neo-con's post cold war doctrine

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    Seeing fludy has claimed the neo-conservatives are fascists. See if you can pick up any fascist ideas from Richard Perle's neo-conservative post cold war perspectives in this lecture. Notice this was pre 9/11 but the basic neo-con ideas are there.

    Very interesting and prescient analysis of the "Old Europe" and it's defence capabilities:

    THE RUTTENBERG LECTURE 2000

    BY RICHARD PERLE

    23RD June 2000

    "THE COLD WAR:
    IS IT REALLLY, REALLY, REALLY OVER?"

    As I looked over the advance list of people expected to be here tonight I began to wonder whether I was in trouble from the beginning, even before the beginning, whether I was really, really, really in trouble right from the selection of my title, The Cold War: Is It Really, Really, Really Over?
    Now, American speakers visiting London are expected to draw their titles from Churchill or Shakespeare or, more recently, your very own Margaret Thatcher. The Cold War: Closing The Ring or The Cold War: All's Well That Ends Well, or The Cold War: The Path to Power, any of these would have been instantly recognizable and appropriately respectful.

    So drawing a title from the Spice Girls, I began to fear, ran the risk of unintended obscurantism, or worse, transatlantic populism, hardly the way to begin the evening. But by then it was too late. Programs had been printed, invitations sent out. So with apologies to you, and to Winston, Will and Margaret, I'll try to answer the question: is the Cold War really, really, really over? And what should we do now?

    I believe the Cold War is over. The crumbling of the Berlin Wall, pieces of which may now be found in souvenir shops in German airports, the dissolution of the Warsaw Pact and the absorption of three of its most important members in NATO and the collapse of the Soviet Union are about as conclusive an ending as history allows. Around the globe, communist ideology is in full retreat, its practitioners driven from office by its victims, its advocates drowned out by a global chorus demanding free markets and political pluralism, even where the fundamental value of these institutions is only dimly understood. And even in China, now frozen politically in its communist past, the stirrings of enterprise and the lure of market economics, offer the hope that Mao's legacy will join Stalin's on the ash heap of history. Only in such dismal, faltering outposts as North Korea and Cuba is there an entrenched Stalinist leadership still in power. Even the occasional burst of nostalgia that returns former communists to power-and here the important word is "former"--has more to do with the survival skills of experienced apparatchiki than any belief in a now discarded ideology.

    The end of the Cold War was not brought about by an enlightened convergence-what some might wish to call a "third way"--as liberal theorists hoped.

    It wasn't negotiated away by treaties and protocols or U.N. resolutions, as foreign offices and their journalistic acolytes often urged.

    It didn't end in the apocalypse, as many scientists, and an often hysterical "peace" lobby, feared.

    The Cold War ended in a way that exceeded the wildest dreams of Harry Truman and Hugh Gaitskill, Ronald Reagan and Margaret Thatcher, Vaclav Havel and Lech Walensa, Andrei Sakharov and Anatoly Scharansky, those who fought it most persistently. It ended without a major war, without accommodation or compromise, with a Western victory as comprehensive and convincing as any in history. The Cold War ended, not with a bang but a whimper.

    But, to judge by two issues that now dominate discussion about the where we go from here: the nature, scope and purpose of our military establishments and the role of a defense against ballistic missiles for the future protection of the West's hard won security, you would think the Cold War was raging still.

    Let me take each of these in turn.

    Military Establishments

    During the Cold War we knew where the battle ground would be. The threat was from the Soviet Union and, despite all manner of murderous excursions in the third world, it was centered on the great fault line of the iron curtain. The need to deter or defeat a conventional invasion through the center of Europe or a strategic nuclear attack on U.S. or allied territory, drove everything we did from the collection of intelligence to the development of weapons systems to the sizing, training, and organization of American military forces and those of our NATO allies. Our ground forces were heavy and mechanized because they were expected to encounter heavy, mechanized forces on the other side. They were deployed or pre-positioned on the continent because that is where we knew the war would be fought. Our munitions inventory anticipated intense artillery exchanges with Soviet guns that often out-ranged our own. Our naval forces emphasized attack submarines to counter Soviet missile-firing submarines and escort vessels to re-supply the large numbers of American troops on the ground in Europe. Our air forces were oriented toward fighting in European weather and operating from protected European bases located comfortably within operational range of enemy targets.

