Chapter 4

The Military and the Mangement of Defence

The focus in this chapter moves away from wider issues of co-ordination and government policy to the way in which civilians and the military can work together in the formulation and implementation of defence policy itself. Firstly, the roles and tasks that are appropriate to the military are considered, as well as the influence of different types of government structures and practices. This is one of the most difficult areas of defence transformation, and it has to be recognised that achieving a proper integration of civilian and military functions and personnel will not be easy, and may take time.

In theory, the position is straightforward. In the words of one writer, it is the role of the government to "define appropriate areas of responsibility" for the military to operate in.13 But what are these appropriate areas? And how are they defined? Many writers have supposed that all that really matters is that these areas should be as small as possible, thus, in their view, constraining the military as much as possible. But, this seems a strange way to get the best out of an expensive group of individuals whom the community has selected, trained and equipped. The way in which historical and cultural factors affect answers to these questions will be stressed below, but first it is worth setting out a couple of areas where most people agree that the military should not be involved:

Wars and alliances: At the highest strategic level, governments are jealous of their right to declare war and make treaties. Parliaments (even those as strong as the American Congress) can obstruct declarations of war and refuse to ratify treaties, but they do not usually have the right to propose either of them. Far less, therefore, should the military as servants of the state possess the initiative, or even influence in these areas.



Finance: Except under conditions of absolute military control, states are very unlikely to allow the military to decide what the absolute level of defence spending should be. In almost all systems of government, accounting for expenditure (including defence expenditure) has to be done to parliament, because it is parliament which allocates the money to be spent on defence and the taxes which raise it. Generally, spending decisions are political decisions, and permanent officials (not politicians, and certainly not the military) have to defend the propriety of the way money was spent. This tends to be the case even where the military is very powerful. There are certainly cases where the military has had — in power political terms — at least a voice in the setting of the budget. Yet, a simple relationship between military power and defence budgets should not be assumed. It is true, for example, that both Israel and Pakistan spend an unusually high proportion of their national wealth on defence, and it is true that, in both countries (and in rather different ways), the military is very powerful. But in neither case is there a simple cause and effect relationship. Rather, both the power (or influence) of the military, and the size of the defence budget are themselves consequences of the perceived threat from outside. There are no recorded cases of high military influence and high defence budgets in the absence of a threat. (It is, of course, the perception of a threat which makes the military more powerful in the first place.)

Indeed, the relationship between defence budget-setting and military influence is very complex, and may be the opposite of what it appears. Thus, the Japanese government, since 1976, has operated an informal policy of keeping defence spending to 1% of gross domestic product. This is not, however, a means to control the military — which is bound hand and foot already — but a political gesture aimed at domestic and foreign opinion.

Areas of responsibility

If it is accepted that the military will seldom be involved in issues such as declarations of war and defence budgets, how are other areas decided, that are deemed to be ‘appropriate’ for the military? Part of the problem lies in the way the question itself is formulated, usually because the involvement of the military (or of civilians) is assumed to be exclusive. Reasons why this is not possible will be provided later. Writing in an American context, one writer has implied a pattern of "military advice [on] force levels, weapon systems, expenditures, [and of] political, civilian advice as to diplomacy, budget and tax policy and political acceptance."14 But, no democratic regime could possibly allow so much military influence, even if it was clear what is meant by ‘advice’. Equally, there is the valid question put by a South African Defence Force officer in Pretoria in 1994: "If I as a military man tell you I need a piece of equipment, then on what basis do you as a civilian tell me I shouldn’t have it?"

This kind of question can be addressed more easily if two principles are kept in mind:

There are no important questions which are either purely military or purely political.

Neither civilians nor the military constitute a homogeneous group.

Ministers will be a great deal happier to defend a position which they were consulted about in advance.

