The Theory and Practice of Irregular Warfare: Warrior-scholarship in counter-insurgency 9780203766019

Table of contents :
Cover
Title
Copyright
Contents
Notes on contributors
Acknowledgements
Introduction: introducing warrior-scholars
1 Constructing and deconstructing warrior-scholars
2 Warrior-scholarship in the age of colonial warfare: Charles E. Callwell and small wars
3 David Galula and Roger Trinquier: two warrior-scholars, one French late colonial counterinsurgency?
4 Warrior-scholars in the United States Marine Corps: from the small wars in the Caribbean to the ‘three block war’ and beyond
5 A very sharp eye: Moshe Dayan’s counterinsurgency legacy in Israel
6 Low intensity operations in theory and practice: General Sir Frank Kitson as warrior-scholar
7 Warrior-scholarship in the age of globalised insurgency: the work of David Kilcullen
8 Counterinsurgency, American-style: David Petraeus and twenty-first century war
Index

Citation preview

The Theory and Practice of Irregular Warfare

This book offers an analysis of key individuals who have contributed to both the theory and the practice of counterinsurgency (COIN). Insurgencies have become the dominant form of armed conflict around the world today. The perceptible degeneration of the occupations of Iraq and Afghanistan into insurgent quagmires has sparked a renewal of academic and military interest in the theory and practice of counterinsurgency. In light of this, this book provides a rigorous analysis of those individuals who have contributed to both the theory and practice of counterinsurgency: ‘warrior-­scholars’. These are soldiers who have bridged the academic–military divide by influencing doctrinal and intellectual debates about irregular warfare. Irregular warfare is notoriously difficult for the military, and scholarly understanding about this type of warfare is also problematic; especially given the residual anti-­intellectualism within Western militaries. Thus, The Theory and Practice of Irregular Warfare is dedicated to analysing the best perceptible bridge between these two worlds. The authors explore the theoretical and practical contributions made by a selection of warrior-­scholars of different nationalities, from periods ranging from the French colonial wars of the mid-­twentieth century to the Israeli experiences in the Middle East; from contributions to American counterinsurgency made during the Iraq War, to the thinkers who shaped the US war in Vietnam. This book will be of much interest to students of counterinsurgency, strategic studies, defence studies, war studies and security studies in general. Andrew Mumford is Lecturer in Politics and International Relations at the University of Nottingham. His book The Counter-­Insurgency Myth: The British Experience of Irregular War was published by Routledge in 2011. His new book, Proxy Warfare, was published by Polity in May 2013. Bruno C. Reis is currently Post-­Doctoral Fellow at the Institute for Social Sciences (ICS), Lisbon, and a Visiting Research Associate at King’s College, London. He has advised on the new National Strategic Concept at the National Defence Institute, Lisbon.

Studies in Insurgency, Counterinsurgency and National Security Series Editors: Paul Rich Editor of Small Wars and Insurgencies

and Isabelle Duyvesteyn Utrecht University

This series seeks to publish comparative surveys as well as more detailed in-­ depth case studies on insurgent movements and counterinsurgent responses. The aim is to provide both fresh and innovative analytical perspectives on new and hitherto unknown or neglected research materials and documentation, including the resources from historical archives as well as oral or fieldwork data. The Theory and Practice of Irregular Warfare Warrior-­scholarship in counter-­insurgency Edited by Andrew Mumford and Bruno C. Reis

The Theory and Practice of Irregular Warfare

Warrior-­scholarship in counter-­insurgency Edited by Andrew Mumford and Bruno C. Reis

First published 2014 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2014 selection and editorial material, Andrew Mumford and Bruno C. Reis; individual chapters, the contributors The right of the editors to be identified as the authors of the editorial material, and of the authors for their individual chapters, has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data The theory and practice of irregular warfare: warrior-­scholarship in counter-­insurgency/edited by Andrew Mumford and Bruno Reis.  p. cm. – (Studies in insurgency, counterinsurgency and national security) Includes bibliographical references and index. 1. Counterinsurgency–Study and teaching. 2. Counterinsurgency– Biography. 3. Irregular warfare–Study and teaching. I. Mumford, Andrew. II. Reis, Bruno C., 1973– III. Title: Warrior-­scholarship in counter-­insurgency. U241.T46 2014 355.02′18–dc23 2013015925 ISBN: 978-0-415-83690-6 (hbk) ISBN: 978-0-203-76601-9 (ebk) Typeset in Times by Wearset Ltd, Boldon, Tyne and Wear

Contents



Notes on contributors Acknowledgements



Introduction: introducing warrior-­scholars

vii ix 1

C arlos G aspar

1

Constructing and deconstructing warrior-­scholars

4

A ndrew M umford and B runo C . R eis

2

Warrior-­scholarship in the age of colonial warfare: Charles E. Callwell and small wars

18

D aniel W hittingham

3

David Galula and Roger Trinquier: two warrior-­scholars, one French late colonial counterinsurgency?

35

B runo C . R eis

4

Warrior-­scholars in the United States Marine Corps: from the small wars in the Caribbean to the ‘three block war’ and beyond

70

D avid S trachan - ­M orris

5

A very sharp eye: Moshe Dayan’s counterinsurgency legacy in Israel

84

E itan S hamir

6

Low intensity operations in theory and practice: General Sir Frank Kitson as warrior-­scholar H uw B ennett and R ory C ormac

105

vi   Contents 7

Warrior-scholarship in the age of globalised insurgency: the work of David Kilcullen

125

A ndrew M umford

8

Counterinsurgency, American-­style: David Petraeus and twenty-­first century war

141

J ames A . R ussell



Index

160

Contributors

Huw Bennett is Lecturer in the Department of International Politics at Aberystwyth University, where he teaches international history, strategy and intelligence studies. His book, Fighting the Mau Mau: The British Army and Counter-­Insurgency in the Kenya Emergency, was published by Cambridge University Press in 2012. Rory Cormac is Lecturer in the School of Politics and International Relations at the University of Nottingham. His research interests include intelligence, covert action, and responses to irregular warfare. His first book, Confronting the Colonies: British Intelligence and Counterinsurgency, was published by Hurst in 2013. Carlos Gaspar is Director of the Instituto Português de Relações Internacionais [Portuguese Institute for International Relations] (IPRI-­UNL). Andrew Mumford is Lecturer in Politics and International Relations at the University of Nottingham. His book The Counter-­Insurgency Myth: The British Experience of Irregular War was published by Routledge in 2011. His new book, Proxy Warfare, was published by Polity in May 2013. Bruno C. Reis is currently Post-­Doctoral Fellow at the Institute for Social Sciences (ICS), Lisbon, and a Visiting Research Associate at King’s College, London. He has advised on the new National Strategic Concept at the National Defence Institute, Lisbon. James A. Russell is Associate Professor in the Department of National Security Affairs at the Naval Postgraduate School in Monterey, California, where he teaches courses on US foreign policy, strategy and defence planning, and modern war. His most recent book is Innovation, Transformation and War: U.S. Counterinsurgency Operations in Anbar and Ninewa Provinces, Iraq, 2005–2007 (Stanford University Press, 2011). He holds a PhD in War Studies from King’s College, London. Eitan Shamir is Lecturer in the Department of Political Science at Bar Ilan University, and Senior Research Associate with the Begin-­Sadat Center for  Strategic Studies (BESA). He is the author of Transforming Command:

viii   Contributors The Pursuit of Mission Command in the US, UK and Israeli Armies (Stanford University Press, 2011). He holds a PhD from the Department of War Studies at King’s College, London. David Strachan-­Morris holds a PhD in History from the University of Wolverhampton. He is an independent political risk consultant and has spent most of the last eight years in Iraq working for various organizations, including the United States Army Corps of Engineers. He is also an Associate Tutor at the University of Leicester. Daniel Whittingham holds a BA in History from Trinity College, Oxford, and an MA in the History of Warfare from King’s College, London. He began his PhD at King’s College, London in September 2008. He is a member of the Institute of Historical Research (IHR).

Acknowledgements

The editors would like to extend grateful thanks first and foremost to the Fundação Oriente for their generous sponsorship of a workshop in Arrábida, Portugal, in July 2010, which brought together many of the contributors to this book to discuss the facets of ‘warrior-­scholarship’. In particular we would like to thank Carlos Gaspar, Director of the Instituto Português de Relações Internacionais (IPRI-­UNL) for his comments at the workshop and for providing an introduction to our book. Our thanks also go to Sónia Rodrigues for her tireless efforts in organizing this event. A few contemporary ‘warrior-­scholars’ inputted some valuable ideas and comments about the nature of modern counterinsurgency theory and practice that have helped shape the book. Ike Wilson served as discussant on a panel at the 2010 International Studies Association convention which acted as the genesis for this volume. Andrew Exum provided further important insights at Arrábida. We are grateful to the team at Routledge for guiding this book through to completion, especially Andrew Humphrys and Annabelle Harris. The contributors to this volume are all recognized experts on the individual ‘warrior-­scholars’ they have written about. We are grateful that they agreed to pool their expertise to create what we think is a unique volume on an issue that shapes the theoretical and practical landscape of a complex form of warfare. Finally, we would like to thank our colleagues and family for their support during the writing and editing of this book. Andrew Mumford and Bruno C. Reis Nottingham and Lisbon

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Introduction Introducing warrior-­scholars Carlos Gaspar

The merit of coining a concept is rare, especially when it then becomes common usage. This may well be the case of Andrew Mumford’s and Bruno Reis’s name for a specific brand of military thinkers – ‘warrior-­scholars’ – that emerged out of panel to the International Studies Association Annual Convention in New Orleans in 2010, and a workshop hosted by the Instituto Português de Relações Internacionais (IPRI-­UNL) at the Arrábida Convent, six months later, allowing them to discuss and develop this concept. The definition of ‘warrior-­scholars’ put forward by Mumford and Reis is clear, precise, yet flexible enough. They developed the concept in Chapter 1 of this book to designate a ‘new generation of thinkers on counterinsurgency who have bridged the divide between intellectual theorizing and military practice,’ including all those ‘soldiers who have bridged the academic–military divide by influencing doctrinal and intellectual debates about irregular warfare.’ This results in a selection that includes the most recent ‘warrior-­scholars’ theorizing on ‘small wars’ as well as military thinkers from previous counterinsurgency eras, in particular the one after the Second World War – a key turning-­point – and even before that. It is hard, however, not to notice that the potential applicability of this notion of ‘warrior-­scholars’ is much wider. It may well be the best way to designate a long and distinguished lineage of military thinkers who were also practitioners of warfare, like Thucydides, Sun Zu and Polybius – military commanders that helped shape their time as strategic thinkers and founded the Realist tradition in the analysis of war and peace. Until now the right name had not been found for them: ‘military intellectual,’ ‘thinking soldier’ or ‘strategic thinker’ are too prosaic and do not really translate the deep tension made explicit in the concept of ‘warrior-­scholars.’ Paradoxically, most of the modern ‘warrior-­scholars’ discussed in this volume emerge after a generation of ‘strategic thinkers’ that were almost all civilians. Contrary to previous conventions among the main authors of strategic theories and doctrines of the nuclear era, not one was a soldier. With the Cold War, a generation of civilian thinkers succeeded military thinkers that had as a rule dominated innovation and doctrinal development regarding conventional warfare. After the end of the Second World War, the successors of Marshal

2   C. Gaspar Mikhail Tukhachevsky, General Erich von Manstein and General Charles de Gaulle were Bernard Brodie, Herman Kahn, Albert Wohlstetter and Thomas Schelling. Raymond Aron tried to bridge the divide through his studies on Clausewitz and nuclear warfare. International crises replaced war between great powers that were also nuclear powers. In these crises the key decision-­makers and most of the relevant actors were, in general, politicians and senior officials. In the Cuban missile crisis of October 1962 – the best known and most-­studied of all nuclear crises – military leaders, on the American as well as on the Soviet side, were marginalized. This marginalization of the military in the 1962 crisis was but a confirmation of an already-­established trend. Both the American and the Soviet military, prior or after 1962, were never at the heart of decision-­making during nuclear crises, for example: during the Korean War; during the two crises of the Taiwan/Formosa Straits of 1954 and 1958; during the Suez crisis of 1956; during the 1969 Sino-­ Soviet border conflict, when the Soviet leadership admitted a preventive attack against Chinese nuclear weapons; during the escalating crisis in Soviet–­American relations regarding the Yom Kippur War in 1973. With the beginning of the nuclear era, limited wars replaced total wars, and small wars replaced big conventional wars. It is logical therefore that the predominant domain of ‘warrior-­scholars’ was no longer war between great powers but instead they focused on ‘irregular warfare’ and civil wars, still being fought by soldiers and where violence was not an abstraction or metaphor but a grim reality. This rich crop of ‘warrior-­scholars’ that emerged during the Cold War, in small wars in Greece, in the Philippines, in Malaya, in Algeria, in Ireland or in Guinea-­Bissau, are representative of a type of warfare that has become increasingly important in the last two centuries, from the armed resistance to the French occupation of Portugal and Spain in 1808 during the Napoleonic Wars, touched upon by Clausewitz, to the Arab Revolt under T.E. Lawrence during the First World War, to the Vietnam War, where, first the conventional military forces of France, and then those of the US faced the principles of ‘revolutionary warfare’ developed by Mao Tsetung. In the post-­Cold War period, the very latest ‘warrior-­scholars’ will fight in wars involving mostly Islamist insurgents in Afghanistan, Somalia, Kosovo, Timor-­Leste, the Philippines and the Sahel, and rewrite counterinsurgency thinking and doctrine. The first ‘warrior-­scholar’ included in this volume is the enduringly influential figure of Charles Callwell, a pioneering theorist of ‘small wars’ at the end of the nineteenth century, in the chapter by Daniel Whittingham. David Strachan-­ Morris studies three generations of ‘warrior-­scholars’ in the US Marine Corps. Bruno Reis contrasts and compares Colonel Roger Trinquer and Lt-­Colonel David Galula – the ‘Clausewitz of counterinsurgency’ according to David Petraeus and John Nagl. Eitan Shamir analyses the experience of General Moshe Dayan, who before and after leading the Israeli Defence Force in the conventional wars of 1956 and 1973, had the rare experience of having fought both on the side of an insurgency and counterinsurgency. General Frank Kitson, the

Introduction   3 theorist of low intensity operations who served in Kenya, Malaya and Northern Ireland, is analysed by Huw Bennett and Rory Cormac. The newest brand of ‘warrior-­scholars’ are studied by Andrew Mumford, who looks at David Kilcullen, an Australian officer with experience of East Timor and as a US advisor in Iraq and Afghanistan; and James Russell, who offers a revision of the contribution to counterinsurgency of one of the key authors of the influential FM 3–24 Counter-­Insurgency Field Manual, General David Petraeus. This new concept makes a fascinating book, but also a useful one for students of strategic and security studies in military schools as well as civilian universities. It introduces a new concept and opens a new approach to already-­known authors, as well as giving pioneering steps into the poorly-­known history of small wars increasingly crucial for international strategy and security.

1 Constructing and deconstructing warrior-­scholars Andrew Mumford and Bruno C. Reis

The concept of the ‘warrior-­scholar’ might appear oxymoronic. It welds together the experience of battle with the insights of education and reflection. Yet the notion of anti-­intellectualism as dominating Western militaries is a popular one, and is often used to explain a fundamental disconnect between military service as a profession and the academic study of war. Yet the implication that war does not require careful thinking but only bold action is obviously wrong. Since the nineteenth century, schooling has become increasingly important to the emergence of a modern military profession in the West.1 Fighting competently cannot be simply seen as the antithesis to thinking systematically, but the tension between the requirements of the two is nonetheless real for individuals as well as organizations. This tension will be the central subject of this book. Warfare may require a more pragmatic, applied, policy-­oriented kind of thinking. But the growing professionalization of military officers plus the development of mass armed forces during the past two centuries requires a degree of formalization in the shape of more uniform systematic thinking about the ‘nature of war and the keys of success in the battlefield’ that in earlier centuries might be left to more informal and intuitive command.2 So even if most officers in modern mass armies do not need to be military thinkers, modern military professionalism and the enormous changes in the conduct of war in the course of the past two centuries have required the emergence of thinking soldiers. Some of them did so to the point of developing their own contributions to the body of thought about war.3 Even if few aspired to the development of a general theory of warfare, the creation of a new generation of ‘Clausewitzes’ is unrealistic. At least a few of those analysed here in this book – namely David Galula – did try to develop a specific theory of unconventional warfare for conventional armies. A very good example of the importance of warrior-­scholars as promoters of new thinking contributing to the adjusting of military organizations to new threats is their role in advocating counter-­insurgency. The reawakening of academic and military interest in irregular warfare since the invasions of Afghanistan (2001) and Iraq (2003), which ended not in conventional triumph but, unexpectedly, in prolonged bloody counter-­insurgencies, has given rise to a new generation of thinkers on the subject who have bridged the divide between theorizing and practice as part of what has been called a ‘new counterinsurgency

Analysing warrior-scholars   5 4

era’. This is not surprising according to the historical cases analysed here going back to the end of the nineteenth century. Defending major changes in the military to deal more effectively with an unconventional enemy against which conventional militaries are particularly ill-­equipped has, in the past, repeatedly required a lot of thinking and advocacy. But who are these warrior-­scholars that have played such a major role in developing modern counter-­insurgency (COIN) in the last century? Going even deeper into the matter, what is a warrior-­scholar and is that not a contradiction in terms? The perceivably ingrained mistrust within Western military culture towards academia, when combined with the historically uncomfortable location of COIN in Western military doctrine, makes our attention all the more necessary. This is perhaps a reflection that irregular warfare is an intrinsically complex form of warfare to conceive strategically and intellectually. Complaints of this sort can be found as far back as the fifteenth century bc, with a Hittite king complaining about ‘irregulars’ who ‘did not dare to attack me in the daylight and preferred to fall on me by night’.5 These exact problems have led many armies over the centuries to simply ignore the exigencies of such wars. Sir Robert Thompson claimed that: because conventional armies . . . have rarely succeeded in defeating guerrilla movements of any size in the past, there has been a tendency for Generals (and staff colleges) to minimise the role of guerrilla operations as one way of concealing their impotence. He goes on to add that in this ‘Generals were not alone’, that in fact ‘a large portion of the intellectual community in the West . . . was even further behind’.6 Of course this may well be somewhat of an exaggeration, but there is a perceptible and enduring gap in attention to conventional and unconventional warfare.7 In the context of the emergence of modern warrior-­scholars during the military Enlightenment in the eighteenth century there were entire volumes devoted to what become known as petit guerre/kleine Krieg, or small war, derived from the Spanish guerrilla. But these volumes were in fact referring to small-­scale military operations that were usually conducted by small ‘detachments’ of often irregular forces on the fringes of major operations by regular forces. Acts of harassment and reconnaissance were undertaken by what today we would call ‘special forces’ of chasseurs/Jäger. Clausewitz was on the threshold of something new – guerrilla warfare or insurgency as we understand it – and writes about both. But while taking note of the latter, he does not really address in any depth the challenges of counter-­insurgency.8 The emergence of a significant number of warrior-­scholars in the field of counter-­insurgency had to wait for the prolonged campaigns of colonial pacification in the nineteenth century. The warrior-­scholars analysed in this book represent some of the most interesting examples of these thinkers-­cum-practitioners since that time. The book

6   A. Mumford and B.C. Reis seeks to provide a variety of examples of these military thinkers on unconventional warfare across time and space, from well-­known to little-­known campaigns. We opted to try and widen the perspective by looking at military thinkers of different nationalities and involved in different campaigns, even if most of our attention will be focused on the decades after 1945, which have so often been the source of analogies for ‘fixing’ counter-­insurgency today. But we do cover the time span of modern counter-­insurgency, including one of the ‘founding fathers’ of military thought on small wars, General Charles Callwell, as well as one of the most influential, if now maligned, examples of a warrior-­scholar today: General David Petraeus. Why talk of ‘warrior-­scholars’ and not simply of ‘military intellectuals’? Mainly because these were soldiers who have mixed their own experience of actual counter-­insurgency operations with an active contribution to analytical and systematic thought – in other words, theorizing (with a small ‘t’) about irregular warfare. In other words they did not simply have the status of military officers, but were actually engaged in commanding during unconventional armed conflict, not just writing about it. This is not an easy mix to achieve. Therefore the chapters in this volume pose a basic set of analytical questions in order to holistically conceptualize contributions to the corpus of warrior-­scholarship in irregular war: • • • •

What are the profiles and the career paths of these warrior-­scholars, and what institutional tensions do they reveal? What was their actual impact in specific campaigns and in their military organizations? Have they notably moved academic debate on the issue of COIN forward? The praxis of warrior-­scholars – be it in the bazaars of Algiers or the mountains of Afghanistan – is an element that sets their theorizing apart from other academic analysis of COIN, but to what effect?

These are the crucial questions that cut across all the chapters in this book and the following pages.

The professional profile and organizational impact of warrior-­scholars In terms of profile it is clear from these cases that a warrior-­scholar can be both an innovative student of the profession of arms and a synthesizer and effective advocate of existing, but largely forgotten or marginalized, knowledge. Sometimes wisdom lies in knowing where to find the answers through in-­depth study of the past, not necessarily in coming up with the answer all by oneself. There are, therefore, at least two major types of warrior-­scholar: 1

There are those who are more ‘warrior’ than ‘scholar’. They are primarily practitioners, but with a systematic analytical approach to warfare, a studious interest in military history, and who know where to find the answers as

Analysing warrior-scholars   7

2

well as how to develop them and apply them once found, most notably in new written doctrine. Then there are those who are more ‘scholar’ than ‘warrior’, who are basically using warfare experience as food for thought, with some hope of their published work having an impact in actual military organizations and campaigning.

Both share this common trait of being thinking soldiers, concerned not just with memorializing lessons, but with systematizing critical analysis about warfare. In the mercurial and complex operational environment of counter-­insurgency – which is profoundly and often disturbingly different from conventional warfare – warrior-­scholars are crucial if tactical advantage is to be levered for strategic gain into some kind of new thinking that can be translated into new campaign planning, operational directives, force structure, doctrine and training. This chapter will therefore analyse not only the phenomenon of warrior-­ scholars in COIN, but also reflect on the often uneasy association between academia and the armed forces, as well as between the conventional army structure and new military thinkers within the ranks, who often have an unconventional career and seem to pay a heavy price for their role as military innovators. The cases that follow show how important innovative warrior-­scholars are in moving conventional armies towards more effective adaptation to unexpected challenges like counter-­insurgency, but also the many difficulties they face in achieving success in three extremely difficult tasks: deeply changing military organizations in terms of their doctrine and core mission; winning against politically savvy and elusive insurgents; and winning the attention and respect of academic scholars working on these subjects. This book emphasizes human agency in relation to counter-­insurgency and military adaptability. To some extent it echoes Mark Moyar’s ‘leader-­centric’ notion of counter-­insurgency performance.9 But it also attempts to analyse how individual contributions to counter-­insurgency theory can shape, as well as being conditioned by, wider organizational praxis and military culture. Any organization, be it a multinational company or a national military, especially in times of great and difficult change, is only as effective as the individuals striving to achieve their targets, finding new ways to innovate and attain ever greater levels of effectiveness. Framing the book in these terms does its best to avoid lapsing into what Joshua Rovner has critically labelled the ‘hero narrative’ of modern studies of counter-­insurgency by demonstrating how agency (the warrior-­ scholar) and structure (organizational bureaucracy and command hierarchies) interact, and how warrior-­scholarship in irregular war has often been the result of getting things wrong on many occasions. Tapping into these experiences, and holding up the flaws as well as attributes of some high profile warrior-­scholars, will, we hope, contribute to the historiography of COIN and avoid the hagiography of Rovner’s ‘hero narrative’.10 Any military organization wishing to achieve greater flexibility, improvement in tactical and operational effectiveness, or strategic clarity, therefore must seek

8   A. Mumford and B.C. Reis individual leaders with the capacity to think critically about the nature of their experiences and extract pertinent lessons for the purposes of theorization and doctrine. The military, as with other organizations, needs, in constructivist terms, ‘norm entrepreneurs’. This raises the crucial question for this volume of how well warrior-­scholars performed as promoters of change in organizational culture.11 The military needs, in Realist terms, drivers of strategically required change. A crucial question in evaluating the impact of warrior-­scholars is how well they performed as strategists, clearly seeing the changing military requirements of a changing distribution of power and its use in the international system.12 This is not to say that other approaches may not profit from this kind of approach. For instance, Critical Security Studies may well want to use these cases as examples of the organic intellectual devoted to defending the status quo by developing more effective ways of securing the state. Yet these warrior-­ scholars are often adopting wider approaches to security by pointing to the importance of politics, economics, healthcare or education even if in a very instrumental way; as well as being explicitly or implicitly critical of the way their states and their military responded to counter-­insurgency. It is important to make clear that warrior-­scholarship is an important, but by  no means sole, component, of the multicausal reasons for organizational change and adaptation. But the hallmark of the best warrior-­scholarship is how it  interacts with and leverages other factors involved in this process, such as  shifts in the global order, changes to military or political leadership, and changes to military technology. The best warrior-­scholars are military meteorologists, forecasting changes in how certain forms of warfare will develop and how best to prepare for them. They are also among the best examples of what individual agency can achieve in probably the most demanding of contexts (war), in one of the most demanding of institutions (the military).13 It is therefore an important subject for future research to look both at the vital and wider theme of the ability of the military to learn and adapt, and more specifically to look at the intellectual quality of its officer corps and its ability to produce capable warrior-­scholars. Military thinkers and good military leaders in general will benefit from good knowledge of warfare, past as well as present, and sound critical thinking about war. So even if evidently not all warriors can be, wish to be, or should be scholars, they could certainly benefit from some greater contact with critical analysis and greater knowledge of relevant cases that are more attuned to the interests of military audiences. The warrior-­scholars included in this volume are disparate in their backgrounds, status and acceptability to their respective senior commanders. But all of them share the fact of having been in some way relative outsiders – mavericks who have challenged conventional wisdom, sometimes at a considerable cost to themselves and their careers. They have all thought outside of the box in relation to irregular warfare and been willing to expound upon the symbiotic relationship between the theory and practice of counter-­insurgency in order to influence the thoughts and actions of a wider civil–military audience. Critique is an essential

Analysing warrior-scholars   9 precursor to lesson learning. Thus, warrior-­scholars act as critics of the militaries in which they serve, encouraging them, often reluctantly, to learn and adapt. We would like to underline, however, that the relationship between thinking and doing in the realm of counter-­insurgency is not a linear, simple, one. As Lt-­ Gen. Sir John Kiszely, the former Director of the UK Defence Academy, has pointed out, some of the most ineffective counter-­insurgency leadership – namely that of General William Westmoreland in Vietnam and General Sir John Harding in Cyprus – was brought about not because these commanding officers did not think about their past experience, but rather because they dogmatically ‘drew too heavily on [their] own experience [of conventional conflict] and too little on a study of history of theory [of COIN]’.14 In contrast, contemporary warrior-­scholar John Nagl took the reverse strategy: ‘Authors generally learn something about their subject matter, and then write about it. I took the opposite approach.’15 He reveals how his education and research into the lessons emanating from Malaya and Vietnam aided his subsequent deployment to the volatile ‘Sunni Triangle’ in Iraq. The scholar, Nagl implies, helped make a better warrior. However, as he later concedes, the battlefield experiences he had as a soldier helped create a more reflexive scholar, willing to revise previously held assumptions in light of praxis. There is therefore a constant tension that might turn into synergy between the two elements, leading to mutual improvement. Researchers should be attentive to both. In his seminal 1971 book, Low Intensity Operations, Frank Kitson observed how there is a ‘genuine educational function to attuning men’s minds to cope with the environment of this sort of war [COIN]’.16 It is a testament to this function that the counter-­insurgency course reading lists at Primary Military Education (PME) institutions across North America and Europe are filled with the works of warrior-­scholars, including Kitson himself, who have reflected upon their own experiences and wanted others to learn from it. Yet the relationship between the most influential warrior-­scholars and PME institutions is an interesting one. As many of the cases explored in this book demonstrate, some of the best works of counter-­insurgency warrior-­scholarship have been produced in spite of, not because of, stints in military educational institutions. Also interesting is the issue of the exposure these individuals have had to higher education in civilian institutions. For example, Kitson’s aforementioned Low Intensity Operations was written while he was a Fellow at Oxford University. John Nagl, David Kilcullen and David Petraeus all hold doctorates from leading civilian universities. It may well be that the fact that irregular warfare requires a great degree of civil–military coordination gives a premium to this kind of civil–military education path, and/or great openness to engagement with civilian academia; but this is a point that requires further exploration in future research. Effective warrior-­scholarship is not merely the product of, as one article from the 1970s put it, ‘the military man in academia’.17 It basically requires the ability of a soldier to allow his/her experience in combat to enable them to think more critically about warfare and to do so in a way that is then translated, if not

10   A. Mumford and B.C. Reis necessarily into theoretical prescriptions, then certainly into some kind of systematic, in-­depth written reflections. This seems to involve in most cases analysed here a less than ordinary military career, but not necessarily a ‘civilian’ PhD. Indeed it would seem very odd to exclude from this category of warrior-­ scholar, military officers who clearly had similar intellectual inclinations to think systematically about war, but who simply lived in a time or a place in which a PhD was not an option – even in most Western armies only very recently did it become one. What unites the warrior-­scholars in this book is their willingness to challenge the intellectual status quo of counter-­insurgency thought, whether through the formulation of doctoral theses at civilian universities or through subverting the doctrinal norms they were subject to at PMEs. Equally important, if not more decisive in terms of potential impact and potential obstacles, is the relationship between warrior-­scholars and the military institution in general. Their careers, as these cases show, have often involved periods of marginalization alternating with periods of rapid promotion and growing influence, ending more often than not in a final fall from grace, as David Petraeus’s career has recently demonstrated. In other words, warrior-­ scholars are no free-­riders. They may be crucial for innovation in military institutions, but this will also generate much resentment and makes them the target for much criticism. In part, this stems from frequent assumptions that warriors who engage in scholarship may be doing so for reasons of self-­promotion. The military institution values discipline, hierarchy and standard operating procedures – all of which are barriers that, almost by necessity, innovative warrior-­ scholars will at cost have had to jump over. Some tension between warrior and scholar is almost inevitable. It is still likely that as in some of the cases analysed here, the more committed and unconventional warrior-­scholars will have to opt at some point to focus on one or the other, and this may even be beneficial from the point of view of giving them the opportunity and freedom to be more systematic and critical. Still, as the cases presented here also show, too much cosy mainstream group-­think can be a deadly thing in war, especially in unconventional war. Western militaries would therefore do well to try to avoid the permanent departure of more cerebral unconventional soldiers. Advocates of change will often be passionate apostles of it. This is also the case of warrior-­scholars analysed here. It is true that this kind of role can hardly be risk-­free. How can it be performed without some degree of tension with military and civilian leaders? Political and military leaders have not been – and there is probably no reason to think they will ever be – very comfortable with officers who are subordinate to them doing too much thinking of their own. They do not like to hear subordinates advocating stridently alternative views of what the future of war will look like, when these views might well clash or call into question delicate policy decisions. Yet, as many of the cases analysed in this book demonstrate, innovative counter-­insurgency warrior-­scholarship has often come about as a result of the sponsorship of a senior commander. Many key

Analysing warrior-scholars   11 texts in the COIN canon, from David Galula’s Counter-­Insurgency Warfare, to Frank Kitson’s Low Intensity Conflict, were written while their authors were mid-­career officers. Warrior-­scholars often require patronage from higher in the chain of command in order to secure the intellectual breathing space to conduct periods of scholarship. Such institutional sponsorship was, and will continue to be, required for any translation of military thinking into organizational change. It is therefore important for military hierarchies, if they wish for more innovative and adaptive armed forces, to continue rewarding junior officers for intellectual curiosity, especially if mental agility is being turned to such a composite problem as irregular warfare. It is possible to have some reasonable concerns over the impact that warrior-­ scholars thinking too much, too independently, and too loudly, could have on wider civil–military relations. We would point out, however, that there is also a danger if military officers are encouraged to think too little and blindly obey orders silently without being encouraged, however unpopular that might be, to properly inform policy and be alert to potential dangers and mistakes. The French military during the past century illustrates this dilemma at its most extreme. The pre-­1940 École de Guerre, the French Staff College, was described as ‘a school of eunuchs’ and as such held responsible for the military disaster of 1940. But then the guerre révolutionnaire school and its ‘thinking centurions’, which dominated late colonial French counter-­insurgency, was held responsible for producing a number of plots to overthrow the democratically elected government of France in the 1960s. The much-­heralded yet oft-­debated 2007 US Army and Marine Corps Counterinsurgency Field Manual (FM 3–24) – itself a manual compiled by warrior-­ scholars – represents, perhaps not surprisingly, in part a manifesto for enhancing the US military’s commitment to what it calls ‘the learning imperative’,18 whereby soldiers become not just vessels for knowledge, but creators of it too. It goes on to argue, in a most telling passage: Commanders must influence directly and indirectly the behavior of others outside their chain of command. . . . Open channels of discussion and debate are needed to encourage growth of a learning environment in which experience is rapidly shared and lessons adapted for new challenges. . . . Self-­ development, life-­long learning and reflection on experience should be encouraged and rewarded.19 It would be wishful thinking to believe that the fundamental problem of how to balance hierarchy and innovation, discipline and creativity can ever be resolved completely and satisfactorily in any large institution, particularly one where both these elements are potentially so vital, and politically charged, as in the military. But something can be done. It would not be easy, but it would be desirable to try, we would argue, based on the cases analysed here. The best way of addressing this problem would seem to be to continually look at institutional design to create and maintain within the military more room and more reward for the kind of thinking

12   A. Mumford and B.C. Reis outside of the box that is described in this book, to improve the avenues for internal debate prior to decision-­making regarding strategy, doctrine, and planning for specific operations. This would not ensure victory every time – an evident utopia in the foggy affair of warfare – but it might imply that the risks that come with any innovation could result in less persistent, and less costly, mistakes.