    But the Cold War is over, and unlike the Cold War years, we can no longer be certain from where threats to our interests and security will come. Moreover, in the absence of a threat as profound and fundamental as that once posed by the Soviet Union, the willingness of Americans and Europeans alike to sustain large defense expenditures and combat casualties has diminished significantly and will surely decline further. In the case of European forces-those that we are now told will constitute the core of a new European defense identity-the decline in budgets and capability is approaching a free fall-and safety nets in Europe are reserved for social, not military security.

    To defend against threats which cannot be confidently predicted, my country must have a highly flexible military capability that can be deployed quickly at great distances. We must be capable of applying overwhelming, effective force in the absence of nearby bases under friendly control. Most often the United States will act in concert with its allies. But this may not always be possible, either because they are ill-prepared or otherwise incapable of effective participation, even in combination with American forces.

    Self congratulatory pronouncements to the contrary, the air war over Kosovo demonstrated how little real capability America's NATO allies can bring to bear, even in the center of Europe. Moreover, American readiness to act alone if necessary has often been the decisive factor in obtaining coalition support. If we are to be credible in proposing to act alone we cannot be dependent on others, however helpful their support may be. No one should mistake American self-reliance for isolationism. It is, in fact, quite the opposite, an essential foundation for American international leadership.

    The military force that we and our allies raised to protect us against the Soviet threat may well have been the most successful deterrent force in history. Given the high level of tension between East and West that prevailed throughout the Cold War, and the now indisputable evidence of Soviet offensive war plans, the peace Europe enjoyed for nearly half a century must surely be credited to NATO's U.S. led effectiveness and U.S. strategic forces.

    Yet there is no reason why the threats we managed so magnificently during the Cold War ought to shape the organization, size, structure, training, doctrine and strategy of our military forces in the future. On the contrary, there is every reason to believe, as Iraq, Bosnia and Kosovo demonstrated, that future contingencies will be unlike those of the past. The large standing armies of the Cold War, the navies oriented toward re-supply, the air force in its nuclear dimension-these are forces of the past, however much we honor their achievements, however deep our debt to their valor and sacrifice.

    The Western victory in the Cold War has obscured the fundamental challenge confronting the North Atlantic military establishment: its timely adaptation to our future security needs. We must move urgently to restructure our military establishments--or we will be unable to protect our interests in the situations most likely to threaten them. Exploiting emerging technologies-especially in the information, computing, sensing and communications sectors--we must replace much of our current arsenal with highly mobile forces capable of reaching distant theaters quickly with weapons of great precision. With the advantage of reach and stealth, our forces must be able to operate beyond the range of the enemy; and they must be capable of destroying enemy targets most of the time without relying on nearby bases, large quantities of heavy weapons, or favorable weather.

    The ability actually to hit enemy targets is our first and most urgent priority. It will distinguish the future from the past. For in the whole of recorded history we have almost always missed the targets at which we aimed. In the air campaign over Germany in World War II only one bomb in 400 struck its intended target. If we invest in the new systems that can identify targets remotely and deliver weapons against them with pin point accuracy, we will be able to protect our interests with military establishments of manageable size and cost. But the transition will not be easy and it will not come cheaply. That we have the technology is certain; that we have the will is not.

    The United States has made a start. Some of the early results were seen in Desert Storm and again in Kosovo. But while the Americans have taken the first essential steps, our European allies have not. On the contrary, European military programs are increasingly aimed at providing jobs-so technologies that enable American forces to control the risks of combat operations remain unavailable to those allies with whom we are joined across the Atlantic.

    For example, while the U.S. has developed, produced and now operates a military transport aircraft, the C-17, that more than meets the needs of our NATO allies, the Europeans are proceeding to develop a new military transport which, if developed successfully, will be less capable and more expensive than the C-17.

    Or, again,, while Europe is in the process of developing airplanes with radar signatures that leave them vulnerable to air defense missiles, the U.S. has been buying and operating "stealthy" aircraft that are far more capable and pose far lower risks. Consider the B-2 bomber now in service with the U.S. Air Force.

