Leone to help Doe’s incompetent army escape slaughter, and allowed
Charles Taylor to take power with a minimum loss of additional blood.
While this proposal was approved by the highest levels in the State Depart-
ment, it was vetoed at the National Security Council level.43

The second difference in 2003 was that ECOWAS forces were better trained
prior to deployment, which helps explain why they did not loot or become party
to Liberia’s war as in 1990. This is especially true of NIBATT-2, the ECOMOG
battalion that had the most sensitive role in 2003, deploying by land from the
airport to occupy Bushrod Island as the LURD rebels withdrew. Had the Niger-
ian troops resorted to gratuitous force in 2003, as in 1990, they might have pro-
voked the rebels into breaking the cease-fire agreement. But NIBATT-2 had
undergone special training under Operation Focus Relief, the U.S. program from
2000–2 to train African troops for peacekeeping in Sierra Leone.44 According to
164 A. J. Kuperman
a November 2003 presentation by U.S. Deputy Assistant Secretary of Defense
Theresa Whelan:

Operation Focus Relief-trained battalions remain cohesive units today and

one was actually deployed to Liberia this August [2003]. Based on UN
reports . . . NIBATT-2 in Liberia these days stands above the other African
units in terms of its professionalism and its conduct of its mission in the
field.45

The third difference in 2003 was that all Liberian forces – rebel and govern-
ment – welcomed the ECOWAS intervention. By contrast, in 1990, Charles
Taylor’s rebels attacked the ECOMOG troops upon arrival. Had any Liberian
forces done likewise in 2003, it is not clear that the lightly equipped ECOMIL
troops could have repelled them without greater intervention by U.S. ground
forces. As noted in a retrospective analysis of ECOMIL by one of its senior offi-
cials: “One should not lose sight of the operational limitations that attended
these efforts and that could have undermined its effectiveness, especially if the
parties had shown less commitment to the cease-fire agreement.”46
The fourth difference in 2003 was that the United Nations eventually sent
more than 15,000 troops and police to consolidate the peace. UNMIL stemmed
violence in the countryside that U.S. and ECOMIL forces had failed to address,
and also facilitated humanitarian assistance, demobilization, and democratic
transition.47 By contrast, following the 1990 ECOMOG intervention, the United
Nations never deployed more than 400 uniformed personnel in its United
Nations Observer Mission in Liberia (UNOMIL) operation from 1993–7.48 If not
for the robust follow-on UN force in 2003, it is possible that Liberia would have
fallen back into civil war, so that today we would instead ask why the U.S. and
ECOMIL interventions had failed.
Although the above factors contributed significantly to success in 2003, the
U.S. intervention also played two crucial roles. First, American diplomacy
facilitated the exit of Taylor, which was essential to achieving the cease-fire.
Second, the U.S. deployment of a quick reaction force and air patrol enabled the
rapid deployment of ECOMIL, thereby averting a security vacuum in Monrovia
that could have reignited violence. Thus, the direct American military impact
was brief – in the second week of August 2003 – but potentially decisive. After
it enabled ECOMIL to deploy successfully to Bushrod Island on 14 August, the
American mission was essentially completed, so President Bush announced four
days later that U.S. forces would withdraw from Liberia by 1 October.
The United States also managed to avoid errors that have caused interven-
tions elsewhere to backfire terribly. Supporting rebels to overthrow a govern-
ment can trigger disaster if that government responds by escalating violence –
including ethnic cleansing and genocide – in a desperate attempt to retain power
and to protect itself from the retribution that can follow rebel victory. To prevent
intervention from backfiring in this manner, potential interveners should follow
several guidelines: do not attempt to overturn domestic power balances
 Lessons from Liberia 165
overnight; offer “golden parachutes,” including asylum, to oppressive leaders
willing to leave office peacefully; and avoid coercive diplomacy unless there is
international political will for a robust preventive military deployment to guard
against potential escalation of violence.49 The 2003 intervention in Liberia was
consistent with these guidelines: the peace plan did not disenfranchise officials
of the previous regime but rather incorporated them in the transitional govern-
ment; Taylor was offered asylum in Nigeria; and the United States and
ECOWAS preventively deployed a military force that was sufficiently robust in
comparison to potential opponents.
But the U.S. success in Liberia should not be extrapolated too broadly
because it depended on several idiosyncrasies. First, the adversaries in Liberia –
as is typical in West Africa but not in other zones of instability – were remark-
ably feeble and easily deterred. The rebels had a combined strength of less than
8,000, of whom 80 percent were estimated to be child soldiers,50 leaving fewer
than 2,000 adult fighters. Moreover, the rebels lacked heavy weapons or train-
ing, abused drugs and alcohol, and had no mobilizing ideology such as religion
or nationalism. The government’s forces were evidently even weaker, consider-
ing that they were losing to these ragtag rebels. Because West Africa commonly
has such feeble forces, small military interventions by advanced industrialized
states have repeatedly proved capable of imposing peace. For example, in Sierra
Leone in 1997, a mere 200 mercenaries from the South African company Execu-
tive Outcomes, using helicopter gunships and recruiting local militia, were able
to defeat the RUF rebels in a matter of days. Three years later in Sierra Leone,
after the mercenaries were dismissed and the RUF resurged, a British inter-
vention of only 1,000 troops definitively defeated the rebels. Likewise, in Ivory
Coast in late 2002, 4,000 French peacekeepers successfully imposed a cease-fire
in a country of 17 million.
Such feats are unimaginable elsewhere in Africa or most other conflict
regions. In Somalia in 1992, for example, 37,000 U.S.-led peacekeepers were
unable to impose peace on a populace of eight million. Likewise, in Iraq since
2003, a U.S.-led occupation by over 130,000 troops has failed to bring stability.
Second, although ethnicity played a role in Liberia’s conflict, it never fos-
tered the levels of fear or violence found in other conflicts, such as in Central
Africa or the Balkans. Liberia’s government forces drew heavily from the Gio
and Mano tribes, while the LURD was mainly Mandingo, and MODEL largely
Krahn. But at the time of intervention, according to Lansana Gberie, there was
“little rancour among these former ‘enemies’ ” because the conflict had been
“largely a mercenary and opportunistic enterprise, with no ideological and little
ethnic basis.”51
Third, unlike in many other conflicts or previously in Liberia, by 2003 all
sides were exhausted by war and welcomed U.S. intervention. As Herman
Cohen explained with only slight exaggeration in July 2003: “The Liberians are
all saying, ‘Please come in and help us. We want the Americans here.’ The
Liberians were never a colony of the United States. They’re trying to become a
colony in a sense.”52
166 A. J. Kuperman
Conclusion: when limited intervention can work
In light of today’s over-commitment of the U.S. military, the choice in dealing
with future regional contingencies may be between a limited intervention in the
conflict or simply evacuating foreign nationals. The case of Liberia, especially
the contrast between 1990 and 2003, indicates that, under the appropriate cir-
cumstances, a limited intervention can produce a much better outcome than an
evacuation.
In summer 2003, Africa experts and humanitarians claimed the United States
was risking calamity by not sending a larger force ashore in Liberia. On the New
York Times op-ed page, a UN human rights officer warned: “Holding American
soldiers back in deference to a regional force that has been demonstrably brutal
and misguided is a grave mistake.”53 Similarly, a former U.S. ambassador to
Africa declared in a Washington Post op-ed: “To do this right, the United States
should plan from the outset for a force of 1,500 to 2,000 U.S. troops, supported
by 2,000 to 3,000 West African troops. We should plan to stay nine to 12
months.”54
The United States defied these doomsayers. It deployed a peak of only 320
troops ashore and then withdrew most of them 11 days later. Despite this cir-
cumscription, none of the predicted nightmare scenarios materialized and peace
was achieved.
Such a small deployment will not always be appropriate or effective. In some
cases, such as Bosnia, a larger force may be necessary to deter or coerce
stronger potential opponents. In other cases, such as Iraq, even a large force may
be inadequate to the task. In still other cases, such as Darfur, a small deployment
can unintentionally encourage rebels and thereby escalate rather than mitigate
conflict.55
But the case of JTF Liberia demonstrates that, with the proper preconditions
– intelligent diplomacy, well-trained local military allies, and relatively weak
adversaries – a limited deployment of American force can restore order and save
thousands of lives. Such a finding has implications for future U.S. Navy SSTR
operations.