War, scholarship and irregular war FM 3–24 is also significant as evidence of the post-­9/11 renaissance in counter-­ insurgency warrior-­scholarship. This marks a significant turnaround since the fallow period that followed the American withdrawal from Vietnam, as attention returned to the intellectually and institutionally more comfortable terrain of conventional land warfare and nuclear strategy. Obsessive concentration within Western military hierarchies on war-­gaming for a large ground war with the Soviet Union squeezed out the innovators of irregular war-­fighting theory. It reached a stage, as Mark Moyar puts it, whereby ‘even within the military educational system . . . counter-­insurgency specialists were generally viewed as purveyors of eight-­track tapes in an age of digital music’.20 Yet the demands of adapting the Western military to its most frequent, strategically important, missions after the end of the Cold War has required major doctrinal revision for Western militaries to deal with insurgencies and other forms of violent unconventional threats. This requires unconventional military missions in the context of what has broadly been called ‘stabilization operations’ to deal with ‘failed states’. This book attempts to inform the debate about this increasingly relevant type of warfare, in a highly asymmetrical world, and the peculiar challenges it presents to individuals and institutions in the military by looking at the thinking, the careers, and the actions, of officers involved in different counter-­insurgency campaigns during the course of the past century at a time when the West has struggled operationally and intellectually with irregular warfare. It is important to the underlying message of this book that a leading British military figure like General Kiszely has advocated the creation of more warrior-­ scholars to help overcome the challenge posed by contemporary insurgents. The complexity of modern warfare, he argues, ‘calls for minds that can not only cope with, but excel in, such an environment, thus minds that are agile, flexible, enquiring, imaginative, capable of rigorous analysis and objective thinking, that can conceptualise and innovate.’21 In a nutshell Kiszely has outlined the ideal-­ type warrior-­scholar – qualities of which are present in the individuals analysed in this volume. Obviously, however, we are aware that an ideal-­type is a model that is not meant to apply entirely in reality. Therefore, what are the trade-­offs? Obvious ones, often cited by more conservative institutional voices – and therefore already largely discussed in the first section of this chapter – are a reasonable concern with the undermining of military discipline, and a less reasonable one of an undermining of martial virtues. But here we would like to focus more on the other side of the coin, namely the advantages and disadvantages of these warrior-­scholars from the point of view of scholarship.

Analysing warrior-scholars   13 This discussion is also meant as a corrective to the challenge, when telling a story of change and of maverick thinkers going against the mainstream, of not ending up unwittingly sounding like a heroic tale of progress against backward conservatism. We do not wish to offer a Whig version of the history of warrior-­ scholars in counter-­insurgency. The role and ideas of these warrior-­scholars should not be read a-­critically. In fact, if in the end we simply pay homage to them a-­critically, this would be a poor service to them, because these were figures willing to challenge existing doctrinal guidelines and canonical views of warfare. In terms of the nature of the contribution of warrior-­scholars, and more specifically thinking about irregular warfare, there have been three types of criticism that seem deserving of further discussion in the context of this book. First, is that warrior-­scholars in counter-­insurgency have been too influenced by Maoism and its materialistic logic, as well as by modernization theory of the kind advocated by Walt Rostow.22 Certainly many warrior-­scholars focus on greed as part of the dynamics of insurgency, and on concrete material improvement. But in view of recent analysis this could hardly be seen as self-­evidently wrong.23 It would be incorrect, however, to claim their analysis has ignored more political dimensions, including propaganda, but also a concern with real political responses to the grievances that may have caused, or are useful to, the insurgency. Even if sometimes one can now, with hindsight, see that they were not effective and were probably always going to fail, like the dream of true integration of Algerians into France. In fact, many of the warrior-­scholars arguably, if anything, put too much uncritical emphasis on the problems with the more immaterial, political side of counter-­insurgency, with how and whether it is possible to win over the population. Second, and in fact complementing the previous criticism, warrior-­scholars tend to recycle and keep faith in old theories, and are not sufficiently up-­to-date. Population-­centric counter-­insurgency would be an example of this, as illustrated by the critique made by Gian Gentile of the new US counter-­insurgency doctrine that the Army’s new way of war is stale and reflects thinking that is well over forty years old. In short, our Army has been steamrollered by a counterinsurgency doctrine that was developed by Western military officers to deal with insurgencies and national wars of independence.24 The deliberate irony in choosing this quote is that Gentile himself can be seen as an example of a warrior-­scholar, albeit one of a stridently anti-­COIN variety. Yet Gentile’s criticism can itself be seen as old-­fashioned, pointing to more traditional, conventional approaches to warfare with its devotion to Clausewitz and jointness. We do agree that there is a real danger in a simplistic exercise of ‘cutting and pasting’ 1960s ‘classical’ counter-­insurgency to deal with today’s problems.25 We would not wish to sell the salience of this book at the price of scholarly

14   A. Mumford and B.C. Reis rigour. But equally damaging for the quality of analysis and the quality of action would be a simple cut-­and-paste of conventional thinking on joint operations or conventional land warfare. Certainly there is a need for scholars – both warrior-­ scholars and civilian academics – to point to inconsistencies, sloppy scholarship or myths. A certain element of advocacy is not equivalent to a complete absence of critical analysis. Warrior-­scholars may have less time, or even training, than civilian academics, for scholarly rigour, but on the other hand, because of their actual experience and responsibility in warfare, they do have a strong incentive to try to check whether their analysis and conclusions match practical problems and demands and do not lead to a disastrous dissonance from reality. It is revealing that the ground for FM  3–24 was prepared by a number of warrior-­scholars looking for better ways to think about and do counter-­ insurgency in light of their own scholarly knowledge of military history and doctrine. As previously stated, sometimes the kind of applied scholarship we are analysing may seem to be in simply knowing where to look – but in fact, we would add, in then knowing how to adapt past lessons to present circumstances. It would be very unscholarly, but not exactly unheard of in more academic scholarship, to bend the present to fit a favourite past paradigm, be it intellectual or organizational.26 Third, warrior-­scholars are often accused of lacking both up-­to-date scientific knowledge, and depth, in their analysis. Stathis Kalyvas makes precisely this point regarding warrior-­scholars’ contribution to the most recent American doctrine on counter-­insurgency, specifically in terms of the real motivations and social dynamics at play regarding locals and insurgents.27 Again we agree this is an important question. It may be true in the sense that warrior-­scholars do not necessarily aim for deep conceptual or methodological discussions. Warrior-­ scholars will tend to look more for applied analysis and policy-­oriented research in which time is of the essence – getting it ‘right’ enough, and quick enough, is more important than great conceptual or methodological depth. In this respect comprehensive population-­centric counter-­insurgency may be criticized on many counts but still be seen as an improvement in practice and in theory. For instance, look at the reality on the ground during the challenges of the occupation of Iraq when the conventional campaign was followed by a ‘liberation theory’. This was a direct result of the lacuna in thinking about irregular warfare after the trauma of Vietnam, creating a taboo on irregular warfare. So there will probably be limitations in the work of a warrior-­scholar, if not in critical analysis, then in traditional scholarly depth. The real question – and test – is if the limitations are too serious to compromise these efforts even in practical terms. But this can hardly be known in advance.28 Rather, it requires careful analysis. What are, in sum and in our view, the main positive and negative points about the warrior-­scholarship analysed here? On the plus side is the fact that this is thinking enriched by direct experience, attuned to the real practical difficulties on the ground, and capable of delivering analysis (but also policy advice) from practitioners in often-­slim, easy-­to-read, how-­to-do-­it, texts. On the down side is the tension this causes between advocacy and analysis – wanting to shape the

Analysing warrior-scholars   15 future of warfare and to validate the importance of their prescriptions does not always make for the most nuanced in-­depth analysis. Specific individual experience can also become too influential, leading to excessive generalization from a specific case – what worked in Malaya may not work in Vietnam, what worked in Iraq may not work in Afghanistan. This is especially problematic if instead of generic lessons you extract very specific and very rigid prescriptions that may distort both analysis and praxis. Yet we would still argue that, especially in view of a prolonged lack of academic interest in irregular warfare since the Vietnam War, the contributions of the warrior-­scholars analysed here – with all their potential flaws and limitations – were and are very important in moving forward our understanding of this peculiar type of warfare. To remind ourselves of the words of Sir Robert Thompson again, they fight the ‘tendency for Generals (and staff colleges) to minimise the role of guerrilla operations’ and for ‘a large portion of the intellectual community in the West’ to be ‘even further behind’ in paying due attention to small wars than the military.29 Also their importance is enhanced because they did so from a perspective that was for a long time even less studied than that of the insurgent: that of the counter-­insurgent. It is up to us to avoid transforming these cases of warrior-­scholars into some simple canon ready for thoughtless cut-­andpaste. There is some reason, based on the historical cases analysed here, to wonder how long this interest in unconventional warfare will last in conventional security studies and conventional armies. The perpetual hostility that irregular war ‘warrior-­scholars’ have faced from the conventional war-­centric elements of their militaries (whose main fear resides in an assumption that an overt focus on COIN distracts, and does not enhance, readiness for wars of greater magnitude) is unwarranted. We hope to contribute to the avoidance of the strategic and scholarly mistake that was made in the past; that is, simply looking at irregular warfare as small wars not worthy of continued attention alongside other types of conflict. What this book does is argue for more and better analysis of the connection between the dynamics, the possible solutions, and the costs of counter-­ insurgency in the work of warrior-­scholars.

Notes   1 See for example M. van Creveld, The Training of Officers: From Military Professionalism to Irrelevance, New York: Free Press, 1990.   2 J. Snyder, The Ideology of the Offensive: Military Decision Making and the Disasters of 1914, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1984, p. 27.   3 For a discussion of this in the British case see B.H. Reid, Studies in British Military Thought, Nebraska University Press, 1998, pp. 1–12.   4 D. Ucko, The New Counterinsurgency Era: Transforming the US Military for Modern Wars, Washington DC: Georgetown University Press, 2009.   5 W. Laqueur, Guerrilla Warfare: A Historical and Critical Study, New Brunswick, Transaction, 2002, p. 3.   6 R. Thompson, Revolutionary War in World Strategy 1945–1969, London: Secker & Warburg, 1970, pp. 23–4.

16   A. Mumford and B.C. Reis   7 I. Beckett, ‘Low-­Intensity Conflict: Its Place in the Study of War’ in D.A. Charters et al. (eds), Military History and the Military Profession, Westport: Praeger, 1992, pp. 121–9.   8 B. Heuser, ‘Small Wars in the Age of Clausewitz: The Watershed Between Partisan War and People’s War’ in Journal of Strategic Studies, 2010, 33 (1), p. 143.   9 M. Moyar, A Question of Command: Counterinsurgency from the Civil War to Iraq, New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2009. 10 J. Rovner, ‘The Heroes of COIN’ in Orbis, 2012, 56 (2), pp. 215–32. 11 See, for example, T. Farrell, Norms of War: Cultural Beliefs and Modern Conflict, Boulder, CO: Lynne Riener, 2005; P. Katzenstein (ed.), The Culture of National Security: Norms and Identity in World Politics, New York: Columbia University Press, 1996. 12 The classic work on this subject is B. Posen, The Sources of Military Doctrine: France, Britain, and Germany between the World Wars, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1984. Posen has rightly argued that the military often resists because corporate inertia prevents strategically necessary change – one good explanation of why good warrior-­scholars are so unpopular. S. Rosen, Winning the Next War: Innovation and the Modern Military, Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1994, and others, have convincingly argued that this is not always and necessarily the case – so that sometimes warrior-­scholars can exercise some real influence. 13 Our thanks to Lt-­Col. Isaiah Wilson III for both these insights. Ike served as panel discussant when an original selection of the chapters in this book were presented as papers at the 2010 International Studies Association (ISA) convention in New Orleans. 14 Lt-­Gen. Sir J. Kiszely, ‘Learning About Counterinsurgency’ in Military Review, March-­April 2007, p. 7. 15 J. Nagl, Learning to Eat Soup with a Knife: Counterinsurgency Lessons from Malaya and Vietnam, Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 2005, p. xi. 16 F. Kitson, Low Intensity Operations: Subversion, Insurgency and Peacekeeping, St. Petersburg, FL: Hailer Publishing, 2006 [1971], p. 165. 17 A.A. Jordan and W.J. Taylor Jr, ‘The Military Man in Academia’ in The ANNALS of the American Academy of Political and Social Science, March 1973, Vol. 406, pp. 129–45. 18 US Army and Marine Corps, Counterinsurgency Field Manual  3-24, Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 2007, p. 252. 19 Ibid., p. 253. 20 Moyar, A Question of Command, p. 1. 21 Kiszely, ‘Learning About Counterinsurgency’, 10. 22 The classic statement of this thesis is by D.M. Shafer, Deadly Paradigms: The Failure of U.S. Counterinsurgency Policy, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1988. 23 For sophisticated recent discussions of the more material side of insurgency see J. Fearon and D. Laitin, ‘Ethnicity, Insurgency, and Civil War’ in American Political Science Review, 2003, 97 (1), pp. 75–90; M. Berdal, ‘Beyond Greed and Grievance – And Not Too Soon . . .” in Review of International Studies, 2005, 31 (4), pp. 687–98; and P. Collier, The Bottom Billion, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008, pp. 124–34. 24 G.P. Gentile ‘Time for the Deconstruction of Field Manual  3–24’ in Joint Forces Quarterly, 2010, Vol. 58, pp. 116–17. 25 D. Kilcullen, ‘Counter-­insurgency Redux’ in Survival, 2006–2007, 48 (4), p. 225. 26 T.S. Kuhn, The Structure of Scientific Revolutions, Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1962. 27 S.N. Kalyvas, ‘Review of The New U.S. Army/Marine Corps Counterinsurgency Field Manual’. Perspectives on Politics, 2008, 6 (4), pp. 351–3.

Analysing warrior-scholars   17 28 Kalyvas seems to think this may be the case, partially at least, with current US warrior-­scholarship upon which FM 3–24 is based. He of course may be right in some cases (namely Afghanistan) but not in others (especially Iraq). 29 R.G.K. Thompson, Revolutionary War in World Strategy, pp.  23–4. The point has been made often afterwards, sometimes with supporting data; for example in Beckett, op. cit.

2 Warrior-­scholarship in the age of colonial warfare Charles E. Callwell and small wars Daniel Whittingham

‘Warrior-­scholars’ have been important in counterinsurgency, bridging the gap between theory and practice, and influencing debate and the development of doctrine. The British Army, of course, has behind it many years’ experience of fighting irregular wars. As Byron Farwell has written, ‘there was not a single year in Queen Victoria’s long reign [1837–1901] in which somewhere in the world her soldiers were not fighting for her and for her empire’.1 All of these conflicts, with the exception of the Crimean War against Russia (1853–1856, with British participation from 1854), were irregular; or ‘small wars’ in Victorian parlance. Campaigns were followed by the usual books and articles. The Army was thinking about the lessons of its small wars. It also produced, in Charles Edward Callwell (1859–1928), an important theorist-­practitioner. This chapter will consider his approach to the study of irregular warfare and the nature of his conclusions. Callwell’s magnum opus is Small Wars: Their Principles and Practice. The first edition appeared in 1896, with revised and expanded second and third editions following in 1899 and 1906. Appreciating the terminological difficulties that surround irregular warfare, Callwell argued that the term ‘small war’ was used ‘in default of a better’ one to describe ‘all campaigns other than those where both the opposing sides consist of regular troops’. This definition included a broad range of conflicts; but the common factor was that conditions somehow varied from the norms of regular warfare.2 The imperial legacy of fighting small wars remains important to Britain: the British Army is a small wars army.3 Ian Beckett has argued that the considerable body of theory produced constitutes a distinct British contribution to the art of war, a genuine ‘British way in warfare’. Callwell’s work is seen by many, including Beckett, as the start point of the history of the British approach to counterinsurgency. He frequently appears as the first in a line of succession of warrior-­scholars, including those covered elsewhere in this volume.4 Indeed, he is the first author to be discussed in Brigadier Gavin Bulloch’s historical survey in the current British doctrine, Countering Insurgency (2009).5 Callwell’s writings represent the first real synthesis of the experiences of the British Army in its imperial wars – no mean feat, given the great diversity of the conflicts. He also drew on the experiences of other powers, including France, Russia and the United States. Small Wars therefore represents the most complete codification of the principles of nineteenth century colonial campaigning.

Colonial warfare and Charles E. Calwell   19 Callwell’s works have been used by many historians as a conceptual hook on which to hang their own analyses of the past.6 Small Wars has remained popular: the third edition appeared again in 1990 (as A Tactical Textbook for Imperial Soldiers), with a preface by Colonel Peter Walton; and again in 1996, introduced by Douglas Porch.7 As a result, many of his ideas are commonplace today. Indeed it is often suggested that many retain their relevance. The US doctrine, FM  3–24 Counterinsurgency Field Manual, states that he ‘provides lessons learned that remain applicable today’.8 David Betz has written on the similarities and differences between Callwell’s thought and contemporary counterinsurgency in his recent article ‘Counter-­insurgency, Victorian Style’.9 However, with the notable exception of an essay by Colin Gray which introduces the 1996 Classics of Sea Power edition of Callwell’s book on maritime theory, Military Operations and Maritime Preponderance: Their Relations and Interdependence (1905), insufficient scholarly attention has been paid to Callwell’s career and works as a whole.10

Callwell as warrior-­scholar During the First World War Callwell reached the rank of Major-­General and was created Knight Commander of the Order of the Bath (KCB). Although during his long career he served his country in a number of roles, it was as a writer that he was most well-­known. His contribution to the art of war was recognized in 1921, when he received the prestigious Chesney medal of the Royal United Service Institution (RUSI), awarded for ‘his distinguished work in connection with military literature’.11 He was commissioned into the Royal Field Artillery in July 1878. His early career demonstrates the importance of small wars in Army life. In March 1880, during the Second Afghan War, he was sent to Kabul with his battery. Evidently the experience was useful: he described it as ‘the most valuable training that I underwent during my time in the army’.12 The outbreak of the Transvaal War against the Boers meant that he was next sent to Natal. He arrived in Durban at the end of January 1881, but saw no action; he was distinctly unimpressed with the Government’s climb-­down following defeat at the Battle of Majuba.13 He returned to Britain in December 1881. In 1882 he was desperate to be sent out to fight in the Egyptian campaign, to no avail.14 He passed Staff College (1885–1886), served in the Intelligence Department at the War Office (1887–1892) and in a number of Garrison Artillery posts. He participated in the South African War (1899–1902), the largest of Britain’s small wars. His company – 16th Company Southern Division, Royal Garrison Artillery – was ordered out from Malta to South Africa. On arrival he was sent to join General Sir Redvers Buller’s Natal army. His guns played an important part in the operations on the Tugela and in the subsequent advance into the Transvaal following the relief of Ladysmith. In October 1900, the Natal army was wound up, and Buller returned to Britain. However, the conventional phase of operations had given way to the frustrations of the guerrilla phase. From October 1900 to July 1901, Callwell was engaged in counter-­guerrilla

20   D. Whittingham operations in the Transvaal. In July 1901 he was ordered to Middelburg in Cape Colony, the headquarters of Lieutenant-­General Sir John French. The Boers had taken the war to the British by invading the Cape. Having been made brevet lieutenant-­colonel, Callwell subsequently received an independent command, taking over a column. However, his force suffered a reverse at Brand Kraal at the hands of Jacob van Deventer’s kommando (November 1901). In March 1902 Callwell was ordered to Cape Town. He was sent north, to Namaqualand; as the war reached its conclusion, he was to be involved in one of its more interesting sidelights, the relief of the siege of Ookiep (or Okiep). Callwell himself led the flying column which reached the town on 3 May. Four weeks later, the war was over.15 Callwell would not command in the field again after the war, possibly because of his failures when commanding a column in the Cape. Given his abilities as a writer, Callwell was perhaps more ‘scholar’ than ‘warrior’ (or was thought by others to be so). He made his first forays into writing with two essays published in the Proceedings of the Royal Artillery Institute: ‘Notes on the Tactics of our Small Wars’ in 1884, and ‘Notes on the Strategy of our Small Wars’ the following year.16 The most important of his early works was written for the RUSI military essay prize. His answer on the ‘Lessons to be learnt from the Campaigns in which British Forces have been employed since the year 1865’ won a Gold Medal and was published in the Journal of the Royal United Service Institution in 1887.17 In his essays he developed his method of drawing on past examples to illustrate principles. His view of the value of military history was that it could provide useful precedents for the conduct of future operations.18 On 26 March 1895 Callwell gave a lecture at the Aldershot Military Society entitled ‘Lessons to be Learnt from Small Wars since 1870’. In the time available he could deal only with the deductions he had made that had struck him most.19 These formed the central arguments in Small Wars, which gave all of his insights their fullest expression. All three editions of Small Wars were published by Her Majesty’s Stationery Office, as semi-­official manuals. The preface to the third edition was by the then Chief of the General Staff, Sir Neville Lyttelton. He wrote that Small Wars was highly recommended, although it was ‘not to be regarded as laying down inflex­ ible rules for guidance’, nor was it ‘an expression of official opinion’.20 The idea of flexibility was central to the approach taken in the first official doctrine, ‘Warfare against an Uncivilized Enemy’, in the Field Service Regulations (FSR) of 1909.21 Important changes were made as Small Wars was updated. The 1899 edition included lessons drawn from French ‘operations in Madagascar, the guerilla [sic, passim] warfare in Cuba . . . the suppression of the rebellions in Rhodesia, the operations beyond the Panjab [sic] frontier in 1897–1898, the re-­conquest of the Sudan, the operations of the United States troops against the Filipinos’ and other more minor campaigns.22 On the North-­West Frontier – especially in Tirah – the British had suffered badly at the hands of well-­armed opponents, presaging many of the developments in the South African War. It is unsurprising that for this edition a long chapter was added on hill warfare.23

Colonial warfare and Charles E. Calwell   21 The third edition included lessons drawn from the South African War. In particular, Callwell added material to his chapter on guerrilla warfare. He had, as we have seen, experienced British counter-­guerrilla methods first-­hand. In order to defeat the Boers the British constructed an elaborate system of blockhouses to control the countryside, against which the Boer kommandos were to be pinned by a series of mobile drives. An increasingly indiscriminate scorched-­earth policy uprooted Boer women and children, who were then removed to internment camps, separating the guerrillas from the population. These measures slowly turned the screw on the Boer bittereinders, leading to peace in May 1902.24 The differences between the Sudan, Tirah and South African campaigns were striking. In some ways small wars were an anachronism; but they also contained elements of modernity. Callwell discussed the new tactical conditions he had witnessed in South Africa in his book The Tactics of To-­day (1900).25 He also found the lessons of Tirah particularly instructive, revisiting the war in 1911 for his Campaigns and Their Lessons series.26 General Sir William Lockhart’s aim was to announce the Government’s terms to the jirgahs from Tirah itself, which had never previously been entered by a British force. The campaign demonstrated the difficulties of facing a well-­armed guerrilla opponent, who ‘fights when he chooses and runs away when he chooses without being the worse for doing so’. Callwell concluded: The tribesmen of Tirah are admittedly brilliant exponents of partisan warfare. . . . Such methods are bewildering to the commanders of disciplined troops opposed to them, and unless full allowance is made for this in contests of this class, faulty deductions are likely enough to be drawn from their history.27 Lockhart announced his terms but the subsequent evacuation proved difficult. Tirah, Callwell felt, needed to be dominated for a long period. He noted that the era of the classic small war of conquest was more or less at an end. Territory had now been carved up by the Great Powers and absorbed into their empires. Guerrilla warfare would become more common.28 Following the South African War Callwell returned to the War Office (1903–1907). During this period he published Military Operations and Maritime Preponderance, less well known than Small Wars but equally classic, establishing his place as an important theorist of maritime warfare in the Julian Corbett mould. He retired in 1909 but returned to full-­time service on the outbreak of war in 1914, taking the place of his friend General Henry Wilson as Director of Military Operations until the end of 1915. Thereafter he served in a variety of  appointments. Much of his later output concerns issues relating to the First World War, in particular his notorious two-­volume biography of Wilson.29 He died in 1928, unfortunately without having updated Small Wars to take into account the lessons of Ireland and Amritsar, or technological developments such as airpower.

22   D. Whittingham

Rewriting the rulebook Callwell was not a theorist of counterinsurgency as we would understand the term today. He believed that irregular warfare should be kept as ‘regular’ as possible, with victory on the battlefield.30 He was very much a product of his time. Some passages regarding punitive operations are unpalatable in the twenty-­first century. Ever present is his Victorian attitude towards ‘savage’ races, typified by his comment that ‘most savages . . . can see far better in the dark than Europeans can’.31 He did seek to establish general principles. However, as Beatrice Heuser has written with regard to Clausewitz, he ‘lived on the threshold of a new age’.32 The small wars of conquest described in his work would soon be replaced by imperial policing operations, then by wars of decolonization. The twentieth century saw the emergence of ideological motivations such as communism, which added a new dimension to counterinsurgency. This should prevent us from over-­stressing his role as a father of modern day theory. However, although it is clear that much has changed, much has stayed the same. Many of Callwell’s observations regarding the problems faced by regular armies in small wars remain relevant.33 Indeed, by examining the context in which he wrote, certain parallels suggest themselves. His purpose in writing was to fill a gap. The rules of regular warfare had been well established by ‘great masters’ such as Sir Edward Bruce Hamley and Baron Jomini. ‘Yet’, he wrote, ‘of the many recognized principles on which modern Strategy is founded, some are wholly inapplicable to small wars, others require sweeping modification to meet altered circumstances’. He quoted Marshal Bugeaud, who successfully extended French rule in Algeria following his appointment as Governor General in 1840: ‘ “Vous aurez beaucoup à oublier” ’, Bugeaud told his assembled lieutenants.34 Here it is worth repeating arguably the most famous words from Small Wars: Strategy and tactics alike are in great campaigns governed, in most respects, by a code from which it is perilous to depart. But the conditions of small wars are so diversified, the enemy’s mode of fighting is often so peculiar, and the theatres of operations present such singular features, that irregular warfare must generally be carried out on a method totally different from the stereotyped system. The art of war, as generally understood, must be modified to suit the circumstances of each particular case. The conduct of small wars is in fact in certain respects an art by itself, diverging widely from what is adapted to the conditions of regular warfare, but not so widely that there are not in all its branches points which permit comparisons to be established.35 It has been argued, unfairly, that Callwell was writing at a time of anti-­ intellectualism within the army, for which colonial warfare was partly responsible; that, at a time when the cult of the offensive predominated, warfare was seen as structured, ordered and decisive.36 Colonial campaigns sometimes fitted the bill. However, as Callwell appreciated, they often did not. Small wars were

Colonial warfare and Charles E. Calwell   23 anything but easy. This had become even clearer by the time of the 1906 edition: Callwell’s conclusion that ‘small wars of the future may involve very difficult operations’ does not appear in the first two editions.37 Small wars regularly involved long, drawn out, desultory operations and widespread destruction, without necessarily coming to a satisfactory conclusion. The Egyptian campaign of 1882, for example, had been so quick only because Arabi’s army, fighting in the style of a regular force, had offered itself up for destruction.38 It took Bugeaud six years to pacify Algeria.39 There may be something in Colin Gray’s argument that Callwell’s reputation as an expert in this kind of warfare damaged his career prospects.40 A.P. Thornton believed that Callwell’s colleagues somehow conspired against him, because ‘small wars not only break the rules, which is forgivable; but they violate the conventions, which is not’. Small wars do break the rules; but Thornton’s suggestion that Callwell’s advice to commanders was that they ‘should throw away the rule book and just wing it’ misses the point.41 In fact, he aimed to establish a different set of rules for small wars, which had to that date received little attention in the standard texts.42 Indeed, Callwell did more than merely fill a gap. His work represents an emphatic statement regarding the value of studying small wars. Many commentators questioned the significance of any lessons they provided. Howard Bailes identified three broad schools of thought in this debate: the ‘continentalists’, the ‘traditionalists’ and the ‘British or imperial school’. The great European wars since the advent of the breech-­loader, the Austro-­Prussian (1866), Franco-­ Prussian (1870–1871) and Russo-­Turkish (1877–1878) wars, all had a major impact in Britain. The ‘continentalists’ were particularly influenced by them, and largely ignored Britain’s own military experience: Colonel Lonsdale Hale, an ardent ‘Prussophile’, described small wars as ‘merely the play of children’ in comparison. On the other hand, the ‘British school’ stressed the importance of small wars, which after all represented the bread and butter of Britain’s military commitments. Many regarded a British expedition to the Continent as unlikely. Bailes associates the views of the ‘British school’ with Callwell in particular. He reproduces a quote, which may be repeated here as it forms a neat summary of the position. It comes from the pen of Thomas Miller Maguire, himself a member of the ‘British school’. Miller Maguire wrote a number of works on military affairs, including small wars; and he was a keen exponent of Callwell’s ideas: While looking at the stars we may tumble in a ditch, and while lost in wonder at how to move effectively from Strasbourg, Mayence, and Metz towards Paris with many divisions of cavalry and armies consisting each of from three to eight corps, we may forget how to handle a few battalions in the passes of the Suleiman Range or in the deserts of Upper Egypt.43 Prussophile obsessions would not necessarily be of any help in the jungles of West Africa. Small wars provided instructive lessons of their own. These were

