The U.S. Department of Defense makes much of the Joint Force, stressing its overriding importance. Particularly since the advent of the 1986 Goldwater-Nichols legislation, “jointness” became a mantra, amplified by reams of joint doctrine and scores of “joint” organizations. The importance of a truly joint approach to warfighting is, or should be, obvious. In theory, the synergistic employment of all forms of military power across all domains generates effects greater than the sum of the parts, optimizing all military operations. In practice, however, the U.S. military often falls far short.
The evidence is everywhere around us and reaches back at least to the Second World War, if not before. In WWII, interservice rivalry was intense and pervasive. In the Pacific, Army and Navy disputes forced the bifurcation of the region into Army and Navy bailiwicks: MacArthur’s Southwest Pacific theater and Nimitz’s Pacific Ocean Areas theater. Arguments over Pacific strategy forced President Roosevelt to personally intervene by flying to Pearl Harbor in July 1944 to referee. In Europe, tensions between the nearly-independent Army Air Forces and General Eisenhower, the European theater commander, over strategic bombing permeated the campaign, at one point prompting Ike to threaten resignation.
The National Security Act of 1947 and subsequent amendments attempted to smooth over inter-service rivalry by formalizing the Joint Chiefs of Staff organization, establishing the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs and “unifying” the services under a Department of Defense in place of the War and Navy Departments. In practice, that rivalry if anything intensified, as seen in the 1949 “Revolt of the Admirals,” when senior navy leaders attempted to unseat Secretary of Defense Louis Johnson following the adoption of the B-36 bomber and the cancellation of the “supercarrier” USS United States. In Korea, furious battles over the best use of airpower persisted throughout the war. In Vietnam, controversy over control of airpower again surfaced, leading to bitter disagreements at the highest levels; like Eisenhower, General Westmoreland threatened to resign over the issue.
The Gulf War – the first major conflict after Goldwater-Nichols - is often cited as a paragon of jointness, but in fact inter-service conflict permeated the campaign. As one authoritative study concluded, “the campaign was “joint” more in name than in fact. Each service fought its own war, concentrating on its own piece of the conflict with a single-minded intensity, and the commanders in Washington and Riyadh failed to fully harmonize the war plans.” For much of the Global War on Terror, joint doctrine was regularly ignored. In both Iraq and Afghanistan, theater commanders – though designated four star “Joint Force Commanders”- could not directly control Marine forces, Tier 1 Special Operations Forces (“Black SOF) or fixed wing fighters and bombers; at best they could request or cajole. All were task organized under U.S. Central Command in Tampa, thousands of miles away. As a result these separate organizations enjoyed substantial autonomy, but only at the price of disunity and often ineffective coordination on the battlefield, contributing to inconclusive outcomes. Through enshrined in joint doctrine, “unity of command” proved ephemeral.
Among many examples, Operation ANACONDA in January 2002 in Afghanistan is illustrative. There, the designated Combined Joint Task Force Commander (Major General Hagenbeck, Commanding General of the 10th Mountain Division) actually commanded only his own organic Army forces. Though a dizzying array of coalition, Afghan, Air Force, Navy, Marine and SOF organizations participated in the battle, Hagenbeck lacked the ability to direct, and in some cases even coordinate with, any of them; his command was neither combined nor joint. The result was near disaster. U.S. casualties were high, avoidable fratricide occurred, the enemy escaped with few casualties, and finger-pointing continued for years. It was, as Secretary of the Army Tom White later remarked, “a dog’s breakfast.”
Today, despite these lessons, actual jointness remains elusive. Army units rarely or never train with Marines, or Special Operations Forces, or naval gunfire. The retirement of the A-10 and more reductions in Air Force Joint Tactical Air Controllers means even less emphasis on close air support for ground formations, a trend paralleled by the Navy. “Joint” exercises are harmonized to preclude or damp down points of friction. Joint doctrine smooths over inter-service disputes instead of making clear, hard calls in favor of true synergy. Service budget decisions prioritize core service functions first, not joint solutions. By finessing these points, and allowing the services to train in peacetime stovepipes, DoD perpetuates disfunction and hampers true jointness.