Notes
1 Alan J. Kuperman, The Limits of Humanitarian Intervention: Genocide in Rwanda
(Washington, DC: Brookings Institution Press, 2001); Alan J. Kuperman and
Timothy W. Crawford (eds), Gambling on Humanitarian Intervention: Moral
Hazard, Rebellion and Civil War (New York: Routledge, 2006).
2 Lansana Gberie, “Liberia’s War and Peace Process: A Historical Overview,” in
Festus Aboagye and Alhaji M S Bah, eds, A Tortuous Road to Peace: The Dynamics
of Regional, UN and International Humanitarian Interventions in Liberia (Pretoria,
South Africa: Institute for Security Studies, 2005), pp. 51–4.
3 Lt. Col. Glen R. Sachtleben, “Operation SHARP EDGE: The Corps’ MEU(SOC)
Program in Action,” Marine Corps Gazette (November 1991), p. 84.
4 The four ships were the USS Saipan, USS Ponce (LPD 15), USS Sumter (LST1181),
and USS Peterson (DD 969). Sachtleben, “Operation SHARP EDGE,” p. 78.
 Lessons from Liberia 167
5 Patrick E. Tyler, “U.S. Sends Ships to Liberia,” Washington Post, 1 June 1990, p. A1.
6 Of the ships in the new MARG, initially only the Whidbey Island (LSD 41) was
involved in the Liberia operation, while the others participated in exercises. Later the
Newport (LST 1179) joined in the Liberia operation. Subsequently, the Nashville
(LPD 13) replaced both ships. Maj. John T. Germain, “Monrovia Revisited,” Marine
Corps Gazette (February 1997), p. 50.
7 Sachtleben, “Operation SHARP EDGE,” p. 77.
8 Gberie, “Liberia’s War and Peace Process,” pp. 55–6.
9 Howard Witt, “U.S. Marines Keep an Eye on Liberia,” Toronto Star (10 June 1990,
H3).
10 “Rebel Taylor Slays in Revenge,” Sunday Mail (SA) (2 September 1990).
11 Gberie, “Liberia’s War and Peace Process,” p. 57.
12 Ibid., pp. 55–6.
13 Peter Grier, “Liberians Face Increased Violence,” Christian Science Monitor (1
November 1990), p. 4.
14 These short-lived plans include the following: Bamako (Mali) cease-fire agreement,
November 1990; Yamoussoukkro (Ivory Coast) disarmament agreement, October
1991; Cotonou (Benin) elections agreement, July 1993; Akosombo (Ghana) cease-fire
agreement, September 1994; Akosombo II (Ghana) elections agreement, December
1994; Abuja (Nigeria) elections agreement, early 1995. Finally, the Abuja II (Nigeria)
peace agreement, of mid-1996, was implemented (Gberie, “Liberia’s War and Peace
Process,” pp. 58–61).
15 “Kearsarge Diverted to West Africa,” Flagship (19 June 2003); Germain, “Monrovia
Revisited,” p. 51.
16 Colonel Theophilus Tawiah and Festus B. Aboagye, “Synergies of Regional and UN
Interventions: The ECOWAS Mission in Liberia and the Protection of Civilians,” in
Aboagye and Bah, A Tortuous Road to Peace, p. 78.
17 Graphic created by BBC Television and used on ReliefWeb, and reproduced here
with the permission of the BBC.
18 LURD rebels drive refugees into Monrovia.
19 The embargo was imposed by UN Security Council Resolution 1343 on 7 March
2001, though its effectiveness was questioned by Human Rights Watch. See
http://daccessdds.un.org/doc/UNDOC/GEN/N01/276/08/PDF/N0127608.pdf?OpenEl
ement;, http://hrw.org/english/docs/2001/11/05/liberi3243.htm; and Tawiah and
Aboagye, “Synergies of Regional and UN Interventions,” p. 80.
20 Gberie, “Liberia’s War and Peace Process,” pp. 62–3; Tawiah and Aboagye, “Syner-
gies of Regional and UN Interventions,” pp. 78–9; Jamie O’Connell, “Here Interest
Meets Humanity,” Harvard Human Rights Journal vol. 17, pp. 216–17; and LURD
Military High Command, “T. Q. Harris Appointed as LURD Negotiator,” 17 May
2003, at www.theperspective.org/tqharris_lurd.html.
21 Tawiah and Aboagye, “Synergies of Regional and UN Interventions,” p. 74.
22 Rory Carroll, “Liberian Rebels Seize Key City: Advances May Overtake Dispatch of
Peacekeepers,” Guardian (29 July), p. 13.
23 Tawiah and Aboagye, “Synergies of Regional and UN Interventions,” p. 76.
24 Col. Blair A. Ross, Jr, “The U.S. Joint Task Force Experience in Liberia,” Military
Review (May–June 2005), p. 63. See also “26th Marine Expeditionary Unit/26
MEU,” at www.globalsecurity.org/military/agency/usmc/26meu.htm.
25 The three ships were the USS Iwo Jima (LHD 7), USS Nashville (LPD 13), and USS
Carter Hall (LSD 50) (“Iwo Jima ARG Leaves Liberia, Rota Marines Stay,” Navy
Newstand, 14 October 2003).
26 Ross, “The U.S. Joint Task Force Experience in Liberia,” pp. 62–3. Lt. Col. Thomas
W. Collins, “Joint Efforts Prevent Humanitarian Disaster in Liberia,” AUSA: Army
Magazine (1 February 2004). In mid-July, the 398th Air Expeditionary Group was
deployed to Sierra Leone and Senegal, and special operations forces were also
168 A. J. Kuperman
deployed to neighboring states. In late July, the Monrovia Embassy was equipped
with a seven-person forward coordination element. An eight-person liaison was
deployed to ECOWAS headquarters in Accra, Ghana. The operation’s headquarters,
in the Longare JTF facility in Italy, had a peak strength of 350 personnel. The JTF
commander was Maj. Gen. Thomas Turner. Including all these elements, “At its apex,
JTF Liberia consisted of over 5,000 service members,” according to SGM Herbert A.
Friedman (Ret.), “Combined Task Force (CTF) Liberia Psyop,”
www.psywarrior.com/LiberiaPsyop.html.
27 Jonathan Clayton, “Taylor Agrees to Cede Power on August 11,” Ottawa Citizen (3
August 2003), p. A7.
28 Roberts International Airport has an 11,000 foot runway suitable for large aircraft,
unlike Spriggs–Payne airport, which is closer to downtown Monrovia but has only a
6,000-foot runway. See www.globalsecurity.org/military/world/liberia/airfield.htm.
29 ECOMIL deployed by air because Monrovia’s seaport was in rebel hands and
Liberia’s roads were in bad condition (Tawiah and Aboagye, “Synergies of Regional
and UN Interventions,” pp. 77–8; Ross, “The U.S. Joint Task Force Experience in
Liberia,” p. 67).
30 Somini Sengupta, “Liberian President Resigns as Peacekeepers Enter Capital,” New
York Times (8 August 2003), p. 3. Tawiah and Aboagye, “Synergies of Regional and
UN Interventions,” p. 92.
31 Karl Vick, “Liberian Rebels to Leave Capital: Occupation of Port Had Blocked Aid,”
Washington Post (13 August 2003), p. A17; Tawiah and Aboagye, “Synergies of
Regional and UN Interventions,” pp. 87–9; and Ross, “The U.S. Joint Task Force
Experience in Liberia,” pp. 65–7. The CPA was signed in Accra, Ghana.
32 Tawiah and Aboagye, “Synergies of Regional and UN Interventions,” p. 95. Quote is
from ECOWAS after-action report.
33 Ross, “The U.S. Joint Task Force Experience in Liberia,” pp. 65–6; and Tawiah and
Aboagye, “Synergies of Regional and UN Interventions,” p. 92. Violence continued
in Nimba, Margibi, and Bong counties, and southeast Liberia.
34 Festus B. Aboagye and Alhaji M. S. Bah, “Synergies of Regional and UN Interven-
tions: The Contribution of the UN Mission in Liberia to Civilian Protection,” in
Aboagye and Bah, A Tortuous Road to Peace, pp. 102–5; and Gberie, “Liberia’s War
and Peace Process,” p. 64; U.N Security Council Resolution 1509, at http://daccess-
dds.un.org/doc/UNDOC/GEN/N03/525/70/PDF/N0352570.pdf?OpenElement.
35 Humanitarian access to rural Liberia via Monrovia.
36 Ross, “The U.S. Joint Task Force Experience in Liberia,” p. 67.
37 Aboagye and Bah, “Synergies of Regional and UN Interventions,” pp. 111–13. The
UN explains the discrepancy between demobilized fighters and weapons collected as
partially the result of counting as demobilized the unarmed relatives of fighters.
38 Ross, “The U.S. Joint Task Force Experience in Liberia,” pp. 61–2.
39 Tawiah and Aboagye, “Synergies of Regional and UN Interventions,” pp. 94–5,
argues that this was “well-orchestrated brinkmanship by key actors in the region and
the international community to insure a point of no return for Charles Taylor.”
40 Ross, “The U.S. Joint Task Force Experience in Liberia,” pp. 63–5; Friedman, “Com-
bined Task Force (CTF) Liberia Psyop.”
41 Tawiah and Aboagye, “Synergies of Regional and UN Interventions,” p. 95.
42 Collins, “Joint Efforts Prevent Humanitarian Disaster in Liberia.”
43 Herman J. Cohen, “Without U.S. Attention the Liberian Tragedy Will Continue to
Fester,” based on presentation at American Enterprise Institute, 17 July 2003,
www.aei.org/docLib/20030718_Cohen.pdf.
44 Eric G. Berman, “The Provision of Lethal Military Equipment: French, UK, and US
Peacekeeping Policies towards Africa,” Security Dialogue, vol. 34, no. 2 (2003), pp.
203–5; Mike Denning, “A Prayer for Marie: Creating an Effective African Standby
Force,” Parameters (Winter 2004–5), p. 111.
 Lessons from Liberia 169
45 Theresa Whelan, Deputy Assistant Secretary of Defense for African Affairs, Remarks
to IPOA Dinner, Washington, DC, 19 November 2003, at www.dod.mil/policy/sec-
tions/policy_offices/isa/africa/IPOA.htm.
46 Tawiah and Aboagye, “Synergies of Regional and UN Interventions,” 96. From
August to September 2003, Colonel Tawiah was the Chief of Staff of the ECOWAS
vanguard force deployed to implement the Comprehensive Ceasefire Agreement of 18
August 2003. From October 2003 to October 2004, he was the senior military
observer for the Monrovia sector.
47 See www.un.org/Depts/dpko/missions/unmil/facts.html.
48 See www.un.org/Depts/dpko/dpko/co_mission/unomilF.html.
49 See, for example, Kuperman, The Limits of Humanitarian Intervention, pp. 109–19;
Alan J. Kuperman, “Humanitarian Hazard: Revisiting Doctrines of Intervention,”
Harvard International Review, vol. 26, no. 1 (Spring 2004), pp. 64–8; and Alan J.
Kuperman, “Suicidal Rebellions and the Moral Hazard of Humanitarian Inter-
vention,” in Kuperman and Crawford, Gambling on Humanitarian Intervention, pp.
1–25.
50 Jan Hennop, “Liberia: Peace at Last?” Institute for Security Studies (8 September
200), p. 3.
51 Gberie, “Liberia’s War and Peace Process,” pp. 64–5.
52 www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,92654,00.html, 21 July 2003.
53 Kenneth L. Cain, “Send in the Marines,” New York Times (8 August 2003), p. 17.
54 Princeton N. Lyman, “How to Do Liberia Right,” Washington Post (19 July 2003), p.
A21.
55 Alan J. Kuperman, “Strategic Victimhood in Sudan,” New York Times, op-ed (31
May 2006), p. 19.
Part IV

