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									         The Long Haul: Fighting and
         Funding America's Next Wars
         Aaron L. Friedberg
         From Foreign Affairs

         Of Men and Materiel: The Crisis in Military Resources. . Edited
         by Gary J. Schmitt and Thomas Donnelly. : AEI Press, 2007,
         180 pp

         Summary: Two new books discuss how Washington
         should fight the wars of tomorrow -- and pay for them.
         But to balance the conflicting demands of strategy and
         finance, the next president ought to take a page from
         Eisenhower's playbook.

  Aaron L. Friedberg is Professor of Politics and International Affairs at the
Woodrow Wilson School of Public and International Affairs at Princeton University.
From 2003 to 2005, he served as Deputy Assistant for National Security Affairs in
the Office of the Vice President..

Of Men and Materiel: The Crisis in Military Resources. Edited by Gary J. Schmitt
and Thomas Donnelly AEI Press, 2007, 180 pp. $20.00.

The Price of Liberty: Paying for America's Wars. By Robert D. Hormats. Times
Books, 2007, 368 pp. $27.50.

History may not repeat itself, but, as the saying goes, it does sometimes rhyme. In
January 2009, as in January 1953, a newly elected president will inherit a costly
and controversial foreign conflict, one that a majority of Americans have
concluded cannot be won and should never have been fought. As was true half a
century ago, the United States now finds itself both in the midst of a "hot war"
and in the early stages of a protracted global struggle against an implacable,
ideologically committed foe. Now, as then, the American people have not fully
come to grips with the frightening and unfamiliar threats to their security that
this enemy poses. Nor are they sure precisely how high a price in lives, liberties,
and dollars they will ultimately have to pay in order to defeat it.

In 2009, as in 1953, newly chosen leaders will find themselves confronted by the
conflicting demands of national security and fiscal responsibility. On the one
hand, they will hear powerful arguments that despite recent increases, the nation
is not yet spending enough on defense and homeland security. On the other hand,
they will inherit massive budget deficits and a ballooning national debt. Bringing
ends and means into alignment -- and doing so in a way that can be maintained
for years, if not decades -- will not be an easy task. At the beginning of the Cold
War, Dwight Eisenhower described the job as devising a national strategy for "the
long haul." Whoever is elected president in 2008 will face a very similar
The books reviewed here frame the problem precisely: Gary Schmitt and Thomas
Donnelly's argues for increased defense spending; Robert Hormats' makes the
case for restoring balance and restraint to the nation's finances.


As they looked out beyond the Korean War, Eisenhower and his generals believed
they had little choice but to focus on one big and potentially imminent threat: the
danger of an all-out conflict with the Soviet Union. Today's strategic environment
is less immediately menacing but more varied and uncertain. In addition to
waging irregular warfare against insurgents and terrorists, the United States must
prepare to deal with several midsize states that possess substantial conventional
forces and will likely soon have small nuclear arsenals. Looking further ahead,
China's rapid economic growth and technological progress could eventually
transform the country into a genuine peer competitor, able to challenge U.S.
military predominance in Asia, if not beyond.

Are present and planned budgets and U.S. force levels sufficient to meet these
three distinct challenges? Schmitt and Donnelly, both fellows at the American
Enterprise Institute, believe the answer is a resounding no. Schmitt, Donnelly,
and the contributors to their edited volume, Of Men and Materiel, are especially
worried when it comes to smaller and medium-sized future threats: wars against
irregular opponents or an enemy such as Iran. Since 9/11, defense spending has
grown considerably, but much of the money has gone to cover the extraordinary
costs of operations in Afghanistan and Iraq. Meanwhile, the Pentagon has
continued to pursue the broad priorities imposed by former Defense Secretary
Donald Rumsfeld. Driven by his vision of future warfare, Rumsfeld downplayed
ground forces in favor of those designed to maintain command of the air, the sea,
and space. Intent on building truly "revolutionary" weapons, Rumsfeld and his
inner circle of "transformationists" cut back procurement for some of the armed
services' pet projects, such as the air force's F-22 fighter and the army's massive
Crusader artillery system, preferring to spend more on research and development
for "generation-after-next" systems. Although some of these cuts may have had
merit, the end result of Rumsfeld's transformation program, claim the authors, is
a U.S. military establishment that is simply too small and too focused on the
distant future to meet the challenges it confronts today and will likely face