24   D. Whittingham not limited merely to preparing the army for the next war in the desert or on the North-­West Frontier. They revealed much about the army itself and thus could have some application when it came to meeting the requirements of ‘big’ war. This is the significance of Callwell’s point that small wars differed from regular warfare ‘but not so widely that there are not in all its branches points which permit comparisons to be established’. Illustrations of the similarities and differences between the two appear throughout his work. For example, one of the most obvious differences was the continued use of the square formation in small wars. On the other hand, against the well-­armed tribesmen of the Frontier, and the Boers on the veldt, the nature of the ground and the enemy had tended ‘to render the elastic formations of European warfare still more loose and dispersed’.44 Conducting a difficult fighting withdrawal through the mountains, standing up to the fearsome charge of the Zulu impis, or feeling his way through thick jungle, the British soldier gained valuable combat experience. Callwell argued that the army gained more from this than from what he called ‘sham’ manoeuvres.45 In his lecture to the Aldershot Military Society, he argued that small wars taught vital skills, such as self-­reliance, which could not be so easily developed at home. They turned the men into soldiers and taught the officers how to use their own initiative. In short, they improved the army: The experiences gained and the self-­confidence engendered are not thrown away. The lessons are learnt and not forgotten. And so it comes about that small wars are of real benefit to the country, for they give a vitality to its military forces which the routine of barrack life or camp exercise cannot infuse.46 Here he anticipated the 1909 FSR, which stated that ‘Self-­reliance, vigilance, and judgment are the chief requisites for overcoming the difficulties inherent in savage warfare’.47 Small wars revealed the army’s strengths, but also highlighted weaknesses. At a basic level, Callwell complained about problems with clothing and equipment, in particular the failure of weapons. At the broader strategic level, he noted that the Egyptian campaign of 1882 had placed great strain on Britain’s military resources.48 The South African War then drove the point home, acting as a catalyst for reform of the British military system.49 The use of the army as ‘a sword and not a shield’, striking across the globe by means of command of the sea, provided an answer to the problem of imperial defence. This was a theme Callwell would develop further in his work on maritime strategy. Small wars educated the public as to ‘the true functions of the army for which they pay so much’, he argued, ‘and until a more healthy tone prevails as to the proper form which national insurance should take the more small wars we have the better’.50 The imperial dimension gave Britain a very different strategic outlook to Germany and France. In framing a military system, Callwell recognized that Britain could not slavishly imitate Continental approaches:

Colonial warfare and Charles E. Calwell   25 For the contingency of war with some formidable Continental Power we must needs be ready, but our military institutions appear to have been built up, and the equipments of our forces appear to have been devised, with this alone in view. It follows that the outbreak of hostilities on the most trifling scale seriously affects the working of the whole system as framed for operations on a grand scale, while at the same time the small force detailed for the contest suffers gravely in efficiency from the absence of an organization for irregular warfare. The great military nations of the Continent when they make war, make war on a war footing and in a European climate, but we have to be prepared for making war on a peace footing and in climates bearing no resemblance to our own. It is this that introduces the greatest element of difficulty into the framing of a military system for the British Army.51 The British Army was a small imperial police force, which could be sent to any part of a worldwide empire. There was a difference between preparing for a war and preparing for the war: this has been a recurring theme in the history of the British Army.52 Important in this regard was the question of training. In his comments on Callwell’s lecture at Aldershot, Major-­General Francis Clery – a former Commandant of the Staff College – described the method of conducting small wars as ‘essentially a thing which our officers must of necessity work out for themselves’.53 In Tirah the troops learned quickly on the job, because they had to. Warfare of this kind required specialist training, which would by no means interfere with preparation for European war.54 Callwell argued that the general instructions contained in Infantry Drill were of little value: To a soldiery accustomed only to drill-­book manoeuvres practised on gentle undulations, a few of the simple maxims known to every Gurkha [sic] havildar are, when retiring down a mountain side in the gloaming dogged by ferocious clansmen, worth a whole folio of Prince Kraft.55 The experience of the Tirah Field Force did lead to some developments in the provision of training for hill warfare, and there was some professional debate on the subject; but Callwell’s hopeful comment that this would prevent the recurrence of the kinds of mistakes committed in Tirah proved overly optimistic.56

The art of small wars Training was (and is) crucial to the ability of the regulars to learn and adapt. Callwell’s advice on the need to adapt to the particular circumstances of each small war is as relevant now as it was then. What worked against one opponent would not necessarily work against another. ‘Fighting the last war’ was a recipe for disaster: Military records prove that in different small wars the hostile mode of conducting hostilities varies to a surprising extent. . . . From this striking fact

26   D. Whittingham there is to be deduced a most important military lesson. It is that in small wars the habits, the customs, and the mode of action on the battlefield of the enemy should be studied in advance. This is not imperative only on the commander and his staff – all officers should know what nature of opposition they must expect, and should understand how best to overcome it. . . . Each small war presents new features, and these features must if possible be foreseen or the regular troops will assuredly find themselves in difficulties and may meet with grievous misfortune.57 Callwell divided small wars into three broad classes: campaigns of conquest, pacification and expediency. Historians continue to use this model. Also familiar is his division of opponents into seven rough categories: ‘opponents with a form  of regular organization’; ‘highly disciplined but badly armed opponents’; ‘fanatics’; ‘guerillas’; ‘armies of savages in the bush’; mounted opponents; and the Boers, whom he placed in a category of their own.58 It is clear that Callwell knew that victory for the regulars was not a given: understanding the enemy and the lessons of the past could make all the difference between victory and defeat. Coming to terms with diverse and difficult theatres of war was also vital. Hence Callwell’s famous dictum, that ‘it is perhaps the most distinguishing characteristic of small wars as compared with regular hostilities conducted between modern armies, that they are in the main campaigns against nature’.59 Transport was a subject demanding special attention; it often broke down or was unavailable in the first place. Getting sufficient supplies forward to the men was a constant cause of concern to commanders. The army often became ‘a mere escort for its food’. It could not be too small, as it would risk destruction; nor too large, as it would collapse under its own weight. It was usually chained to long, vulnerable, lines of communication. The regulars generally lacked intelligence, both on the terrain and enemy movements.60 The climate was usually harsh and unforgiving; more British soldiers died of disease than died in action.61 Knowledge of the enemy and theatre of war was essential in determining the army’s objectives. Often these included the enemy’s capital, army, or both; but frequently there was no obvious centre of gravity to aim at, especially when fighting guerrillas. In such cases the war could assume a particularly ‘dirty’ form. Callwell quoted from the famous Soldier’s Pocket Book by the Victorian hero, General (later Field Marshal) Garnet Wolseley. ‘In planning a war against an uncivilized nation who have perhaps no capital’, Wolseley wrote, ‘your first object should be the capture of whatever they prize most, and the destruction or deprivation of which will probably bring the war most rapidly to a conclusion’. This usually meant the destruction of villages and food supplies.62 The all-­ importance of the generation of ‘moral effect’ through such punitive methods was a recurring theme in small wars literature.63 Even when the enemy possessed a capital or an army, it was often still seen as necessary to employ such measures. In such ways small wars could offer pointers to the future: they often tended towards totality for native populations.64

Colonial warfare and Charles E. Calwell   27 Callwell’s advocacy of military severity, apparently at the expense of political solutions, is most repugnant to the twenty-­first century observer. However, a closer reading reveals that he certainly did consider political factors. In fact, he makes their importance clear at the very outset with the Clausewitzian comment that ‘Military operations are always undertaken with some end in view, and are shaped for its achievement’.65 If the ultimate objective of a campaign was to successfully assimilate a people into the empire, then ‘military execution’ was ill adapted to that end. It was often necessary, but there were limits. ‘The enemy must be chastised up to a certain point’, he wrote, ‘but should not be driven to desperation’, as this would merely increase their resistance. Care had to be taken not to exasperate the people: Expeditions to put down revolt are not put in motion merely to bring about a temporary cessation of hostility. Their purpose is to ensure a lasting peace. Therefore, in choosing the objective, the overawing and not the exasperation of the enemy is the end to keep in view.66 Callwell, as a khaki-­clad maritime theorist, recognized that the regulars invariably possessed the advantages provided by command of the sea. Few counterinsurgency writers have made this observation.67 However, given the many challenges described above, he argued that the irregulars held most of the cards at the strategic level. They were used to the climate and knew the country. Thanks to intelligence provided by the local populace and by what he called ‘bazaar rumour’, they often knew the movements of the regular army as well. Because they were not weighed down by the responsibility of defending a line of communications, they were more mobile; so much so that the regulars could almost be surprised at any moment.68 In small wars the regulars were the amateurs. Their irregular opponents were the professionals, imbued with ‘native cunning’ (in other words supreme skill, expressed in typical Victorian language).69 Summed up, the problem was this: ‘Strategy, as a science, hinges on communications. How then can it serve to control operations against Maories or Afghans, who possess no communications and require none?’70 The solution was on the battlefield, where the regulars could deliver a crushing blow, both materially and psychologically. Commentators have drawn attention to Callwell’s assumptions of European moral, that is to say racial, superiority. ‘Indigenous societies’, wrote Douglas Porch, ‘were viewed by Callwell not as complex organizations, but as “inferior races” destined to be smashed into submission. Callwell should – indeed, he must – have known better, both from scholarship and practical experience’.71 However, Callwell did know better than to suggest that ‘inferior races’ offered themselves up for destruction. Victory, as we have seen, was not a given. Indeed, Callwell could not always assume European technological superiority, as Tirah and the South African War showed. A combination of firepower and shock would be difficult to face: it would probably require a radical overhaul in regular tactics, including of course the final abandonment of the square.72 He preferred to emphasize moral factors

28   D. Whittingham such as discipline and esprit de corps. Ultimately, as Porch has emphasized, he recognized that technology was no substitute for appropriate strategy.73 It was vital that the regulars act boldly and resolutely and take the offensive at all times. Unlike European warfare, there was no question of seizing the initiative, as this generally passed to the regulars anyway; but there could be no let-­up once operations had begun.74 The last of David Kilcullen’s ‘Twenty-­Eight Articles’, ‘Whatever else you do, keep the initiative’, echoes Callwell’s final message in Small Wars: ‘The fundamental principle of carrying out operations against antagonists of this class is to assume the initiative whenever it is possible to do so, and to maintain it as long as it is practicable to maintain it.’75 There was plenty of scope for the employment of ambushes, ruses, raids and feints. Favoured methods of many irregular opponents, it required great skill to use these against them.76 Callwell saw guerrilla warfare as a class apart. He described it as the form of warfare that ‘the regular armies always have most to dread’, in which the regulars were at their worst and the irregulars at their best, especially when under a leader of genius. The regulars did not face a hostile army but a hostile population.77 ‘The guerilla mode of war’, he wrote, ‘must in fact be met by an abnormal system of strategy and tactics. The great principle which forms the basis of the  art of war remains – the combination of initiative with energy. But this is applied in a special form’.78 Based on his experiences in South Africa, in the third edition of Small Wars Callwell recommended elaborate preparation of the theatre of war. It should be subdivided into sections and covered with fortified defensive posts, between which mobile flying columns would launch offensives to pin down the guerrillas. Indeed, he argued that the system of drives in South Africa represented ‘the last word in strategy directed against guerilla antagonists’.79

The development of doctrine Callwell’s incorporation of the latest experience into the revised editions of Small Wars demonstrates that lessons were being assimilated and ‘passed on’. Indeed, it is arguably as a synthesis of the considerable body of thought developed over time and of principles which were more or less universally accepted that Small Wars contributed most to the small wars literature. As well as citing the work of the ‘great masters’ such as Hamley and Jomini, Callwell made use of much of the existing literature on Britain’s small wars. He referred to many texts directly: in particular, he provided a list of sources at the beginning of his Gold Medal winning essay.80 Campaign narratives, such as Henry Brackenbury’s two-­volume The Ashanti War (1874), provided important lessons.81 These were used by Callwell alongside more general works such as Wolseley’s Soldier’s Pocket Book. There was also a considerable amount of specialist literature on subjects such as hill warfare. Indian frontier warfare had its own established code of conduct. Callwell considered existing principles in the light of the latest experience.

Colonial warfare and Charles E. Calwell   29 He  was familiar with Frontier tactical manuals such as Lieutenant-­Colonel A.R. Martin’s Mountain and Savage Warfare (1899).82 He discussed principles such as ‘crowning the heights’, the occupation of points on the flanks to protect the column as it marched. He considered various systems and differences of opinion, noting the important changes that had occurred following the appearance of modern weapons in enemy hands. Increased ranges of fire made it necessary for pickets to place themselves much further away from the column than previously.83 The second edition of Small Wars formed part of a boom in interest that followed the campaigns of 1897–1898. Generally speaking, the problems faced by regular armies in small wars were all well known. For example, Callwell emphasized the interdependence between the supply question and strategy, citing examples such as the Nile Expedition of 1884–1885 where the former had exercised a dominating effect over the latter.84 Lieutenant-­Colonel George Furse had considered this at length in studies such as Military Transport (1882), one of the texts referenced by Callwell. Furse considered that ‘judicious administrative arrangements’ were the most important aspect of any small war, more so than tactics and strategy.85 Similarly, many of the principles highlighted by Callwell also appeared in Wolseley’s Soldier’s Pocket Book and essays such as Lieutenant R. da Costa Porter’s ‘Warfare Against Uncivilised Races: or, how to Fight Greatly Superior Forces of an Uncivilised and Badly-­Armed Enemy’, which won the Gold Medal of the Professional Papers of the Corps of Royal Engineers in 1881.86 Da Costa Porter could have been one of the great British warrior-­scholars, but died the following year en route to Egypt.87 Many of his observations were identical to Callwell’s; for example, on the difficulties of framing a plan of campaign, on the importance of moral effect and on the need for the regular army to be self-­supporting.88 What makes Small Wars stand out, therefore, is its breadth of vision. As Ian Beckett has written, it represented a real willingness on the part of at least some soldiers to assimilate collective lessons. He suggests that Callwell ‘made the only distinctive contribution by any British soldier to the development of military thought in the nineteenth century’.89 Small Wars is not a mere ‘tactical textbook for imperial soldiers’, as it was subtitled for the 1990 edition. There were many prescriptive tactical manuals already in existence, but Callwell’s comprehensive strategic theory set him apart from other writers. He had much to say on tactics, but in general wished to avoid getting too bogged down with minutiae. Instead he sought broad principles, as he makes clear throughout, directing readers who sought more detailed instructions to look elsewhere.90 According to Howard Bailes, ‘in analysing small wars on a theoretical plane it was difficult to go beyond commonsense’.91 Callwell succeeded in doing this by demonstrating that something more than common sense was required. There was no substitute for thorough knowledge. Significantly, Callwell also applied lessons from the colonial wars of other countries. Bugeaud was particularly praised for his understanding of the art of irregular warfare, as someone who ‘knew the game’. The Russian General Mikhail Skobelev was also singled out. Callwell suggested that some of his

30   D. Whittingham maxims were not applicable in many circumstances, but nonetheless, the thoughts of ‘so illustrious a leader’ demanded consideration.92 Ian Beckett has written that Callwell’s use of foreign examples demonstrated ‘recognition of the value of assimilating the experience of other armies’. He concludes that ‘it is possible to see certain principles of counterinsurgency becoming applied with sufficient universality at the end of the nineteenth century to suggest the beginnings of commonly shared doctrine’. Such doctrine is usually seen to represent ‘the roots of counterinsurgency’, as per the title of Beckett’s volume.93 As Simon Anglim has argued, Callwell ‘reflected prevailing opinion as much as influenced it’.94 However, as has been usual in the history of the British Army, there was more informal material on irregular warfare than official. Small Wars was the best port of call for interested officers. Although it is difficult to judge how widely Callwell’s work was read, it is perhaps fair to say that it formed part of a corpus of knowledge possessed by British officers in the early twentieth century, even if his influence was not always overtly stated. During the inter-­war period Small Wars was required reading at the Staff College and recommended reading for the RAF Staff College.95 The similarities between Small Wars and the chapter on ‘Warfare against an Uncivilized Enemy’ in the 1909 FSR are striking. The FSR followed Callwell’s approach, stressing problems such as supply and intelligence, the importance of moral effect, and the need to maintain a vigorous offensive and deliver a crushing blow.96 Small Wars remained an important source for soldiers fighting on the North-­West Frontier and was used by textbooks such as Frontier Warfare (1921).97 Even if we should not overestimate his influence, Callwell’s contribution was significant enough to justify his inclusion in the line of succession of British irregular warfare theorist-­practitioners. He also had influence abroad: particularly on the development of US Marine Corps doctrine in the 1920s and 1930s, culminating with the Small Wars Manual of 1940. Ian Beckett has argued that it is historians and strategists who have principally elevated him as a military thinker and there is a great deal to be said for this.98 That said, the rediscovery of Callwell in current US and British doctrine suggests that modern day practitioners of counterinsurgency are aware of the value of his work.

Conclusion In the context of the nineteenth and early twentieth century, the era of the ‘classic’ war of imperial conquest, Callwell’s studies command respect because of his knowledge of the state of the art of irregular warfare as it then stood. Small Wars, his magnum opus, is a formidable work of historical scholarship, in which he drew on a vast range of examples to support his assertions. His influence on subsequent generations of historians is undoubted: many have used his work, especially Small Wars, as a framework for their own studies. The development of his ideas can be traced over time, and the changes across the three editions of Small Wars reflect experience gained and lessons learned in the campaigns in Tirah and South Africa.

Colonial warfare and Charles E. Calwell   31 Although Callwell was very much a man of his time, his work remains relevant. It is easy to be distracted by his descriptions of ‘savage’ warfare and to miss his enduring lessons regarding the difficulties of small wars. He argued for the importance of the study of irregular conflict as a separate branch of military art, a lesson which has many times since needed to be relearned. The rules of regular warfare required considerable modification; but not such that comparisons could not be made. Small wars taught valuable lessons, not merely regarding the conduct of the wars themselves but also as to the strengths and weaknesses of the British military system. He called for specialist training to prepare the Army for its primary imperial duties, although of course it had to be prepared for all eventualities. Building on the work of others, he provided the most complete codification of the principles of irregular warfare in his time. To summarize, the regulars needed to understand the nature of the theatre of war. They needed to understand the enemy, against whom it was imperative to formulate an appropriate strategy and carry it through. They needed to be aware of logistical difficulties and of the problems surrounding the gathering of adequate intelligence. These and other challenges meant that the regulars were at a disadvantage at a strategic level; but they could make up for this by taking the offensive at all times, maintaining the initiative and achieving a sufficient ‘moral effect’. Small wars offered the chance to employ a wide array of tactical methods. However, guerrilla warfare constituted an especially difficult class of warfare in itself. Many, if not all, of these principles still hold good. Callwell’s work can of course be criticized. Although Small Wars is very much more than a period piece, undoubtedly much of it is no longer applicable in the twenty-­first century. Village burning and cattle lifting are no longer appropriate solutions to counterinsurgency problems. On the other hand, political questions are not entirely ignored. Callwell realized the regulars had to do what worked: he advocated formations such as the square because they were successful. He also correctly predicted that small wars would get harder as a result of the closing technological gap. The theorists of the small wars of the era of imperial retreat would take up his mantle and build on his foundations.

Notes   1 B. Farwell, Queen Victoria’s Little Wars, London: Allen Lane, 1973, p. 1.   2 C.E. Callwell, Small Wars: Their Principles and Practice, Lincoln, Nebraska: University of Nebraska Press, 1996, pp. 21–2. All references will be to this edition, unless otherwise stated.   3 See for example H. Strachan, ‘Introduction’ to H. Strachan (ed.), Big Wars and Small Wars: The British Army and the Lessons of War in the Twentieth Century, Abingdon: Routledge, 2006, p. 6.   4 I. Beckett, ‘Another British Way in Warfare: Charles Callwell and Small Wars’ in I. Beckett (ed.), Victorians at War: New Perspectives, Chippenham: Society for Army Historical Research, 2007, pp.  89, 101; A. Alderson, ‘Britain’ in: T. Rid and T. Keaney (eds.), Understanding Counterinsurgency: Doctrine, Operations and Challenges, London: Routledge, 2010, p. 32.   5 G. Bulloch, ‘The Development of Doctrine for Countering Insurgency: the British

32   D. Whittingham Experience’ in British Army Field Manual, Volume 1 Part 10, Countering Insurgency (2009), CS 1–1.   6 There are many examples of this. See H. Strachan’s chapter on colonial warfare, in European Armies and the Conduct of War, Abingdon: Routledge, 1983, pp.  76–89; and E. Spiers’s chapter, ‘Colonial Campaigning’ in his The Late Victorian Army, Manchester: University Press, 1992, pp. 271–304.   7 C.E. Callwell, Small Wars: A Tactical Textbook for Imperial Soldiers, London: Greenhill, 1990; D. Porch, ‘Introduction to the Bison Books Edition’ in Callwell, Small Wars, pp. v–xviii.   8 U.S. Army Field Manual No. 3–24, Chicago: University Press, 2007, p. 391.   9 D. Betz, ‘Counter-­insurgency, Victorian Style’ in Survival: Global Politics and Strategy, 54 (4), 2012, pp. 161–82. 10 C. Gray, ‘Sir Charles E. Callwell, KCB: an “Able Theorist” of Joint Warfare’ in C.E. Callwell, Military Operations and Maritime Preponderance: Their Relations and Interdependence, Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press, 1996, pp. xv–lxi. The author’s PhD thesis, ‘The Military Thought and Professional Career of Charles E. Callwell (1859–1928)’, is an attempt to fill this gap in scholarship. See also D. Whittingham, ‘ “Savage Warfare”: C.E. Callwell, the Roots of Counterinsurgency and the Nineteenth Century Context’ in Small Wars and Insurgencies, 23 (4–5), 2012, pp. 591–607. 11 Appendix: Ninetieth Anniversary Meeting, Journal of the Royal United Service Institution, 65, 1920–1921, p. xvii. For more biographical information, see Callwell’s four volumes of memoirs: Service Yarns and Memories, Edinburgh: William Blackwood and Sons, 1912; Experiences of a Dug Out, London: Constable, 1920; and Stray Recollections, 2 Vols., London: Edward Arnold, 1923. 12 Callwell, Stray Recollections, I, p. 100. 13 Ibid., pp. 178–84. 14 Ibid., pp. 229–30. 15 Callwell, Stray Recollections, II, pp. 72–180. 16 C.E. Callwell, ‘Notes on the Tactics of our Small Wars’ in Minutes of Proceedings of the Royal Artillery Institution, 12, 1884, pp.  531–52; C.E. Callwell, ‘Notes on the Strategy of our Small Wars’ in Minutes of Proceedings of the Royal Artillery Institution, 13, 1885, pp. 403–20. 17 C.E. Callwell, ‘Military Prize Essay. Subject: “Lessons to be Learnt from the Campaigns in which British Forces have been Employed since the Year 1865” ’ in Journal of the Royal United Service Institution, 31 (139), 1887, pp. 357–412. 18 Ibid., p. 403. 19 C.E. Callwell, ‘Lessons to be Learnt from Small Wars since 1870’ in Military Lectures, Vol. III, Aldershot: Gale and Polden, 1895, pp. 1–8. 20 N.G. Lyttelton, ‘Preface to the Third Edition, 1906’ in Callwell, Small Wars, p. 2. 21 Field Service Regulations, Part I: Operations, London: HMSO, 1909, pp. 191–212. 22 Callwell, Small Wars, p. 1. 23 Ibid., pp. 286–347. 24 Ibid., pp.  125–149. The best book on the war is still T. Pakenham, The Boer War, London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1979. 25 C.E. Callwell, The Tactics of To-­day, Edinburgh: William Blackwood and Sons, 1900. 26 C.E. Callwell, Tirah 1897, London: Constable and Co., 1911. 27 Ibid., pp. vi, 8–9, 155. 28 Ibid., pp. v, 141. 29 C.E. Callwell, Field-­Marshal Sir Henry Wilson: His Life and Diaries, 2 Vols., London: Cassell, 1927. 30 Callwell, Small Wars, pp. 97–107, 125. 31 Callwell, Tirah, p. 34. 32 B. Heuser, Reading Clausewitz, London: Pimlico, 2002, p. 181.

Colonial warfare and Charles E. Calwell   33 33 Alderson, ‘Britain’, p. 32. 34 Callwell, ‘Notes on Strategy’, p. 403; Callwell, Small Wars, p. 128. 35 Ibid., p. 23. 36 See for example T. Travers, The Killing Ground: The British Army, the Western Front and the Emergence of Modern Warfare, 1900–1918, London: Unwin Hyman, 1987, pp. 37–9. 37 Callwell, Small Wars, p. 24. 38 Callwell, ‘Military Prize Essay’, p. 362. 39 On Bugeaud, see A. Thrall Sullivan, Thomas-­Robert Bugeaud, Hamden, CT: Archon Books, 1983. 40 Gray, ‘Sir Charles E. Callwell’, p. xxxv. 41 A.P. Thornton, ‘Great Powers and Little Wars: Limits of Power’ in A. Hamish Ion and E.J. Errington (eds.), Great Wars and Little Wars: The Limits of Power, London: Praeger, 1993, pp. 20–1. 42 Callwell, Small Wars, pp. 22–3. 43 H. Bailes, ‘Patterns of Thought in the Late Victorian Army’ in Journal of Strategic Studies, 4 (1), 1981, pp.  29–45; T. Miller Maguire, ‘Our Art of War as “Made in Germany” ’ in United Service Magazine, 13 (810), 1896, pp. 124–33, at p. 126. 44 Callwell, ‘Military Prize Essay’, p. 376. 45 Ibid., p. 361. 46 Callwell, Lecture, pp. 6–7; Callwell, ‘Military Prize Essay’, pp. 398, 412. 47 FSR, Part I: Operations, p. 191. 48 Callwell, ‘Military Prize Essay’, pp. 398, 404–5. 49 J. Stone and E.A. Schmidl, The Boer War and Military Reforms, London: University Press of America, 1988. 50 Callwell, Lecture, p. 7. 51 Callwell, ‘Military Prize Essay’, p. 411. 52 This is a subject discussed in Strachan, Big Wars and Small Wars. 53 Callwell, Lecture, p. 7. 54 See Callwell’s comment regarding mounted troops, Small Wars, p. 418. 55 Ibid., p. 347. Prince Kraft zu Hohenlohe-­Ingelfingen was a German military thinker. 56 Ibid., p. 321. Tirah led to much debate in the journals. See, for example, A.C. Yate, ‘North West Frontier Warfare’ in Journal of the Royal United Service Institution, 42 (248), 1898, pp. 1171–93. See also T.R. Moreman, The Army in India and the Development of Frontier Warfare, 1849–1947, Basingstoke: Macmillan, 1998, pp. 68–98. 57 Callwell, Small Wars, pp. 32–3. 58 Ibid., pp. 25–32. 59 Ibid., p. 44. 60 Ibid., pp. 43–70, 115–18. 61 Ibid., pp. 97–8. 62 Ibid., pp. 34–42; G.J. Wolseley, The Soldier’s Pocket Book for Field Service, 4th edn., revised and enlarged, London: Macmillan, 1882, p. 398. 63 On ‘moral effect’, see Whittingham, ‘Savage Warfare’. 64 See H. Strachan, ‘Essay and Reflection: On Total War and Modern War’ in International History Review, 2 (2), 2000, pp. 341–70, at pp. 353–5. 65 Callwell, Small Wars, p.  34. Because of his focus on the setting and realization of political objectives, Porch has called Callwell ‘the Clausewitz of colonial warfare’: Porch, ‘Introduction’, p. xii. 66 Callwell, Small Wars, pp. 41–2, 147–8. 67 T. Benbow, ‘Maritime Forces and Counter-­Insurgency’ in T. Benbow and R. Thornton (eds.), Dimensions of Counter-­Insurgency: Applying Experience to Practice, London: Routledge, 2008, pp. 74–89. 68 Callwell, Small Wars, pp. 53–4, 85–90; Callwell, ‘Military Prize Essay’, pp. 368–9, 384; Callwell, ‘Notes on Strategy’, pp. 418–19.

34   D. Whittingham 69 Callwell, Small Wars, 2nd edn., London: HMSO, 1899, p.  125; Callwell, Tirah, pp. 34–6. 70 Callwell, ‘Notes on Strategy’, p. 403. 71 Porch, ‘Introduction’, p. xv. 72 Callwell, Tirah, pp. 153–4. 73 Porch, ‘Introduction’, pp. xi, xvii–xviii. 74 Callwell, Small Wars, pp. 71–107. 75 D. Kilcullen, Counterinsurgency, London: Hurst, 2010, p. 48; Callwell, Small Wars, p. 498. 76 Ibid., pp. 227–55. 77 Ibid., pp. 125–9. 78 Callwell, Small Wars (1899), pp. 108–9. 79 Callwell, Small Wars, pp. 125–149. 80 Callwell, ‘Military Prize Essay’, p. 361. 81 See H. Brackenbury, The Ashanti War: A Narrative, 2 vols., Edinburgh: William Blackwood, 1874. 82 A.R. Martin, Mountain and Savage Warfare, Allahabad: Pioneer Press, 1899; see also Moreman, The Army in India, pp. 70–84. 83 Callwell, Small Wars, pp. 292–9; Callwell, Tirah, pp. 62–3. 84 Callwell, Small Wars, pp. 65–70. 85 G. Armand Furse, Military Transport, London: HMSO, 1882, pp. 3–4. 86 R. da Costa Porter, ‘Warfare Against Uncivilised Races: or, how to Fight Greatly Superior Forces of an Uncivilised and Badly-­Armed Enemy’ in Professional Papers of the Corps of Royal Engineers, 6, 1882, 305–60. 87 See the introductory note to R. da Costa Porter, ‘The System of Field Training Best Suited to our Army’, Professional Papers of the Corps of Royal Engineers, 9 (1884), pp. 31–77, at p. 31. 88 Da Costa Porter, ‘Warfare Against Uncivilised Races’, pp. 309–17, 319–24. 89 I. Beckett, Modern Insurgencies and Counter-­Insurgencies: Guerrillas and Their Opponents since 1750, London: Routledge, 2001, p. 35. 90 See for example Callwell, Small Wars, pp. 115, 493. 91 H. Bailes, ‘Technology and Tactics in the British Army, 1866–1900’ in R. Haycock and K. Neilson (eds.), Men, Machines and War, Waterloo, ONT: Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 1988, pp. 35–6. 92 Callwell, Small Wars, pp. 128–9, 186, 382. 93 I. Beckett, ‘Introduction’ to I. Beckett (ed.), The Roots of Counter-­Insurgency: Armies and Guerrilla Warfare, 1900–1945, London: Blandford Press, 1988, p. 9. 94 S. Anglim, ‘Callwell versus Graziani: how the British Army Applied “Small Wars” Techniques in Major Operations in Africa and the Middle East, 1940–41’ in Small Wars and Insurgencies, 19 (4), (2008), pp. 588–608, at p. 592. 95 Beckett, ‘Another British Way in Warfare’, p. 95. 96 FSR, Part I: Operations, pp. 191–3. 97 ‘Frontier’ in Frontier Warfare, Bombay: Thacker, 1921. 98 Beckett, ‘Another British Way in Warfare’, pp.  94–7; K.B. Bickel, Mars Learning: the Marine Corps Development of Small Wars Doctrine, 1915–1940, Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 2001, pp. 104–5, 137, 183, 215–16, 226, 242.