Conclusion
12 Conclusion
Jeffrey A. Larsen

The United States Navy is facing a period of introspection as it transitions from

the Cold War era, which called for a strategy of maritime supremacy, to a more
uncertain time of smaller-scale events such as Stability, Security, Transition, and
Reconstruction (SSTR) operations. Unlike the other services, which have found
themselves involved in nearly continuous combat operations for the past decade,
senior naval officers have been forced to reconsider their core mission skill set
and its relevance to the evolving threat environment. In so doing, they have
recognized, albeit grudgingly, that while there may still be a need for carrier
battle groups, submarines, and other traditional types of sea-dominance vessels,
far more prevalent will be those sorts of operations that call for the mobile logis-
tical and support capabilities that are inherent in naval forces. These include
peacekeeping, humanitarian, stability, security, transition, and reconstruction
capabilities – missions that were partly responsible for the creation of a navy in
the first place. Stability operations were quite common in the eighteenth and
nineteenth centuries, and were understood to represent an integral aspect of a
great state’s diplomatic mission overseas. In essence, the Navy has discovered
that, by looking to its future, it has found its new missions in its past. This dis-
covery, however, has not been fully embraced by today’s naval officer corps,
most of whom were weaned on the concept of a blue-water navy requiring large
numbers of capital ships trained to fight a peer adversary.
Since the demise of the Soviet threat in the early 1990s, the U.S. Navy has
been called upon increasingly to provide support to, or sometimes carry out on
its own, peacekeeping and other SSTR operations. The pace of those demands
has increased since 9/11 and the War on Terror. The scale of many recent opera-
tions, and the location of interest, often far from any available land-based infra-
structure, has meant that naval power has been the most effective means of
delivering assistance in several natural and man-made disasters.
While there are many types of operations that fall under the rubric of SSTR,
Dan Moran describes them as having some commonalities:

All require the modest, carefully modulated, and highly discriminate use of
force, extensive coordination with domestic and foreign civilian agencies,
and perhaps also with international government and non-governmental
174 J. A. Larsen
organizations, a willingness to embrace open-ended military commitments,
and an “inverted” force structure, in which elements that are normally in
support – medical, logistical, intelligence, engineering, or civil affairs units,
for instance – may carry the main burden of accomplishing the desired
mission.1

Jessica Piombo and Michael Malley supply us with another good, if somewhat
tautological, definition taken from U.S. Department of Defense Directive
3000.05 (November 2005):

Stability operations . . . referred to military and civilian activities conducted

across the spectrum from peace to conflict to establish or maintain order in
states and regions, while SSTR activities included Defense Department
activities that support U.S. government plans for stabilization, security,
reconstruction, and transition operations which lead to sustainable peace
while advancing U.S. interests.2

These definitions, however, highlight the primary issue facing Navy leaders
today: how can the U.S. Navy transition to these new mission requirements?
How can it dislodge the centrality of 50 years of Cold War logic that called for a
much different set of force sizing issues, personnel training, and skill sets than
those that will be needed in the foreseeable future? How will the service adapt,
and how successful will be those individuals and organizations, none of them
carrying much weight in the inner circles of Navy strategic planning, who advo-
cate a future based on SSTR operations?
There are some signs that the Navy’s senior leaders may be recognizing the
need to meet these new missions. For example, Admiral Mike Mullen, the Chief
of Naval Operations, admitted in 2006 that, while the Navy “will still need tradi-
tional warfighting capabilities . . . given today’s incredibly complex and dynamic
threats, not to mention tomorrow’s uncertainty, we must be capable of much,
much more.”3 His is a minority view, but as the senior Navy officer, his views
carry much weight and may help adjust the direction of future naval policies.
This book provides a clearer view of what those future stability missions are,
and how they are related to the U.S. and UK navies’ origins and history. These
are not new missions, but the level of emphasis being placed on them is new in
our lifetime. Our authors have shown not only what those missions are, and
where they have come from, but they also suggest some methods for improving
the Navy’s ability to adapt its forces and personnel to better accomplish the
SSTR missions that will inevitably emerge in the future.

