Military Defense Essentially a Moral Issue

A moral dilemma is, by definition, a problem that cannot be solved simply by dealing with material facts. “What should be” matters as much as “what is” or “what will be.” Different societies define their moral systems differently. But all agree on one thing. The closer you get to issues of life and death, the more important the moral aspect becomes . . . and the more dangerous it becomes to ignore or minimize that aspect.
The defense of the United States of America is primarily a moral problem. It deals with the life and death of us all. And until this is understood and treated as such, we’re headed for disaster . . . on $300 billion a year in defense and related appropriations.

The material facts are these.

Our military is not “hollow,” as some have suggested. Rather, it is imploding. Operational commitments and tempo increase relentlessly. Readiness slowly degrades. We’ve now been flying over Iraq for seven years, over the Balkans for five. Today, there aren’t twenty countries on Earth that don’t have some sort of U.S. military presence, permanent or transient.

Machines wear out. So do humans. Good people leave. Scandal and image (and reality) problems keep good people away from the recruiters in droves. Modernization falters. $300 billion a year seems about $100 billion too light. Where’s that extra $100 billion going to come from?

From nowhere. And, a year or two or three from now, budgetary pressures–or serious armed conflict somewhere–will turn implosion into explosion. Inter-service rivalry and recrimination will achieve an intensity and an ugliness not seen since the 1940s. And, if Washington DC remains true to its ways, little will change for the better.

That’s the “what is” and the “what will be.” Now for the “what should be.”

It’s time for a serious national debate on the fundamentals of defense. Yes, I know. “It’s the economy, stupid.” That’s all we care about. So they tell us, those who tell us what to think by telling us what we already think. But prosperity lacks deterrent value, and spin won’t stop incoming. And if you’re reading this, you’re neither stupid nor uncaring.

So let’s build us a debate. Three moral issues are critical.

First, what should be the relationship between the American people and the military? We are told that there is a serious “rift” between military and people. This is nonsense. The rift is between certain civilian (dare we say Baby Boomer?) elites and the military they disdain and, when in power, screw with. The people at large hold the military in high esteem, even if that regard rarely translates into popular pressure for tossing more money at the Pentagon.

But we’ve become a nation of military illiterates. Since 1973, the military has been expected to fill and maintain its ranks without inconveniencing anyone. A generation of mass service didn’t happen. Nor should it today. There is no need to return to federal conscription, and those who tout “national service’ with military and civilian “options” should ponder the differences between battlefields and day care centers (there are several). But there is a need to re-establish a real-world link, not merely a set of opinion survey expressions of esteem.

This can be done by returning to the Founders’ vision of a small(ish) professional establishment and a large citizen-soldiery. This is far from impractical. The citizen-soldiery, i.e., the National Guard and the service reserves, already suffuse the regular establishment. For budgetary and political reasons, the lifers can’t hack it without them. This dependence can only increase. But we’re also starting to discover that high-technology, far from obsolescing the weekend-warriors, actually empowers them. From computerized training aids to Pentagon war plans, high-tech makes the Founders relevant again.

The American people ought to consider whether this return ought to be.

Second, shall the American homeland be defended against all enemies, foreign and domestic, nation-state or not? Today, several dozen military and civilian agencies engage in domestic activities, under the co-ordination of a counter-terrorism “czar” lodged in the National Security Council, a White House advisory body. And the Clinton administration adamantly refuses to get serious about defending this country against limited or accidental missile and air attacks.

Whether the “czar” arrangement proves adequate remains to be seen. It should certainly be given a fair chance before considering more formal options, such as a Homeland Defense Command. But arguments against missile defense grow every more ludicrous. To cite a few:

We must maintain a treaty with a country that no longer exists.

What we couldn’t do against thousands of missiles with 20th century technology, we can’t do against a few missiles with 21st century technology.

We must depend upon arms control and deterrence, not technology . . . rather like arguing that, since many cancers can be prevented by environmental and lifestyle changes, we should do that and forget about developing chemo or radiation therapy and ban surgery entirely. Yes, treaties and negotiations and deterrence (and pre-emption) are vital. But when and if they fail . . . the greatest day of carnage on this continent since the Civil War.

And what’s the cost of replacing Tacoma?

And finally, toward what foreign purposes shall American power be engaged? No “peer competitor” out there requiring our primary attention: just lots of nasty lesser stuff. And yes, we know all about the “CNN Effect” and the alleged unwillingness of the American people to accept (televised) carnage, and the alleged concomitant demand of the people to “do something” about other people’s domestics. Everybody says it. Everybody says it because everybody says it.

But is it true? Do we really wish to serve as the world’s all-purpose policeman, or nanny, or therapist . . . but cut and run at the first sight of blood? Or should we recognize that there’s more misery out there than we can handle; that we’ll run out of pearls long before the world runs out of swine; and that the planet that “ought to be” – an orb of democracy, prosperity, and tolerance – is not ours to bestow, or impose?

Or should we accept that our own defense must come first? And should we acknowledge that such good as we might do in the world must be based on our own physical security, and not undertaken as a substitute for it . . . or in spite of it?

That might be moral, and workable, and something the People could support.