3 David Galula and Roger Trinquier Two warrior-­scholars, one French late-­ colonial counterinsurgency? Bruno C. Reis Only if the philosophy proper to the soldier is restored will an edge be given to the sword. In that philosophy he will find . . . pride in his vocation, and a chance to influence the world outside himself. Charles de Gaulle1

Lieutenant-­Colonel David Galula (1919–1967) and Colonel Robert Trinquier (1908–1986) were two French officers who both meet the criteria set in this volume for being considered warrior-­scholars. They both exercised command in combat: Trinquier in the French colonial campaigns in Indochina (1946–1954) and in Algeria (1954–1962), as well as in the Second World War, Galula in the latter two.2 Equally, they were both very much engaged in the efforts to improve understanding of what they perceived as a new and revolutionary kind of warfare, and spreading it in published form. But while these two French military thinkers share important characteristics, there are also significant differences. One major difference is the paradox that while Galula is the most well-­known French counterinsurgency expert internationally, he has been notoriously absent from French discussions of the subject until a few of years ago. In fact, the first French edition of Galula’s best known work – Counterinsurgency Warfare – originally published in English, was only in 2008. Even more significantly it had to be prefaced by both General David Petraeus and John Nagl, who strongly recommended Galula to French readers as the ‘Clausewitz of counterinsurgency’.3 This also points to how topical this analysis is, given the influence of Galula in recent American counterinsurgency, certainly in terms of military thinking and doctrine. Trinquier, on the other hand, was a controversial but well-­known figure in French debates of counterinsurgency, particularly around Algeria, yet he is not well-­known internationally. His biggest claim to international fame might be as the inspiration for one of the key figures in the docudrama Battle of Algiers, by Gilles Pontecorvo. But then again that fact is not necessarily known by those watching. The key questions the text will address will therefore be: what does the path of these two French officers tell us about the challenges faced by warrior-­scholars?

36   B.C. Reis What were their main theses about counterinsurgency? How representative were they of mainstream French counterinsurgency? How relevant are these colonial warrior-­scholars for today in terms of a better understanding of counterinsurgency and connection between military thinking, doctrine and practice? The following sections try to answer these questions by comparing the unconventional careers of these officers; by looking at them as systematic thinkers about an unconventional type of warfare; by considering their impact in mainstream French counterinsurgency during this period; by pondering what can be learned from them that is pertinent for today, either in a positive or negative way, because as Peter Paret remarked, ‘misconceptions may be as instructive to us as insights’, even if this requires a more careful and balanced analysis.4

Unconventional careers and unconventional warfare Galula and Trinquier retired after relatively unconventional careers, and when promises of further advancement failed to materialize. They then went on to write and reflect extensively about their direct experience of counterinsurgency. Both men illustrate well the kind of difficulties that unconventional-­thinking soldiers face in a conventional military organization, especially those engaged in understanding and fighting unconventional warfare better. Unconventional origins Trinquier graduated from an École Normale as a primary school teacher. It is possible that this early pedagogical inclination is connected with his later work as a military thinker trying to explain his hard-­won lessons of counterinsurgency to others. Only after his mandatory military service as an NCO did Trinquier find his military vocation. He then enrolled in Saint-­Maixent military school, becoming a second lieutenant in 1933. This is not necessarily a bad way for a good officer to discover his passion for military affairs. But it certainly is not the normal way for a professional officer to progress to the top of his profession either in France or in the militaries of any of the other ‘long-­established military powers’.5 That required attending the elite French military academy of Saint-­ Cyr. Trinquier knew this and consequently volunteered to serve in the French Colonial Army. The French Colonial Army was then a largely separate branch under the Colonial Office and offered people like him better opportunities for advancement, because distant hardships and frequent bloody and often-­ inglorious small wars were not very appealing for many career officers graduating from Saint-­Cyr. Trinquier then spent most of his military career in Indochina from the 1930s to the 1950s. Trinquier was made well aware of the disdain Saint-­Cyriens felt for officers like him, despite, or even because, of all his local experience. According to Trinquier his divisional commander in the French counterinsurgency against the Viet-­Minh in Vietnam ‘thought the science he had learned in those schools [Saint-­Cyr and Staff College] was a panacea’ and that ‘an officer who did not

Galula, Trinquier and French colonial COIN   37 attend them’ was necessarily ‘mediocre’; a point he made clear in a report stating that Trinquier was ‘intellectually inept’ in refusing to stick to the appropriate mission for paratroopers as shock troops with offensive duties only – i.e. the mission defined for them in the dominant military doctrine for conventional warfare in Europe. Therefore the paratroopers under the command of Trinquier should not have been ‘bogged-­down’ in pacification duties like the latter advocated and practiced. Trinquier is naturally keen to let his readers know that in contrast with this negative report by a ‘conventional soldier’, the overall French commander in Southern Vietnam praised him as ‘an excellent officer’ with a perfect understanding of the new requirements of counterinsurgency because ‘alongside his combat missions, he won over the population in his sector’.6 These two evaluations help to explain the ups and downs in Trinquier’s military career by showing a division in the top ranks of the French military. Some supported innovation to improve results in counterinsurgency; others did not for a number of reasons, some of them valid. In fact this criticism may have a point; the fact that Trinquier did not have the elite education of other French officers probably did help him to keep a more open mind towards innovations for more effective counterinsurgency of the kind he applied and advocated. They also show a mix of organizational bias rooted in the system of military education, with its reservations regarding the novelties in military practice that were arguably required for a better adaptation to counterinsurgency. Perhaps the most paradigmatic example of the kind of problems and uncertainty in Trinquier’s unconventional career is the fact at first he was posted directly to the Staff College/École de Guerre after being granted an exemption from taking the difficult entrance exam on account of his exceptional military merits, alongside three other veterans of counterinsurgency in Indochina. But all four of them saw the decision humiliatingly reversed by a new Minister of Defence.7 Trinquier’s memoirs have an evident dimension of self-­justification, not simply of his own career, as autobiographical texts usually are, but also of his ideas as a warrior-­scholar advocating a certain approach to counterinsurgency. But this does not make them necessarily untrue, just in need of further verification. Another advocate of the French approach to counterinsurgency, Colonel Lacheroy – who did attend Saint-­Cyr, and therefore had no personal reason to point to this bias – provides confirmation that many senior French officers believed that, as one put it to him directly after learning of his imminent departure to Indochina, ‘with your rank . . . and with your education, you have nothing more to learn down there . . . it is completely outdated in relation to modern warfare’.8 A pioneering history of the French Army during this period went so far as to state that ‘almost all the officers who served in Indochina’ experienced similar prejudices, with small colonial wars being considered below standard in terms both of the best practices and best thinking in modern warfare.9 These prejudices against colonial officers and their wars no doubt help to explain why new approaches to counterinsurgency only really took off after the traumatic French defeat at Dien-­Bien-Phu against Viet-­Minh insurgents in Indochina, and the imminent danger of a new defeat in Algeria.

38   B.C. Reis It is therefore, in my view, not by accident but as a deliberate implicit response to these claims, that Trinquier decided to entitle his first major systematic work on counterinsurgency, Modern Warfare. This was a way for Trinquier to underline, against a background of criticism about the irrelevance and outdatedness of these small wars overseas, that counterinsurgency was in fact, and would continue to be in the foreseeable future, the most frequent and important form of warfare facing contemporary armed forces. Galula started his career as a French officer more auspiciously than Trinquier, by attending Saint Cyr. But his military career ended up being even more unconventional. He was admitted to that most prestigious French military school in 1939, but after a short period all cadets were mobilized to fight in the Second World War. After the Armistice of June 1940, Galula resumed his military education, but the Vichy regime, aligned with Nazi Germany, soon dismissed him because he was Jewish. He went back to North Africa having been born a French citizen from parents residing in Sfax, Tunisia, and there Galula eventually joined the Free French Forces under General Charles de Gaulle. After 1945 Galula became a military attaché – first in Peking, then in Hong Kong – and then a UN military observer of the civil war in Greece. These postings, both linked with military intelligence, were ideal for observation of insurgencies in China, Malaya, the Philippines and Greece. But non-­combat roles, even risky and militarily useful ones from the point of view of vital intelligence gathering, are not necessarily well-­regarded by the military organization and the officer corps. Galula himself gives voice to this in explaining why he volunteered for active service in Algeria in 1956: ‘I was saturated by intelligence work.’ Additionally, ‘I had missed the war in Indochina’ and ‘I had been away from troop duty for eleven years.’ But he then adds a rationale that only a warrior-­scholar would use to justify his decision: ‘I felt I had learned enough about insurgencies, and I wanted to test certain theories I had formed.’10 The wish to unite practice and theory of warfare is the key characteristic of a warrior­scholar. In Algeria In Algeria, Galula was commander of an infantry company and then deputy commander of a battalion. His memoirs recorded his frustration that ‘the military system of awards and promotions was rigged in favour of the “warriors” ’, i.e. of conventional soldiers, concerned with the number of kills and not with thinking systematically about the best approach to counterinsurgency; namely, in Galula’s view, by trying to win over the local population.11 When Galula received General Nogues, who as Inspector-­General of Infantry was doing a tour of Algeria, and explained to him that he spread his forces in smaller detachments in order to better protect the local population as well as provide greater situational awareness and earlier detection of insurgents, Nogues was ‘horrified’. He told Galula that ‘your forces . . . have lost all military value’ because he had violated a central principle of conventional warfare: concentration of force. It is true that there is

Galula, Trinquier and French colonial COIN   39 always a risk in dispersing a military unit, even in small wars that can vary greatly in intensity and where insurgents operate by surprise and often resort to ambushes. But it is arguably a smaller risk than in big conventional campaigns, and there are also specific risks in counterinsurgency to try and operate with large numbers of troops, starting with advanced warning of elusive potential targets. Galula was as keen as Trinquier to show that others felt differently about him. In Galula’s case, his sector commander, General Guerin, had ‘put me up for exceptional promotion’ because he appreciated Galula’s efforts for a more population-­centric counterinsurgency. However, significantly, this was not to be, because ‘I had been given no combat citation’. The key question for promotion in the French military during these small wars of decolonization was ‘how many rebels had I killed?’ Galula’s approach did not fit well with this conventional combat metric. What was the solution? General Guerin ‘gave me a drummed-­up citation’ including a more active combat role with the ‘complicity’ of General Salan (who was the Commander-­in-Chief in Algeria), but still was not powerful enough to fundamentally change organizational promotion paths.12 Galula’s priorities as a commander of a company of conscripts seem to have been the protection, control, and winning over of the local population – the vital tasks in a comprehensive approach to counterinsurgency that he would advocate in his writings on the subject. His own practical experience, however, also shows that even for believers this was not always an easy task, and did not accomplish the same results in all areas. His first experience as company commander was, by his own account, more successful than the second one as deputy battalion commander in a region where the insurgency was stronger and he had less autonomy. The latter case is an interesting reminder because it shows that advocates of counterinsurgency also faced principled opposition from officers, who, out of political skepticism about the possibility or desirability of the French winning the Algerian war of independence, did not really believe it was appropriate to engage in population-­centric counterinsurgency. Galula shows some respect for this as a position of principle. But this episode is also an important reminder of a key point – to advocate better ways to fight an insurgency is not necessarily the same as to blindly believe that fighting an insurgency is always the best way to solve a crisis, politically and strategically.13 Galula faced a key obstacle in his effort to promote new views of how best to conduct counterinsurgency; he, unlike Trinquier, had no direct access to a powerful commander to sponsor his ideas. Therefore, especially given his relatively junior rank, Galula had no influence beyond his sector, and even there his ability to make major changes was constrained. Eventually Galula did write a long report on pacification in his sector, which apparently got positive attention from his immediate superior who ‘forwarded it to Algiers’. Galula, on leave in Paris, was even invited for a conversation with an ADC of the French Chief of the General Staff, General Ély, who ‘tape-­recorded’ Galula’s comments for the possible benefit of his boss and even, possibly, the Minister of Defence. Yet it is Galula himself who tells us that ‘none of my recommendations seems to have

40   B.C. Reis been put into effect at the time’. He had to wait until 1950, a reference to the appointment of a new Commander-­in-Chief, General Challe, to implement a new plan for the systematic pacification of Algeria.14 A much-­truncated version of Galula’s report was published in the French Army journal Contact, for officers engaged in the Algerian campaign.15 But again it is Galula himself who diminishes the impact of this by complaining about the proliferation of such articles.16 Colonel Trinquier, in contrast, played a central role in the campaign in Algeria because of his close personal connection to a powerful sponsor, General Salan, who had taken notice of him in Indochina in the 1930s. Trinquier was as determined as Galula not only to fight in Algeria but to fight for his ideas about how to win a counterinsurgency there. Trinquier not only volunteered to serve in Algeria in 1956, shortly after returning from extensive combat duty in Indochina, he also made sure he kept General Salan, who was then Director of the Colonial Army (a prestigious but relatively powerless position), informed via private letters of his strong criticism concerning the lack of a truly unified command, and the approach by the French high command during the initial stages of the insurgency in Algeria. Salan, in his memoirs, quotes from Trinquier’s letters. Of course, the fact that Salan could provide French political decision-­makers with an alternative approach was one of the reasons he got the job. Salan managed to lobby successfully to get appointed Commander-­in-Chief in late 1956. This shows that if sponsorship by senior military leaders is seen as evidence that ­warrior-scholars can contribute ideas that have a real, widespread, and deep impact on a military campaign or organization, then equally, those providing this alternative military approach can be regarded as being very useful to commanders trying to reach the top. Trinquier’s criticism of the initial stages of the French war effort in Algeria was driven primarily by the fact that the most important lessons he had learned fighting the insurgents in Indochina were not being applied in Algeria. There was, Trinquier wrote, neither an effective joint command nor an effective joint operations. There were no airborne operations making effective use of the greater mobility and firepower of paratroopers. There were no locally recruited special forces. And last but not least in his view, there was no effective pacification effort to engage local populations. Trinquier concluded that only a new military leadership at the top level could change this. This shows he was well aware that warrior-­scholars needed not only to advocate a new systematic alternative approach to the conduct of a certain type of warfare; they also needed powerful sponsors, like Salan, to move from military preaching to military practice at a campaign-­wide and institution-­wide level.17 When General Salan became Commander-­in-Chief in Algeria, in late 1956, Trinquier naturally became one of his closest advisors. Salan states unequivocally that his ‘long conversations’ with Trinquier were essential in developing an answer to the most vital challenge he faced – the growing wave of terrorist attacks in the city of Algiers by Front de Libération Nationale (FLN) terrorist cells.18 Trinquier formally became a deputy in charge of intelligence to General Massu – the paratrooper commander appointed as supremo with full powers over

Galula, Trinquier and French colonial COIN   41 the capital Algiers to win the battle for its control in 1957. But de facto, Trinquier was the intellectual driving force of a new and integrated French plan to retake control of the city from the insurgents. His main aim was to systematically and unrelentingly target the clandestine cells of the FLN in Algiers. For this he used: previous police files; a new census; new street names for the labyrinthine old city, the Casbah. With this mapping of both places and people, Trinquier enforced strict controls over the movements of the local population. But he went further, creating the Dispositifs de Protection Urbaine or DPUs – a kind of replica of the FLN support-­organization, often using defectors – aimed at depriving the insurgents of logistical support and also at providing intelligence about them. Trinquier’s approach to counterinsurgency was based on very strict population control and on an aggressive intelligence-­centric approach aimed at achieving actionable evidence that could lead to a rapid, and therefore effective, operational response. But it was also based on what Bernard Fall, a particularly attentive observer of French counterinsurgency, referred to as a ‘Cartesian rationale for the use of torture in revolutionary warfare’ doctrine.19 This led to the almost-­complete elimination of FLN terrorist cells in Algiers in less than a year. But the price for this historically impressive, if not exactly unique achievement, was that torture was permitted, even tacitly encouraged, as the necessary price to be paid in order to gather intelligence rapidly. This could then allow action to follow as quickly as possible.20 There was vocal denunciation of torture by French human rights activists, and this has since been well documented by historians.21 But for Trinquier and, more importantly, for the top French military leaders in Algeria and the top political leaders back in France, torture was a necessary evil to end the war quickly before any more damage was done. The military had been given a blank cheque by a French government that feared another disaster of Dien-­Bien-Phu proportions would lead to the collapse of the Fourth Republic.22 Once Trinquier’s approach to counterinsurgency had succeeded in all-­buteliminating terrorist attacks in Algiers, his credibility reached new heights. Indeed, the leaders of the French military in Algeria lost no time in making sure, regardless of criticism outside and inside the Armed Forces, that a successful lesson had to be learned and spread about the intelligence-­centric nature of this war. General Allard, Commander of the Army in Algeria, issued an operational directive unequivocally stating that ‘procedures applied in Algiers’ in 1957 were to be ‘followed in all areas not yet cleansed of the insurgents’, because of their ‘proven efficacy’.23 This was only one of a number of doctrinal guidelines mandating emulation in the rest of Algeria on the principles that Trinquier had designed for the Battle of Algiers.24 Special military intelligence sections – the Dispositif Opérationnel de Protection (DOP) – were eventually created specifically to facilitate the replication of Trinquier’s intelligence-­centric approach to counterinsurgency in the rest of Algeria. In short, Trinquier’s views had a major influence on the practice of French counterinsurgency in Algeria after 1957, resulting in great short-­term success but also major longer term problems, namely ethical and political.

42   B.C. Reis Just how influential and potentially dangerous Trinquier had become is made clear by his leading role in the 13 May 1958 military pronunciamento that brought about the fall of the parliamentary regime of the Fourth Republic, and the return to power of General de Gaulle. The DPUs created by Trinquier in Algiers played a decisive role in events, and as a result Trinquier became third in seniority, after Generals Salan and Massu, on the Committee of Public Safety – the emergency military junta that took control of Algeria and pressed for regime change in the metropole.25 But this was really the peak of Trinquier’s influence; de Gaulle soon replaced Salan as his Commander-­in-Chief. Instead, General Challe was put in charge of getting the French Army out of politics and into a more effective offensive ink-­spot force in counterinsurgency. Significantly, although Challe was not personally connected to Trinquier, he understood his great influence and therefore sought Trinquier’s advice and support for his new operational plan. Challe did manage to win the partial support of Trinquier, who liked the existence of a single plan and its emphasis on clearing and holding in an ink-­spot approach aimed at destroying the invisible insurgent organization not just more visible guerrilla. But Trinquier was still not entirely convinced by Challe’s plan. He was less than enthusiastic about large-­scale operations, fearing this risked a loss of focus on intelligence and control of the population in favour of an excessive focus on kinetic counter-­insurgency. But as long as Challe also maintained a commitment to an ink-­spot approach and large-­scale operations, Trinquier was willing to offer some support to his more kinetic approach.26 After all, Trinquier’s own intelligence-­centric and population-­centric approach was also highly coercive. Out of the Army and into military scholarship Galula and Trinquier both left the Army at their own request, more or less at the same time, in 1961. This was far from a purely personal decision. It was a period when there was growing pressure from President de Gaulle and his loyalists for advocates of counterinsurgency to either leave the Army or abandon their counterinsurgency ideals. General de Gaulle, as we have seen, had returned to power in 1958 thanks largely to the military pronunciamento in Algiers, with officers like Trinquier playing a leading role and others like Galula playing a more secondary one. Such officers were eager to guarantee that France would have a regime that could guarantee a political condition of unity and endurance; characteristics they believed were indispensable to a more energetic and credible pursuit of counterinsurgency. This, Galula and Trinquier both believed, was very much needed for the sake of the morale of both French and local troops. Above all, this kind of political unity was needed to win the local population to the French side and demonstrate that the mother country was totally committed to remaining in Algeria and defeating the FLN. But it was not to be. General de Gaulle, as founding President of the Fifth Republic, effectively put an end not only to the influence, but also to the military careers, of both Trinquier and Galula. Indeed, during the decade after 1961, a great deal of caution in terms of

Galula, Trinquier and French colonial COIN   43 the advocation of any kind of original military thinking, became the rule of thumb among French military officers who did not wish to damage their careers.27 President de Gaulle’s desire to devolve all key decisions to himself over matters pertaining to foreign and defence policy, was compounded by the  very real threat he faced from rogue French officers who, sympathizing with  white protesters in Algiers in January 1960, went on to become actively involved in the April 1961 failed military putsch and then to the organization of a clandestine terrorist network that emulated the enemy’s FLN – the so-­called Organisation de l’Armée Secret (OAS) – in a vain attempt to try to prevent de Gaulle from negotiating a way out of Algeria with the FLN insurgents. The result was a massive purge of the French Armed Forces in the early 1960s, with perhaps a third of French officers being pushed out of the ranks in different ways. This was described by General Massu – a soldier committed to French Algeria, but who would remain ultimately loyal to General de Gaulle – as ‘an excessively brutal’ policy towards the Army, which went through ‘very difficult’ times.28 It was a sign of Trinquier’s continued influence that he was courted in person by de Gaulle, though ultimately the outcome of their meetings was equally symbolic of his waning influence. The new French leader took time to visit Trinquier’s remote sector during a tour of Algeria. Obviously aware of his role as one of the leaders of the 13 May 1958 pronunciamento, de Gaulle spoke to Trinquier privately, but candidly: ‘You people must not press me!’ Trinquier replied that, surely, the General ‘could not reproach the Army for its passion for Algeria’. De Gaulle was unsentimental: ‘Every passion has its limits!’ Trinquier understood the implications, even if he did not agree. He also knew how uncertain the triumph of the military pronunciamento in May 1958 had been, even with de Gaulle on its side. But what were the chances of one against him? Trinquier, consequently, started making arrangements to get out of active military service, having been transferred in the meantime to a desk job in France. With additional, but this time friendly, pressure – a sort of bad cop, good cop act – from the Minister of Defense Pierre Messmer, Trinquier was made to leave the Army; he was led to believe that leaving was the best way to serve French national interests, and he duly quit the military to assist a separatist insurgency in Katanga in an unofficial mercenary capacity. But he soon returned to France having found that he could not do much, having faced a lot of resistance to his presence and no French government support, official or unofficial, for his mission there, thus giving some credit to his conviction that this was, in fact, just a way of getting him out of the military. Still, Trinquier claims to have refused getting involved in any plots against de Gaulle, and this was true at least to the point that he never got caught or found himself formally accused of such activity. What Trinquier certainly did was do occupy himself – probably happily for French democracy and for the study of counterinsurgency – with a vineyard, a paratrooper association, and his thinking on unconventional warfare. His first book Modern Warfare was written in just a few months, in early 1961. At the time he was still formally in the Army, but having been recalled to France he

44   B.C. Reis had had no real job to do for some time.29 He filled the time, instead, with an attempt to systematize his ideas about counterinsurgency. Galula retired from the French Army, also at his own request, and accepted a position in an American electronics company. According to the testimony of his widow, he had accepted de Gaulle’s Algerian policy as ‘not the right thing to do, but the necessary thing’ but this was clearly not enough to keep him in a French Army in turmoil. His attitude probably made him suspect to both sides – too pro­counterinsurgency for the pro-­de Gaulle camp, and too pro-­de Gaulle for pro-­ counterinsurgency camp. His disenchantment with his lack of influence in the military is also a recurring theme in his writings.30 But Galula would soon resign from his new job, in favour of a less a safe and less lucrative scholarly post that  involved the study of counterinsurgency – making him a true warrior-­ scholar. In 1962–1963 Galula was a Harvard research fellow, completing his first book on his experiences in Algeria and starting work on a generic analysis of counterinsurgency, with the encouragement of RAND experts and the American guru of irregular warfare, General Edward Lansdale. Galula seems to have wished for a new career as a full-­time scholar at Harvard, but this was not to be, apparently because some in the Faculty objected to his involvement in the Algerian War.31 Above all, the careers of Galula and Trinquier demonstrate just how difficult it is to be a norm-­entrepreneur; to advocate radical change in the approach to warfare from within the military. This has huge implications in terms of advocating major revisions to guidelines, materiel, force structure, budgets, and promotion paths that are unlikely to be easy or popular within the military organization. Warrior-­scholars, to have real influence, need sponsors; more senior officers that protect and promote them and lend their institutional weight and full authority to new transformative views. But still, often, such sponsors’ own promotion interests eventually clash with their continued support for controversial new thinking. This may simply be because of organizational inertia, as was the case initially in Algeria. But it can also be because of deliberate, and arguably justifiable, changes to strategy and changing policy priorities, as was the case with de Gaulle’s sudden change in Algerian policy from one of counterinsurgency to one of granting independence.

Galula and Trinquier as thinkers on unconventional warfare Trinquier had clearly thought through the best approach to counterinsurgency based upon his directives and correspondence with top commanders during the Algerian War. So he quickly published, in 1961, a book version of the lessons he had learned in his career as a counterinsurgent, a book that he believed had such generic validity that he simply titled it La Guerre Moderne. It was translated into English, in 1964, as Modern Warfare. In his memoirs Trinquier leaves a brief record of the path that led him from his decades-­long activity as a warrior to that as a systematic thinker about a new way of war and how best to move from thought to practice:

Galula, Trinquier and French colonial COIN   45 At the end of the Algerian War I wrote Modern Warfare as a practical guideline aimed at making clear the methods we applied successfully. . . . Seven years later in order to understand the problems posed by revolutionary warfare I went to the other side of the barricade . . . in Guerre, Subversion, Révolution. . . . Now our enemy is clearly known, it is Soviet Russia . . . which used remarkably [well] armed subversion to destroy European colonial empires. . . . Going back to the procedures illustrated by [my] previous work on insurgency . . . and how to counter it, La Guerre aims to show the vulnerability of Soviet Russia to armed subversion.32 For Galula, the key turning point in his transition from fighting an insurgency to thinking about counterinsurgency, was his participation in a RAND seminar on counterinsurgency in 1962, just when the war in Algeria, and consequently French interest in such matters, was ending. But American involvement and interest in this type of conflict was increasing, notably in Vietnam on the same ground where the French had experienced such a difficult start to their learning process about counterinsurgency after 1945. It was in the US that Galula found a growing interest in his more practically oriented analysis of counterinsurgency, especially at the security think-­tank par excellence, RAND. It was this that seems to have been decisive in stimulating Galula to put into writing, and in a more systematic fashion, not only his testimony but also his reflections on the subject. Galula, like Trinquier, also turned from active fighting to a new role as a military thinker, but in the context of a growing US security studies community. This did not have a parallel in France. De Gaulle was determined to bury counterinsurgency and the threat that some of its more militant practitioners had presented to his strategy of granting independence to Algeria. The civilian universities did not have a strong tradition of military or strategic studies, and even military history was being increasingly marginalized by the new approach to historical studies advocated by the Annales School. Galula died suddenly, aged only 48, in 1967. But in the US he still had time before his death to produce a book that represented a significant development from his initial, more empirical, single case study analysis of counterinsurgency. This latest work was a more scholarly, systematic, study of counterinsurgency in general.33 But what do both these authors actually say? Do they mostly converge or diverge, and in what respects? Are these texts at all revealing of a French way in counterinsurgency, one that has been so often been criticized in English language literature on the subject? The next sub-­sections will provide an answer to these questions. Convergences on the main challenges Defining the insurgent threat Trinquier and Galula were in agreement about the specific nature of insurgencies being primarily determined by their political and asymmetrical nature. As Trinquier

46   B.C. Reis put it, victory against insurgents cannot be found on the ‘traditional battlefield’, where it would be ‘assured in a matter of hours’. Instead it will take years and was ‘still uncertain’ in Algeria in 1961 – Trinquier’s first book was published in French while the war there was still ongoing – because ‘we are not up against just a few armed bands . . . but rather against an armed clandestine organization whose essential role is to impose its will upon the population’.34 Galula presents a similar view: ‘[T]he military action is secondary to the political one, its primary purpose being to afford the political power enough freedom to work safely with the population.’35 Galula synthesizes the fundamental predicament of counterinsurgents when he states that this is ‘a war where the insurgent needs so little to achieve so much, whereas the counterinsurgent needs so much to achieve so little’.36 For a whole state apparatus to create a legitimate working social order is much harder than for a few to disrupt it violently. The population is the centre of gravity Galula posits that counterinsurgency consists basically of ‘a battle for the population’.37 The ‘crux’ of the matter in a counterinsurgency is not how to force insurgents out of an area (they usually do that against superior conventional forces, only to come back later if they can) but rather ‘how to keep an area clean’.38 The most effective way to decisively counter an insurgency is to cut it off from the locals that can provide it with recruits, supplies and information. Trinquier states that what is at stake, fundamentally, in an insurgency, ‘is control of the population’ by close contact with it.39 Galula argues that ‘contact with and control of the population’ is the third of three decisive steps in counterinsurgency operations – the first being ‘destruction of the insurgent forces’ and the second ‘deployment of the static unit’; the latter being in charge of securing the population.40 Peacetime law must be replaced by emergency rule This is indispensable, according to both authors, to make insurgents easier to detect and afford security forces an ability to pursue a very ‘fluid’ enemy.41 Galula states that the frequent lack of solid evidence against suspected insurgents might not be proof of innocence but rather of informers’ fear of giving formal testimony. This can lead to cases being dismissed or endless years of legal appeals, meaning that ‘local official, civil or the military would take matters into their own hands’ or ‘do nothing’; both attitudes would have ‘disastrous results’.42 This questionable view, in the case of Algeria, is why Galula argues that ‘if the counterinsurgent wishes to bring a quicker end to the war, he must discard some of the legal concepts that would be applicable to ordinary occasions’. In practical terms this means making large numbers of blind arrests in insurgent areas to obtain information, while simultaneously guaranteeing the safety and anonymity of informants. Galula does go on to recommend ‘leniency’ towards insurgents, but only those who offer a ‘full confession’ and accept ‘participat[ing] actively’ in counterinsurgency.43

Galula, Trinquier and French colonial COIN   47 Trinquier is more openly coercive and more concrete in his views. He believes that ‘sufficiently large’ camps in which to intern the very large numbers of detainees will be a primary need for dealing with insurgency – implicitly defending, as Galula did, the need for vast numbers of arrests. He does concede to the critics of French action in Algeria (which might equally apply to the US in Afghanistan or Iraq in more modern times) that such methods should be ‘set-­up according to the conditions set down by the Geneva Convention’. But his emphasis is very much on the idea that ‘our opponents will seek to slow down and, if possible, put an end to our operation’, namely by trying ‘to have arrested terrorists treated as ordinary criminals’. He quotes as proof of this a captured FLN document stating that they must ask ‘all our friends to do the impossible to have legality restored otherwise we are lost’. Trinquier concludes that the Army must ‘apply the law without hesitation’, albeit a law modified by the declaration of a state of emergency. For Trinquier emergency law should be a tool for fighting an insurgency. Within a broad convergence, however, a somewhat different emphasis, does seem to emerge – Galula’s emphasis being more on turning insurgents, with Trinquier’s focusing primarily on the need to maintain large POW camps until the end of the insurgency.44 Intelligence is crucial in fighting a clandestine enemy Finding the insurgents is a precondition for fighting them. Galula sees the ‘destruction of the insurgent political organization’, its clandestine cover, as a crucial step in counterinsurgency.45 Timely, reliable, actionable intelligence is indispensable to get results. Trinquier is even more clearly intelligence-­centric in his approach. He states categorically an insurgency ‘will not end until we have . . . created an efficient intelligence service’.46 Arguably the most detailed and significant contribution of Trinquier in Modern Warfare to counterinsurgency is, in fact, on intelligence.47 He specifically defends and explains how to create both a vast system of ‘countrywide intelligence’ providing background information, as well as underlining the importance of the more ‘delicate task’ of infiltrating the insurgent network.48 A comprehensive plan is required under a single command Counterinsurgency for both these warrior-­scholars is a form of total war in the French sense of the word, i.e. a comprehensive approach integrating different civil and military dimensions. The French military typically tried to do this by militarization, taking over not only overall direction but also some state tasks normally carried out by civilians. Galula claims provocatively that ‘the soldier must then be prepared to become a propagandist, a social worker, a civil engineer, a schoolteacher, a nurse, a boy scout’. But he does qualify this somewhat by stating it should be done only when and where there are a lack of civilian alternatives, and even then only for as long as necessary: ‘it is better to entrust civilian tasks to civilians’. Galula also defends that ‘a single boss must direct

48   B.C. Reis operations from beginning until the end’ because only unity of command will provide the necessary sense of direction to a war without a front line.49 Trinquier states that ‘a plan coordinating diverse actions over vast areas’ involving both the ‘civilian administration’ and the military must be ‘established at a high command level’, adding in a significant footnote that this will be ‘in principle’ done by ‘the commander of the theatre of operations’, showing a preference for the military to take overall civil–military command.50 Galula was more specifically committed to the notion of the ‘ink-­spot’ as the best framework for the single comprehensive plan required for successful counterinsurgency. This is expressed in what he calls the fourth law of counterinsurgency – the ‘intensity of efforts and vastness of means’ requiring the ‘main effort’ by counterinsurgency to be ‘done in a selected area’.51 Why is an ink-­spot approach so important? Because otherwise counterinsurgents’ efforts will be reactive; dispersed over ‘an accidental mosaic’ where one area might be ‘well pacified, [but] next to another one not so’. This is ‘an ideal situation for the insurgent’, who can follow Mao’s dictum and pick and choose where best to  focus his strength, ‘concentrating’ in one region and ‘temporarily vanishing from others’.52 Avoid overreliance on psychological warfare and material aid in winning over locals Galula and Trinquier do not deny a role for these aspects in a comprehensive approach to counterinsurgency, but they are critical of excessive expectations and are cautious about overreliance on the winning of hearts and minds. Galula points to a crucial difficulty; before the insurgent organization is detected and destroyed ‘to ask the people to cooperate en masse and openly . . . would be useless and even self-­defeating, for they cannot do it’. Therefore, the best way forward is for propaganda during the combat stage to focus on trying to move locals towards neutrality and promising them peace in the end.53 Trinquier is probably even more skeptical – or realistic – claiming that during the ‘period of active operations’, propaganda will be ‘ineffective in a population infected by insurgent organisms’ and should instead be targeted at the insurgents using relevant intelligence to maximize its impact. Where Trinquier sees ‘an important role’ for propaganda is in its potential for enabling the allegiance of the population after the destruction of the insurgent organization is accomplished. Development aid or ‘social services’ were also part of the French psychological warfare arsenal. Again Trinquier is critical of reliance on this method until after the insurgent organization is destroyed; to do so before that occurs risks the insurgents using their control over the local population to divert any additional resources made available for their own benefit.54

Galula, Trinquier and French colonial COIN   49 Redefining military victory: clearing a clandestine organization and building local support Only by breaking the hold of the insurgents over the local population can a successful state (re)building operation be completed by counterinsurgents. Trinquier devotes a number of chapters of his first book to the ‘need to adapt our military to modern warfare’ (i.e. counterinsurgency), and to pointing out the ‘inadequacies of traditional warfare’.55 His conclusion is that the Army bureaucracy tries to achieve victory as much as possible using methods it knows best and trains more for; that is, using vast conventional operations. But in small wars such operations are of limited, if any, military value, and often such tactics prove demoralizing for soldiers and disruptive for locals with the insurgents melting away by moving to other locations or merging with the population. What is the alternative? For Trinquier the key is the realization that ‘we are not up against just a few armed bands . . . but rather against an armed clandestine organization whose essential role is to impose its will upon the population’.56 Therefore, counterinsurgent operations must be ‘methodically pursued until the enemy organization has been entirely annihilated’.57 Galula is also keen on emphasizing that the ‘first step’ to victory in counterinsurgency operations is the ‘destruction or expulsion of the insurgent forces’, but goes on to say that this is not ‘an end in itself, [because] guerrillas, like the heads of the legendary hydra, have the special ability to grow again’. Therefore, for Galula, the crucial step for counterinsurgency victory is destruction of the insurgent organization through utilization of adequate intelligence. Victory is also dependent on the ability to ‘follow through’ with a political reorganization of the local population as part of a reformed counterinsurgent state.58 This takes us to the main divergences between the two authors.