Key themes
Several themes were highlighted by our contributors as they explored various
aspects of the relationship between naval forces – the U.S. Navy in particular –
and stability operations.
 Conclusion 175
Stability operations: the view from the sea
The first section of this book reviewed the background of SSTR operations from
historical, strategic, and legal perspectives. As might be expected, stability
operations loom large in the annals of naval history, which makes it relatively
easy to identify precedents for virtually all of the “modern” missions contem-
plated by contemporary strategists.

SSTR operations are not new

Several of the case studies highlighted by Dan Moran and John Ferris showed
how the U.S. and UK navies were created, to some extent, by the need to meet
stability, security, or humanitarian responsibilities. As Moran says, “Viewed
from afloat . . . there is nothing immediately alarming about the heightened
emphasis on stability operations.”4 Ferris reviews some eight cases in which the
Royal Navy successfully performed SSTR operations while it ruled the seas,
from the late eighteenth century until the period preceding World War II. Such
operations were integral to the policy of the British Empire, and were of a type
that could only, or best, be done using naval forces.

Naval power can help accomplish successful military SSTR operations

Any blue-water navy has the requisite skills and platforms to accomplish non-
combat missions such as SSTR operations. Several of our authors present histor-
ical case studies, some of them quite recent, which demonstrate the accuracy of
this assertion. These missions are typically more likely to succeed, however, if
conducted by a larger multinational cooperative effort, rather than if attempted
unilaterally, as both Ferris and Theo Farrell point out in their chapters.

International law constrains but also authorizes military operations

International law has been slow to keep up with the changing international security
environment and the requirement for SSTR operations that typically follow con-
ventional military missions. Farrell provides the background necessary for the
reader to better understand the nuances of international law and its relationship to
SSTR operations. For example, freedom of the seas is a fundamental principle
enshrined in international laws of the sea. On the other hand, international laws
also seriously restrict the use of force in stability operations. Since most stability
operations require some degree of force, this potential for violence is a factor that
must be considered when exploring the legality of stability missions. A positivist
approach to international law authorizes the Western world to pursue the advance
of liberalism. But as Farrell says, “America can win wars by military force alone.
But to win the peace, it needs legal rules guided by liberal values.”5 In effect,
stability operations can and should have the backing of international law to
improve the likelihood of their success.
176 J. A. Larsen
The U.S. Navy and SSTR
The essays in the second section of our volume examine the new and traditional
approaches the U.S. Navy might consider in the conduct of SSTR operations, as
well as the forces and platforms best suited to such missions.

The Navy is the American military service best suited to rapid response
to a natural disaster
Natural (or man-made) disasters are but one type of contingency that would call
for an SSTR operation, but they are illustrative of the value of a world-ranging
fleet. There are several reasons for the Navy’s preeminence in such a response.
Since the end of the Cold War, no other service has developed the capacity for
replacing lost or damaged infrastructure, nor does any other so often find itself
in a region where those assets might be needed. One of the best examples of the
policy of “forward presence” paying dividends was the carrier battle group that
responded to the Indian Ocean tsunami in December 2004, a group that hap-
pened to be visiting Hong Kong while en route to the Middle East. It was easy to
revise its sailing schedule to go to Aceh instead. By design, the U.S. Navy sails
around the globe, regularly visiting remote portions of the world that lack infra-
structure, effective government, or even nearby population centers. As a result,
especially in the case of ad hoc disasters that allow for no prior planning, the
Navy is much more likely to be able to respond immediately to humanitarian
crises than the other services. Knowing this, even if it cannot predict the next
disaster, the Navy can better prepare for certain types of contingencies that it
may face. In other words, Navy officers cannot know where the next disaster
might occur, but they can plan on the fact that, when a humanitarian crisis
occurs in a remote portion of the planet, they are likely to be called upon to
provide relief.

Peacekeeping and SSTR operations are not that different from normal
cruise operations for the U.S. Navy
Adam Siegel points out that the Navy can easily adapt to the call for peacekeep-
ing or stability operations due to its normal operating procedures, including
long-term deployments and the training its forces receive while at sea. This is
fortunate, since the Navy is procuring few new technologies or capabilities
strictly for SSTR operations. In Siegel’s view, these trends will likely continue
in the years ahead: sea-based technologies will most likely be acquired for tradi-
tional warfighting reasons and then applied to peacekeeping, humanitarian, or
SSTR operations as needed. SSTR enthusiasts might not find this state of affairs
reassuring, but ship procurement in the Navy is directly tied to the service’s
organizational culture, and this culture, barring some catastrophic event, changes
at a snail’s pace. The United States has used its military forces, including the
Navy, more for SSTR operations in recent years than it has to combat legitimate
 Conclusion 177
conventional military forces of another state. This second trend is also likely to
continue.

The U.S. Marines lack a comprehensive doctrine or plan for SSTR

operations
Although the Marine Corps has not identified the SSTR mission as a task requir-
ing a fundamental change in the way it operates, the service did issue a major
report in 2006 entitled “Multi-Service Concept for Irregular Warfare” (known as
the MC/SO/IW concept), which covers much of the same ground as a major
doctrinal document. But the MC/SO/IW concept paper is not linked to the
Navy’s own master plan for stability operations. As Terry Terriff points out, the
MC/SO/IW concept focuses on three non-traditional roles that the Marines may
find themselves carrying out: information operations, provision of essential ser-
vices, and economic development. The Navy can prepare to support future
Marine operations in each of these areas. Capabilities of particular value in this
arena may include the Seabees, Maritime Prepositioning Forces, and the Seabas-
ing Concept. The Navy could also take procurement and design decisions today
that would make future platforms more capable of supporting SSTR operations,
although, as several of our authors suggest, this type of change in procurement
philosophy flies in the face of Navy culture.

The contributions made to SSTR operations by Navy personnel are

more valuable than the platforms or the materiel
Like any military service, the Navy is filled with specialists and experts in
myriad fields, including infrastructure repair and management. Terriff makes the
important point that an aircraft carrier carries a similar number and mix of tech-
nically skilled personnel (e.g., engineers, electricians, heavy equipment oper-
ators, managers, and able-bodied laborers) as one would find in a small city,
with all the concomitant expertise that could be put to effect in helping repair a
damaged small town on the other side of the world. And, despite decades of
Navy policy pronouncements highlighting the technical and professional qualifi-
cations of even its most junior personnel, the idea that a ship’s crew might be
more valuable ashore than afloat is a revolutionary notion in today’s U.S. Navy.

Implementing SSTR
In the third section, our contributors examined contemporary stability operations
and new instruments that might be brought to bear in future SSTR contingen-
cies. Because several of these essays are normative or describe emerging cap-
abilities and their potential contribution to stability operations, the chapters in
this section are less grounded in operational history than the earlier chapters in
our volume. But the cases provide a good overview of what the Navy is capable
of achieving, and the challenges it faces in the new century.
178 J. A. Larsen
The creation of riverine capabilities to meet new requirements and
threats from a changing international security environment is a
necessary step to bolster the U.S. Navy’s ability to conduct stability
operations, but it is hardly new
The rivers and inland waterways of the world are very important to a state’s
security and economic well-being, and serve as vital pathways to military forces
delivering SSTR support. As John Stolze told us, American naval history is
replete with cases of riverine forces carrying out key missions. Riverine forces
are inherently dual-capable: they can conduct both combat and stability opera-
tions depending on the scenario. Yet the U.S. Navy’s recognition of the value of
such forces has been episodic, and they have never been at the center of naval
planning. The Cold War Navy was not particularly well suited to carrying out
the mission of patrolling coastal waters or securing maritime access. That
perspective may be changing to some extent today.