What accounts for these behaviors? It begins with an understandable desire on the part of large organizations for freedom of action. U.S. Special Operations Command is a prime example. Virtually an independent service, with its own Title 10 authorities, USSOCOM has grown from infancy only a generation ago to become a behemoth today. With assigned manpower larger than the entire German army, SOCOM also fields an air component larger than many of the world’s air forces, and a headquarters more than twice the size of the Joint Staff. The Department of the Navy, which includes both the U.S. Navy and U.S. Marine Corps, fields ground and air forces larger than all but a handful of the world’s militaries, with budgets to match. Not surprisingly, it guards its autonomy jealously. For its part, Air Force service culture remains wedded to the doctrine of airpower as a war winning capability in its own right – a doctrine first espoused by Giulio Douhet in the 1920s and expanded by Billy Mitchell and Hap Arnold. Its core tenet, that “airpower should be centrally controlled by airmen to achieve strategic effects,” remains alive and well today.
As in the past, in future campaigns this drive for independence and autonomy will play out again, with harmful effects, unless checked. Ground forces may be deprived of effective close air support. Naval gunfire in support of ground formations will remain notional. Marine forces will resist task organization under Land Component Commanders unless that commander is a Marine. Naval and Marine aviation will be largely sequestered for purely service, not joint missions. Special operations forces will resist subordination to joint commanders. In all these ways, true unity of command for joint force commanders will remain problematic.
While inter-service rivalry cannot be fully suppressed, it can be controlled and kept within reasonable limits. Today, the CJCS and the Joint Staff are essentially advisors, with the Combatant Commanders reporting directly to the Secretary of Defense. Inserting the Chairman into the chain of command between the Secretary and the COCOMs – the norm in most countries - would strengthen oversight without challenging civilian control. An empowered Chairman would be better positioned to insist that joint doctrine be observed and to take action when service parochialism hampers joint operations.
Combatant Commanders also play a key role. During the Long War, USCENTCOM commanders remained in Tampa, far from the scene of operations, with periodic short visits into theater. For the most part they proved reluctant to tackle thorny inter-service wrangling; after all, service component commanders ultimately reported to them, and the absence of unity of command at the theater command level was not seen as a pressing issue – or at least, not solvable without engaging powerful service chiefs in open conflict. An important consideration is that service commanders in wartime joint organizations are rated and promoted by their parent service, ensuring that service loyalties come first. The fact that the services have more four stars serving in service billets than in joint billets also weights the scales in favor of the services. In future, COCOMs can and should honor and enforce basic joint principles like unity of command and unified action. Like their fighting formations they should spend most of their time forward, where they can observe and resolve emerging disputes firsthand, with a firm bias in favor of true joint solutions.
The Goldwater-Nichols requirement for joint service as a requirement for promotion to flag rank was a step in the right direction, but joint assignments on high-level staffs have done little to prevent inter-service disputes. Exchange assignments between services at the tactical level with high-potential officers could help foster better appreciation and understanding of joint matters. (Interestingly, this is done in some U.S. formations with allied officers, but not with sister service officers). U.S. staff and war colleges might also address the difficult history of inter-service rivalry more fully and comprehensively than is now the case.
In many ways the modern history of the U.S. Armed Forces is a history of inter-service rivalry. It need not be. While powerful service cultures and perspectives will remain, at higher levels they must not be permitted to jeopardize or hinder the true integration and synchronization that are the essence of jointness. The world is too dangerous, and there’s too much at stake.
R.D. Hooker, Jr. is a Senior Fellow with The Atlantic Council. He served three tours on the National Security Council, was Dean of the NATO Defense College and commanded a parachute brigade in Iraq.