It is worth pausing for a moment to consider what the civilian role actually is. In particular, there is a need to avoid confusing the role of the politician and the role of the civilian official, which are quite different. When the word ‘political’ is used in this context, it refers to a dimension to the formulation and administration of defence policy which, for example, may:

involve public money, for which, as was shown, the permanent head of the department is usually responsible;



attract criticism or presentational problems, nationally or abroad;



require the consent of parliament or negotiation with other nations; and



involve negotiation or compromise with other government departments.

With the exception of the first,15 these are subjects on which ministers (ie civilian politicians) are expected to perform in public or among their colleagues, and the skills which are needed to support them are, by and large, skills which civilian officials should possess as a result of their aptitude and training. Briefing another government or the media, or negotiating with the finance ministry are not tasks the military is particularly good at, or even necessarily wants to do. It is not, in other words, a question of corralling the military into an area where it can do no harm, but rather of using the resources of the military and civilians to achieve the best result.

The illusion of homogeneity

Although some militaries are more homogeneous than others, and all will tend to put on a united front in the face of outsiders, they are, in fact, as riven by faction and jealousy as most organisations. An example is the tensions which often exist between officers from the combat arms (such as pilots and infantry officers), who will tend to monopolise the top positions, and technical specialists, who feel underappreciated in spite of their greater training and specialist skills. Likewise, because the military profession includes the possibility of combat and violence, its ethos places special emphasis on the development of leadership and trust among those who may be invited to risk their lives together. In such a situation, in peacetime as much as in times of conflict, the temptation is to trust only those who are known, who wear the same uniform, and have even the same speciality.

These tribal tendencies make the very idea of neutral military advice hard to conceive. There are, of course, issues at such a high level of abstraction that general military advice will have some meaning. There are also issues, such as remuneration and conditions of service, where the interests of the various services tend to coincide. But, in general, the more difficult the issue, the harder it is to produce collective advice which means something, and does not simply reflect the balance of power among the military itself.

A couple of examples may illustrate this better. Imagine a littoral state with problems with smuggling and gun-running along its coast. There is a small amount of money to spend on equipment to counter the threat. What is the advice of the military? In practice, something like the following will happen. The navy will argue that fast patrol boats, or corvettes carrying naval helicopters are the answer. The air force will point to the greater endurance and carrying capability of fixed-wing aircraft. The army will argue that it makes more sense to allow the miscreants to land, and pursue them with high-mobility vehicles. Each will have a persuasive argument why it should be in charge of the overall command and control system which will be required. Or consider a request for military advice on the best way of defending a country against the powerful air force of a neighbour. One lobby will argue for strike aircraft to attack the enemy before it can reach the country. Another will argue for a large force of fighters. A third will stress the importance of air defence missiles. A fourth will point out that none of this is any good without a sophisticated radar network. The army, meanwhile, will insist that it should defend its own facilities with its own missiles. (After all, aircraft are complex pieces of equipment which often go wrong, and the weather in this part of the world often makes flying difficult.)

The point here is not simply that factions in the military will seek to advance their own causes, as happens everywhere. It is also that, in most of these cases, there is no single, correct answer anyway. At one extreme, there are propositions which are militarily senseless, and at the other, ideas which command general assent. But, most defence policy questions fall into the large grey area in the middle, where there is no unchallengeable wisdom, and so no hope that something called ‘military advice’ will arrive neatly packaged and available for immediate use.

If the military is not homogeneous, neither is there something called ‘the civilian’. There is a persistent confusion, in writing about civil-military relations, between ‘control’ by politicians and ‘control’ by civilians. The former are almost always the latter, but the latter are by no means always the former. Indeed, while one of the tasks of civilian officials may well be to help the government to implement its policies, it may well be the case that they will side more with their military colleagues on certain issues, at least privately. Tensions between politicians and permanent officials can be just as great as between politicians and the military. Even civilian officials are not necessarily all alike. Not only is this self-evidently true at an individual level, it is also true institutionally, because officials are employed to support and defend various positions. In a meeting to discuss a new equipment project, for example, the officials from the defence ministry will be lobbying for the system, those from the industry department will be concerned about the implications for the industrial base, the foreign ministry will be looking at the international implications, and the finance ministry will support the cheapest solution.