International programs that provide funding, training, and equipment

for indigenous forces are more important than ever in today’s security
environment
Sam Tangredi points out that SSTR operations are meant to build a sustainable
peace and advance U.S. interests in a specific country or an entire region, goals
which require close collaboration with local forces. The United States cannot rely
solely on its own military forces. As Tangredi puts it, “To build a sustainable peace
in an unstable environment inevitably requires the training and equipping of
indigenous armed forces.”6 This involves such international programs as security
assistance funding, transfer of excess defense materials, cooperative armaments
agreements, information and personnel exchanges, and international military educa-
tion and training. This is all part of the Defense Department’s effort at security
cooperation. The U.S. Navy recognizes that these tools can be significant force
enhancers if they are timely and tailored to local needs. As evidence that it takes
security cooperation seriously, the U.S. Navy recently created a new organization
to oversee these efforts: the Naval Expeditionary Combat Command.
In keeping with the need to conduct international training operations, several
authors pointed out that, while unilateral state action sometimes proves valuable,
it is always preferable to have a multilateral coalition force conducting SSTR
operations. This was one of the findings in Adam Siegel’s study of U.S. Navy
support to Marine operations, as well as in several of Ferris’s historical case
studies of the Royal Navy.

The United States can no longer afford to ignore situations calling for
stabilization efforts, as it sometimes could during the Cold War
If the United States wants to continue to be a benign hegemon, it must battle ter-
rorism wherever it raises its head. Given the international linkages to the Global
 Conclusion 179
War on Terror, local problems once considered insignificant can now conceiv-
ably provoke a U.S. response. The need to respond to unanticipated and relat-
ively minor disturbances is a mission tailor-made for a Navy expeditionary
strike group, with its contingent of Marines and organic air and amphibious lift
capability. The possibility of multiple contingencies increases the importance of
having a capable, deployed navy available nearly anywhere in the globe at any
time.

Provincial Reconstruction Teams (PRTs) demonstrate that the Navy

can assist security operations in unexpected ways and in unexpected
places
The fact that the U.S. Navy is making a significant contribution to PRTs in
Afghanistan, allowing officers to contribute to the global war against terrorism
in an unconventional manner, demonstrates that personnel can adapt quickly in a
crisis. It remains to be seen, however, whether these spontaneous “shore tours”
will persist beyond today’s crises. Will the senior U.S. officers institutionalize
these kinds of shore assignments and protect the careers of junior officers who
veer from traditional career paths to participate in stability operations ashore?

Even modest SSTR efforts can be successful

Not every SSTR operation has to be on the scale of the Indian Ocean tsunami
relief effort of early 2005, which included a carrier battle group and over 13,000
naval personnel to lend help to Indonesia. Alan Kuperman describes a much
smaller, but equally successful, effort to stabilize the capital of Liberia in 2003.
Unlike the U.S. efforts ten years earlier, when the Navy evacuated Monrovia,
this time a contingent of just 320 sailors and airmen, coupled with aerial fly-
overs and Seabees improving the harbor, made all the difference and led to the
end of hostilities in that city. Kuperman points out that, as in all cases, this one
was unique, especially in the sense that it had mitigating factors that made the
participants eager for U.S. involvement and an end to conflict. Nevertheless, the
history of stability operations in Monrovia provides us with an optimistic con-
clusion to our book. A small group of dedicated military personnel with a good
plan and operating from the sea can make a difference.

Final thoughts
The chapters in this book have provided an overview of the U.S. Navy’s her-
itage in conducting SSTR operations, the requirements of the new century with
its new security challenges, and some of the ways in which the Navy is respond-
ing to those challenges. Senior U.S. Navy officers seem to be slowly recognizing
the importance of SSTR and the need for trained personnel, appropriate plat-
forms to respond to an emergency situation, and bureaucratic changes necessary
to make that happen. The book also introduced several topics not generally
180 J. A. Larsen
considered important to naval forces – including UN multinational operations,
PRTs in Afghanistan, the importance of international law in justifying SSTR
operations, and naval involvement in the Liberian civil war.
So what is the future of Stability, Security, Transition, and Reconstruction
operations for the U.S. Navy? Terry Terriff may have said it best:

The Navy cannot wash its hands of SSTR because its leaders believe that it
is not suited to such operations or that SSTR operations would detract from
traditional sea control and power projection missions. . . . [T]he Navy needs
to recognize that sea control and power projection requires more than
defeating an opponent in the open ocean or even the littorals. To respond to
contemporary challenges, the Navy has to think and act beyond the sea to
influence events on land.7

Notes
1 Daniel Moran, Chapter 2, p. 13.
2 Jessica Piombo and Michael Malley, Chapter 5, p.63.
3 Admiral Mike Mullen, “What I Believe,” Proceedings, vol. 132, no. 1 (January 2006),
p. 12.
4 Moran, p. 16.
5 Theo Farrell, Chapter 4, p. 54.
6 Sam Tangredi, Chapter 8, p. 112.
7 Terry Terriff, Chapter 6, p. 90.
Appendix
Historical precedents for naval involvement
in peace support operations and
multinational SSTR operations,
1890–20011
Adam B. Siegel

Location Dates UN? Overview

Bering Straits 1890s No British and American ships conducted patrols to

enforce limits on the hunting of seals.
China 1900 No During the Boxer Rebellion, an international
force gathered to “rescue” foreigners in Peking.
This is just one of the more notable cases of
multinational intervention in China during the
19th and 20th centuries.
North Atlantic 1914 No Following the Titanic disaster, the Convention
on Safety of Life at Sea (1914) provided for an
international ice patrol. The United States was
the only nation to conduct such operations.
Smyrna, Turkey 1922 No British, French, U.S., and Italian Navy ships
protected merchant ships, which evacuated over
200,000 Greeks and Armenians.
Spanish Civil War 1936–9 No The German, French, British, and Italian Navies
participated in a non-intervention patrol. Ships
involved in these patrols flew the pennant of the
North Seas Fisheries Commission. Seven
nations’ navies cooperated to evacuate
endangered foreigners.2
Spanish Civil War 1937–9 No Following a series of anonymous (Italian)
submarine attacks on neutral shipping, Britain
and France conducted anti-submarine patrols
under the Nyon Agreement.
Palestine 1947–8 Yes U.S. and French Navy ships flew the UN pennant
in support of UN efforts in Palestine.
Korea 1950–3 Yes Many navies participated in operations in the war.
Greece 1953 No U.S., UK, and Israeli Navy vessels lent assistance
after a major earthquake hit the Ionian islands.
Suez 1956–7 Yes Canada used an aircraft carrier (HMCS
Magnificient) to transport its contingent to the
UN Emergency Force (UNEF). Canada also
provided a Landing Craft Mechanized (LCM),
with crew, to support UNEF.
West New Guinea 1962–3 Yes In 1962, the Netherlands agreed to hand control
of West New Guinea to Indonesia. To insure a
182 A. B. Siegel