Main divergences Organizing locals: top down v. bottom up Trinquier could not be more top-­down in his approach to what he clearly sees as a vital population-­centric dimension of counterinsurgency. He states unequivocally that ‘control of the masses through a strict hierarchy is the master weapon’ of counterinsurgency.59 And this is not just theory. He had done this in practice in Algeria with the DPUs, appointing local headmen for specific areas and their populations, headmen who were responsible to the Army. Trinquier is not shy in explicitly pointing to his ‘experience of the Battle of Algiers’ as providing ‘us with a sound basis for this assumption’. Given the current reputation of French counterinsurgency operations in Algeria this would be a questionable conclusion for many today, but clearly Trinquier saw no reason to question the military value of the lesson he learned as a warrior – to the extent that he then went on to generalize it as a scholar.60 On the contrary, Galula makes clear that while it is tempting to use top-­down methods, such a strategy is flawed. In Galula’s view, at least in his final revised

50   B.C. Reis view concerning counterinsurgency during his time in the US, the best way to build an enduring local organization that can stand on its own against the insurgents is through local elections and encouragement of the creation of alternative nationalist parties. To Galula, the mission of the Army is to protect and empower the local population – but even he does not dispense entirely with the need for a paternalistic neocolonial ‘testing’ of potential new local leaders.61 His preferred option is, on balance, favourable to a more bottom-­up approach to local rule than the strict hierarchical top-­down Trinquier model. The difference is of course of great significance in terms of the political result of counterinsurgency – something closer to a militarized authoritarian late colonial state, compared to something closer to a more responsive and independent local government, albeit one tested for sympathy towards counterinsurgent aims. Galula therefore adds a crucial qualification to his definition of victory in counterinsurgency: ‘the isolation of the insurgent from the population, isolation not enforced upon the population but maintained by and with the population’.62 Comprehensive v. limited militarization To Trinquier this modern – i.e. new and little-­known – form of warfare, was still very much a war, and therefore should be under military control. The highly politicized nature of the struggle, however, required the imposition of limitations on the government and citizenry as dictated by military necessity: ‘under no  pretext . . . can the government permit itself to become entangled in a polemic against the forces of order’ because this ‘can benefit only our adversaries’. More specifically, ‘any propaganda tending to undermine’ the ‘morale’ of the Army ‘should be unmercifully repressed’.63 For Trinquier a comprehensive civil–military political, as well as coercive, approach to counterinsurgency required the militarization of the state and the ultimate military control of politics. Galula, on the contrary, argues that there must be a ‘primacy of the political over the military power’. After all, ‘what is at stake is the country’s political regime, and to defend it is a political affair’. To do otherwise would be ‘self-­ defeating’, signalling the abdication of government and offering an ideal target for insurgent propaganda. He quotes approvingly, without identifying the source, British General Sir Gerald Templer’s maxim that this kind of war ‘is 20 per cent military action and 80 per cent political’. He does accept that ‘to confine soldiers to purely military functions while urgent and vital tasks have to be done and nobody else is available to undertake them, would be senseless’. He therefore admitted, as we have seen already, that some degree of militarization may be inevitable. Even in its absence there will be ‘overlaps’ between civil and military tasks that have to be managed by a clear line of command. But Galula also thinks that to take the next step and ‘let the military direct the entire process – if not in the whole country, at least in some areas’ is a ‘temptation’ that must be resisted. Few if any will disagree that this is a kind of mea culpa by Galula, and a tacit acknowledgement that the French counterinsurgency in which he

Galula, Trinquier and French colonial COIN   51 participated in Algeria largely followed Trinquier’s precepts. Nonetheless, while total militarization may be tempting, it should be resisted.64 To use or not to use an insurgency against the insurgents? Turning insurgency against insurgents is a principle very much cherished by Trinquier. In Indochina he had the intense and transforming experience of advocating, training and commanding a maquis of local mountain tribes located at the rear of the Viet-­Minh insurgency in the early 1950s. Such experiences eventually resulted in a book.65 But even before that, ‘carrying the war to the enemy’ was the central theme of one of three parts of Modern Warfare. Even more revealingly, it is also the main theme of his last book, La Guerre, in which he takes this conviction to the strategic level by stating that Western powers in the Cold War should not stay on the defensive with regard to proxy wars carried out by sponsored insurgent groups; with ‘Soviet Russia . . . remarkably vulnerable to subversion’, Trinquier states ‘the aim of the book’ as being to show why this was the case and how best to exploit the vulnerability of the Soviet sphere of influence to insurgency; namely in Afghanistan in 1980, the year the book was published.66 Galula is very sceptical, again without being openly critical of French practice, but with it evidently in his mind. He concluded from close observation of Communist insurgency in China that it is very hard to have two insurgencies going on at the same time. Is he right? Counter-­Gangs worked well enough against the Mau Mau in Kenya (as Huw Bennett and Rory Cormac discuss in Chapter 6 of this book), as did Contra-­Partidas against Communist guerrillas in Franco’s Spain. But these were fake quasi-­insurgencies intended to trick and trap insurgents and their supporters. The maquis organized by Trinquer at the rear of the Viet-­Minh was much closer to a real insurgency – and one with a peculiar sponsor, France, which was deeply committed to the general principle of counterinsurgency in Indochina as a whole. Whether this approach did have, or could have had, a positive military impact in Indochina, and could have had a much stronger one if properly supported, as Trinquier argues, is a matter for debate. However, if Galula is, as seems logical, implicitly arguing that a relatively homogenous population will hardly sustain two insurgencies, then the non-­ Vietnamese minorities mobilized by Trinquier in Indochina against the Vietnamese-­led Communist insurgency would not refute this point, just qualify it. This is surely an important, if difficult question, not least because both authors ignore a key problem: what will happen to a proxy insurgency once it is no longer seen as of strategic value to its initial sponsor? How far should counterinsurgents go in gathering intelligence? Trinquier’s intelligence-­centric approach to counterinsurgency in effect means he admits torture – even though he never uses the word in Modern Warfare. In his last book Trinquier returns to this highly controversial subject, but while here

52   B.C. Reis he does mention torture by name, he is still not willing to explicitly endorse the need for it, obliquely claiming that ‘it is facile to speak out against torture. It is a popular view’. The implication is that he is not concerned with popularity but with military effectiveness, and because of that I am neither in favor nor against torture . . . in the same way that I am neither in favor nor against conventional or non-­conventional weapons. Terrorism and torture have become the weapons of revolutionary warfare. My opinion would have no effect on those that use them.67 Of course this is a way for Trinquier to show his willingness to accept, as a lesser evil, the need for torture in interrogation as part of an intelligence-­centric approach to counterinsurgency. What about the counter-­argument that, even if we leave morality and legality aside, there is a high political cost, and it does not necessarily produce results? Trinquier does address these questions in his own way, and advocates having the government repress any criticism of this or any other aspect of an ongoing campaign. The problem that this might not be acceptable or sustainable in a Western democracy does not seem to bother Trinquier, unlike Galula (at least in his more American phase), as we will see. What does concern Trinquier is that torture should be carried out as part of what he believes to be a disciplined effort to  quickly obtain actionable intelligence. As he puts it: ‘[S]ome brutality is inevitable’ in counterinsurgency. His main concern is that this should not disrupt ‘rigorous discipline’ so that ‘wanton acts’ be prevented.68 Trinquier is insistent and detailed about this obviously central aspect of his intelligence-­centric approach to counterinsurgency. He argues that it is vital that suspects be arrested during the night and that they ‘are to be interrogated on the spot by specialized teams, they must give quickly the names and addresses of their superiors, so that  the latter may be arrested before’ the lifting of the nightly curfew, otherwise ‘they would be forewarned and would place themselves beyond our reach’. This is, in Trinquier’s view, the only effective way to destroy a secret organization of terrorists and move quickly to combat its deadly potential for future attacks.69 In the case of Galula it is again difficult to read his words as anything but a criticism of the rationale behind torture in terms of the absolutely central need to gather intelligence quickly so as to avoid insurgents escaping arrest (which happened frequently in Algeria). For Galula, on the contrary, the ‘expulsion of political agents’ (i.e. the escape of insurgent leaders in response to the fear of arrest) is an ‘acceptable’ risk. Captured insurgents, he argues, should not being be forced through brutal interrogation as a means of providing intelligence about their wider network, even if delays in gathering this information enables those higher up the insurgent chain of command to be alerted to the potential danger to them. While there is indeed ‘a risk that the cell members, alerted by the first move, would vanish’, to Galula this ‘risk is small’; after all ‘what could they do? If they join the guerrilla remnants, they would place an additional burden’ on

Galula, Trinquier and French colonial COIN   53 them, and ‘if they move to another area where they would be outsiders’ this would make their detection easier and their value as active agents smaller.70 So despite some ambiguities there is an evolution in Galula’s thinking regarding the degree of coercion and lethality required and acceptable in counterinsurgency; from a position closer in his first book to Trinquier’s thinking and that of French practice in favour of a more coercive approach, in his last book he rejects brutal interrogations and adopts a less coercive approach in general. Another crucial distinction is that Galula, unlike Trinquier, is very clear that while intelligence is a vital task in counterinsurgency that should be of concern to all, ‘identifying, arresting, interrogating the insurgent political agents’ should be a task for the civilian police, not the military, whose mission is ‘predominantly’ to destroy or expel the ‘guerrilla forces’.71 In this Trinquier held the opposite view, attacking ‘some’ who ‘feel that these operations should be entirely carried out by the police, and the Army should keep the nobler task, better adapted to its speciality, of reducing armed bands in the field’. Trinquier argues that the civilian police is made for peace time, for dealings with ‘ordinary offenders or criminals’ and not those aiming at the total subversion of the state. To think otherwise, as Galula does, was to Trinquier ‘a grave error’, because indispensible actionable operational intelligence to fight an insurgency is something that in his view is vital for success in military operations, and that only military intelligence can provide it. But Trinquier also appeals to a logic of appropriateness; the Army would be failing in its core mission of ‘protection of the national territory and regime’ if it failed to maintain and develop an intelligence capability that was up to the task of countering an insurgency.72 Trinquier furthermore argues that ‘it is absolutely essential to make use of all the weapons the enemy employs. Not to do so would be absurd’. Force is to be used in the most effective way possible. To Trinquier, the ethical and political problems associated with counterinsurgents adopting tactics that put them on the same level as the insurgents, is an irrelevance; it is a military necessity to do so. Counterinsurgency must be a total war so as to be able to respond effectively to an insurgency.73 These differences between Trinquier and Galula are important in themselves, but also for what they reveal about a wider debate within the French military about counterinsurgency, even though this is difficult to trace because there are no contemporary authors cited in their books. But it is no less crucial in understanding more fully what they are saying, not least by placing them in context, i.e. in the context of late-­colonial French counterinsurgency.

Are Trinquier and Galula typical of mainstream French counterinsurgency? The basic problem in trying to place Galula and Trinquier vis-­à-vis mainstream French counterinsurgency, is the lack of a clearly institutionalized and formalized orthodoxy in the shape of an official issue single manual, as the British did for the campaigns in Malaya and Kenya. The challenge, therefore, will be to

54   B.C. Reis present briefly the multiple faces of French counterinsurgency, and place our two authors in this complex context. Nevertheless, in addressing the question of their influence, it is still important to offer as a point of comparison the more mainstream official guidelines, even if their dominance was never absolute. French counterinsurgencies Galula offers a significant testimony concerning the relatively confused state of French counterinsurgency: ‘[E]verywhere in Algeria the order was to “pacify”.’ This might signal some recognition that a purely conventional show-­of-force approach would not work in contemporary counterinsurgency. But the problem then arises: ‘[E]xactly how? The sad truth was that, in spite of all our past experience, we had no single, official doctrine for counterinsurgency warfare.’ Indeed, the long French tradition of colonial small wars had not been formalized into uniform guidelines. Even during the Algerian war there was never a French generic counterinsurgency manual. This is an important point that seems to have been lost in the rush to present a clear, often critical, vision of the French counterinsurgency. According to Galula, the efforts to deal with counterinsurgency had in fact led to the emergence not of French counterinsurgency but of ‘various schools of thought, all unofficial, some highly vociferous’. And he gloomily believes ‘the majority of cadres lived in an intellectual vacuum, waiting for precise orders’. As we have seen, these eventually came, but after some time. Galula then goes on to characterize the ‘two extremes’ in the field of French counterinsurgency; on the one hand ‘ “the warriors”, officers who had learned nothing’ and changed nothing, ‘who challenged the very idea that the population was the objective’ and argued that purely ‘military action’, a vigorous show of force, was all that it took to defeat insurgents; at the ‘other extreme were the “psychologists” ’, and ‘to them, psychological action was the answer to everything’, but of course this meant that they redefined even the use ‘of force’ as just one of the ways to ‘make [the insurgent] change his mind’ but insisted, above all, on the importance of propaganda.74 During these French small wars of decolonization in Indochina and Algeria – alongside more traditionalist officers, who defended a conventional military approach, leading to the sort of clashes with Trinquier and Galula cited above – it is possible to identify the adaptation of at least three main strands of counterinsurgency, each with a different emphasis: • • •

psychological warfare; raiding by special forces with more kinetic counter-­terrorism; comprehensive territorial reclamation.

The psychological warfare school that Galula criticized explicitly was, nonetheless, the first that tried to defend the revolutionary character of this new kind of warfare and cope with its specificity. Galula does recognize that although the

Galula, Trinquier and French colonial COIN   55 advocates of psychological warfare ‘were few’ they ‘managed to take hold of the professional French Army magazines, and gave the impression that theirs was indeed the official doctrine’.75 In fact, there was something to this impression, even though Galula is right in pointing out that it was never completely dominant and was far from consensual. Still, Colonel Charles Lacheroy, the main figure in this school of guerre révolutionnaire, presided (from July 1957) over the creation of Fifth Sections that were aimed at propaganda and civilian affairs in French HQs at all relevant levels, and accompanied by specific guidelines for psychological warfare. Lacheroy also edited the professional military journal Revue d’Information Militaire that became a major source of texts on counterinsurgency. Several, including a key text by Lacheroy himself, were used as the basis of the syllabus of the Arzew training centre for officers coming into Algeria. For some time Arzew had been under Lacheroy’s control in his capacity as head of the Fifth Section of the General Staff.76 So this was the first mainstream French view of counterinsurgency. The ‘Special Forces School’ was established with a lack of strategic planning, and its advocates could probably be mixed with the conventional ‘warriors’ of Galula’s definition. But they really are of a different kind. It had a short-­lived institutional base at the Jeanne d’Arc Training Centre, created and led by the quintessential paratrooper Colonel Bigeard. More importantly his views – in oral as well as in written form – were enduringly popular among French paratrooper units: aggressive pursuit of insurgents by small, highly trained, elite units able to conduct protracted offensive operations that emulated those of the insurgents; use of raids, making extensive use of helicopters for greater mobility and added firepower. The rationale was summarized by Bigeard: ‘[I]f we destroy, decapitate the enemy organization, all the rest becomes easy.’77 Such rationale could easily have been subscribed to by today’s advocates of decapitation strategies for dealing with terrorism on account of it being a cheaper and politically less damaging alternative to a more comprehensive approach to counterinsurgency. Galula and Trinquier: territorial variants of the comprehensive territorial school Galula and Trinquier did not really fit into either of these two schools. They were critical of an excessive emphasis on either propaganda or on the use of force. They saw these approaches as either not coercive enough, or too coercive and lacking in terms of a more systematic civil–military, political-­economic comprehensive approach to counterinsurgency. Elite units and propaganda approaches were only a part, but not the most important one, of achieving decisive lasting results. The key was cutting the insurgents off from locals; securing the latter group as a means of obtaining information about insurgent groups’ activities. Trinquier, despite being one of the founding officers of the French paratroopers and having presided over the Union of French Paratrooper Veterans, was not a typical example of the so-­called ‘paratrooper mystique’ with its emphasis on

56   B.C. Reis the role of special operations and airborne raids. He was even a keen advocate of better training for ordinary soldiers to improve their performance in offensive operations, thus denying the elitist view that only special forces teams were properly capable. Furthermore, he also argued for the need for elite units to be more disciplined and concerned with overall pacification aims. In his memoirs, moreover, Trinquier is openly critical of Bigeard, believing that despite all his campaign value Bigeard also sought to engage in spectacular operations out of a desire for self-­promotion.78 Galula was even more opposed to any ‘elitist’ approach to counterinsurgency – in this he was typical of the average infantry officer – instead advocating the ‘primacy of the Territorial Command’ and of quadriallage, the French name for a grid-­like force structure meant to provide background intelligence and hold territory in their sector, as well as closely controlling and securing the local population.79 General Challe, as Commander-­in-Chief in Algeria (1959–1960), certainly shared Galula and Trinquier’s concern with the need for more of a sense of direction and for a more comprehensive single plan than was ever the case before. He also complains about an excessive abundance of guidelines, so that ‘different staffs, submerged in text, simply archived them by order of arrival’. This, in fact, led Challe to decide to speak in person to groups of officers about doctrinal matters, and to set up a centralized Bureaux d’Études.80 Not only did he offer generic guidelines, he also reorganized Arzew Centre in a more balanced way, i.e. around a syllabus and guidelines less dominated by psychological warfare. Challe even printed the most important operations that formed part of his plan guidelines in the shape of small manuals.81 And if his plan was about very big operations, they were conceived in line with Trinquier and Galula and other advocates of ‘territorial counterinsurgency’ as part of an ink-­spot approach to ensuring that clearing insurgents and their support organization would be systematically applied sector after sector. French doctrinal consolidation was advocated by both Trinquier and Galula as the most effective means of bridging the gap between military thinking and military practice – preferably using their own models, of course. This was closer to being achieved in 1959–1960 than ever before, and seems to have been the ultimate aim of General Challe. But such consolidation had still not been achieved by the time the new President, General de Gaulle, suddenly shifted strategic priorities in 1959. De Gaulle decided to decolonize Algeria and move from counterinsurgency towards a nuclear deterrent as the French strategic priority for maintaining its ‘Great Power’ status; he closed down all counterinsurgency ‘doctrinal shops’ within the military, and this action ended any hope of the emergence of a single formal French counterinsurgency doctrine. This is why the most we can do is place Galula and Trinquier in the complex yet relatively fluid field of French counterinsurgency as a generic part of a wider comprehensive pacification school that advocated specifically that the territorial sector should be the key component of successful pacification but only if it successfully transformed itself into a tool to secure locals and gather intelligence to find and fight insurgents. But there is a key distinction between them: Trinquier

Galula, Trinquier and French colonial COIN   57 represented a more coercive and controlling variant than Galula. But this point is key for addressing the next question: what was the degree of influence that these two warrior-­scholars had on French military practice? Galula and Trinquier’s influence in French counterinsurgency Galula does claim that ‘the ideas contained’ in a report he sent to Salan ‘were embodied in the Challe plan (actually drawn up by General Salan) and became the basis for our [i.e. French] counterinsurgency doctrine in 1959–1961’.82 But this claim that Salan was somehow directly responsible for the Challe plan can hardly be seen as convincing. Furthermore, Galula is not actually making an unequivocal statement about his own direct influence. Indeed, there seems to be no corroborating evidence that this was the case. In particular there is no mention of Galula (unlike Trinquier) in either Salan’s or Challe’s memoirs. His theory of unconventional warfare seems to have had real influence in American, not French, military thinking, doctrine and practice, especially in the last decade. Trinquier’s influence, in contrast, was very clear during the French campaign in Algeria. Some of the most important French commanders in Algeria state this in their recollections, including Commanders-­in-Chief like Salan and Challe, but also General Massu, who led the Battle of Algiers in 1957. It was in this decisive event of the war that Trinquier had a particularly clear and direct role. Trinquier shaped French doctrinal guidelines, dispersed as they were, particularly regarding intelligence gathering. Methods employed in Algiers were extended to the rest of Algeria via formal guidelines and the creation of new institutions like the DPUs (for organizing the population) and the DOPs (for intelligence gathering). In sum, regarding French counterinsurgency in Algeria, Galula had at most a limited indirect influence that is impossible to document beyond his own recollections, recollections that are modest in their claims and mostly negative on the subject. Trinquier, in contrast, had a clear, direct influence, well-­documented in multiple sources (memoirs, institution-­building, operational directives), which is not to say that he was always happy with it – warrior-­scholars are keen to offer advice but hard to please because real life military forces can hardly conform fully to any model. The approaches defended by Trinquier, first and foremost, but also to a lesser degree those advocated by Galula, became increasingly influential as the Algerian war progressed. But it would be simplistic to say that they represented the French approach to counterinsurgency, even in the early 1960s, not least because on certain key issues as we have just seen – like intelligence, interrogation, the place of the military, and the acceptable degree of coercion –Galula and Trinquier did not see eye to eye. This was especially the case after Galula moved to the US, where he wrote his most influential work on counterinsurgency. Arguably this is because there were actually different trends in French counterinsurgency. There were tensions and overlaps between them. Different views or emphasis prevailed in different periods under different commanders in Algeria

58   B.C. Reis where French counterinsurgency really developed more fully – starting with a more conventional period, followed by a move towards more specific counterinsurgency dominated by psychological warfare, then followed by a more intelligence-­centric approach, and lastly a more comprehensive ink-­spot period. Trinquier and Galula always had to struggle for influence. French counterinsurgency was always very much a struggle intellectually as well as on the ground. One of their crucial problems, moreover, was that popular support among French people for the war was slowly evaporating. According to the 1956 polls a majority still favoured simply maintaining the status quo by retaining Algeria as part of France; another 20 per cent wanted some more radical reform but still with a political association with France. By 1958 a poll showed 25 per cent of the French population openly favoured independence for Algeria despite the fact that this was still a political taboo.83 Galula and Trinquier were not only fighting conventional views, they were also fighting against time and the typical insurgent tactic of eroding their opponents’ will to fight; they were fighting also against the times and a new worldwide anti-­colonial wind, though it would take decisive de Gaulle intervention to suddenly accelerate this political dynamic.84

Too colonial to be of interest today? In this concluding section I will briefly address three key questions: why was Galula so influential in English-­speaking literature on counterinsurgency and yet was less influential than Trinquier in terms of French counterinsurgency? How does the concept of warrior-­scholarship help us make sense of Galula and Trinquier, and how can they be evaluated in this respect? Should any of these authors have any influence and be of any interest at all today, not least because they emerged as warrior-­scholars during one of the world’s last colonial wars? Too French, too Americanized? Why didn’t Trinquier have an equivalent impact to Galula in English-­speaking circles, and why was Galula ignored in France? One aspect of the question seems obvious. Galula published in English and before that he was a relatively junior French officer without any major work standing out in a crowd of publications, especially in professional military journals. However, Trinquier’s main work, Modern Warfare, was translated into English in 1964 in a decade that saw a huge surge in interest in counterinsurgency in the US as a result of that country’s growing involvement in Vietnam. On the other hand, Galula could hardly have remained entirely unknown to French military thinkers, like Trinquier, who continued reflecting on counterinsurgency. Yet Trinquier was largely ignored in the US, and Galula in his native France. The key point here was the fact that Trinquier was too coercive in counter­ insurgency and too brutally honest about it for many British or American advocates of population-­centric counterinsurgency. He had, moreover, been too  influential in the Battle of Algiers of 1957, a conflict that generated an

Galula, Trinquier and French colonial COIN   59 understandably bad press because of the use of torture and summary executions. This was bad for his reputation, even in France, but more so abroad. Moreover, Trinquier was unwilling to address these matters in terms that would make his work more palatable. This is evident in a negative review of his work published in the RUSI Journal in 1964. Not only had Trinquier not paid any attention to British counterinsurgency, his conclusions and methods – even if efficient – were deemed un-­British, i.e. too openly illiberal and coercive. Also, of course, the political and strategic, if not operational, defeat, of French counterinsurgency in Algeria by 1962, certainly made his arguments harder to sell; his strong influence over that campaign worked against him. The anonymous reviewer concluded, playing with the subtitle of the book: ‘The French View of Counterinsurgency is unlikely to be shared by many in Britain.’85 The same could probably be said of the US – Trinquier was too closely associated with the French counterinsurgency in Algeria to be easily exportable. Galula represented the acceptable alternative in the context of the US. He was a French warrior-­scholar, with direct experience of counterinsurgency, but junior and marginal enough as an officer not to be personally blamed for the darker side of the war in Algeria. He also made an effort to distil the lessons of counterinsurgency to a greater degree in Guerrilla Warfare, moving further away from the theatre of Algeria than Trinquier ever did. This advocacy of a less coercive approach to counterinsurgency is much more evident in this final work than in his earlier, more testimonial, Pacification in Algeria – in which, for instance, he celebrated the coup of 1958 as a major victory in winning over locals by convincing them that France would stay. Even more tellingly, Galula, in that first more descriptive book, was positive about the role of the DOPs – the intelligence-­gathering units formed on the model created by Trinquier for the Battle of Algiers and often accused of using torture. This change of emphasis can be explained by Galula having had time for deeper reflection and a more developed analysis, or it might be an indication of Galula being conditioned by his new American context; most probably all of the above are true. But regardless of these differences, how marked by their colonial context is the work of both these authors? Are they too colonial to be of use in efforts to analyse counterinsurgency today? Too colonial for today? Certainly it is pertinent to question the applicability today of the lessons from the so-­called ‘classical era’ of counterinsurgency. No serious analyst would disagree with the criticism of a ‘cut and paste’ approach to a canon of classical counterinsurgency, even when carried out by contemporary advocates of population-­centric counterinsurgency like David Kilcullen (as Andrew Mumford discusses in Chapter 7 of this book).86 But was their work intrinsically colonial? Both Galula and Trinquier clearly did not think so. After all, Algeria was formally part of France itself, and by then French colonialism was in denial. Also, both of them were advocating full

60   B.C. Reis integration of Algerians and may have believed in it sincerely. More relevant still, they clearly saw their experience of counterinsurgency – its peculiarities and the major changes it required from conventional armies to cope with it – as generically valid. It is hard to find, for instance, traces of racism in their writings, the most obvious signature of old-­fashioned, strictly hierarchical, colonialism. In fact, even the more coercive Trinquier, while brutally clear in his justification of the need for what today would be called enhanced interrogation of insurgents (in the name of an intelligence-­centric approach to victory over a clandestine insurgency), was not a typical colonial reactionary in his view of the enemy. He states that ‘the terrorist is no ordinary criminal, he fights . . . for a cause he considers nobler and for a respectable ideal the same as the soldiers in the armies confronting him’. Trinquier even makes clear that in an age of atomic bombs (Hiroshima and Nagasaki) and the indiscriminate wartime carpet-­bombing of heavily populated cities (like Dresden), it becomes hard to criticize terrorists for targeting civilians in their actions.87 Even more to the point, Trinquier titles his first book Modern Warfare because he essentially thinks of himself as a forward looking military thinker, and believes modern – i.e. present and future, as opposed to past – warfare will consist essentially of insurgency and counterinsurgency, which would not therefore be peculiar to the colonial period. Both Trinquier and Galula explicitly offer models that they believe have wide validity for conflicts of the future. They would not qualify as warrior-­scholars according to the definition of this book if they were simply offering recollections of old imperial warriors. They believe their military experience is a valid starting point for a generic analysis of vital challenges to the waging of contemporary warfare.88 Both authors would probably feel more at home contributing to recent academic discussions of the notion of ‘New Wars’ than to discussions about old colonial wars. True, the main proponent of the notion, Mary Kaldor, is very critical of late-­colonial counterinsurgency – portraying it as sowing ‘fear and hatred’ through mass killing; but she goes on to state that the ‘guerrilla warfare of Mao Tse-­tung and his successors’ was a precursor for this ‘new form of warfare’. Martin van Creveld, who, not necessarily for the same reasons, also defended significant novelties for warfare today that would make Clausewitz less relevant if not irrelevant. The fact that some believe Galula is a new Clausewitz for counterinsurgency would seem to vindicate his ambition as a warrior-­scholar to offer the best generic way to think about and approach this new type of warfare. Mao and Clausewitz are, implicitly, the main role models for Galula and Trinquier – a point made indirectly by the fact that they seem to be the only authors to merit explicit reference in the work of both French warrior-­scholars. In fact, as controversial as this may seem, both Trinquier and Galula, with their population-­centric comprehensive approach to counterinsurgency, are in these aspects closer to the recent notion of ‘human security’ advocated by Kaldor than to more conventional state-­centric notions of security.90 This is not to say that the books of both warrior-­scholars make clear that what was advocated,

Galula, Trinquier and French colonial COIN   61 practised, and perceived as a legitimate use of coercive force in a colonial setting – forced resettlement, imposition of curfews, detentions without trial, deportation and executions – would probably no longer be acceptable today. Moreover, colonial power was concentrated in the hands of a small number of officials of the same nationality as the intervening army, making a single plan and a coordinated comprehensive approach, a priori, easier to achieve, and allowing for clear chains of command. These are important aspects that should be pondered in analysing French late-­colonial counterinsurgency, but also in the analysis of similar cases, like the largely mythical alleged centrality of ‘minimum force’ in late-­colonial British counterinsurgency.91 But the differences between then and now, or the medium-­term future, should also not be exaggerated. Civil–military cooperation, not to mention a comprehensive plan, was far from easy to achieve even in colonial times – it required very determined advocates and took time in the face of great opposition. Moreover, in this very late stage of the colonial period, imperial legitimacy was already very much in dispute. Galula and Trinquier were no longer dealing with isolated tribal uprisings that were more typical of imperial warfare, uprisings that were invariably portrayed even as late as the 1930s as backward-­looking rebellions against progress. Late colonial campaigns were, in other words, conducted by empires increasingly undergoing a reform process while simultaneously in denial about the imperial nature of such reforms. Algeria, as we have already mentioned, was not even technically a colony; military propaganda argued that French forces were fighting for the full integration of Algerians within France, incredible as that may seem. Times were changing but this was a cause that Trinquier, Galula, and other advocates of counterinsurgency, were apparently devoted to. It implied ultimately moving beyond colonialism; but in both the military as well as in politics, moving from from theory to practice is difficult. Still, it is clear that some key dimensions of the problems in counterinsurgency were already present then, and remain highly topical today; namely, the questions of how to carry out state-(re)building as a vehicle for a functioning and pacified polity, and how to withdraw from a conflict while still retaining some measure of control over local politics. On balance, it is clear that Galula engaged with these changes and challenges more deeply than Trinquier. The latter is not only more coercive than the former, but, as we have seen, in terms of reorganizing locals politically he is also much more controlling. Another way of putting it is to say that Trinquier was still de facto more colonial in his thinking and practice of population-­centric counterinsurgency. Galula’s bottom-­up approach to the political challenge of winning over the population was more concerned with giving locals a voice of their own, even promoting political parties, in an approach that may well sound paternalistic and controlled. But even if that is the case, he was still much more aware of the challenges of state-­ building through overseas intervention, so topical today, than Trinquier. This is not the same as saying that Galula had the answer to this very difficult problem, not least because there is no simple answer.