    According to U.S. Air Force studies, two B-2 bomber aircraft can do the work of 75 conventional aircraft. And because they are nearly invisible to air defense radars, the risk of combat losses is greatly reduced. In the first eight weeks of the war over Kosovo, operating in weather conditions that kept much of the allied air force grounded, 3 B-2 aircraft-our most modern and capable long range bomber--conducted 3% of the missions flown but destroyed 33% of the targets. Targets struck by conventional aircraft involved hundreds of aircraft and thousands of missions-and greatly increased combat risk. Any sensible western policy would recognize that leading edge technologies should be adopted throughout NATO in a manner that narrows an ever widening gap between American and European capabilities.

    The width of that gap is a matter of political as well as military concern. As the United States re-capitalizes its military with systems than can operate from beyond the lethal range of the enemy, as it acquires sophisticated systems that render the battlefield transparent and identify, through darkness and fog, the exact location of opposing forces; as it becomes increasingly confident of its ability to control the airspace over the battlefield, where will we find our allies when our common interests are threatened and we must decide on collective action. If the risks that America's allies are compelled to accept by virtue of their inadequate capabilities greatly exceed the risks the United States feels confident it can accept, how will we find common responses to common challenges?

    There has been a great deal of discussion in recent months about the effort of the European members of NATO to establish for themselves something called a European Defense and Security Identity, or, for short, an EDSI. When the discussion began, in seminars at continental villas and in the pages of newspapers and learned journals, I thought this new topic could well replace the subject of U.S.-Canadian relations as the most boring topic on the international seminar circuit. Now that Europe's defense identity crisis is in full flower, I'm sure of it.

    It is, after all, hard to get excited about German conceptualizations or French logic or EU frameworks that have, as their purpose, contemplating the non-existent European military forces that would be pressed into the service of a non-existent common European foreign policy-in those instances in which NATO had distanced itself from its European allies and opted out.

    What really, really, really seems to be at work here is a French led plan to advance its towering conceit: that France can manipulate its entente with Germany to marginalize the Americans in Europe while keeping us sufficiently engaged so the military, intelligence and logistic resources we alone have been willing to buy can be put at the disposal of those Europeans who talk endlessly about capabilities they simply don't have.

    The inescapable truth is that defense capability requires investment. And that is precisely what the Europeans are not talking about. What they are talking about is how to organize and command their current, anemic forces through structures that do not include the United States and such other important NATO allies as Turkey and the newly admitted members from Central Europe.

    Many of my colleagues in Washington watched the European defense identity crisis with a detached bemusement. But I must confess that we were alarmed to see the United Kingdom, normally so clear headed over the din of Eurobabble, join the French in a lost weekend at St. Malo. I should have thought-and many of my colleagues certainly believed-that the British Prime Minister would attach fundamental importance to the "special relationship" that has served both our countries so well for so long--and that he would not place it at risk by falling in behind French maneuvers aimed at sidelining the United States in Europe.

    National Missile Defenses

    With the Cold War over, there is no longer any reason to base our policy on the assumption that Russia poses a mortal threat to the United States and its allies. Nor are the Russians justified in believing that the United States poses a mortal threat to Russia. Gone are the days when American strategists were compelled to assume the worst case in assessing the requirements for Western defense. The arithmetic of the Cold War, in which we calculated how many of our nuclear weapons would survive a massive Soviet nuclear first strike, is mercifully a thing of the past. Those calculations were once considered with the utmost seriousness. After all, if the Soviets could destroy a large fraction of our retaliatory capability, we might not be able to retaliate with sufficient force to deter an initial attack. A steady stream of elaborate calculations was produced by war planners at the Strategic Air Command and its Soviet counterpart. These calculations were used to determine the number of nuclear weapons necessary to assure the destruction of significant percentages of Soviet military assets-airfields, shipyards, garrisons, and the like as well as the industrial and logistic infrastructure. The Soviets employed similar models and techniques to derive their own requirements and war plans.