Location Dates UN? Overview

peaceful transition, the UN was asked to

administer the territory for the period between the
Dutch withdrawal and the arrival of the Indonesian
administrators. Nine countries supplied military
observers and civilian administrators to the United
Nations Temporary Executive Authority in West
New Guinea (UNTEA). Canada provided an
aviation unit of pilots and technicians and two
float-equipped Otter aircraft.
Cyprus 1964 Yes Canada used an aircraft carrier (HMCS
Bonadventure) to move its contingent to
UNFICYP. Bonadventure flew the UN flag.
Malagasy Straits 1965–75 Yes Under UN authorization, Royal Navy ships
conducted an interdiction patrol of oil tankers to
the pipeline terminal at Beira to help enforce
sanctions against Rhodesia.
Gulf of Fonesca 1990–2 Yes Four Argentinian patrol boats flew the UN flag in
support of an observation mission.
Liberia 1990s No U.S. and UK Navy units cooperated in
evacuating foreigners from amid the Liberian
civil war. ECOWAS troops were transported to
Liberia by and supported from the sea (by the
U.S. Navy) for the peacekeeping operation that
began in 1990.
Papua New Guinea 1990 No Three ships from the New Zealand Navy were
used to hold meetings as a neutral site to
negotiate a resolution to the Bouganville crisis.
Persian Gulf 1990– Yes Multinational naval forces began interdiction of
present Iraqi shipping in August 1990, conducted
combat operations in January–February 1991,
conducted post-conflict operations (such as mine
clearance, and continue interdiction operations to
this day.
Northern Iraq 1991 Yes U.S. Navy forces supported UN operations to aid
Kurdish refugees. Support included transport,
combat air patrols, debarkation of Marines,
surveillance flights, and shows of force.
Adriatic 1992–6 Yes Multinational forces supported UN forces in the
former Yugoslavia and enforced UN sanctions
and arms embargoes. Operations included shows
of force, surveillance, combat air patrols (such as
in support of Operation Deny Flight), combat
search and rescue, movement of personnel
(including Marines), and strike operations (by
both naval aircraft and Tomahawk missiles).
Cambodia 1992–4 Yes 376 naval personnel (220 UN observers)
supported the UN operation in Cambodia. These
personnel principally utilized Cambodian craft.
Somalia 1992 Yes U.S. Navy amphibious forces deployed off
Mogadishu in September 1992 to support the
deployment of 500 Pakistani soldiers for
 Appendix 183

Location Dates UN? Overview

UNOSOM I. In addition to a show of force, the

unit prepared for combat operations to support
the UN troops and provided air control for the
airlift of the Pakistanis.
Somalia 1992–3 Yes Multinational naval forces (U.S., FR, IT)
supplied the first entry forces to and supported
Operation Restore Hope.
Haiti 1993–4 Yes A multinational task force enforced UN
economic sanctions against Haiti. The
Argentinian, Canadian, French, Dutch, UK, and
U.S. Navies participated in this operation. The
U.S.-led intervention in September 1994
occurred mainly by sea, including the
deployment of U.S. Army soldiers off U.S. Navy
aircraft carriers.
Somalia 1995 Yes A U.S.-led, multinational naval task force
conducted a maritime withdrawal of the UN
forces from Somalia.
Albania 1997 No Seven nations conducted noncombatant
evacuations operations (NEOs) from Albania
amid a general collapse of order. Several of these
evacuations were conducted by naval forces.
Albania 1997 Yes An Italian-led multinational peacekeeping force
deployed to Albania. The force deployed
principally by sea, mainly via amphibious
shipping.
Albania 1999 No From USS Kearsarge and USS Inchon, US
Marines and Navy forces supported Operation
Shining Hope, the U.S. component of Operation
Allied Harbor, assistance to Kosovar Albanian
refugees in Albania.
East Timor 1999 Yes U.S., Australian, and French naval vessels
deployed to support the International Force, East
Timor. This included conducting amphibious
operations to move forces and using sea-basing
to support force logistics.
Indian Ocean 2001– No Multinational, anti-terrorism patrols to interdict
present movements of al Qaeda terrorists.
Malacca Straits 2001– No Indian Navy and U.S. Navy ships conduct
presentcooperative anti-piracy and terrorism-
suppression patrols.

Notes
1 Table compiled by Adam Siegel, Northrop Grumman Analysis Center, for this book
project. The potential precedents for naval PSOs are far too numerous to discuss in this
format and venue. Since precedent can be found in every instance of (multinational)
gunboat diplomacy or humanitarian assistance, the number of cases would easily
exceed 1,000 just in recent decades. For more substantial listings of such precedents by
this author, see: Center for Naval Analyses (CNA) Information Memorandum 132, A
184 A. B. Siegel
Sampling of Naval Humanitarian Operations, November 1990; CNA Research Memo-
randum 90–246, The Use of Naval Forces in the Post-Cold War Era: U.S. Navy and
U.S. Marine Corps Crisis Response Activity, 1946–1990, February 1991; and CNA
Information Memorandum 334, A Chronology of US Marine Corps Humanitarian and
Peace Operations, September 1994. For another author’s examination of precedents,
see: “Appendix, Chronology of Relevant Circumstances,” in Michael Pugh (ed.), Mar-
itime Security and Peacekeeping, (Manchester UK: Manchester University Press,
1994), pp. 249–71. For a discussion of how ship requirements can be derived from the
study of such operations, see Adam Siegel et al., Surface Warfare Operations in Low-
Intensity Conflict, Alexandria, Virginia, Center for Naval Analyses, July 1991.
2 Re. navies in the Spanish Civil War, by this author, see: “International Naval Coopera-
tion during the Spanish Civil War,” Joint Forces Quarterly, no. 29, (autumn/winter
2001/2002) and “Naval Cooperation in a Multi-Polar War: The Spanish Civil War,”
Tidskrift I Sjöväsendet (Journal of the Royal Swedish Academy of Naval Science), no,
4 (2001). On the U.S. Navy’s operations, see: “Operating in Someone Else’s War:
Squadron 40(T) and the Spanish Civil War,” American Neptune, vol. 61 (Spring 2001).
Index