Schmitt, Donnelly, and their co-authors are especially troubled by what they see
as the Pentagon's excessive focus on long-term, high-level threats at the expense
of dangers they regard as more pressing and plausible. In chapters on the future
of the U.S. Army and the Marine Corps, Frederick Kagan, a resident scholar at the
American Enterprise Institute, and Francis Hoffman, of the Marine Corps' Center
for Emerging Threats and Opportunities, both make the case that even after the
war in Iraq, the United States will need to maintain larger ground forces equipped
and trained to defeat irregular opponents in protracted conflicts. In a chapter on
the U.S. Air Force, Loren Thompson, of the Lexington Institute, argues that
Rumsfeld's push to develop new unmanned aerial vehicles and space-based
surveillance systems came at the expense of other important projects. As a result,
the Defense Department bought too few high-performance, next-generation
fighter jets (such as the F-22) and unwisely eliminated funding for its proposed
electronic surveillance aircraft (the E-10). In the comparatively near term,
Thompson warns, these cuts could seriously erode the United States' ability to
achieve and maintain command of the air over distant battlefields.

Robert Work, a senior defense analyst at the Center for Strategic and Budgetary
Assessments, is more sanguine when it comes to the prospects for continued
supremacy at sea. In his chapter on the U.S. Navy, Work does not advocate
increasing the navy's size but instead proposes shifting its priorities to meet
immediate strategic needs more effectively. He recommends deploying a mixture
of various aircraft carriers, including some smaller vessels that are better suited
to counterterrorism operations. In addition, Work calls for the navy to expand its
light, fast coastal combat fleet while cutting procurement of its most advanced


The authors' shared concern that the Pentagon is not adequately preparing for
more immediate midrange threats is valid. But some of their recommendations
are a good deal stronger than others. Kagan's arguments for maintaining a larger
standing army are persuasive and, indeed, seem already to have been accepted by
the new post-Rumsfeld leadership at the Pentagon. It is not at all obvious,
however, that the United States really needs a Marine Corps that is still capable of
conducting forced-entry amphibious landings, as Hoffman argues. The U.S.
Marines are far more likely to be called on to fight brutal, street-by-street battles
of the sort they have been waging in Iraq than to be asked to storm ashore as they
did over half a century ago at Inch'on and Iwo Jima. The idea of spending huge
sums on yet more medium-range fighter bombers, instead of giving top priority to
developing new global strike systems, also seems dubious. Finally, Work's
assumption that the size and budget of the U.S. Navy will remain essentially
constant may be overly conservative given the expansion in China's fleet and its
ongoing development of air, sea, and submarine capabilities that are designed to
target U.S. naval forces off its coasts.

By identifying an array of shortcomings in current programs and laying out some
specific, plausible alternatives, Of Men and Materiel performs a vital service. Still,
in their eagerness to correct what they regard as Rumsfeld's excessive focus on
high-tech future warfare, the book's authors may tilt too far in the opposite
direction. There is a danger that their proposals could leave the United States well
prepared to win the last war (against Islamist irregulars), only slightly more
capable of fighting the next one (against a nuclear-armed Iran, for example), and
less well positioned to deter the one after that (perhaps against a fully
modernized Chinese military). Instead of sacrificing investments in long-term
transformation in order to spend more on current capabilities, the nation will
have to find ways to do both.