62   B.C. Reis This takes us to the crucial question of distinguishing between a more people-­ centric approach, indispensable in a counterinsurgency, and a population-­ friendly, ‘softly, softly’ non-­coercive approach (which neither Trinquier nor Galula would subscribe to). But this merely points us to the error of thinking that human security will necessarily and easily lead to a conflict somehow devoid of collateral civilian casualties – warfare is still warfare, no matter how population-­ centric. Warrior-­scholars anyone? Some may still be wondering, what does the notion of warrior-­scholar add to this analysis? Could and should officers actively engaged in command in warfare, like Galula and Trinquier, be seen as scholars, i.e. systematic thinkers on warfare? Certainly being a soldier is not an intellectual qualification, but neither should it be seen as an automatic disqualification. And yet there are also those who, when dealing with violent conflicts, share the blunt view that ‘like authoring a sex manual, it helps when theorists of counter-­insurgency warfare are experienced’.92 Direct experience in warfare is probably an advantage for those wishing to reflect upon it, even if it is not a sufficient guarantee of the quality of that reflection, or indeed of its empirical reliability. But I would argue that having experience of the kind of unconventional warfare about which so little had been written or taught in military academies, being warriors before becoming scholars was a great advantage for pioneering thinkers like Galula and Trinquier. But what is a scholar of warfare? As was made clear in the introduction to this book, the notion and the qualifications expected from a scholar have varied greatly across time. A formal university-­level degree was not indispensable as recently as the nineteenth century, even in academic disciplines like History or the Natural Sciences, and even less so in a more practical field like the military. An advanced degree among military officers was rare at this point in time, and it would have been of hardly any use in terms of giving a deeper insight into insurgency and counterinsurgency. It is not by accident that almost invariably, references to Galula’s work introduce him as a ‘Frenchman with experience of Guerrilla warfare’. Similarly, Trinquier is portrayed as a ‘retired French colonel’ with ‘extensive experience’ in counterinsurgency.93 Experience was about as good a qualification as was available as a prelude to the study of this unconventional type of warfare. What this chapter has tried to do is use the concept of warrior-­scholar to give greater sense to the analysis of this important linkage between experience and analysis. Trinquier and Galula clearly thought of themselves as warrior-­scholars, even if they did not use the term. They both strongly believed that they had learned valuable lessons from their combat experience. And at the same time they were no less certain of the need for careful analysis of their own experience in order to draw generic lessons that might be useful in counterinsurgency in other times and in other places, not least by identifying common mistakes and problems

Galula, Trinquier and French colonial COIN   63 arising from trying to counter unconventional types of violence using the sort of conventional methods preferred by military institutions and more-­established military thinking. Implicit in the notion of warrior-­scholar, and very explicit in the works of Trinquier and Galula, is the aim of producing policy-­oriented analysis. They were, above all, interested in publishing books on how best to conduct counterinsurgency in practice. But how accomplished were these works in terms of analysis, as well as their usefulness as generic guides for action? The renewed interest in recent years in the books by these two authors, once insurgency again became a major problem for Western military forces, is an indication of some success in this respect. Fresh editions of their books have appeared, prefaced by prestigious scholars of strategic studies like Eliot Cohen and John Nagl. In the case of Galula, not only the endurance but the extent of his influence in contemporary US counterinsurgency is impressive, with his work becoming mandatory reading for officers preparing for deployment in counterinsurgency operations in Iraq and Afghanistan. Frequent quotations from his work appear in the most recent combined US Army and Marine Corps Counter-­ Insurgency Field Manual.94 Looking at two lists of characteristics that are viewed as markers of good policy-­oriented works of military thinking, it is clear that both Galula and Trinquier do well. Both wrote compact, easy-­to-read texts, adequate for the busy timetables and practical concerns of active duty officers. They also wrote texts that are highly selective and concerned with stating as clearly as possible key principles on how to deal with actual counterinsurgency campaigns.95 A crucial caveat is, therefore, that while these books offer insights into the dynamics of counterinsurgency that seem valid today, they are not meant to be works of detached scholarship, of pure analysis. Not only are they to be seen as policy-­oriented works, they are also to some degree works of advocacy, arguing the case for conducting counterinsurgency successfully. In this respect it is easy to confuse these works as simple and certain routes to victory in counterinsurgency. In their commitment to this kind of intellectual combat, as well as on the ground, these authors may not be entirely blameless if this is the case. Do these books really show how to make counterinsurgency a simple endeavour, or point to any shortcuts that will shorten its duration and lower its costs? Not really. They make clear that counterinsurgency is necessarily a costly and bloody business. A careful reader of these two authors will in fact have plenty of indications of this, even if the tone is ultimately positive. The pointers for great strategic prudence in deciding to engage in counterinsurgency are there also. On the other hand, there seems to be shortcut analysis of both theory in Modern Warfare and practice in the Battle of Algiers. The problem is that this only seems possible – to get speedier, more decisive results against insurgents – by using the more brutal methods advocated by Trinquier, which liberal democracies can hardly pursue without significant damage to their legitimacy, as was arguably the case for France between 1958 and 1962. Ultimate success is political in this deeply politicized struggle as both authors underline.

64   B.C. Reis In any case, the enormous gap in technology and power in the world today makes this kind of asymmetrical conflict, using unconventional tactics, likely in the future, regardless of the usual wave of public dissatisfaction that follows after any such costly and protracted campaigns, as has been the case in Iraq and Afghanistan. This is the case even when such actions are successful, which is evidently – given the many challenges to counterinsurgency illustrated by these two authors – far from guaranteed, especially in the latter case. The key element which emerges from the analysis of the work of both these warrior-­scholars is that counterinsurgency is a form of conflict in which coercion and voluntary allegiance are closely linked in a difficult and unstable balance. To rely too much on enemy-­centric force, or on population-­centric propaganda, may risk defeat by forceful ideals or by the force of arms. What they also make tacitly or explicitly clear is how brutal even population-­centric counterinsurgency is. Counterinsurgency, even in a more developed self-­conscious format, is a form of warfare, and population-­centric cannot be equated to population-­friendly; it often entails a high degree of coercion, even if this involves only the massive forced resettlement of populations away from war zones so they cannot lend support and cover to insurgents. Trinquier and Galula offer a paradigmatic illustration of the importance of the linkage between theory and practice in warfare. They also illustrate the challenges and limitations of warrior-­scholars and, even, of well-­thought approaches to counterinsurgency based on ample personal experience. These authors additionally show that the Armed Forces are evidently not made up of blindly obedient officers incapable of original thought. But their careers and clashes with more senior officers also make clear how difficult it is to reconcile the need for military hierarchy and the necessity for innovative thinking about warfare, especially in the case of insurgency and counterinsurgency – a relatively unfamiliar, unconventional form of conflict not often studied in military academies or included in formal guidelines, at least not until fairly recently. Galula makes a statement that many other innovative warrior-­scholars would probably subscribe to: ‘I am not writing this to show what a genius I was, but to point out how difficult it is to convince people, especially in the military, to change traditional ways.’96 But some other officers did see men like Galula and Trinquier as pretentious, not respectful of hierarchy and of standard operating procedure, eager to get the attention of superior officers and politicians. Yet all of this would be required to enable original thought to flourish and to make such thought matter in terms of actually changing organizational practices – a task for which powerful institutional sponsors are indispensable. De Gaulle, in the epigraph to this text, summarizes well the danger and excitement of being a warrior-­scholar. Ironically, he was also arguably both the genesis and the nemesis of French warrior-­scholars committed to counterinsurgency, such as Galula and Trinquier. The traumatic defeat of 1940, and the vindication it gave to de Gaulle’s defence of doctrinal change and the innovative military thinkers who had been dangerously ignored back in the 1930s, had led General Albord to famously described the pre-­1940 École de Guerre/French

Galula, Trinquier and French colonial COIN   65 Staff College, as ‘a school of eunuchs’.97 The implication evidently was that this had to change if France was to be saved from new military disasters. A number of officers, among them Trinquier and Galula, took this to heart, acting on de Gaulle’s words as if they were their motto. They too wanted to give an intellectual edge to their sword and influence the wider world, particularly French defence policy and military operations. The military pronunciamento in May 1958 put de Gaulle back in power, but it understandably awakened widespread fears of a military dictatorship. During his spell in power (1958–1969) de Gaulle, however, very quickly shaped a ‘Clausewitzian presidency’ for himself by asserting his exclusive control over strategic thinking.98 He was, evidently, not hostile to military scholars or to doctrinal innovation per se. He had actually championed it himself in the 1930s. But he did want exclusive control of military politics. His own views as a warrior-­scholar took him in a very different direction from late colonial counterinsurgency, towards decolonization and the establishment of an independent nuclear deterrent.99 Interestingly, both the strongest apologists and the strongest opponents of counterinsurgency doctrine claimed the mantel of modern warfare and of warrior-­scholarship; yet each side saw the future of war and the best military thinking, very differently. The final irony is that it was after being cut off from the French Army by this sudden shift of strategic and doctrinal direction by President de Gaulle, that both Trinquier and Galula decided to devote themselves to publishing their defeated military thinking. This, no doubt, came partly out of an attempt to save their reflections from total oblivion; both believed their ideas would be of practical use in future warfare. If, as President of France, General de Gaulle did not meet the expectations of Trinquier and Galula regarding the advancement of their careers and of their ideas about counterinsurgency, by doing so he made them less warriors but more scholars, unwittingly ensuring that French counterinsurgency would live on, if not in the French Armed Forces, then at least in broader military thinking. Military institutions today would probably be wise to offer reflective soldiers within their ranks less stark choices, and allow modern day warrior-­scholars occasional breaks from their more ordinary military duties to reflect more freely and more analytically on their military experience. This is very different from arguing that military thinkers should stick to any new unconventional counterinsurgency orthodoxy – even if we could find one. It cannot be said that it will be always be strategically wise or militarily sound to resort to counterinsurgency as the best option for Western or global security. There is a lot that can be contested in the thinking and the practice of counterinsurgency as advocated by Galula, and, even more so, by Trinquier. But that does not mean their knowledge and experience are not an important and interesting source for the study of crucial aspects of counterinsurgency both then and now; in theory and in practice, in its positive and in its negative dimensions.

66   B.C. Reis

Notes   1 C. de Gaulle, The Edge of the Sword, London: Faber and Faber, 1960 [original edn. 1932], p. 16.   2 For informative scholarly works on these two campaigns cf. A. Martel, ‘Guerre Froide et Décolonisation: Berlin, Hanoï, Alger’ in A. Martel et al. (eds.), Histoire Militaire de la France. 4. De 1940 à nous jours, Paris: PUF, 1997, pp. 241–88; J. Dalloz, La Guerre d’Indochine 1945–1954, Paris: Seuil, 1987; L. Bodard, La Guerre d’Indochine, Paris: Grasset, 2003; M. Bodin, Dictionnaire de la Guerre d’Indochine, Paris: Economica, 2004; H. le Mire, Histoire Militaire de la Guerre d’Algérie, Paris: Albin Michel, 1982; J.-J. Jauffret and M. Vaïsse (eds.), Militaires et Guérilla dans la Guerre d’Algérie, Bruxelles: Complexe, 2001.   3 J. Nagl and D. Petreaus, ‘Preface’ in D. Galula, Contre-­Insurrection: Théorie et pratique, Paris: Economica, 2008. Online. Available at: www.cdef.terre.defense.gouv.fr/ publications/biblio/contre_insurect/contre_insurect.htm.   4 P. Paret, French Revolutionary Warfare from Indochina to Algeria: The Analysis of a Political and Military Doctrine, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1964, p. 6.   5 E. Luttwak, The Training of Officers: From Military Professionalism to Irrelevance, New York: Free Press, 1990, p. 2.   6 R. Trinquier, Le Temps Perdu, Paris: Albin Michel, 1978, pp. 226–7. All translations from the French are by the author of the text.   7 Ibid., p. 232.   8 C. Lacheroy, ‘La Guerre Révolutionnaire’ in La Défense Nationale, Paris: PUF, 1958, p. 308.   9 P-­M. de la Gorce, The French Army: A Military-­Political History, London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1963, pp. 394–5. 10 D. Galula, Pacification in Algeria 1956–1958, Santa Monica, CA: RAND, 2006 [original edn. 1962], p. 1. 11 Ibid., p. 65. 12 Ibid., p. 179. 13 Ibid., pp. 216–17. 14 Ibid., p. 178. 15 Cf. complete version; Galula, ‘Notes on Pacification of Greater Kabylia’ in Pacification [Appendix 2], pp. 257–98. 16 Galula, Pacification, p. 64. 17 R. Salan, Mémoires: Fin d’un Empire, Paris: Presses de la Cité, 1970, Vol. 3, pp. 48–51. 18 Ibid., p. 68. 19 B. Fall, ‘Introduction’ in R. Trinquier, Modern Warfare: A French view of counter-­ insurgency, London: Pall Mall Press, 1964, p. xv. 20 R. Trinquier, Modern Warfare: A French View of Counterinsurgency, Westport, CT: Praeger, 2006 [orig. French edn. 1961; orig. English edn. 1964], pp.  18–19, 40–1 passim; P. Aussaresses, Battle of the Casbah: Counter-­Terrorism and Torture, New York: Enigma, 2005, pp. 92–3. 21 See, e.g. P. Vidal-­Naquet, La Raison d’État, Paris: La Découverte, 2002 [orig. edn. 1962]; among the best-­documented historical analyses is in R. Branche, La Torture et l’Armée pendant la Guerre d’Algérie (1954–1962), Paris: Gallimard, 2001. 22 Aussaresses, Battle, pp. 122–8. 23 Service Historique de la Défence, Vincennes [henceforth SHD], 1H 2576 Directive CAT XRM to Sector Commanders (22 March 1957). 24 There are several relevant ones at SHD, 1 H 2577 starting with Com X RM EM, Instruction sur la lutte contre la Rebellion et le Terrorisme (30 April 1957). 25 On this see M. Winock, L’Agonie de la IVe République: 13 Mai 1958, Paris: Gallimard, 2006, pp. 25–7; 30–2 passim.

Galula, Trinquier and French colonial COIN   67 26 Trinquier, Le Temps Perdu, p. 259. 27 S. Cohen, La Défaite des Généraux: Le Pouvoir Politique et l’Armée sous la Ve République, Paris: Fayard, 1994, p. 93. 28 General Massu with A.-G. Minella, Entretiens avec le général Massu: Le Soldat Méconnu, Paris: Mame, 1993, pp. 237, 245 passim. 29 Trinquier, Le Temps Perdu, pp. 357, 365. 30 Cited in A. Marlow, ‘Forgotten Founder: The French colonel who wrote the book(s) on counterinsurgency’ in The Weekly Standard, 19 October 2009. Online. Available at: www.theweeklystandard.com/Utilities/printer_preview.asp?idArticle=17054&R=1 638335DEB. 31 Ibid. 32 R. Trinquier, La Guerre, Paris: Albin Michel, pp. 7–8. 33 See obituary in ‘David Galula, 48, French Army Aide’ in New York Times, 12 May 1967. 34 Trinquier, Modern Warfare, pp. 5–8, 48–9, 52. 35 Galula, Counterinsurgency Warfare, pp. 59, 63; see also pp. 1–10. 36 Ibid., p. 56. 37 Ibid., p. 4. 38 Ibid., p. 52. 39 Trinquier, Modern Warfare, pp. 27; see also p. 6 and p. 17. The English edition is not completely followed in this citation and elsewhere; it translates the French word ‘population’ (see R. Trinquier, La Guerre Moderne, Paris: Economica, 2008 [orig. edn. 1961], p. 25) – as ‘populace’. This is a less common expression than population, it potentially has a demeaning undertone, and above all it creates an artificial dissonance with Galula. 40 Galula, Counterinsurgency, pp. 75–94, pp. 81–6. 41 Ibid., p. 7. 42 Galula, Pacification, pp. 21–2. 43 Galula, Counterinsurgency, pp. 88. 44 Trinquier, Modern Warfare, p. 40. 45 Galula, Counterinsurgency, pp. 87–8. 46 Trinquier, Modern Warfare, p. 41. 47 Ibid., pp. 9–42 passim. 48 Ibid., pp. 31–4. 49 Galula, Counterinsurgency, pp. 60, 62. 50 Trinquier, ‘Conducting Counterinsurgency Operations’ in Modern Warfare, pp. 57–74. 51 Galula, Counterinsurgency, pp. 55, 57. 52 Ibid., p. 60. 53 Ibid., pp. 76–7. 54 Trinquier, Modern Warfare, pp. 41–2. 55 Ibid., pp. 3–4, 77–81. 56 Ibid., p. 7. 57 Ibid., p. 41. 58 Galula, Counterinsurgency, pp. 75, 86–7. 59 Trinquier, Modern Warfare, p.  28. Again we do not follow the published English translation. The option to translate ‘hiérarchie’ – cf. Trinquier, La Guerre Moderne, p. 26 – as ‘organization’ seems questionable, and does not convey fully the meaning intended by the author. 60 Trinquier, Modern Warfare, p. 26. 61 Galula, Counterinsurgency, pp. 89–93. 62 Ibid., p. 54. 63 Trinquier, Modern Warfare, pp. 27–8, 48. 64 Galula, Counterinsurgency, pp. 62–3.

68   B.C. Reis 65 R. Trinquier, Les Maquis d’Indochine, Paris: SPL Albatros, 1976. 66 Trinquier, Modern Warfare, pp. 75–88; Trinquier, La Guerre, p. 8. 67 Trinquier, La Guerre, pp. 173–6. 68 Trinquier, Modern Warfare, p. 48. 69 Ibid., p. 39. 70 Galula, Counterinsurgency, p. 88. 71 Ibid., pp. 88, 61. 72 Trinquier, Modern Warfare, p. 42. 73 Ibid., p. 89. 74 Galula, Pacification, p. 64. 75 Ibid., p. 65. 76 Cf. C. Lacheroy, De Saint-­Cyr à la Guerre Psychologique: Mémoires d’un Siècle, Panazol: Lavauzelle, 2003; SHD 1 H 2524 CIPCG X RM (Arzew), La Guerre Révolutionnaire: Leçons de l’Action Communiste en Indochine (Conférence de Lacheroy); C. Lacheroy, ‘La stratégie révolutionnaire du Viêt-minh I-­II’ in Le Monde, 3 and 4 August 1958; SHD, 1H 2409, MDNFA – EMGFA, Paris, Instruction Provisoire sur l’Emplois de l’Arme Psychologique, 29 July 1957. For an analysis focused on this aspect see P. Pahlavi, Guerre Révolutionnaire de l’Armée Française en Algérie 1954–1961, Paris: L’Harmattan, 2004. 77 Col. Bigeard, Contre-­Guérilla, s.l., 3e RPC, 1957, p. 110. See also SHD, 1 H 2577, Note sur la Création du Centre d’Entraînement à la Guerre Subversive à Philippville, E.M. de l’Armée, Paris, 11 April 1958. 78 Trinquier, Le Temps Perdu, p. 271. 79 Galula, Counterinsurgency, p.  65; Trinquier largely agrees with this view, cf. Trinquier, Modern Warfare, pp. 60–1, 72–3. 80 Challe, Notre Révolte, p. 101. 81 On the Challe plan cf. F-­M. Gougeon, ‘The Challe Plan: Vain yet Indispensable Victory’ in Small Wars and Insurgencies, 2005, 16 (3), pp.  293–316. The General himself explains his approach and cites extensively from crucial documents in M. Challe, Notre Révolte, Paris: Presses de la Cité, 1968, pp. 91–105. See also SHD, 1H 1930, Directive Générale Politique N.1 (24 December 1958); DGG et C-­e-C X Region Militaire op. cit. and ibid., Note C-­e-C X Region Militaire, 10 December 1959, appendix La Méthode de pacification generale. SHD 1H 1952, PC Artois, Guide pour l’Action. Opérations Jumelles. 82 Cf. Galula, Pacification, p. 271. 83 F. Malye and B. Stora, François Mitterrand et la Guerra d’Algérie, Paris: Calmann-­ Lévy, 2010, p. 86. 84 B. Stora, Le Mystère de Gaulle: Son Choix pour l’Algérie, Paris: Robert Laffont, 2009. 85 Book Review, ‘Modern Warfare – A French View of Counterinsurgency’ in RUSI Journal, 1964, Vol. 109, p. 270. 86 D. Kilcullen, ‘Counterinsurgency Redux’ in Survival, 2006–2007, 48 (4), p. 125. 87 Trinquier, Modern Warfare, p. 18. 88 For recent echoes of similar claims see, e.g. M. Brown (ed.), Grave New World: Security Challenges in the Twenty-­First Century, Washington DC: Georgetown University Press, 2003, pp. 2–3; or J. Mueller, Remnants of War, Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2007. 89 M. Kaldor, New and Old Wars: Organized Violence in a Global Era, Cambridge: Polity Press, 2000, pp. 6–9, 29–30; M. van Creveld, The Art of War: War and Military Thought, London: Cassel, 2002, pp. 190–217. 90 See M. Kaldor, Human Security: Reflections on Globalization and Intervention, Cambridge: Polity, 2007. 91 B.C. Reis, ‘The Myth of British Minimum Force in Counterinsurgency during the Campaigns of Decolonization’ in Journal of Strategic Studies, 2011, 34 (2), pp. 245–79.

Galula, Trinquier and French colonial COIN   69 92 M. Burleigh, ‘The Craze for Counter-­Insurgency’ in Standpoint, November 2009. Online. Available at: www.standpointmag.co.uk/living-­history-november-­09-michael­burleigh-counter-­insurgency-david-­galula. 93 See, e.g. ‘Modern Warfare – A French View of Counterinsurgency’ in RUSI Journal, 1964, Vol. 109, p. 270. 94 E. Cohen, ‘Introduction’ in R. Trinquier, Modern Warfare, op. cit.; J. Nagl, ‘Introduction’ in D. Galula, Guerrilla Warfare, op. cit.; US Army and Marine Corps Counterinsurgency Field Manual (FM 3.24), Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2007. 95 Cf. A. Alderson, ‘US COIN Doctrine and Practice: an Ally’s Perspective’ in Paramenters, 2007–2008, pp. 33–45; F. Kitson, Low Intensity Operations, London: Faber, 1971, pp. 165–7. For a more detailed analysis of the practical applicability today of these two thinkers, although on other matters our views differ, see also C.F Waterfall, Trinquier and Galula: French counterinsurgency theories in the Algerian War and their Application to Modern Conflicts, Quantico: Marine University, 2009, unpublished in MA Military Studies, pp. 29–38. 96 Galula, Pacification, p. 178. 97 E. Carrias, La Pensée Militaire Française, Paris: PUF, 1960, p. 346. 98 Cohen, La Défaite des Généraux, p. 48. 99 De Gaulle, The Edge of the Sword, p. 41.

4 Warrior-­scholars in the United States Marine Corps From the small wars in the Caribbean to the ‘three block war’ and beyond David Strachan-­Morris When one pictures the archetypal US Marine one is more likely to think of a ‘grunt’ infantryman attacking against all odds than of a scholar in quiet contemplation in his library. There was certainly no room for nuance while storming the beaches at Saipan or breaking out of the encirclement at the Chosin Reservoir. When First Sergeant Dan Daly and his men were pinned down and heavily outnumbered at Belleau Wood in 1918 he didn’t organise a seminar to think through the problem; he exhorted them out of the trenches shouting (according to legend) ‘Come on you sons of bitches! Do you want to live forever’?1 At first glance, then, it would appear strange to devote a chapter to the notion of warrior-­ scholarship in such an organisation. But despite its reputation, the Marine Corps has encouraged innovation, particularly in the field of counterinsurgency. This being the case, it is therefore of merit to adopt an institutional approach in the analysis of the emergence of warrior-­scholars within its ranks. This chapter will look at four warrior-­scholars, spanning three specific periods in the development of counterinsurgency doctrine in the Marine Corps; the early ‘small wars’ period of the first half of the twentieth century; the Vietnam War in the ‘classical counterinsurgency’ period of the 1950s and 1960s; and finally the post-­Cold War era of asymmetric warfare. The first warrior-­scholar, Colonel ‘Red Mike’ Edson was largely responsible for the Marine Corps’ early counterinsurgency doctrine and laid the foundations for those who were to follow. The second, General Victor Krulak, sought to apply what he had learned from contemporary thinkers, such as Sir Robert Thompson, to the Marine Corps’ strategy in Vietnam. The last two, Generals Charles Krulak and Paul Van Riper, saw that the modern battlefield after the end of the Cold War was becoming increasingly complex and multi-­dimensional, requiring greater independence of thought and strategic understanding at all levels. In their own way, these last two used their influence to try to create an entire Marine Corps of professional warrior-­ scholars. Why, then, has the Marine Corps generated such warrior-­scholars? What is it about this organisation that enables it to produce these officers despite an apparent anti-­intellectual mindset? Part of the answer lies in an old joke told by Marines and quoted in General Victor Krulak’s memoirs. On 10 November 1775, the first two Marines to enlist are drinking in the Tun Tavern when one

Warrior-scholars in the US Marine Corps   71 says to the other, ‘They’re after us, they’re after us!’ The second Marine asks ‘Who’s after us?’ The first Marine replies, ‘The Army and the Navy, that’s who!’2 The Marine Corps has almost constantly had to fight for its own existence and for its budget. At least twice in the last hundred years the Corps has almost been legislated out of existence. The Corps was actually abolished at the end of the War of Independence, to be reconstituted in 1798.3 In 1830 and 1867 the Corps was saved by the Navy, who argued that they needed the Marines as ships’ guards, gun crews and landing parties.4 In 1909, a suggestion that the Marines be amalgamated into the Army was fought off by some fairly aggressive political action by the Marines.5 In 1947 the Marines nearly lost their organic air assets, and much of their manpower, in the proposed National Security Act that would have seen them return to their nineteenth century role of simply providing landing parties for the Navy, although some within the military establishment wanted the Corps abolished completely. This time the Marines mobilised a team of officers, which included (at the time) Brigadier General ‘Red Mike’ Edson and Colonel Victor Krulak, to prepare a defence that the Commandant could put to Congress. Eventually the Marines won the day and preserved its service intact, with its air assets and full responsibility for all amphibious doctrine and operations.6 It can, therefore, be seen that the Marine Corps has needed its warrior-­ scholars to help fight these battles for its own existence. The Marines have to continually prove their relevance and be able to meet unexpected challenges. The continual evolution of counterinsurgency strategy has been part of this struggle for existence. It sits at the crux of two key issues for the Marines: first, their need to innovate in order to remain relevant and, second, the desire to find an area of expertise that no other part of the armed forces provides.