All of this makes the idea of parcelling the work of defence management into packages labelled ‘political’, to be dealt with by civilians, and ‘military’ to be dealt with by uniformed officers, ridiculous. The fact is that no system will ever work unless those responsible for it agree to co-operate and make it work. This requires the forging of individual relationships across institutional boundaries, and a willingness to treat those in other disciplines as colleagues rather than enemies.

Officers and bureaucracies

So far in this chapter, generic questions have been considered around the roles which the military can play in the management of defence. But, in practice, this involvement takes place within a defined social and institutional context, which differs, often very substantially, from country to country. In all cases, the military is taken out of its natural habitat, the field or the headquarters, and put down in an alien environment where the rules are made by others. What is this bureaucratic context in which the military officer works? While there are some common features, it was already noted how much the position of the military varies in different societies, for cultural and historical reasons. The same is true of the bureaucracies and government structures within which they work. A few examples are suggested.

The top-down approach

The picture of bureaucracy which has been most influential is that of Max Weber (1864-1920).16 Weber (who, like most of those who wrote about organisations, had never worked in one) made some valid points about the nature of bureaucracy, notably its essentially rational underpinning, replacing the haphazard systems of rule previously in vogue. But Weber, whether he realised it or not, in practice, was always describing the bureaucracy of Prussia up to 1918. This was a socially exclusive and politically conservative formation, which saw its role as helping to maintain the authoritarian regime of the day, with its loyalty to the King, rather than to the people. In addition, as is clear from Weber’s emphasis on administrative regulations and the rigidity of organisation, it was a type of bureaucracy which is very common in certain parts of Europe, but much less so elsewhere. States which practice this kind of administration tend to have:

a history of political absolutism;



a heritage of Roman and Napoleonic law; and



a system of administrative law, laying down legal responsibilities for different elements of the bureaucracy.

This type of system is found in its purest in European states such as France and Germany. Its origin lies in the concept of absolutism, which believed that the monarch held all the powers of the state. In a democratic system, the monarch is simply replaced by the people, but the essential features of the system are not changed. They are:

explicit and exclusive delegation of powers, often through legislation, to specialist groups;

a strict distinction between the formulation of policy and its implementation;

initiative proceeding from the top; and

low value placed on consensus.

The first of these characteristics involves the concept of compétence, a word found, in various forms, in a number of European languages, but not, except by importation, in English. It is hard to translate exactly, but, as its main practical consequence, shows the tendency to package work into self-contained parts, each to be dealt with by a nominated department, and no-one else. There is no greater sin in this kind of system than exceeding one’s compétence. The second characteristic dictates the structure of bureaucracies of this type. At the top of the department is the minister, who is responsible for the formulation of policy. Yet, even the initiative of ministers is limited in practice. Ministers are assisted by their cabinets, another untranslatable word which refers to a group of advisors, including some from outside government, working for the minister personally, and probably leaving when a new minister is appointed. There is a strict distinction between ministers and their cabinets, and the permanent officials, whose function is to implement the policies which are handed down to them.

This kind of structure has to work in a more flexible way than is implied by the model above, if anything is to be done. Politics by its very nature involves compromise, and officials are bound to be involved in the formulation of policy in some way, rather than always waiting for inspiration to be handed down from above. This system described here varies somewhat from country to country. In such a system, there are significant obstacles to consensus, because loyalties tend to be vertical, and hierarchies will negotiate with one another almost like sovereign states, as could be expected, given the tradition of the delegation of powers to be exercised by one group alone. As a result, a superior figure (such as a chancellor or president) will often be called in to make a decision, and this decision will most likely be a straight choice between sharply different positions.