1,000-ship navy 19, 85, 103, 124–6 Argentina 103

1206 Program 112–13, 117–18, 120–5, Arms Export Control Act of 1976 118
127n12 Arrow War 27–8, 32
1970 Declaration on Principles of Aspinall, Edward 73
International Law Concerning Friendly Atlantic Ocean 26–7, 30, 35–6, 181
Relations 45 Australia 74
1st Battalion 10th Special Forces Group Automatic Identification System 19
158 AV-8B Harrier jet 154
2002 National Security Strategy 48
2006 Defense Authorization Act 112 Baer, George 17, 24n7
2006 Quadrennial Defense Review 61, 64, Baghdad 87, 135
112 bakafu 33–4
2007 Defense Authorization Act 64, 113 Baltic Patrol 16, 21–3, 25n17
22nd Marine Expeditionary Unit 154 Baltic Sea 37
26th Marine Expeditionary Unit 158 Bangladesh 62, 66, 108
354th Civil Affairs Brigade 71 Barbary pirates 29
398th Air Expeditionary Group 158, 167n26 Beatty, David 36
3rd Marine Expeditionary Force 75 Beijing 31
9/11 Terror Attack see September 11, 2001 Beira patrol 101, 108n16, 182
Attack Bermuda 26
bin Laden, Osama 151
A Cooperative Strategy for 21st Century Black Sea 37
Seapower 3, 6, 125 Blackman, Robert R. 75
Aceh 67, 73–5, 176 Bolivia 134
Adriatic Sea 36, 100, 182 Bolsheviks 21–2, 36–7
Afghan Central Government 143, 151 Booth, Ken 101
Afghanistan 2, 9, 15, 45–6, 52, 64, 69, Bosnia 46, 52, 98, 107, 148, 166
70–1, 81, 86, 98, 101, 110, 137, Brahmaputra River 130
141–51, 179–80 Burma War of 1828 27
African Partnership Station 70 Bush, George W. 42, 48, 50
Agar, Agustus 37 Bush Administration 51, 54, 111, 157,
Age of Sail 17 159, 161, 164
al Qaeda 2–4, 21, 146, 149, 151, 183 Bushrod Island 157, 159, 161–4
Albusa’idi dynasty 34–6
Amazon River 130, 133 Cable, James 21, 25n17
American Revolutionary War 129, 131–2 Cambodia 100, 182
amphibious ready group 2, 102, 108n18, Cambodian genocide 45
153–5, 158–62, 167n6 Caribbean Sea 29, 70
Arctic Ocean 36 Caroline case 47
186 Index
Carr, E.H. 44 direct commercial sales (DCS) 113–14,
Caspian Sea 37 127n7
Cebrowski, Arthur 62 District Reconstruction Team 150
Center for Civil–Military Relations xiii Djibouti 70
Center for Stabilization and Doe, Samuel K. 154–7, 163
Reconstruction Studies xiii Doran, Walter 75
Center for Strategic and International Duc de Richelieu 29
Studies 67
Central Front 1 East Timor 46, 66, 77, 97, 98, 100, 183
Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) 14, 85 Economic Community of West African
Chairman, Joint Chiefs of Staff (U.S.) 13, States 155
64 ECOWAS Monitoring Group 155, 157–9,
Chamberlain, Austen 26 161, 163–5, 168n32, 169n46, 182
Cheney, Dick 50 Elleman, Bruce 75
Chesapeake Bay 131–2 Engineer and Scientist Exchange Program
Chief of Naval Education and Training 116
121 Estonia 22
China 31–4, 36, 38, 42, 47, 50, 131, excess defense articles (EDA) 112,
133–4, 181 114–15, 118, 120, 123, 125–6, 127n9
Choshu 33–4 expeditionary strike groups 2, 5, 75–6, 88,
Clark Air Base 66 102, 179
Clarke, Vernon 137
Coalition and Special Warfare Center 122 Fallujah 15, 53
Cobra attack helicopter 154, 162 Fargo, Thomas 74–5
Cohen, Herman 163, 165 Farrell, Theo 8, 42, 175
Cold War 3, 14, 17, 21, 38, 43–4, 46–7, Ferris, John 8, 26, 175, 178
77, 97, 110, 118, 173–4, 176, 178 Field Manual 3–07, Stability Operations
Colombia 134 and Support Operations 120
combat commands (COCOMs) 112, 117, Finland 37, 74
119, 122, 127n12 Foreign Assistance Act of 1961 118
Combined Joint Task Force Horn of Africa foreign comparative testing and evaluation
(CJTFHOA) 68, 70, 79n16, 93n34 112, 116, 120
Combined Support Force 536, 74, 107n12 foreign military financing (FMF) 113–14,
command of the sea 1, 20 117–18, 120–1, 125
Congo River 130 foreign military sales (FMS) 113–14,
Congress (U.S.) 18, 113–14, 117–19, 123, 117–18, 120, 123–4, 127n12
125–6 Fort Bragg 148
Continental Army 132 Fort Jackson 148
counter-insurgency 18, 42, 132, 138, 142 France 26, 30, 35, 42, 50, 115, 151, 154,
Cowan, Walter Henry 36–7 181
Cyprus 102, 108n18, 119, 182 Franck, Thomas 44–5
Fraser River 27, 30
Davies, Mathew 74 Free Aceh Movement 74
de Robeck, John 37, 39n1 Freikorps 22, 36
Defense Science Board Summer Study 6, Frere, Bartle 35
62–5, 68–9 full-spectrum dominance 14, 24n5
Defense Security Cooperation Agency 126 Future Maritime Prepositioning Force 86
Delaware River 131–2
Democratic Republic of Congo 66, 97, 130 Ganges River 130
Department of Defense Directive 3000 05, Gates, Robert 118
6, 63–4, 67, 71, 112, 174 “Gator Navy” 90
Department of Defense Stability General Accounting Office 50
Operations Executive Council 64 Geneva Conventions 48, 50, 53, 111
Department of Homeland Security 125 George, Lloyd 26
 Index 187
Germany 22, 36–7, 117 Japan 16, 33–4, 134
Gio tribe 154, 165 Johnson, Thomas 146
Global Concept of Operations (CONOPS) Joint Task Force 536 74
3 Joint Task Force Liberia 153, 158–62, 166,
global fleet station 5, 70–1, 79 168n26
Global War on Terror 2–4, 51, 70, 100, Joint Vision 2020 24n5
112–13, 117, 122, 124, 137
Goldwater–Nichols Act of 1986 15, 150 Kabul 149
Graham, James 30–2 Karzai, Hamid 142
Guandong (Canton) 27–8 Karzai administration 149
Gulf of Fonesca 103, 182 Kellogg–Briand Pact 45
Gunboat Diplomacy 21 Kingsbury, Benedict 51
Gunboat diplomacy 21, 23, 26, 33–4, 36, Kosovo 46–7, 49, 50, 52, 69, 107n5
38, 101–2, 133, 162, 183 Krahn ethnic group 154, 156, 165
Kronstadt 22, 37
Hague Conventions 48, 53, 111 Kuperman, Alan J. 9, 153, 179
Haiti 46, 52, 92n17, 100, 109n25, 183 Kuwait 34, 75, 106
Hamblet, Jim 148
Harpoon 115 Lacey, James 84
Haydon, Peter 97 Lake Champlain 131
Higgins, Rosalyn 51 Larsen, Jeffrey xiii, 173
HMS Amethyst 38 Lasswell, Harold 44
Honduras 103 Latvia 22, 151
Hong Kong 75–6, 176 law of armed conflict (LOAC) 48–53
Hudson’s Bay Company 27, 30 Lebanon 101
Hurricane Katrina 101, 107n13, 136 Liberia 9, 153–66, 179–80, 182
Hussein, Saddam 53, 111 Liberians United for Reconciliation and
Democracy in Liberia 156
Independent Patriotic Front of Liberia Lieber Code 49
154 Limburg 19
India 26, 34–5, 73, 101, 136, 183 Lithuania 22
Indian Ocean 20, 29, 30, 34–5, 64, 73, littoral combat ship (LCS) 20, 24n13,
100, 176, 179, 183 104
Individual Augmentee Program 148 London 27, 39
Indonesia 62, 73–7, 93n37, 136, 179, long war 16–17, 51, 81, 97, 110, 124
181–2 Lord Aberdeen 28
information operations 53, 66, 82–3, 162, Lord Palmerston 27–8, 32
177 Luttwak, Edward 1
Information Revolution 1
intergovernmental organizations (IGOs) McDougal, Myres 44
141, 146–7, 150–1 McLaughlin, John 133
International Court of Justice 51 Madagascar 29
International Criminal Court (ICC) 42, 50 Madden, Charles 26
International Exchange Agreements 116 Mahan, Alfred Thayer 2, 16, 24n7
International Law 51 Malaysia 74
international military education and Malley, Mike 8, 61, 174
training 112, 116, 120–2 Mandingo ethnic group 156, 165
Internet 1, 5, 150 Mano tribe 165
Iraq 3, 13, 42, 48, 51, 52–4, 64, 69, 71, 81, MARG 2–90, 154–5
91–2, 98, 101, 107, 110–11, 116, 135, MARG 3–90, 155