The ‘small wars’ era The Marines fought several campaigns against guerrillas in the Caribbean in the first half of the twentieth century. These included actions in Haiti (1915–1934), the Dominican Republic (1916–1924) and Nicaragua (1926–1933), and were collectively known as the ‘Banana Wars’. All three campaigns were conducted in a similar manner. After an initial landing, followed by operations against the guerrillas, the Marines settled into a wider role of providing a stable security environment, which in all three cases included the establishment of a local National Guard or gendarmerie that was trained, and initially led, by Marine officers and NCOs. The Marines also made extensive use of civil affairs during these interventions, even to the extent of establishing a military government in the Dominican Republic. In Haiti the Marines became agents of the civilian government established by the US Navy and the Department of State. In Nicaragua their political role was largely concerned with management of the elections in 1924 and 1928. In each of the campaigns the desired end state was a handover to the local or host nation government. Although the Marines were criticised for

72   D. Strachan-Morris some of their methods, the intellectual product of these campaigns, The Small Wars Manual, is still held to be one of the most influential works on counterinsurgency.7 The major contributor to the manual was Lt. Colonel Merritt Edson, and in fact there is a case to answer in history that he was pretty much the sole author. Edson’s experience in counterinsurgency consisted of a year in Nicaragua, during which he participated in the Coco River patrols between February 1928 and March 1929. Initially instituted as a series of short-­range patrols, Edson was eventually able to get permission to conduct a nine-­month long-­range patrol along the Coco River that dispersed the guerrilla bands and destroyed their base camps. While Edson undoubtedly learned a great deal about the efficacy of small unit tactics in counterinsurgency, it is his general observations on the campaign that were to have the greatest impact on the Marine Corps’ approach. In a hiatus in operations he wrote copious notes in which he addressed the key role that the civilian population plays in counterinsurgency. He concluded that the Marines needed to gain the support of the local population by good treatment, an attempt to understand the people and actual example of our forces. . . . Any sign of oppression, poor faith in fulfilling obligations etc., will only result in hindering our operations and may lead to active opposition. The more intelligent inhabitants will become pro-­Marine if properly handled.8 This key point is the foundation of much of modern counterinsurgency theory and was addressed in the Small Wars Manual in its chapters on military government and civil affairs. Before dissecting the production of the Small Wars Manual, it is worth looking at how the Marines developed and disseminated their counterinsurgency doctrine during this time because this shows how, as an institution, the Marine Corps fostered learning from its experience and the development of new doctrine. Edson was by no means a maverick, and this institutional willingness to learn and adapt is an important element in the emergence of the warrior-­scholars still to come. Keith Bickel examined this in great detail in his work Mars Learning.9 Bickel’s study reveals a number of interesting things. First, that learning occurred on a local level. Despite the fact that the Dominican and Haitian campaigns were being fought on the same island almost concurrently, there was little or no cross-­pollination of ideas, and the commanders in both campaigns appear to have settled on the same strategy independently.10 Second, although the situation should have changed by the time the Marines became involved in Nicaragua, it appears that the Corps went through the same learning curve as it did in Haiti and the Dominican Republic. Bickel puts this down to the absence of training in counterinsurgency at Marine Corps schools and the deployment of new officers who had not served in either of the previous campaigns, although informal mechanisms did exist.11 The Marine Corps Gazette and Naval Institute Proceedings were used as informal means of passing on lessons learned and

Warrior-scholars in the US Marine Corps   73 debating doctrine, although most articles concentrated on the military aspects of small wars rather than civil affairs or pacification. The pace of publication of articles relating to small wars accelerated between 1927 and 1941, with at least half of the articles being either solicited by the Headquarters of the US Marine Corps, or official ‘after action’ reports, printed in order that the lessons learned could be passed on to Marines still in the field.12 For the first time, Marines in the field had access to lessons learned not just from their comrades in the same campaign, but by those who had gone before. Following the Nicaragua intervention, however, there was a concerted effort to produce a manual on small wars and the subject was taught at Company and Field level schools, with teaching hours peaking between 1934 and 1939. After that, the number of hours devoted to small wars began to drop off again.13 The first attempt by the Corps to produce its own Small Wars Manual was a pamphlet written by Lt. Colonel Harold Utley in 1933. Utley’s work essentially tied together all of the articles, pamphlets, and after action reports on various aspects of counterinsurgency, into one document that he intended for use by officers in a rapidly expanding Corps, who might not have had experience in these types of campaign. The next attempt was the Small Wars Operations Manual in 1935. Edson certainly corresponded with Utley during the production of the 1935 manual but he was by no means its main author. In 1940, by now a Lt. Colonel, Edson was appointed to a board to update the 1935 manual. Although this was a four man board, in practice Edson worked alone to a great extent, and the outcome of his efforts, the Small Wars Manual we know today, bears the clear signs of his experience in Nicaragua and his ideas on the conduct of small wars. Of particular importance for the future of Marine Corps counterinsurgency was Edson’s inclusion of a chapter on the use of local auxiliary forces. While this had been an important factor in all of the small wars of the 1920s and 1930s, it had been omitted from the 1935 manual.14 Edson’s recognition of the importance of local forces presaged the Marines’ later successes with them in Vietnam and Iraq. To put this into greater perspective, the Marine Corps in the early part of the twentieth century was organisationally innovative. Major General John A. Lejeune instituted the Marine Corps Gazette as a means of disseminating knowledge and lessons learned, thereby creating a more educated officer cadre. The Marines also experimented with the use of aircraft in a ground support role during the ‘small wars’. General Lejeune also authorised the journey of Lt. Colonel Earl H. ‘Pete’ Ellis to study the Pacific, which was to result in the publication of his plan for the defence of the region using the Marine Corps to take, hold and defend key naval bases. While not nearly as prophetic as Marine Corps legend would have it, the emergence of new doctrine on counterinsurgency and on amphibious warfare fed into the debate on where the Corps should place greatest emphasis in its primary role. As it was, the Marines chose the second option and, under Major General Ben H. Fuller, developed the Fleet Marine Force that was to be so effective in the Pacific theatre of operations in the Second World War.15

74   D. Strachan-Morris

Vietnam In the Vietnam era arguably the most influential character behind the Marines’ strategy was General Victor Krulak. His interest in counterinsurgency began when he was appointed Special Assistant to the Joint Chiefs of Staff for Counterinsurgency Activities in 1962, a position he held until 1964. He had already established a reputation as an innovator within the Marine Corps and during his career he had worked on the introduction of front-­ramp landing craft and helicopters to the Corps in the 1930s and 1950s respectively. While in Washington he was heavily influenced by the counterinsurgency principles promulgated by Sir Robert Thompson, who had been prominent in the British campaign in Malaya. While serving as Special Assistant for Counterinsurgency to the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Krulak met with Thompson a number of times and became convinced that Thompson’s principles, established in Malaya, were key to a successful campaign in Vietnam.16 General Krulak was also influenced by earlier French experiences during the Indochina War. He cites two works in particular: Philippe Devillers’ Histoire du Vietnam, 1940 d’ 1952 and General Henri Navarre’s Agonie de l’Indochinie, 1953–1954 (Plon, Paris, 1952). When looking for a role for the US Marines in Vietnam, Krulak studied the French riverborne operations in the Mekong Delta but rejected this as a mission for the Marines because he did not want to do the same as the French, but ‘only a few miles an hour faster’. He recognised the political nature of the war in Vietnam and was determined that the Marines should concentrate on the war among the people, in the event of their deployment.17 The US armed forces were forced to address the issue of counterinsurgency by President Kennedy, who was determined to counter the ‘small wars of liberation’ called for by the Soviet leader Nikita Khrushchev. On 30 November 1961 he called the Army’s senior commanders to the White House to address the issue of counterinsurgency, and he continued to apply pressure over the next few months by continually asking what progress was being made. The Army’s reaction (outside of the Special Forces) was largely negative, believing that counterinsurgency was simply a smaller version of conventional war and largely unnecessary in the context of Vietnam.18 This is explored in greater depth in Andrew Krepinevich’s The Army and Vietnam. On the face of it, the Marine Corps’ response appeared as negative as that of the US Army. The Corps, already going through a period of change from the large Corps of the Second World War and Korean War into a smaller and more streamlined ‘Force in Readiness’, adopted the position that counterinsurgency was nothing new, but did acknowledge that it was a unique form of warfare in its own right. The Marine Corps therefore felt that no change was needed to its existing doctrine or force composition. General David Shoup, Commandant of the Marine Corps between 1962 and 1964, was particularly sceptical of the ‘modern’ theories of counterinsurgency and was confident that the existing body of knowledge within the Corps, plus its own ethos of small unit leadership and

Warrior-scholars in the US Marine Corps   75 flexibility, would suffice. Krulak put it more bluntly and said that the Marines were ‘obtuse’, relying on their previous experience and only paying ‘lip service’ to the President.20 Despite the existence of the Small Wars Manual, it is often argued that the Marines’ strategy in Vietnam was based more on contemporary counterinsurgency thinking than its own pre-­war experience. Some scholars have argued that the Marine Corps ‘lost’ the expertise it had gained in earlier counterinsurgency during the middle part of the twentieth century, when small wars were overshadowed by the Second World War and Korea, and that the doctrine developed in the 1960s was mainly based upon the US Army and British doctrines derived from their experiences in the Philippines and Malaya respectively. Senior Marine officers even acknowledged this loss of counterinsurgency skills in their writings. In April 1950, for example, Lt. Colonel Robert Heinl submitted an article to the Marine Corps Gazette, in which he lamented the loss of expertise in small­unit operations and urged the Corps to address this issue as a matter of urgency because ‘the next war, if any, may find a very large volume of [small unit operations] going begging’. Although Lt. Col. Heinl was mainly referring to small unit commando or partisan-­type operations in the context of a wider Eurasian war, he included ‘small wars’ in the list of specialisations the Corps should consider developing.21 With particular respect to the Small Wars Manual, Ronald Schaffer claimed that the officer who prepared the Marine Corps counterinsurgency manual in 1960 was unaware of the existence of the 1940 manual.22 There is considerable dispute over the use of the Manual during the development of counterinsurgency doctrine in the 1960s. Some accounts (such as Schaffer’s above) state that it was not used at all, whereas others refer to it specifically and it is definitely referred to in the Commandant’s foreword and sources for the 1962 edition of the Marines’ manual. Arguably, Shaffer is being somewhat disingenuous as the ‘study’ of guerrilla tactics produced in 1960 was a collection of recent articles on counterinsurgency and was more of a guide to contemporary literature on the subject rather than a new manual in its own right. In many ways this whole argument is something of a red herring – what is important is that it was clear that the doctrine contained in the Small Wars Manual existed within the Corps, either physically in the form of the new manuals or in the institutional memories of the older members of the Corps. If this was not the case, then the adoption of the methods suggested in the manual within a few months of arrival in Vietnam, before the Marines were even tasked with offensive operations against the Viet Cong, represents an astonishing ability to convert to a completely different method of warfare from the one the Corps had been engaged in for most of the preceding 20 years. Bear in mind that between 1941 and 1965 the Marines’ main experience had been in large-­scale conventional warfare in the Second World War and Korea. What was clear in the early stages of the Marines’ deployment is that local initiatives were the order of the day. In the three coastal areas where Marines were deployed to protect airfields and other installations, local commanders seized upon civil affairs and ‘pacification’ as force multipliers and the Combined 19

76   D. Strachan-Morris Action Platoons program, often cited as one of the more successful aspects of the war, actually started as a local initiative in the area around Da Nang.23 In fact, General Shoup’s assertion that pacification was nothing new to the Marines does appear to have been borne out in the early days of their involvement in Vietnam. The ability to learn and adapt is shown in the iterations of the Marines’ manual on counterinsurgency, the later editions of which were based upon lessons learned in the field. The last edition produced during the war in 1967 shows clear signs of this – especially in regard to matters concerning the civil population. The chapter on that alone expanded from four to 20 pages. The Marine Corps Gazette once again became the main means of disseminating knowledge on counterinsurgency. In addition to Marines, the Gazette published articles by Peter Paret, Bernard Fall, Basil Liddell-­Hart and, of course, Mao Tse-­ Tung and General Giap. In all, there were 525 articles on counterinsurgency in the Gazette between 1960 and 1968 – that works out to about five per month.24 Following his posting to Washington, Krulak was appointed as Commanding General Fleet Marine Force Pacific (CG FMFPac). Although not in operational command of the Marine forces in Vietnam, he was responsible for their administration, training and equipment. He was also the senior Marine Corps advisor to the Commander-­in-Chief Pacific (CinCPac), who was in command of all forces in the Southeast Asia theatre of operations. This put him in a position to influence Marine commanders in Vietnam and gave him sufficient seniority to approach the JCS, and even the President, with his views on counterinsurgency and its application to the war in Vietnam. He had the support of the Commandant of the Marine Corps and Admiral Sharp (CinCPac) in presenting his ideas to the Secretary of Defense, Robert McNamara. During his time as CG FMFPac, Krulak visited the Marines in Vietnam frequently to see the situation for himself and receive briefings from units on the ground. He even visited Khe Sanh during the siege in early 1968. His optimistic view of the efficacy of the Marines’ counterinsurgency, which was contained in monthly reports, were (and still are) referred to as ‘Krulak’s Fables’, with the ever-­improving figures seeming to contradict the situation on the ground. A large part of the reason is that the metrics used were a mix of measurements of inputs and outputs, so increased effort was seen as ‘success’ without necessarily measuring the effects. This mistake has been rectified in FM  3–24, the latest US Army/Marine Corps counterinsurgency field manual, which makes a distinction between Measures of Effectiveness (MOE) and Measures of Performance (MOP). MOE ‘focus on the results or consequences of actions’ in order to assess progress towards the desired end state.25 MOP simply measure whether a task or action was ‘performed as the commander intended’.26 In the Marines’ Revolutionary Development indices, these indicators were mixed and therefore were not accurate indicators of progress. ‘Krulak’s Fables’ were in fact indicating that the Marines were performing as their commanders intended and, therefore, were giving a ‘false positive’ in terms of progress towards actual pacification. Krulak was ultimately unsuccessful in having his strategy fully implemented – the war was much bigger than the Marines and could not be won by counterinsurgency

Warrior-scholars in the US Marine Corps   77 methods in South Vietnam alone. The legacy of the Marines’ counterinsurgency strategy can, however, still be seen in Iraq and Afghanistan. General Krulak’s drive to enact a counterinsurgency approach in Vietnam is indicative of a number of Marine Corps characteristics. First, the ‘strategy debate’ was a manifestation of the continual rivalry between the Corps and the US Army, with the Corps’ constant need to demonstrate a difference between the two in order to prove continued relevance as a service. Second, it is demonstrative of the continued development of counterinsurgency doctrine by blending contemporary scholarship on the subject with lessons learned through the Corps’ own experience in the field. But it also shows the constant problem the Corps has with resources and the need to always do more with less. The Fleet Marine Force Composition and Organization Board, also known as the ‘Hogaboom Board’ after its chairman, left the Marines as a fairly light organisation heavily reliant on naval gunfire and logistics to conduct operations on land.27 Sound counterinsurgency doctrine in Vietnam, therefore, was the solution to the problem of securing the coastal bases with the fewest possible resources. Large-­ scale inland operations would always be problematic for the Marine Corps and, therefore, it is not surprising that they sought to avoid them in Vietnam.

The ‘three block war’ In Learning to Eat Soup With a Knife John Nagl wrote that ‘the key variable explaining when militaries will adapt to changes in warfare is the creation of a consensus among the leaders of the organization that such an innovation is in the long term interests of the organization itself ’.28 This statement is certainly true of the officers who sought to transform the character of the Marine Corps in the late 1980s and 1990s. These were the first President of the US Marine Corps University, General Paul Van Riper, and the thirty-­first Commandant of the Marine Corps, General Charles Krulak. Between them they tried to create Marines who were skilled in the profession of arms but also able to think for themselves in complex and fast-­changing situations. General Alfred M. Gray served as Commandant between 1987 and 1991. In addition to a range of reforms aimed at re-­introducing a ‘warrior ethos’, he brought together the Marines’ professional military education schools into a single institution – the Marine Corps University – with an expert faculty and a research library. He also disseminated the first Commandant’s Reading List, which sets out the required reading for each rank as a means of developing a sense of the need for Marines to be educated about their profession.29 These were important steps that Generals Van Riper and Krulak would build upon in the following years. General Paul Van Riper served as the first President of the Marine Corps University when it was established in 1989 as part of General Gray’s educational reforms within the Corps. He was convinced of the need to teach military history to Marine Corps officers. In an article in the Marine Corps Gazette in February 1994, he grouped the reasons into three categories. First, military history can be

78   D. Strachan-Morris considered the ‘laboratory’ of the officer as he can gain vicarious experience from his predecessors, recognising that the writer may have a limited perspective on a battle or campaign but this can be overcome by breadth and depth of study. Second, it gives military officers intellectual discipline. Third, he argued that the study of military history helps officers place operational concepts into context. While the study of military history ‘orients an officer within his calling, instils in him the values of the institution he serves, inspires loyalty and reinforces existing traditions’, it also allows the officer to understand the interaction between the various institutions, military and political, that play a role in war.30 General Van Riper first managed to achieve notoriety after his retirement when appointed as ‘Red Force’ commander for an exercise in 2002 entitled ‘Millennium Challenge 02’. The exercise was intended to test and validate the Department of Defense’s ‘military transformation’, using speed, agility, accurate weapons and advanced command and control techniques. Using low-­tech communications, including motorcycle couriers, his force defeated the jamming and interception capabilities of the US military. Then, using a series of cruise missile and simulated suicide attacks he ‘destroyed’ 16 warships, including five of the six amphibious ships containing the landing force. The exercise was halted at that point and reset, with the players following set procedures. At this point General Van Riper resigned his position, stating that the exercise was a waste of $250 million dollars since it was scripted to ensure a Blue Force win. An Army News article later that year described his position: ‘There’s very little intellectual activity. What happens is a number of people are put into a room, given some sort of a slogan and told to write the slogan. That’s not the way to generate new ideas’. He said he had told command officials repeatedly that they should vet new concepts with a process similar to that used in academia, in which ‘people have to present papers and defend their papers’. ‘In the process, good ideas stand the test of the cauldron they’re put in, and come forth, and the ones that aren’t so good get killed off,’ Van Riper said. ‘I haven’t seen anything killed off down there [at Joint Forces Command]. They just keep generating.’31 Van Riper’s notoriety continued when he became one of six former Generals who signed a letter in the spring of 2006 calling for Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld to resign over his handling of the Iraq War. Van Riper’s concern was that, as in Vietnam, technology had been allowed to compensate for ‘boots on the ground’, to the detriment of the counterinsurgency campaign. He continues to write and speak on the nature of modern warfare and continues to have an input into Marine education as the current incumbent of the Donald Bren Chair of Innovation and Transformation at the Marine Corps University. Charles Krulak, the son of General Victor Krulak, was appointed Commandant in July 1995. He is particularly renowned for introducing the concepts of the ‘three block war’ and the ‘strategic corporal’ to the Marine Corps, and his

Warrior-scholars in the US Marine Corps   79 main effort was to create an organisation that could provide these strategic corporals and give them the intellectual tools to fight their three block war. Although written as a reflection of the American experience in Somalia, Bosnia and Haiti, his 1999 article also presaged the current wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. He wrote that: Compounding the challenges posed by this growing global instability will be the emergence of an increasingly complex and lethal battlefield. . . . [T]he lines separating the levels of war and distinguishing combatant from non-­ combatant will blur and adversaries, confounded by our technical superiority will resort to asymmetrical means to redress the imbalance. Further complicating the situation will be the ever-­present media whose presence will mean that all future conflicts will be acted out before an international audience.32 Krulak went on to prescribe a three step process to prepare junior leaders for this environment. First, the selection and training of ‘bold, capable and intelligent men and women of character’ who would have the virtues of honour, courage and commitment instilled in them. The second stage is ongoing professional military education with an ‘emphasis on the growth of integrity, courage, initiative, decisiveness, mental agility and personal accountability’. The final stage is leadership that eliminates the ‘zero defect mentality’ and allows Marines ‘the freedom to fail’.33 This last stage was embodied in the US Marine Warfighting Manual, published in 1997, while General Krulak was Commandant. The Warfighting Manual stated that Marines should be experts in the art of war, with professional military education as an ongoing element of their careers. The idea is that Marines should be capable of independent thought within a decentralised command environment, using their initiative to achieve the commander’s intent (mission command).34 In the Warfighting Manual, it is also made clear that boldness and initiative should be encouraged, even if this led to mistakes, because these are ‘a necessary part of learning’, but acknowledged that there was a line between boldness leading to error and acting ‘stupidly and recklessly’.35 Enabled by the intellectual tools provided by Generals Van Riper and Krulak (who were indeed following on from the traditions of earlier generations) the Corps learned and adapted quickly to the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. Prior to the first battle for Fallujah in 2004, the Marines in Anbar were all set for a counterinsurgency campaign of the type they had fought in Vietnam, but were unfortunately overtaken by events.36 It is certainly no surprise that the Awakening Movement, given much of the credit for turning the tide in Iraq, originated in the Marines’ area of operations. Although an Army initiative, the Marine commanders allowed it to go ahead even though they were sceptical of its utility because they believed that the Army was reaching out to the wrong local leaders. The Marines were pursuing their own initiative to talk to more senior leaders and had recognised the growing gulf between the local population and Al-­Qaeda.37

80   D. Strachan-Morris Despite the extra effort now being made by the Corps to provide professional military education, there is a concern within the Corps that it is failing to produce warrior-­scholars of the calibre it needs to develop doctrine in the future. In December 2009 Lt. Colonel Michael Grice wrote an article in the Marine Corps Gazette entitled Where is Our Kilcullen?, in which he argued that the Marine Corps was falling behind other services intellectually because of the lack of provision for Marine Officers to obtain doctoral-­level qualifications. Grice pointed out that although the Marine Corps has generated officers in the past that have been able to demonstrate great intellectual prowess, it does not have ‘a systemic way to develop and educate officers to a level consistent with our Army, Navy, Air Force, and coalition counterparts’, citing General David Petraeus, Colonel Peter Mansoor and Colonel H.R. McMaster of the US Army as examples, all of whom hold military-­funded PhDs. In addition to the boost such a programme would give to the Corps internally, Grice further argues that the Corps runs the danger of being marginalised in future strategy debates because it ‘cannot force its way to the planning table if the credentials required for a seat include a doctorate and the credibility that it provides’.38 Grice may be overstating his case – after all, Marines were involved in writing the new US Army/US Marine Corps Counterinsurgency Field Manual (FM  3–24) – but the provision of doctoral level education would be consistent with the visions of General Krulak and General Van Riper, who stressed the need to prepare officers for increasingly complex environments. Within the Marine Corps of the ‘Three Block War’ era there were more widespread efforts to incorporate lessons learned and use new techniques (or at least relearn old ones). The participation in the new field manual on counterinsurgency, which combined lessons learned in Iraq with lessons from history and recent experience is a positive indication of this. But in recent years the Marine Corps has again had to ask itself what its core function is and, this time, counterinsurgency features heavily along with the emphasis on littoral operations. The Corps has had to differentiate itself from the other services by stating its ability to operate ‘on the seam between sea and land’ and conduct ‘small wars’ with minimal resources.39

Conclusion: warrior-­scholars and the survival of the Marine Corps The development of the US Marine Corps counterinsurgency doctrine and the prominence of the four warrior-­scholars examined here can be seen as a progression during the twentieth century. It starts with the impact of Colonel Corson, a relatively junior officer, working at a time when the Corps satisfied a few of the criteria of a learning organisation and began to develop its counterinsurgency doctrine with the Small Wars Manual. The Corps moved a stage further with General Victor Krulak, who had assimilated the lessons of the past, as well as those of his contemporaries in the British and French armies, and sought to apply them through his influence over Marine strategy in Vietnam. The Corps also

Warrior-scholars in the US Marine Corps   81 demonstrated the ability to relearn old lessons and learn new ones, fulfilling more of Nagl’s criteria along the way. In the final stage, Generals Van Riper and Charles Krulak, serving at the very highest levels of the Corps, saw the need for the Marines to become an organisation in which warrior-­scholars could be created. In May 2010 Secretary of Defense Robert Gates asked since the Marines have essentially, both in Iraq and Afghanistan, played the role of second land Army, what differentiates them from the Army? And what is their mission going forward that makes them unique? We will always have a Marine Corps. But the question is, how do you define the mission post Iraq, post Afghanistan?40 The Marines responded in June 2010 with Marine Corps Operating Concepts: Assuring Littoral Access . . . Proven Crisis Response.41 In this document the Marines argued that they were uniquely able to ensure access to bridge ‘the difficult seam between operations at sea and on land’ because of their history, training and expertise as ‘soldiers from the sea’.42 While the Army, Navy and Air Force can concentrate on one domain (land, sea or air), the Marines are able to operate at the nexus of all three.43 Thus, the Marines could make the argument to retain not only their amphibious role, but also their organic air assets. The Marines argued that their unique ability and level of preparedness allowed them to respond to a wide range of crises, including humanitarian support, and project power into littoral areas to overcome ‘access challenges’ to ‘enable more complex and comprehensive operations’.44 In Marine Operating Concepts, the Marines also contributed to the debate on the nature of counterinsurgency and ‘irregular threats’. Chapter 7 of Operating Concepts was as much a treatise on counterinsurgency as it was an argument for the Marine Corps’ role in irregular warfare. Notably, the Marines employed the term ‘small wars’ throughout the document deliberately, not only to argue that contingency operations are not only insurgencies, but ‘as a reminder that we’ve excelled at these complex missions for a long time’.45 In short, Operating Concepts is an example of the type of warrior-­scholarship that the Marine Corps has often had to employ to address its own doctrine and respond to existential challenges. The warrior-­scholars discussed in this chapter have been the result of an institutional need as much as a doctrinal need. Not only have they had to be students of the profession of arms in order to fight the current battle (and consider the future battle), they have had to be able to answer the question ‘what are the Marines for?’ They are probably unique among warrior-­scholars in this respect and demonstrate that institutional background is as important as personal background in creating warrior-­scholars.

82   D. Strachan-Morris

Notes   1 A. Axelrod, Miracle at Belleau Wood: The Birth of the Modern US Marine Corps, Guilford, CT: The Lyons Press, 2007, p. 145.   2 General V. Krulak, First to Fight: An Inside View of the US Marine Corps, Annapolis, MD: United States Naval Institute, 1984, p. 5.   3 A.R. Millett Semper Fidelis: A History of the United States Marine Corps, New York, NY: The Free Press, 1991, pp. 26–8.   4 Ibid., p. 61 and p. 102.   5 Ibid., pp. 140–3.   6 Ibid., pp. 456–64; and Krulak, First to Fight, pp. 15–38.   7 United States Marine Corps, Small Wars Manual, Washington, DC: HQ United States Marine Corps, 1940.   8 Capt. M.A. Edson, personal papers, quoted in J.T. Hoffman, Once a Legend: “Red  Mike Edson” of the Marine Raiders, Novato, CA: Presidio Press, 2004, pp. 99–100.   9 K. Bickel, Mars Learning: The Marine Corps Development of Small Wars Doctrine 1915–1940, Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 2001. 10 Ibid., Tables 2.1, 3.1 and 4.1. 11 Ibid., p. 161. 12 Ibid., p. 179. 13 Ibid., Figure 6.1. 14 Hoffman, Once a Legend, pp.  99–100 and p.  123. Also Bickel, Mars Learning, pp. 213–16, p. 219, pp. 224–7, pp. 239–44. 15 Millett, Semper Fidelis, pp. 261–3 and pp. 329–43. 16 Krulak, First to Fight, p. 180. 17 F. Benis, transcript of interview with Gen. V. Krulak, Washington, DC: US Marine Corps Historical Division, Oral History Section. Interview conducted on 23 June 1970. 18 A. Krepinevich, The Army and Vietnam, Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1986, pp. 36–8. 19 General Shoup’s testimony to the House Armed Services Committee Hearings on Defense Appropriations for FY 1964, quoted in Millett, Semper Fidelis, p. 548. 20 Benis interview with Krulak, p. 188. 21 Lt. Colonel R.D. Heinl, ‘Small Wars – Vanishing Art?’ in Marine Corps Gazette, April 1950. 22 R. Schaffer, introduction to Small Wars Manual, 1940; reprint, Manhattan, KS: Sunflower University Press, 1996, p.  xii. Unfortunately, Schaffer does not name the officer or elaborate any further on the matter. 23 M. Peterson, The Combined Action Platoons: The US Marines’ Other War in Vietnam, New York, NY: Praeger, 1989, pp. 23–4. 24 Based on word searches of the Marine Corps Gazette online archives. When the terms ‘insurgent’, ‘guerrilla’, ‘counterinsurgency’, ‘counter-­insurgency’, ‘counterguerrilla’ and ‘insurgency’ were entered into a free text search of the entire magazine for the period there were 525 returns. There were 73 returns when these terms were entered into a search of headlines only during the same period. 25 US Army and Marine Corps Counterinsurgency Field Manual (FM 3–24), Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2007, p. 189. 26 Ibid., p. 190. 27 United States Marine Corps, ‘FMF Organization and Composition Report: The Division’, reproduced in the Marine Corps Gazette, April 1957. 28 J. Nagl, Learning to Eat Soup with a Knife: Counterinsurgency Lessons from Malaya and Vietnam, Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 2005, p. 216. 29 Millett, Semper Fidelis, pp. 632–4.

Warrior-scholars in the US Marine Corps   83 30 General P. van Riper, ‘The Use of Military History in the Professional Military Education of Officers’ in Marine Corps Gazette, February 1994, pp. 50–1. 31 Sean D. Naylor, ‘War Games Rigged?’ in Army Times, 16 August 2002. Online. Available at: www.armytimes.com/legacy/new/0–292925–1060102.php. 32 General C. Krulak, ‘The Strategic Corporal: Leadership in the Three Block War’ in Marine Corps Gazette, January 1999, p. 16. 33 Ibid., p. 17. 34 United States Marine Corps, MCDP-­1 Warfighting, Washington, DC: HQ USMC, 1997, pp. 61–4. 35 Ibid., p. 57. 36 T.E. Ricks, ‘Marines to Offer New Tactics in Iraq: Reduced Use of Force Planned After Takeover From Army’ in Washington Post, 7 January 2004, p. A10. 37 T E. Ricks, The Gamble, London, UK: Allen Lane, 2009, p. 63. 38 Lt. Colonel M.D. Grice, ‘Where is Our Kilcullen?’ in Marine Corps Gazette, December 2009. Online. Available at: www.mca-­marines.org/gazette/dec09-where_ is_our_kilcullen.asp. 39 United States Marine Corps (USMC), Marine Corps Operating Concepts: Assuring Littoral Access . . . Proven Crisis Response, Washington, DC: United States Marine Corps, June 2010. 40 R.M. Gates, Remarks at the Command and General Staff College, 7 May 2010. Online. Available at: www.defense.gov/transcripts/transcript.aspx?transcriptid=4623. 41 USMC, Marine Corps Operating Concepts. 42 Ibid., p. 1 and p. 7. 43 Ibid., p. 3. 44 Ibid., p. 12 and p. 10. 45 Ibid., p. 11.

5 A very sharp eye Moshe Dayan’s counterinsurgency legacy in Israel Eitan Shamir

Moshe Dayan’s is considered Israel’s greatest general and by many as one of the best generals and military minds the world saw in the second half of the twentieth century.1 The following chapter explores a somewhat neglected aspect of his famous military career: his ideas and practices towards counterinsurgency (COIN) campaigns. Indeed, much attention has been given to Moshe Dayan’s role in shaping the Israeli Defense Forces (IDF ) culture and of course to his central role, first as Chief of Staff in the 1956 Suez campaign and later as Defense Minister during both the 1967 Six Day War and 1973 Yom Kippur War. However, before, between and during these large conventional engagements the IDF was busy with what it called ‘Current Security Operations’ – small military operations against Arab insurgency.2 One could argue that Moshe Dayan does not truly adhere to the classic definition of a ‘warrior-­scholar’, a type of soldier who is often described as one that combines periods of action followed by a reflective and learning period. The warrior-­scholar is characterized by their constant attempt to make sense and to theorize their personal experience and the experiences of others, and then return to field with the intent of applying their theory and conceptual approach to a real case. Probably the best contemporary representation of this model, as James Russell analyzes in this volume, is US Army General David Petreaus. However, this archetype is less common in IDF history. The model itself stands as a contradiction to the IDF culture and ethos, whose chief architect was Moshe Dayan himself. The IDF way of learning mirrors, for better or worse, Dayan’s own image.3 Moshe Dayan was a self-­learner and an autodidact. Like most of the Israeli leadership he felt that his military occupation was born out of necessity and not by choice. As such his attitude towards the study of war did not stem from professional interest or an intellectual desire to understand war as an intellectual phenomenon. Rather it was always driven by practical needs. It was more about finding solutions to the immediate and concrete issues he and the nation faced rather than seeking to develop a general concept or theory of war. Therefore his thought development coincides with the challenges he and the IDF faced. However, that said, Dayan had incredible intellectual abilities. He was curious about people and places; was open to changing his mind; applied critical

Moshe Dayan and Israeli counterinsurgency   85 thinking; was imaginative; and took nothing for granted. Most importantly, his views on major strategic issues constantly evolved. These characteristics led him to Vietnam where he was employed as a journalist. This was his opportunity to be an outside observer on a complex conflict he was not personally involved in and to develop his thoughts on this type of war, so different from the large conventional wars he was so familiar with in the IDF. This learning experience came into effect in his thinking after the Six Day War.