There is no doubt that the United States can afford to spend much more on
defense if and when it needs to. The obstacles to doing so are more political than
economic. The Congressional Budget Office now projects that after having
reached a post-9/11 peak of four percent of GDP last year, defense spending is set
to gradually descend back toward a post-Cold War average of around three
percent, which it is expected to reach by early in the next decade. Taking into
account the various shortfalls they identify, Schmitt and Donnelly propose that
defense spending should instead be raised to five percent of GDP and held there
indefinitely. Such a figure, they rightly note, would still be low by Cold War
standards, and it is well within the nation's ability to afford. The problem, of
course, is that shifting even one or two percentage points of GDP from one
category of activity to another is no simple matter; it involves large, consequential
choices about taxing, spending, and borrowing that are invariably painful to
certain constituencies and hence politically controversial.

According to the economist and former National Security Council (NSC) official
Robert Hormats, these choices will be even more difficult to make today than in
the past. Hormats' comprehensive and valuable new book, The Price of Liberty,
examines how the nation has financed its wars from the founding of the republic
to the present day. For the first 150 years of its history, the United States
generally maintained only a small navy and a minuscule army; the primary
challenge was raising vast sums quickly to cover the temporary costs of an
emergency. This was done through both increased borrowing (from domestic and
foreign lenders) and temporary tax increases (on imports and domestic
transactions and, later, on personal incomes and corporate profits). As Hormats
makes clear, political struggles between different interest groups and regions,
rather than pure economic or strategic rationales, determined how much money
came from each source.

From their experiences in wartime finance, the nation's early leaders drew two
basic lessons. First, and perhaps most important, they understood that a shared
sense of sacrifice was essential to maintaining social cohesion and political
support during times of war. Second, although it was acceptable to accumulate
debt in an emergency, paying it off promptly was crucial to preserving the
nation's creditworthiness and hence its ability to borrow in future crises.

In general, as the U.S. economy grew during the nineteenth and twentieth
centuries, policymakers were able to rely on domestic rather than foreign
borrowing and on direct personal and corporate income taxes instead of indirect
levies such as tariffs. By the end of World War II, the federal government had
developed extractive mechanisms, such as automatic withholding of income tax
from worker payrolls, that permitted it to tap vast, steady streams of revenue
without generating strong political opposition. These sources of financing, plus a
booming economy, made it comparatively easy for the United States to maintain
the large standing military it needed to deter and contain the Soviet Union.

During the Cold War, mobilizing resources for rapid peacetime buildups or the
occasional "hot war" posed a different kind of challenge. With taxes already high,
defense budgets large, and new forms of nondefense spending on the rise,
policymakers faced tight constraints. As the Korean War approached its peak, for
example, Congress' resistance to further taxes forced the Truman administration
to scale back its plans for a bigger defense buildup. Fifteen years later, with the
conflict in Vietnam escalating, President Lyndon Johnson's reluctance to cut back
on his newly launched Great Society initiative and the refusal of fiscal barons in
Congress to raise taxes without some scaling back of social programs produced
ballooning deficits and soaring inflation. During the early 1980s, Ronald Reagan's
desire to slash taxes and boost defense budgets, coupled with his inability to
offset these expenses by making sufficient cuts in nondefense spending, led to
even greater deficits and a major increase in the federal debt. Much of the
necessary funding was supplied by foreign lenders, most of them in Western
Europe or Japan.

The past six years have seen major budget increases for the armed forces and the
intelligence services, as well as for homeland defense, an entirely new category of
expenditure. After 9/11, the Bush administration, taking a page from the Reagan
playbook, combined bigger defense budgets with sizable tax cuts. Reagan,
however, was compelled to accept so-called revenue enhancements that kept
deficits smaller than they might otherwise have been. Moreover, he was
somewhat successful in holding down the growth of nondefense expenditures. By
contrast, the Bush White House has resisted pressures to raise (or even restore)
tax rates while permitting nondefense spending to skyrocket. The result, not
surprisingly, has been a yawning deficit and deepening debt.