How does the military fare in such a structure? Any system based on the exclusive compétence principle will tend to make the kind of artificial distinction between political and military issues criticised earlier. The military will therefore be charged with the implementation of defence policy, and will be largely left to get on with it, without a significant civilian input. In some ways, this puts the military in a powerful position, at least formally. But, in practice, it is always subject to being overruled by the cabinet and often by the foreign ministry as well. The cabinet, which will contain aspiring politicians, academics, journalists, diplomats and others — but probably no military persons — will insist on being involved in any issue which has political overtones, and that includes nearly everything. As a result, reports or recommendations can make their way to the Chief of Defence, only to be rejected by a young journalist recently appointed to the cabinet. In addition, the position of the foreign ministry will always be stronger in a system of government which has few civilians working on defence issues. The foreign ministry supplies a large number of members of cabinets, not least in ministries of defence, and, except where the military is powerful for other reasons, it would be unusual for them (or their minister) to win a trial of strength with a foreign ministry.

The bottom-up approach

The other main type of government system is roughly the opposite of that described above. It is typical of states without a tradition of Roman or Napoleonic law, even if they share some of the characteristics of the top-down system. For example, Thailand had a tradition of absolutist monarchy which lasted several hundred years longer than that of France, but its system of administration is very different. Likewise, an attachment to procedures should not be confused with legal definitions of activities. In a number of Confucian cultures, for example, ritual and the following of prescribed procedures are extremely important, but this is for social reasons and for tradition rather than as a result of legal requirements. The characteristics of this kind of approach are:

vagueness of administrative boundaries and widespread consultation on issues of common interest;



use of permanent officials as originators of policy;



initiative generally coming from the bottom; and



high value placed on consensus.

There are more variants of this system than of the top-down one, and they have different origins. One is found in Great Britain, with similarities in a number of northern European nations like the Netherlands and Sweden. Similar systems are also found in many Asian countries as well, although their origins are quite different. What these countries have in common is:

a pragmatic culture;

a respect for tradition and convention as much as for written law; and

a preference for consensus.

The use of ‘pragmatic’ here is not an Anglo-Saxon value judgement: the word is used in something close to a technical philosophical sense, ie the drawing of conclusions from sense-data, rather than the a priori reasoning which is common in top-down systems. Without an extensive legal structure determining everything, ideas will tend to be seen more on their merits. Indeed, a number of these societies (Japan is a good example) draft laws and government documents in such a way that no single definitive interpretation is actually possible, and they can therefore mean different things to different people.

This kind of system tends to work by developing consensus at a low level, and working upwards. As a rule, officials will try to sort out problems at the lowest level possible, and reach consensus before passing the issue upwards. Decisive intervention from above (although easier in some countries than others) is never attractive, since it implies a defeat and loss of face for one group. As a result, in many such systems (especially Asian ones), the role of officials becomes increasingly ceremonial as they become more senior. A ministerial meeting to settle an issue may be treated with great formality and prepared with great thoroughness, but it will be little else, in practice, but ceremony, with the arguments having been thoroughly ventilated at a lower level. Societies which value consensus also tend to dislike public conflict, and even where there are disagreements, a ‘cool heart’ as the Thais call it, is required of all. This kind of system makes rigid distinctions between functions less common, and provides more scope for consultation and consensus between hierarchies. Finally, these systems generally manage without cabinets, so officials have the right and the responsibility to propose ideas to ministers, as long, of course, as they are in line with overall policy, or can be presented as such.

The weaknesses of this kind of system are an undue concentration on short-term, ad hoc issues, and a constant temptation for sterile managerialism. Top-down systems tend, by their nature, to pursue longer term strategies, whereas bottom-up systems are mainly concerned with tactics, and often move, via a series of sensible, ad hoc compromises, to a position which is eventually the opposite of the one they started from.

The position of the military in this type of structure is formally weaker, but practically stronger than in top-down systems. Civilians are often employed in large numbers and in positions of power, but this tends to have the effect of relieving the military of tasks for which it is not best fitted, and making the department as a whole more effective in fighting its wider political battles. The absence of a cabinet increases the influence of the military, in that its interlocutors are the permanent officials, usually defence experts, with whom it normally works.