137, 142, 165–6, 182, 182 marine amphibious ready group (MARG)
Iraq War 42, 48, 52, 111 see amphibious ready group
Istanbul 37 Marine expeditionary unit 102, 154–5, 158
Ivory Coast 153, 157, 165, 167n14 Maritime Civil Affairs Group 70
188 Index
Maritime Domain Awareness 5–6, 19, 99,
125
Maritime Prepositioning Forces 177
Maritime services strategic concept 4
Maritime Strategy 1
Medan 75
Mediterranean Sea 37
Mekong Delta 135
Mekong River 130
Meulaboh 73–4
Military Assistance Group 119
military operations other than war
(MOOTW) 13, 111, 129, 131, 139n1
Mogadishu 102, 182
Monrovia 153–64, 167n18, 168n35,
169n46, 179
Moran, Dan 8, 13, 173, 175
Morgenthau, Hans J. 44
Moscow 22
Mullen, Mike 81, 90, 124–5, 174
Multi-Service Concept for Irregular
Warfare 82, 177
National Counterterrorism Center 19
National Patriotic Front of Liberia 154
National Security Presidential Directive
44, 64
Naval Amphibious Base, Little Creek 137
Naval Expeditionary Combat Command
(NECC) 70–2, 99, 121–3, 125–6,
137–8, 178
Navies and Foreign Policy 101
Navy Concept of Operations 6, 70
Navy Education and Training Security
Assistance Field Activity 121
Navy Foreign Area Officers 85–6
Navy International Programs Office 115,
121, 123, 127n6
Navy Operating Concept see Navy
Concept of Operations
Navy Small Craft Instruction and
Technical Training School 121
Navy Strategic Plan 18
New Haven School 44
New World Order 15, 28
New York Times 166
Nicaragua case 46
Niger River 130
Nigeria 158–63, 165, 167n14
Nile River 130
non-governmental organizations (NGOs)
5–6, 13, 61, 75–7, 141, 145–7, 151, 159
Nootka Sound Crisis 30
North Atlantic Treaty Organization
(NATO) 17, 47, 49–50, 88, 100–1, 115,
123, 127, 142–3, 146, 148–51
Office of Force Transformation 62
Office of the Coordinator for
Reconstruction and Stabilization 64, 67
Okinawa 75
Oman 34–5
Operation Assured Response 156
Operation Fiery Vigil 66
Operation Iraqi Freedom 135
Operation Sea Angel 62, 66, 108n20
Operation Sea Signal 66
Operation Sharp Edge 154
Operation Unified Assistance 62, 75, 77
Opium War 32, 133
Oppenheim, L.F.L. 51
Oregon boundary dispute 30
Orinoco River 133
Pacific Ocean 27, 31, 36
Panama Canal 30
Paraguay 133
peace operations 13–15, 42, 52–3, 97–100,
102, 104–5, 107
Peel, Robert 27
Pentagon 15, 62, 112–13
Persia 34
Persian Gulf 29, 34, 100, 182
Peru 133–4
Petraeus, David H. 123
Philippines 66
Piombo, Jessica 8, 61, 174
Portugal 35
Powell, Levin 133
Proliferation Security Initiative 98, 101,
106n3
Provincial Reconstruction Teams (PRTs)
9, 70–1, 126, 141–51, 179–80
psychological operations 83, 92n14, 148
Public Affairs Officers 83–4
RAM (Rolling Airframe Missile) 117
Red Army 17
Red Sea 34, 36, 101
Report to Congress on the Situation in
Iraq 123
Reus-Smit, Christian 52
Revolutionary United Front 155
Rhine River 36
Rhodesia 100, 102, 182
Richter Scale 73
River Plate 133
Roberts Airport 159, 161–2
 Index 189
Romanov Empire 22 Sumatra 73, 75
Roughead, Gary 124
Royal Indian Marine 34 Tadic case 49
Royal Marines 27 Taliban 98, 141, 146, 148–9, 151
Royal Navy 8, 16, 22–3, 26–34, 101, 107, Tamil Tigers 19
175, 178, 182 Tangredi, Sam 8, 110, 178
Rumsfeld, Donald 50, 53, 118 Taylor, Charles 154–7, 159–65
Russia 21, 22, 29, 34, 36–7, 47, 50 Terriff, Terry 8–9, 81, 177, 180
Russian Civil War 16 Teson, Fernando 44
Thailand 62, 73, 75, 77
S-3B Viking 114 Tigris River 130, 135
St. Lawrence River 131 Tolbert, William 154
San Diego 75 Tomb, Nicholas 8, 141
Satsuma 33–4 Tsunami Evaluation Coalition 76
Schumacher, E.F. 81 tsunami in Southeast Asia 2004 3, 8, 20,
Sea of Marmora 37 62, 67, 73–7, 93, 101, 107, 135–6, 176,
Seabasing Concept 177 179
Seabees 70, 86, 93n34, 122, 177, 179 Turkey 34, 37, 107, 119, 181
Second Gulf War 99
Second Seminole War 132–3 U.S. Air Force 18, 86, 102, 147–8
Secretary of Defense (U.S.) 13, 113, 118, U.S. Army 18, 53, 67, 69, 86, 109, 120–3,
126 132, 132–3, 137, 148, 150, 158, 183
Security Assistance Office 119 U.S. Army Civil Affairs and Psychological
Security Assistance Officers 124–6 Operations Command 148
Security Cooperation Education and U.S. Coast Guard 3, 114, 118, 121–3, 126
Training Warfare Center 122 U.S. Department of Agriculture 144
September 11, 2001 Attack 2, 15, 19, 62, U.S. Department of Defense (DoD) 6, 53,
81, 93, 97, 110–11, 137, 141, 173 62–5, 67–8, 82, 111–13, 117–19, 122,
Siegel, Adam 8, 97, 176, 178, 183 126n3, 127n12, 144, 174
Sierra Leone 153, 155, 157–60, 163, 165, U.S. Joint Forces Command 69, 127
167n26 U.S. Marine Corp Combat Development
Silicon Valley 2 Command 82
Singapore 74 U.S. Marine Corps 2–3, 8, 18, 24n9, 53,
Slaughter, Anne-Marie 44–5 69, 72, 76, 81–6, 88–94, 102, 114–17,
SM-2, 115 121–3, 133–5, 137, 153–5, 158–9,
Small is Beautiful 81 161–2, 177–9, 182–3
Somalia 21, 46, 52, 73, 98, 102, 162, 165, U.S. Naval Doctrine Command 103
182–3 U.S. Naval Institute Proceedings 87
South American River Surveys 133 U.S. Navy 1–4, 6–9, 16, 20–1, 24n7, 36,
South China Sea 29 38, 61–78, 81, 85, 87, 89–91, 94, 99,
Southern European Task Force 163 102–5, 107–9, 114–15, 121–2, 124–5,
Soviet Union 1, 4, 14, 15, 17, 21–2, 44, 128–9, 131, 133, 135, 137–8, 142, 147,
110 166, 173–4, 176–80, 182–4
Spain 28, 48 U.S. Pacific Command 70, 74–7
Special Boat Team-22, 136–7 U.S. Special Operations Command 82,
Special Operations Forces 61, 167n26 121, 137
Sri Lanka 62, 73, 75, 77 U.S. State Department 65, 67, 78n5,
Sri Lankan Navy 19 118–19, 126, 127n7, 144, 150, 154, 163
Stability Operations Working Group 64 Ukraine 37
Stolze, J.W. 8, 129, 178 Union Army 49
Strait of Hormuz 2 United Liberation Movement of Liberia
strategic lift 18 for Democracy 155
strategic shaping 18 United Nations 44, 76, 97, 100, 102,
Sudan 98 158–9, 164, 182
190 Index
United Nations Charter 45, 46–7, 101 Venezuela 133
United Nations General Assembly 48 Vietnam 46, 134, 137
United Nations Mission in Liberia 159, Voice of America 155
164
United Nations Security Council 42, 46–7, Warsaw Pact 1
50, 143, 163, 167 Washington, George 132
United Nations World Food Program 75 Washington Post 166
United States 1–2, 4, 13–15, 17–19, 21, Weapons of mass destruction (WMD), 45,
26, 30–1, 38–9, 42–4, 48–54, 63, 69, 48, 51, 54, 98, 101, 105, 106n3
87, 94, 110–11, 114–21, 132–5, 150–1, Webster, Daniel 47–8
153, 157–9, 161–6, 176, 178, 181 White Russians 22, 36
USAID (United States Agency for Wirtz, James xiii, 1, 61
International Development) 69, 76, Woodson, Glenn 148
144–5 Woolsey, James 14
USS Abraham Lincoln 75–6, 79n34, Work, Robert O. 81
136 World Trade Center 15, 62
USS Bonhomme Richard 75–6 World War I 8, 22, 36
USS Enterprise 133 World War II 16, 43, 45–6, 134, 148, 175
USS Essex 75 World War III 17
USS Fort McHenry 75
USS Iwo Jima 158 Yale University 44
USS Kearsarge 157, 183 Yangtze River 130, 133–4
USS Mercy 136 Yangtze River Patrols 133–4
USS Water Witch 133 Yemen 19
USS Wilmington 133 Yorktown 122, 132
Utapao 75, 77
Zanzibar 28, 34–6
Vancouver Island 30