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Reviewed by
John Temple Swing
Andrew J. Bacevich, a professor of
international relations and director
of the Center for International
Relations at Boston University, has
provided us with a thoughtful and
provocative study of many of the
strands in the American body
politic that led to President Bush's
invasion of Iraq in 2003. Andrew
Bacevich writes from the unique
perspective of a military officer
who, following graduation from
West Point, saw service in
Vietnam.
Militarism in America is hardly
new. We can find precursors of
today's situation in the annexation
of large parts of Mexico in the
1850s, in the conquest of Spain's
colonies of Cuba and the
Philippines in the 1890s, and in the
invasions of Grenada and Panama
in the 1980s. Professor Bacevich,
however, starts his story with
President Wilson's idealism, as
expressed in his Fourteen Points,
and most importantly, with the
ideal of creating a peaceful world
in which democracies can flourish.
It is ironic that today, Woodrow
Wilson is most frequently credited
with providing a justification for
imposing democracy at the barrel
of a gun, rather than for creating a
world in which peace prevails and
war itself is rendered obsolete.
Andrew Bacevich observes,
“The key point is this: at the end of
the Cold War, Americans said yes
to military power. The skepticism
about arms and armies that
informed the original Wilsonian
vision, indeed that pervaded the
American experiment from its
founding, vanished. Political leaders,
liberals and conservatives
alike, became enamored with mili-tary
might” (p. 14). Much of the
balance of his book is devoted to
explaining how this happened.
One source of the new militarism
comes from the armed
forces themselves. Embittered
and disillusioned by their defeat in
Vietnam, the military was determined
to reinvent itself.
Personified by leaders such as
Creighton Abrams, the general
who succeeded William Westmoreland in Vietnam in 1968
and then went on to become Army
Chief of Staff, the military slowly
regained its self-confidence,
reforming itself in the process.
A principal goal of the restoration
was to reclaim the importance,
if not the primacy, of the military
in decision-making involving the
use of force. Only by realizing this
goal could the military be sure to
avoid future Vietnams. As annunciated
by the Weinberger Doctrine
during the first Reagan administration,
the new military doctrine
required several important tests for
the use of force: vital national
interests had to be at stake; clear
and achievable goals had to be set;
congressional and public support
was essential; and force was to be
used as a last resort and when used,
it was to fight in order to win. As
the doctrine evolved during Colin
Powell's watch, two new condi-tions
were added: an exit strategy
had to be in place; and victory was
to be assured by the application of
overwhelming force. Where such
force could not be applied, as in
Bosnia in the 1990s, Colin Powell
counseled against intervention.
The military's ultimate vindication
came with the swift victory
it achieved in the first Gulf War.
With that victory came a new
price. The military now argued
successfully that it had to be
equipped and able to win two such
wars concurrently. Congress was
enamored by the prowess displayed
in Gulf I, and the
administration and Congress
seemed only too happy to comply.
Unfortunately, the events
of the 1990s conspired against
the Powell Doctrine. None of
the numerous applications of
force during that decade met
the various tests Colin Powell
had put forward.
In following chapters,
Andrew Bacevich traces the
evolution of neo-conservative
thinking in the work of Norman
Podhoretz and later William
Kristol, which culminated in
advocacy of the overwhelming
use of force to implant
American ideals abroad; the
subtle effects of the shift from a
draft to an all-volunteer army
and the Reagan military
buildup; the glorification of
military virtues exemplified by
the 1986 movie “Top Gun” and
found in Tom Clancy's The
Hunt for Red October and later
novels; the vindication of
Vietnam War veterans personified
by the memorial erected in
Washington, D.C., in the early
1980s; the rise and growing
influence of the evangelical
religious right; the role of
strategic thinkers personified
by Albert Wohlstetter and
Andrew Marshall, ultimately justifying
the utility of the anticipatory
use of force in a new world
of precision weaponry; and, finally,
America's growing dependence
on—and therefore strategic right
to—Middle East oil. All of these
developments came together forming,
if you will, the tinder in the
box that Osama bin Laden ignited
with the 9/11 attacks in 2001.
What is to be done to counter
the negative effects of the new mil-itarism?
In his final chapter,
Andrew Bacevich urges us to keep
in mind ten fundamental principles
needed to restore the proper balance
in thinking about issues of
war and peace. He would have us
“heed the intention of the Founders
… revitalize the concept of separation
of powers … view force as a
last resort … enhance U.S. strategic
self-sufficiency … organize
U.S. forces explicitly for national
defense … determine an appropriate
gauge for determining the level
of U.S. defense spending …
enhance alternative instruments of
statecraft … revive the moribund
concept of the citizen-soldier …
reexamining the role of the
National Guard and the reserve
components … [and lastly] reconcile
the American military profession
to American Society.” All of
Professor Bacevich's principles
make sense within the interrelated
context of his ultimate mission: to
reorient the military to its proper
role in American, and indeed
world, society.
I have two criticisms of his
work. First, he fails to give adequate
attention on the causal side
to the civilian part of the equation:
the role that defense industries and
their highly effective lobbies in
Congress have played in the enormous
buildup of American power.
He quotes extensively from our
first military-civilian president,
George Washington, but he fails to
take account of, or even to mention,
the warning against the growing
influence of the military-industrial
complex from yet another
military-civilian President, Dwight
D. Eisenhower, in his final speech
to the nation in 1961.
Andrew Bracevich also gives
insufficient attention to the concept
of collective security, which is
implicit in another portion of
President Eisenhower's speech.
That wise warrior-president observed:
“Down the long lane of the history
yet to be written, America knows
that this world of ours, ever growing
smaller, must avoid becoming
a community of dreadful fear and
hate and be instead a proud
confederation of mutual trust
and respect.
“Such a confederation must be
one of equals. The weakest must
come to the conference table with
the same confidence as do we, protected
as we are by our moral, economic,
and military strength. That
table, though scarred by many past
frustrations, cannot be abandoned
for the certain agony of the battlefield.
Disarmament, with mutual
honor and confidence, is a contin-uing
imperative. Together we must
learn how to compose differences,
not with arms, but with intellect
and decent purpose. Because this
need is so sharp and apparent, I
confess that I lay down my official
responsibilities in this field with a
definite sense of disappointment.
As one who has witnessed the hor-ror
and the lingering sadness of
war—as one who knows that
another war could utterly destroy
this civilization, which has been so
slowly and painfully built over
thousands of years—I wish I could
say tonight that a lasting peace is
in sight.”
Alas, Dwight Eisenhower
could not say, just as we cannot say
today, that such an end is in sight.
This underlying concept, however,
was the bright side of the Wilsonian
dream that led to the creation of the
League of Nations, that led Franklin
Delano Roosevelt to create the
United Nations, and that Dwight
Eisenhower echoed in his prescient
remarks. Hard as it may be to
achieve, we should not abandon the
ef fort to find lasting peace. ❑