    Opponents of missile defenses argued then, as they do now, that the possibility of a defense against ballistic missiles threatened to upset the delicate calculations of the balance of terror. If the Soviets could strike first and degrade our retaliatory capability, their possession of a defense that could intercept ballistic missiles might undermine the American deterrent. For their part, the Soviets, from Brezhnev though Gorbachev, claimed the same concern. There is no evidence to suggest that Yeltsin or Putin differ from their predecessors and, on the American side as well, this Cold War model is well entrenched in the Clinton administration and widely held among academics and editorial writers. Peter Hain and Robin Cook, who spent their political adolescence among the unilateralists in the CND, have been eager to reaffirm their Cold War opposition to an American national missile defense system.

    Moreover, during the Cold War the belief became widespread that if one side were to deploy a defense against ballistic missiles, the other would simply build more missiles in numbers sufficient to overwhelm the defense. Thus the specter of an arms race, often described as an "ever upward spiral," became a central theme in foreign offices and ministries of defense around the world, a theme amplified by the CND crowd in Britain and its counterpart in other countries.

    So, in 1972 the United States and the Soviet Union signed a treaty banning the deployment of national missile defenses along with an interim agreement intended to "freeze" the growth of offensive missile systems. Reflecting the logic of the Cold War, the ABM Treaty sought to assure each side that the other was vulnerable to a retaliatory missile attack. In the circumstances of the Cold War, with its deep political, ideological and military division between the superpowers, the idea that vulnerability to a missile attack with many nuclear weapons was a good thing gained currency.

    Mutual vulnerability would lead to stability, it was argued, because no preemptive strike could be certain of destroying all the other side's missiles. Retaliation would be assured. "Mutual Assured Destruction" would make us safe.

    The ABM Treaty prohibits the deployment of a national missile defense although it does allow certain research short of deployment as well as the actual deployment of no more than 100 interceptor missiles at a single location in each country. The Russians have such a system around Moscow. The United States, which abandoned its own fledgling system after the 1972 treaty, has none.

    In April, 1983 President Reagan announced a new program of research and development to determine whether the United States could build an effective defense against ballistic missiles. The "strategic defense initiative," or SDI, as the President called it, was vehemently opposed by the Soviet Union and sparked protests throughout Europe. Following the 1983 announcement, a succession of Soviet leaders tried to negotiate further restrictions on the deployment of defensive systems. The most important such negotiation took place in Iceland in 1986 at a summit meeting between President Reagan and Communist Party Secretary Mikhail Gorbachev. The Reykjavik summit ended when President Reagan refused to accept Soviet proposals to confine further development of missile defenses to the laboratory, in effect throttling any serious defense in its infancy.

    Today the United States stands naked before its enemies, unable to intercept even a single ballistic missile aimed, by accident or design, at our territory. Many Americans are shocked to learn that this condition of abject vulnerability is the freely chosen policy of the government of the United States, and widely supported among America's allies.

    Frozen in the Cold War like a fly in amber, the current American administration believes our exposure to attack by ballistic missiles actually makes us safer. Therefore, they argue, the vulnerability that developed during the Cold War should become a permanent feature of American policy, enshrined in a trivially modified--and thereby reinvigorated--ABM Treaty. Under political pressure in this election year not to cede the issue of missile defense to the Republicans, President Clinton is considering deployment of a manifestly inadequate system in Alaska that would fail to protect much of the U.S. or any of our allies, a system designed more to remain within the main confines of the ABM Treaty than to defend the country.

    Operating on an autopilot from the Cold War, the Clinton administration argues that a technologically serious defense, even if limited, would precipitate an arms race because other nuclear powers, especially Russia, would build additional missiles to overwhelm any defense we might deploy. This is why (according to talking points prepared for official U.S.-Russian meetings) the administration has sought to assure the Russians that even if the United States builds an ineffective defense in Alaska, Russia will still be able to incinerate the United States after a massive American nuclear strike. It is hard to imagine a mind-set more reflective of the Cold War than that. Yet this is the logic that animates the administration's belief that the ABM Treaty banning nationwide defensive systems is the "cornerstone" of strategic stability.

    The idea of the ABM Treaty as a cornerstone of stability is especially popular among America's European allies. But it seems fair to ask: how can a treaty that was the cornerstone of stability in 1972 still constitute a cornerstone in the year 2000? After all, there is almost nothing in common between the geopolitical situation in the middle of the Cold War and the situation today. Henry Kissinger, who ran the negotiations that resulted in the ABM Treaty, has argued convincingly that it no longer serves American interests. I think that can be broadened to include Western interests generally.

