|
A Response to Syndercombe *
It is often instructive to draw contrasts and comparisons between navies that appear on the surface to be wildly different from one another, since these may well suggest a surprising commonality of problem and choice. Even in the quite distinctive political circumstances in which South Africa now finds itself, foreign experience may yet have something to offer.
In the first place, it is clear that an all-round approach to maritime strategy is by no means the only one on offer to South Africans. There are in fact two evolving traditions in the state's approach to the use of the sea. The first is the model in which the maritime dimension is consciously treated as a whole. This encourages the development of a coherent maritime strategy, or oceans policy, in which all aspects of sea use, whether they be military, commercial, scientific or leisure, are seen as an integrated whole. This makes a good deal of sense in that such an approach would seem to reflect objective reality. The fact of the matter is that an oil spill from a passing tanker may well affect the marine environment and be of concern both to scientists and fishermen. It may interfere with sea-bathers and yachtsmen, and could easily require a response from naval and air forces. This being so, it would seem, state policy in regards to the passage of tankers should at least be conditioned by an awareness of the existence of these wider issues.
The conclusion appears deceptively simple. Since such sea-uses are so interdependent, they should be managed and supervised by some sort of overall agency or group of agencies. This supervision might even extend into wider national-maritime concerns such as the development of a national strategy towards the merchant shipping industry, ship repair and construction, energy, transportation and so forth. It might seem wisest to place overall responsibility for the development of all aspects of an oceans policy in the hands of a Ministry of the Marine, rather in the French style. One characteristic of such an approach might well be for the navy in fact to take on various non-military activities for other departments, possibly even for a fee. This seems to be the approach adopted by the Danes, for example.
But the poor performance of the centralised direction characteristic of a command economy like that of the former Soviet Union has made this model of a maritime strategy distinctly unfashionable. Instead, the accent in many European countries is on the individualistic laissez-faire, market forces approach. In this model, commercial pressures are allowed to dominate and, typically, development functions are desegregated. In some countries, search and rescue, fishery protection, environmental management and so forth may even be contracted out to non-governmental organisations. The rationale for this is that the disciplines of the market place will encourage such functions to be performed in the most cost-effective way.
Although, as the corporatist approach of Germany shows, the correlation is far from exact, there does seem to be an association between model one and collectivist socialism on the one hand and between model two and free market liberalism on the other. The outcome of future domestic political events in the new South Africa will not of course be decided by such maritime concerns but by other much more crucial developments. These will be an important determinant of where between these two extremes its maritime strategy will settle. To reverse the expectation of traditional maritime strategists like Mahan and Corbett, what happens at sea will, its seems, be largely decided by what happens on land.
A further analogy with the United Kingdom may also suggest some interesting comparisons. In common with most other West European nations, Britain is now having to address the issue of whether it wishes to retain its national identity or whether it is resigned eventually to losing itself in the larger collectivity of the European Community. As far as the size and shape of the Royal Navy is concerned, the consequent issue is the extent to which the UK should seek to maintain a balance of capabilities, a balanced fleet indeed, or whether British decision-makers should accept that it would be more cost-effective to specialise, in the expectation that its allies would do the same. In that way, the European whole would be more than a sum of its parts.
Both routes have their dangers. Going for specialisation within a larger collectivity raises the issue of how much decision-makers can rely on their allies remaining such. But sticking to the balanced national option runs into the difficulty of maintaining sufficient critical mass in times of economic constraint. Constant salami-slicing across the board may reduce individual capacities to low levels. Eventually the slices are so thin they disappear altogether.
These may prove to be difficult choices to make; not least since they reflect broader judgement about what sort of country the UK is likely to turn out to be. In some ways, though, small navies are in an easier position, since they have already taken some of the painful decisions (such as, in South Africa's case, greatly reducing its amphibious forces); it may therefore be easier for the new South Africa to find a balance at a lower level, than it might be for a medium-sized navy like the British, which has so many more maritime possibilities.
The last question to be raised by foreign analogy, is the question of the extent to which the new South Africa will think it has an international mission or not, and on how that might effect the size and shape of its Navy. Russia is addressing this issue too. On the one hand, there are those who are naturally wholly preoccupied with Russia's huge internal problems, and who conclude that the new Russia does not need ambitious ocean-going naval forces, and that a coast guard will do. Others disagree, and argue that despite severe local problems, Russia will simply have to take its rightful place on the world scene. If Russia turns its back on an international mission, which would obviously have an impact on the size and shape of its fleet, then either the United States and its allies will have to try to do it all (manifestly impossible and highly undesirable) or (more likely) the necessary tasks of world stabilisation just will not get done.
For South Africa, the equivalent question is the extent to which it should attempt to rise above its internal problems in order to assume a regional role in cooperation with other local powers. Should the South African Navy concentrate merely on minding its own sea area or should it seek instead to play a role in UN or regional collective security? Since this is a question that flows from a perception of what sort of country the new South Africa should be, it is not for outsiders to be judgemental on the matter.
Nonetheless, many outsiders would conclude that a reformed South Africa has a good deal to offer towards regional and even global security, even though its navy is unlikely to deploy much in the way of nuclear submarines or aircraft carriers. The Italian navy might have some lessons to teach here. Italy plays a significant role in Mediterranean and Gulf security, and occasionally ventures even further afield. Yet few see the Italian navy as a threat. Indeed the fact that one of its amphibious warfare-capable ships was built and paid for by the Ministry of Overseas Development on the basis of its evident utility for disaster-relief operations may be cited as evidence of the benign potential of quite modest degrees of sea power for regional security. In this sense, South Africa should perhaps try to be Africa's Italy!
|
|
|