Viewed against the backdrop of Cold War history, the sudden, large spending
increases and budgetary imbalances of the last several years are not quite as novel
or shocking as they sometimes seem. In the 1980s, some observers spoke of
"imperial overstretch" and cautioned that the United States would face dire
economic consequences if it did not cut back its overseas commitments. This did
not happen, of course, but there are several reasons why today's situation is more
worrisome than the one that prevailed 20 years ago.

First, there is no prospect that a sudden improvement in world affairs will yield a
"peace dividend" of the sort the nation enjoyed after the fall of the Berlin Wall. To
the contrary, once the extraordinary costs of Afghanistan and Iraq are factored
out of the equation, the nation will still need to spend more on its defense.
Shortfalls in budgets for public diplomacy, development assistance, and
democracy promotion make the overall security spending gap even greater.
Second, the baby boomers are now set to retire, and nondefense spending will
therefore rise even more rapidly than in the past. Finally, whereas 20 years ago
the United States financed its budget deficits by borrowing heavily from the other
advanced industrial democracies, now an increasing share of its debt is held by
China, a potential rival. Unlike before, when the United States owed money to
nations that depended on Washington for their own security, the current fiscal
imbalances carry an added measure of strategic risk.

Today, there seems to be little chance that the United States can simply grow its
way out of deficits, as it did in the 1990s. Something is going to have to give.
Hormats worries that the next administration will spend less than it should on
homeland security rather than face the enormous political costs of raising taxes or
cutting nondefense programs. Alternatively, and especially if Iraq ends badly,
fiscal factors could add to pressure for the United States to "come home," reduce
its military presence overseas, and build barriers to protect itself from terrorists
and, perhaps, in a new mood of isolationism, from immigrants and imports as


The start of a new presidency provides an opportunity to reexamine all aspects of
U.S. security policy. Unfortunately, the first few months of a new administration
are often the only time when any serious effort is devoted to taking a
comprehensive and long-range view of these issues. As a new administration
settles in, events and bureaucratic divisions typically create overwhelming
pressures for short-term thinking and piecemeal policymaking. Overcoming these
tendencies requires a deliberate exertion of political will.

Dwight Eisenhower recognized these dangers when he was elected in 1952. He
knew that the major government agencies would soon be preoccupied with
parochial concerns and caught up in the day-to-day drama of executing policy. He
wanted to create venues in which high-ranking officials would have the
opportunity, and the obligation, to take a broader, longer-range view of U.S.
geopolitical strategy.

Eisenhower undertook two initiatives that the next president would do well to
emulate. Even before he was sworn in, Eisenhower had laid the groundwork for a
large-scale planning exercise in which officials and outside experts would
formulate broad alternative approaches to conducting the Cold War. The top-
secret "Project Solarium" was carried out during the spring and summer of 1953.
Eisenhower was especially interested in hearing which fiscal and economic
policies the experts deemed necessary to sustaining the strategies they proposed
over "the long haul."

Less well known than Solarium, but ultimately as important, was the National
Security Council Planning Board. Organized according to Eisenhower's precise
specifications and staffed by the top planners from all the relevant agencies
(including the Departments of State, Defense, and the Treasury), the Planning
Board's purpose was to institutionalize Solarium-style thinking. Its members
were responsible for debating alternative strategies, assessing their costs, and
advising those at the apex of the decision-making pyramid.

The Planning Board ceased to function in the early 1960s as part of the Kennedy
administration's effort to transform the NSC into a more flexible and effective
tool for implementing presidential policy. With the board gone, and the NSC
increasingly preoccupied with current operations, there was no longer any
institution responsible for serious, sustained interagency strategic planning.

Despite occasional talk of reform, this gap has never been filled. As is so often the
case in Washington, key players protect their turf. Strong national security
advisers have jealously guarded their role as the president's chief strategist. Weak
ones have failed to compel cooperation from other agencies determined to go it
alone. Most important, the disappearance of the Planning Board has meant that
there is no longer any place in the government where the conflicting demands of
finance and strategy can be systematically weighed and brought into balance.
With the United States facing yet another "long haul," the next president would
be well advised to fill this vacuum

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