    Some Europeans have argued that Europe could become a target of convenience if an American missile defense left potential adversaries unable to attack the U.S. directly. In this scenario, a Saddam Hussein or a Kim Jung-Il might think "If I can't destroy New York, I'll just have to destroy Berlin or Paris instead." I suppose one can't rule out such a development, though it surely is not high on the list of things Jacques Chirac or Gerhard Schroeder ought to be worrying about.

    But the idea gives rise to three thoughts. First, implicit in this bizarre concern is a recognition that there may indeed be a threat from ballistic missiles in the hands of unpredictable, vindictive, malicious leaders. And after hearing any number of learned Europeans tell us that there is no threat, or that we are overstating it, that is a welcome acknowledgment. Second, we should, of course, be planning for a missile defense that will cover our European allies. I believe the next administration will certainly think in those terms even if the current one does not. Finally, if we take this European concern seriously-that Europe might become the displaced target for a missile intended for the United States-is the sensible American response to say, "Oh, how silly of us to think we should defend ourselves. And we certainly wouldn't want to put you in harm's way. So we'll just drop the whole idea and remain vulnerable. Don't you worry about a thing." Far from assuring "stability," the Cold War doctrine that we must seek safety through voluntary vulnerability is dangerously ill-conceived. Consider the core of the administration argument, that the Russians would build more nuclear weapons if we were to build a defense against ballistic missiles.

    Since we have no defense, a nuclear force consisting of even one missile could do catastrophic harm to Los Angeles or Washington or New York. A handful would mean destruction beyond imagination. Now, suppose we were to deploy a defense capable of countering not one or a handful, but a few hundred incoming warheads. With such a defense, we might no longer be vulnerable to such nuclear powers as, say, this country, which possesses an independent deterrent, or France. Would you British feel compelled to build more nuclear weapons to overpower our defense? Of course not. You don't regard the United States as your enemy. You don't fear an American attack on London. Nor do the French. (Actually the French do fear an attack but (a) it comes from Hollywood and not the Strategic Air Command and (b) it is truly devastating and (c) while Chirac may think our anti-missile system won't work I know his defense against American movies will fail.) It is the political context, not the weapons themselves, that determine whether, and to what extent, any particular military capability is threatening.

    Now that the Cold War is over, should Russia regard us as an enemy? We are more likely to send Mr. Putin a check than a massive barrage of missiles with nuclear warheads. We have sought in countless ways to work with, not against, the Russians. We have muted our criticism-wrongly in my view-of Russia's outrageous assault on civilians in Chechnya. It is unimaginable that we would launch thousands of nuclear weapons against Russia and hope to benefit thereby. And that would be true even if we had a defense that would knock down every missile that might be launched in retaliation. Would it make sense for Mr. Putin to respond to an American defense against North Korea or Saddam Hussein by building more missiles? Is the Russian economy such that a vast investment in new weapons, aimed at the United States, would benefit his country? And what about China? We've just sent them an invitation into the world trading system? Should they fear an American missile attack? Or regard a limited American defense as a threat to China? And even if they did think in these terms, should we remain vulnerable to the world just to reassure them?

    It is sometimes said in response that it is perceptions, not reality, that counts. If the Russians or the Chinese perceive the United States as a threat and therefore regard any anti-missile system it may build as a danger, shouldn't the United Sates stand down?

    This seems to me a particularly unwise line of argument. In psychiatry it would lead to humoring paranoids by accepting their paranoia and acting to accommodate baseless fears. In science it would mean the abandonment of rigor and discipline, pretending instead of proving. And in international politics it would mean nurturing rather than finding ways to correct false and dangerous and even self-fulfilling ideas.

    The Cold War is over; but we will not realize the full benefit of its passing until everyone involved behaves accordingly, abandoning the fears and apprehensions of half a century of conflict and the ideas about security that flowed from, and were reflected in, that long, dark conflict.

    By clinging to the idea that the security of others is diminished if the United States is protected against missile attack, the American administration and a number of European leaders, perhaps unwittingly, and certainly ironically, are perpetuating the anxiety of the Cold War. And that is a climate we must now transcend.
 
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