Dayan’s formal learning: a reflective practitioner Like many career officers Dayan had formal learning periods, including military courses in Israel and Britain. Dayan also attended university as a civilian student. However, these experiences did not prove to be formative in Dayan’s thought development. Following the conclusion of Israel’s War of Independence in 1948, Dayan finally found the time to complete his military education. He spent nine months attending military courses during 1950 and 1951. The first official command course above the officers course that Dayan joined was the six-­month IDF Brigade Commander Course, which taught students universal and generic solutions to tactical problems. Dayan rejected this approach; he sought a way to contextualize the problems. ‘You can teach this in West Point but not in Israel,’ he said to his instructors in reference to a defense plan presented by the instructors that left out many of Israel’s border settlements.4 For his graduation ceremony he produced a caricature in which he compared the instructors to wise owls and himself to a cunning fox. The poem that came with it suggested that the owl is a master of formal military knowledge but is lacking the fox’s agility to adapt to changing circumstances.5 Next, Dayan attended a three-­month senior commander’s course in Britain which he seemed to value more, to the extent that he asked to be allowed to stay for another course, a request that was denied. He learned about the conduct of armored formations, which was new to him. He mostly appreciated the planning exercise in which he learned methodological thinking. The course emphasized, wrote Dayan, ‘not the result but rather how to think and plan.’ It was about asking the right questions and deriving at the basic assumptions that the instructors were interested in, not providing a school solution.6 Dayan also attended the Hebrew University in Jerusalem in 1958 for two years and received a BA in Political Science and Middle Eastern History. Based on his own memoires and other testimonies, historian Martin van Creveld summarized this period in Dayan’s life: Dayan dismissed these two years by saying that ‘they were like a vacation and like most vacations they did not leave a deep impression.’ This contempt for academia was a by-­product of the fighting spirit he himself had done so much to instill. In 1957 when Ben Gurion suggested that every officer should attend a university as a matter of right, Dayan rejected the

86   E. Shamir idea. It was a suggestion to be realized only in 1997. . . . Until then, the IDF continued to share his own belief that the best way to study war was to prepare for it and fight it. He spent much of his time in the university cafeteria. . . . However one professor, the late David Flusser, considered him the most intelligent of all officers he ever taught. During examination he cheated like mad not at all abashed and not at all hindered by having just one eye. . . . He didn’t, however, bother to take his degree.7 However, it would be wrong to think of Dayan as one who was opposed to learning and gaining knowledge. It is clear Dayan resented learning in a bureaucratic setting; first and foremost he saw himself as a practitioner. His trip to Vietnam to closely study the Vietnam War proves his intellectual curiosity and preference for learning outside the classroom. As Andrew Mumford and Bruno Reis argue in the first chapter of this volume, warrior-­scholars can be grouped into two categories: those who ‘are more “scholar” than “warrior” ’ and those who ‘are more “warrior” than “scholar.” ’ The second group consists primarily of practitioners who have a systematic analytical approach to warfare, an interest in military history, and know where to find, develop, and apply the answers.8 Dayan certainly fits more with the latter category. Moreover, Dayan’s mode of learning as a practitioner fits the definition of a ‘reflective practitioner,’ a definition that was coined and developed by the organizational psychologist Donald Schon. In his book The Reflective Practitioner, Schon explains that reflective practice is ‘the capacity to reflect on action so as to engage in a process of continuous learning’ and that it involves ‘paying critical attention to the practical values and theories which inform everyday actions, by examining practice reflectively and reflexively. This leads to developmental insight.’ Important to this discussion, Schon notes that reflective practice ‘can be an important tool . . . where individuals learn from their own professional experiences, rather than from formal teaching or knowledge.’ According to Schon, the practitioner reflects on the phenomenon before him, and on the prior understandings which have been implicit in his behavior. He carries out an experiment which serves to generate both a new understanding of the phenomenon and a change in the situation. To do this we do not closely follow established ideas and techniques – textbook schemes. We have to think things through, for every case is unique. However, we can draw on what has gone before. This chapter argues that Dayan’s mode of learning adheres to this type of learning.9 Most of Dayan’s learning and new ideas were developed by the cycle of his own actions and reactions, and formed by his never-­ending curiosity and creativity to learn from each situation and experience.

Moshe Dayan and Israeli counterinsurgency   87

Dayan and the contemporary counterinsurgency debate In western military intellectual circles the issue of coping with non-­state rivals has been defined around the concept of counterinsurgency. COIN theory suggests that the conventional Clausewitzian Trinity (government, population and the military10) is fundamentally altered as insurgents act to overthrow the government while relying on the population’s support for cover and legitimacy. Therefore the classic symmetry between government versus government and military versus military is violated.11 In conventional wars, winning a war is achieved by a sequential process that includes forcing the rival’s government to surrender after neutralizing its military. The situation is less clear in COIN where there is a blurring of government, military and population. The scholarly literature today offers two schools of thought regarding the best way to cope with insurgencies.12 The first could be characterized as enemy-­centric, this approach suggests that COIN is not fundamentally different from conventional wars, thus the purpose and main effort of the campaign should focus on neutralizing the military wing by directly locating and engaging them. ‘A war is war is a war’ as one American officer once stated.13 The second approach is known as population-­centric. This approach focuses its main effort on gaining the support of the population and by so doing depriving the insurgents of their main livelihood. The debates over the best approach for the involvement of the US-­led coalition in Iraq, and NATO in Afghanistan, were mostly carried out in the context of these two approaches. Many opined that the US military focused too much on killing the enemy rather than on gaining the population support or winning ‘hearts and minds.’14 In the process civilians suffered as a result of the fighting and therefore increased their support for the insurgents. One such proponent was John Nagl, who called for ‘nation building rather than the destruction of the enemy army.’15 Nagl was one of the key authors of the joint US Army and Marine Corps Counter-­Insurgency Field Manual (FM) 3–24 that advocated focusing on the population’s needs while warning against ‘overemphasizing killing and capturing the enemy rather than securing and engaging the populace.’16 The debates continue as some analysts remain convinced that the main effort should be directed towards annihilating the insurgents. One such critic is the Australian Army Brigadier General Justin Kelly who said provocatively ‘we should be doing more killings and fewer good deeds.’17 Moshe Dayan came upon COIN throughout his career. His approach towards COIN evolved and changed over time between these two approaches according to the historical context but also as a result of a long personal process of lessons and reflection. As a young soldier he learned to believe in the utility of employing hard measures directed against the population and emphasized retaliation for the purpose of deterrence. Under the circumstances these measures often achieved their objectives. Later on, as a senior commander, he understood the limitations of employing only kinetic force in such conflicts. Finally, as Defense Minister, he opted for a novel approach that aimed to develop the population and neutralized their anti-­Israeli sentiment following the Israeli occupation.

88   E. Shamir

Four periods of learning Dayan’s learning path can be divided into four major periods. The first, under the British Mandate, between 1936–1948, included Dayan’s early experiences and education in combat where he learned the tools of the trade under Charles Orde Wingate and Yitschak Sadeh.18 During that period he was either fighting Arab insurgencies or was an insurgent himself, fighting alongside the Palmach against British rule in Palestine. In the second period, 1953–1958, following the end of the Independence War and the establishment of the state of Israel, Dayan found himself as the IDF Chief of Staff. His main challenge was Arab infiltrators across the border from Egypt and Jordan. In response, Dayan developed the concept of the punitive raid as the main instrument of policy. In the third period, Dayan came across COIN in a passive role. In 1966, a few years after he embarked on a political career, he took a career pause and decided to go to Vietnam as an observer. The experience proved to be formative. His experiences from that period served as a source of influence for the policy Dayan developed in the immediate aftermath of the Six Day War (1967) as Defense Minister, when the IDF won its greatest military victory over the combined armies of Egypt, Jordan and Syria and in the process occupied territories inhabited by more than one million Palestinians.19 In this new reality, Dayan’s policy was very different from anything he had been associated with in the past. It was a policy that promoted maximum economic and political freedom for the occupied population, a policy that Dayan termed as an ‘open bridges policy.’ Dayan’s apprenticeship Moshe Dayan was born in 1915 in Palestine, and grew up in Nahalal, a Jewish rural settlement in the north of the country surrounded by Arab villages and an Arab population. As a boy he used to wander into these villages and meet the villagers and sometimes fight with the local boys. During this time he learned to appreciate the Arab customs and traditions. He therefore did not hate or fear the Arabs. This point is critical to understanding his later thoughts and actions.20 Dayan’s first military involvement began during the Arab Revolt. The revolt broke out in April 1936, and included various forms of resistance to the British rule: strikes, riots in cities, and guerrilla warfare in the countryside.21 The British response was harsh and included measures such as arrests, road-­blocks, fences to protect installations, mounted patrols, ambushes, as well as the use of torture and the blowing up of suspect houses.22 However, British reinforcements sent to Palestine were not familiar enough with the language or culture. Therefore the Jewish main military underground, the Haganah,23 proposed its assistance in guides and translators in the hope that this experience would provide training to its own men. It was under these circumstances that Moshe Dayan – who knew some English and Arabic – found himself as a guide for British units who patrolled the main oil pipeline running from Iraq to Haifa port. This pipeline was a major target for Arab insurgents who learned the routines of British patrols and

Moshe Dayan and Israeli counterinsurgency   89 knew how to evade them in order to sabotage the oil pipes. From this experience Dayan learned the limitations of a regular force: The Arabs would have sabotaged the oil pipeline (transferring oil from Iraq to Haifa) before or after the arrival of the patrol. During these eight months with the British regiment I witnessed the helplessness of a regular army that operates under strict routine against an insurgency that knew the territory, moved on foot and was embedded in the local population where they could choose the time and place for action. It was clear to me that the only way to combat these meant to take the initiative. They must be attacked at their own bases of operation, and ambushed as they move.24 The next year, 1937, he found himself as a squad commander as part of the Jewish defense auxiliary force. In this period he was immensely influenced by Yitzhak Sadeh. Sadeh, a decorated former Russian Army officer in the First World War and the Russian Civil War, was known for his unorthodox thinking and solutions. Most of all he was famous for his ‘beyond the fence’ doctrine that called for taking the fight into enemy territory and advocated initiative over passivity.25 In 1937 Dayan was sent to a sergeants’ course run by the British Army. There he discovered the British emphasis on discipline, including such minor matters as polishing one’s shoes – which he found not very useful for the kind of conflict he was preparing himself for.26 Next he participated in the Haganah platoon commanders’ course, where his preference for unconventional and risky methods constantly challenged the conventional wisdom of his instructors.27 In the summer of 1938 Dayan met Captain Orde Wingate from the British Army, a veteran of the Sudan insurgency and a passionate pro-­Zionist who became known to the Jews as ‘The Friend.’ Wingate established the SNS (Special Night Squads) – mobile units, with the aim of using unconventional guerrilla tactics against the Arab insurgents in the north. Wingate chose Dayan as his guide. It was from Wingate that Dayan learned leading from the front and personal example, selecting an ambush, and owning the night. Wingate’s methods were harsh and sometimes even cruel. On occasion he would interrogate insurgents by killing every tenth man, in the brutal tradition of Roman decimation, and the rest would talk.28 However, Wingate’s spirit and methods to a large degree fit today’s description of Special Operations. His influence on Dayan and the IDF could not be exaggerated. As Israel’s first Prime Minister David Ben Gurion admitted: ‘Wingate’s methods were adopted into the IDF.’29 Following the end of Arab revolt, Dayan switched roles and operated as an insurgent, this time against the British rulers of Palestine. His Haganah squad was caught whilst practicing with illegal weapons and were jailed. In prison Dayan himself was interrogated and tortured30 but emerged as a natural leader among his fellow prisoners. Meanwhile, he sought contact with his fellow Arab prisoners so he could better learn their ways. After his release in 1942 he even attended the wedding of a sister of one of the Arabs who served time in prison with him.31 Although sentenced to ten years, he and others were liberated much

90   E. Shamir earlier, as World War II broke out. The British were setting up a Jewish guerrilla force to fight the Nazis in case they would have to evacuate from Palestine – this force was the shock companies of Palmach. Sadeh, who was in charge, appointed Dayan together with another promising commander, Yigal Alon, as company commanders. Meanwhile, the British used him again as a guide for raiding French Lebanon. In one of these raids he lost his left eye and acquired his famous eye patch that became his most defining feature ever after.32 In the years between World War II and before the Jewish War of Independence he was busy setting up intelligence networks. Among his achievements was his ability to convince, bribe, or both, a few Druze and Bedouin villages to stay outside the fight or even to support the Jewish cause. Soon afterwards he was assigned as a commander of a battalion and trained it as a rapid raiding party according to the guidelines he received from American World War II veteran, Jewish officer Abraham Baum.33 In this capacity he led some daring operations that remain controversial to this day.34 Following the end of the War of Independence, Dayan attended a few commanders’ courses in the IDF and in the British Army to complete his formal military training. These experiences prepared him to face the next challenge, first as the Commander of the South and Northern Command, and then as Chief of Staff. From his apprenticeship period Dayan had learned a few important lessons: the vital role of initiative and aggressiveness, the centrality of human intelligence (HUMINT), and more specifically understanding and knowing the local population. As a result of the latter, Dayan developed a preference for what in today’s modern management terms we would describe as ‘management by walking around’ – a leadership style that was in constant search for being as close as possible to the reality of the field; where you can look people in the eye rather than remain in the comfortable but sterile environment of the office. Last but not least, from his experience with Wingate during the Arab revolt, Dayan believed that a good way to deal with insurgencies is through deterrence – punishing and intimidating the population that harbors the insurgents. The retaliation period, 1953–1956 Moshe Dayan was the IDF Chief of Staff between December 1953 and January 1958. Prior to this appointment he served as the head of Southern Command and the Chief of the General Staff. In these roles he enjoyed the full backing of David Ben Gurion, who felt admiration and fondness for the man who truly epitomized the new Jewish ‘Sabre’ and who’s political affiliation did not pose a threat.35 One of the main challenges the IDF faced in the period following the War of Independence was the question of securing the borders from infiltrators. This period saw an attempt by Palestinian refugees to return to their fields in order to harvest them. However, this innocent intention was accompanied by infiltrators with other motives. Arab gangs came for revenge or simply for the prospect of good plunder and looting, which often also resulted in loss of life. Dayan regarded the Arabs as ‘fifth columnists’ and supported hard line methods

Moshe Dayan and Israeli counterinsurgency   91 in arresting infiltrators: ‘[T]he infiltrators are not naïve,’ he claimed.36 The IDF of the 1950s did not possess the means to close the border hermetically in a way that would provide security for the population and property. Dayan’s early experience prepared him for an offensive campaign in order to meet this challenge. He opted for commando operations, deep raids behind enemy lines using surprise and guile. In effect he formulated the policy and security concept which lay behind the retaliatory actions37: ‘We must determine the rules of what is and is not allowed in our relations with the Arab countries, and we must be careful not to be acquiescent and acceptant of strikes against us, even if they are only of nuisance value,’ he stated.38 Dayan recognized the Palestinian refugee problem and separated it from the political and security issues between the fledgling Israeli state and its Arab neighbors – Egypt, Jordan and Syria. He saw the conflict with Syria as territorial but understood that the leaders of the Arab state were exploiting the results of the War of Independence and the Palestinian problem to continue to struggle and fight.39 Dayan held Arab governments responsible for seizing and punishing infiltrators. Hence he saw the security task of the Israeli government as compelling the Arab governments to enforce this responsibility, to fight against the gangs and extremist nationalist and religious groups in their midst: ‘The motivation which will bring the Arab governments and powers to do this, and the residents to understand this, must be tangible, real and certain – retaliatory operations by the Israeli military and a fear of them.’40 In short, Dayan did not believe in diplomatic means to calm the situation and therefore it was the IDF ’s job to provide the solution. He articulated his view in one of his most famous speeches, which came to be known as the ‘Roi Rotenberg speech.’ Rotenberg was a young man who lived in a border settlement next to Gaza and was brutally murdered by Arab infiltrators. At his funeral Dayan delivered the following eulogy: Yesterday at dawn Roy was murdered. . . . Let us not today cast blame on the murderers. What can we say against their terrible hatred of us? For eight years now, they have sat in the refugee camps of Gaza, and have watched how, before their very eyes we have turned their land and villages, where they and their forefathers previously dwelled, into our home. It is not among the Arabs of Gaza, but in our own midst that we must seek Roy’s blood. How did we shut our eyes and refuse to look squarely at our fate and see, in all its brutality, the fate of our generation? . . . Beyond the furrow of the border surges a sea of hatred and revenge; revenge that looks towards the day when the calm will blunt our alertness, the day when we shall listen to the ambassadors of malign hypocrisy who call upon us to lay down our arms. . . . Because we swore a thousand times that our blood will not be spilled lightly – and yet again yesterday we were tempted, we listened, and we believed. Let us take stock today with ourselves. We are a generation of settlement and without the steel helmet and the gun’s muzzle we will not be able to plant a tree and build a house. Let us not fear to look squarely at the

92   E. Shamir hatred that consumes and fills the lives of hundreds of Arabs who live around us. Let us not drop our gaze, lest our arms be weakened. That is the fate of our generation. This is our choice – to be ready and armed, tough and hard – or else the sword shall fall from our hands and our lives will be cut short.41 The speech expresses two key characteristics of Dayan: his extraordinary ability to empathize with his enemy’s motives while at the same time stating his belief in the necessity for an uncompromising, tough, armed struggle. At that period Dayan did not believe in the utility of a political process to calm the situation, instead believing that the only way to secure the Jewish presence was through retaliation and deterrence. The retaliatory period could be divided into two different sub-­periods, each reflecting a different policy approach. During the first period of retaliatory policy, operations were aimed directly at the population of the villages that allegedly encouraged and harbored raiders. During this phase Dayan supported and approved operations against the civilian population in order to extort a painful price and to punish collectively the village from which the perpetrators came.42 This period ended with the debacle of ‘Operation Qibya’ in 1953 that caused the death of scores of civilians, buried in their houses as a consequence of their demolition. This horrible episode led to a turning point with regard to the character and objectives of IDF operations. Dayan upheld the principle of the ‘purity of arms’ as a guiding value for the IDF.43 He felt that both for reasons of public opinion and morale the tactical and the operational objectives should change. Therefore from 1953 the retaliatory raids took on a different form. In turn military operations became a systematic part of the policy of the Israeli state. It became the means to enforce compliance by Arab neighbors.44 It sought to pressure the Jordanian and Egyptian regimes to subject their citizens to strict control, especially the refugees, and to impose a ceasefire. This new type of raid was aimed to influence the leadership and decision-­makers, and therefore was larger in scope and intensity. The objectives chosen were no longer suspected villages but army and police posts. ‘Israel has learned’ said Dayan, ‘that even when the Arabs hit civilian populations we must aim at military targets.’45 These operations did not stop the infiltrations completely, but were able to curb them. Without them it would have been impossible to travel on the highways, to establish settlements and to live a normal life, not only along Israel’s borders but also in the center of the country.46 However, the reprisal operations brought about a rise in the level of armed violence and friction with official armed contingents of the Arab states as a result of the changed Israeli targets.47 One might even say that, paradoxically, the tactical shift, targeting the military rather than the population, ignited a spiral of escalating violence that eventually led to the Suez War in 1956.48 To view the retaliatory operations only as a reaction to stop Arab infiltration would probably be too narrow. As a number of researchers suggested, these tactics served a number of objectives. One such hidden motive was the state of

Moshe Dayan and Israeli counterinsurgency   93 weakness in which Dayan found the IDF in the years following the Independence war. For various reasons the IDF performance had been on the decline in the years that followed it.49 Dayan saw the retaliatory operations as a vehicle to improve the combat prowess and morale of the IDF. In addition, he sought to uplift domestic morale and public opinion. At a certain point the aim became to bring about a confrontation with one or more Arab states, to escalate to a point of opening a war which was not desirable to the Arab regimes.50 Another view suggests that this approach meant ‘applying military activism below the threshold of international criticism’ while avoiding escalation to all out war.51 According to this view the escalation that led to the Suez War of 1956 signifies a failure of the approach, as Dayan admitted himself, although it was also his strategic aim to fundamentally reshape Israel’s security situation by means of this war.52 The 1956 campaign in Sinai brought a stop to the infiltration from Egypt despite the failures on the diplomatic level and the forced retreat of the IDF. The balance of deterrence was restored, just as Dayan had predicted. Observer in Vietnam, 1966 Following his retirement from the IDF in 1958 Dayan embarked on a political career. In 1966 Dayan felt his career was at a standstill, so he decided to accept the offer made by Israel’s leading daily newspaper, Ma’ariv, to cover the Vietnam War as a war correspondent. Dayan explained his decision: ‘almost no one here [Israel] had seen or participated in a war of such a scale. . . .I want to see and learn about the war in Vietnam and its possible consequences in our region.’53 Dayan, who knew nothing about Vietnam, decided to prepare himself. First he flew to France, where he had many acquaintances from the time of the Israeli–French alliance of the mid-­1950s, some of whom had served in, and witnessed, the defeat in the First Indochina War. Most of the generals he met felt that the American approach of using a lot of force against an invisible enemy was ineffective.54 Next, in England, he met Field Marshal Lord Montgomery of Alamein who explained to him that the Americans’ biggest problem was that they did not have a clear objective.55 From Britain, Dayan flew to the United States. Like many other visitors, he was impressed by its tremendous power and advanced technology. At his first meeting at the Pentagon he was subjected to a flood of statistics as to number of enemy killed and captured. This was meant to prove that the situation was well under control and that large parts of the territory of South Vietnam, as well as its population, were now safe against terrorist attack. As he noted, however, even a few elementary questions revealed that things were far from simple. The question of population safety aroused his suspicion. Although his hosts gave him data that showed positive trends, with the majority of the population living in American-­protected areas, Dayan’s sharp powers of observation quickly noticed that the colors on the map did not reflect the reality on the ground. Even where there was a general American presence, whenever American troops were not in the vicinity the enemy quickly re-­established control over the population.56 His

94   E. Shamir suspicion was validated when he met Robert McNamara, who admitted that the Americans had a problem in securing the safety of the population in the south.57 Later, when he was in Vietnam, he found out that his opinion was correct. Dayan understood the South Vietnamese terror in the south as a message to the southern population that they would only be safe if they expelled the Americans. In the whole of South Vietnam there was not a single road that was really safe from the Viet Cong. Nor was there anything to prevent the enemy from returning even to those places that had been most thoroughly ‘cleansed’ and ‘pacified.’ In the US, Dayan also met Walt Rostow, the deputy head of the National Security Council, and Maxwell Taylor, the former chief of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, then acting as a special adviser to President Lyndon Johnson. Rostow, a Harvard economist, explained to him that the developing world’s desire for economic growth would drive the peoples of Asia towards the United States. Dayan, a veteran of the Israeli–Arab conflict, who had experienced Arab determination to get rid of their Western overlords even at heavy economic cost, doubted it.58 Concluding the visit in Washington, Dayan realized that no one could tell him how they were going to win the war. Dayan summed up the problem that the Americans faced: In regular wars the measure of progress towards victory is clear – it is mostly geographic – territorial. One needs to get to Paris or Berlin etc, occupy the enemy capital, to bring its government to sign a surrender agreement. In this case the Americans are aware they could not pass line 17, could not bomb civilian population etc, and how would this finish? How would this end? How could they reach a decision? How could they measure progress?59 On July 25, 1966, Dayan arrived in Saigon, was issued an American uniform, and was ready for the field. Meeting with South Vietnamese local contacts he heard that the Viet Cong were much stronger than revealed in American assessments. Dayan spent most of August visiting various units throughout South Vietnam. First he joined a Marine Corps company’s patrols led by First Lieutenant Charles Krulak. Thirty-­five years later the retired General Krulak, ex-­commandant of the Marine Corps (a warrior-­scholar discussed in detail in David Strachan-­Morris’s chapter in this volume), told the Israeli historian Martin van Creveld that as they set up camp one evening, Dayan had asked them what they were doing there. He then offered his opinion that the American strategy was wrong. They should be “where the people are”, not vainly trying to chase the Viet Cong in the mountains, where they were not.60 A few days later Dayan’s wish was granted. Near Da Nang, he visited another Marine Corps unit engaged in pacification. The Marines were responsible for security – he noted their excellent discipline – but most of the actual work was carried out by civilians. However, he was not impressed with their attempts to help

Moshe Dayan and Israeli counterinsurgency   95 the South Vietnamese peasants improve their standard of living by introducing new agricultural methods, better livestock, and so on. To General Westmoreland he said that overemphasizing the pacification program and Americanization of civilian life only created convenient targets for the Viet Cong guerrilla. Dayan proposed instead to help indirectly, to create a situation where the Viet Cong would have to fight against their conquered people and not the Americans.61 While touring the villages Dayan started to form a picture of what the Amer­ icans should do.62 If they really wanted to ‘win hearts and minds,’ he wrote in his diary, they had to offer better long-­term solutions to the peasants than those the Viet Cong could offer. The Americans, Dayan proposed, should create a functioning administration and establish model villages. The way he saw things, the Vietnamese national character was one that gave primary importance to extended family needs. Therefore if this requirement could be effectively addressed by the Americans it might turn the local populace away from the Viet Cong.63 Towards the end of his visit Dayan summed up in his diary his main conclusions: that the Americans, as the French before them, misunderstood the nature of the problem, that many of the figures published about the progress of the war turned out to be false, and that the idea that the Vietnamese people wanted to become Americanized was an illusion. The vast majority wanted only to be left alone. It was a national struggle, but the struggle for hearts and minds was mostly social. The other side offered a communist ideology; the Americans must offer something better than refugee camps. He speculated that maybe some form of advanced socialism would have been a good alternative.64 Growing up in the Israeli Labour Movement at a time when Kibbutzim (an Israeli version of collective farms) dominated much of the ideals and practices of Israeli society, the social link was probably more obvious for him. Dayan left Vietnam with the definite impression that things were not going well. It was not a question of numbers or statistics, he wrote; where US soldiers were present the situation was under US control, but when they left, the area they controlled returned to the Viet Cong.65 ‘The Americans are winning everything,’ he concluded soberly, ‘except the war.’66 His first lesson on fighting this kind of war was that: The most significant operational problem the American forces were facing in Vietnam was lack of intelligence—the inability to distinguish the enemy from either the physical surroundings or the civilian population. Had intelligence been available, the Americans’ enormous superiority in every kind of military hardware would have enabled them to win the war. In its absence, most of the blows they delivered—including no fewer than six million tons of bombs—missed their targets. Their only effect was to disperse the enemy into the civilian population. Worst of all, lack of accurate intelligence meant that the Americans kept hitting noncombatants by mistake. They thus drove huge segments of the population straight into the arms of the Viet Cong; nothing is more conducive to hatred than the sight of relatives and friends being killed.67

96   E. Shamir The war should be won, Dayan thought, through winning hearts and minds. This should be done through social justice, treating the refugees well, and offering an attractive alternative ideology to communism – an ideology that addressed the people’s needs.68 Open Bridges Policy, 1967–1973 During the tense period before the outbreak of the Six Day War, Dayan was called upon to become the Defense Minister. The government, led by Prime Minister Levi Eshkol, was perceived as weak and hesitant by the public. Reluctantly, and under public pressure, Eshkol invited Dayan, the 1956 war hero, to join his government. Dayan was perceived as saving the day for Israel. Following Israel’s decisive victory in the Six Day War, Dayan enjoyed enormous popularity and his personal power was at its peak. One of the new realities Dayan faced in the aftermath of the war was how to govern the new territories Israel had captured, in particular the West Bank and the Gaza Strip which together were home to an estimated one million or more Arab residents. Dayan’s immediate reaction was to call for the restoration of normal life for the Palestinians in the occupied territories. In November 1967 he pressured the government to pass legislation that ordered minimum intervention in the daily life of the population. In the long term Dayan wanted parts of the territories to be annexed to Israel, but as long as there was no fundamental political settlement he believed that mutual existence was possible. The key to this coexistence was liberalism and minimum intervention. He opted for economic integration between the Israeli economy and the Palestinian one. This policy later became known as the ‘Open Bridges Policy’, referring to the bridges over the Jordan River but also as a metaphor describing the desired relations between the peoples.69 According to his aide-­de-camp, Arie Brown, Dayan’s policy towards the occupied territories was influenced by his personal experiences under the British Mandate in Palestine, lessons learned from the military rule imposed on Israeli Arabs (up to 1966), and during his time in Vietnam.70 Major General Shlomo Gazit, who worked closely with Dayan as the Coordinator of Government Activities in the Territories, argued that his Vietnam experience was the single most important experience that had shaped his attitude towards the population in the territories.71 Dayan frequently mentioned the lessons he learned in Vietnam and emphasized the principal condition not to force the Palestinian population to become ‘Israelized’ (as in Americanized) – not in the cultural sense, not in the bureaucratic sense, nor in any other way which did not involve a direct security threat.72 As a result of his experience in Southeast Asia he was fully aware of the fundamental problem – the fact that holding the territories meant imposing occupation upon another people – but yet he thought that he had found a formula to get around it. This formula included maximum freedom in daily life; contact with the rest of the Arab world; open borders; freedom of speech – however, by the same token, zero tolerance for terror.73

Moshe Dayan and Israeli counterinsurgency   97 Dayan’s three major principles for governing the territories were; minimum presence of both Israeli personnel and infrastructure (government buildings, military camps, etc.); non-­intervention, which meant maximum autonomy to run their own affairs; and ‘open bridges’, including freedom of movement between the territories and Arab states.74 Even before the short war ended, Dayan expressed his vision as to how Israel should treat the additional Palestinian population under its control. ‘We have to treat the Arabs as our equals from the civil and humane point of view,’ he said on June 7, 1967 (two days after the Six Day War began), to IDF commanders in Gaza. Israel should ‘minimally intervene in their affairs and not treat them as enemies, unless they act against us.’75 In another speech at the Armored Corps conference a few months after the war he said: I do not fear the actions of el-­Fatah, but I fear a national uprising. . . . I am not without hope that we can prevent it [a national uprising] if we give them much freedom, such freedom that fighting us will not be worth it . . . and we should be careful not to act as occupiers . . . only then might we have a chance.76 Dayan assumed that economic prosperity would reduce potential pressure for the type of national uprising that he feared. The solution, to him, was improving public services for the population. Dayan therefore continuously demanded that the government should improve these services to the occupied population. In the year following the war, Palestinian militants from Fatach infiltrated the border in small groups in order to mobilize the population against the Israeli occupation. These attempts failed largely due to Dayan’s policy. Dayan told the Palestinian leadership that while he did not expect them to fight the infiltrators, or even to assist him in fighting them, he would not tolerate any active collaboration by the local population.77 In the first years following the Israeli occupation, Dayan’s policies generated positive outcomes as they were swiftly implemented. As Defense Minister he saw the territories as a high priority on his agenda. He would monitor closely the developments among the population, and he was often the first one to note any changes. He set up his own network of informants who were loyal to him. He was personally involved in the selection of each area governor, and administrators, in the Israeli administration. He would encourage open debates but once he had taken a decision, he would make sure everyone complied with the decision to the letter.78 His working and decision-­making approach were characterized by frequent visits and direct talks with the people. Dayan’s loathing of bureaucracy often led him to bypass procedures and processes.79 In a few instances local military commanders decided to demolish houses and expel the population. Dayan reversed the decision, taking the villagers back and helping them rebuild their houses.80 It was clear to him that as Defense Minister he was in charge of every aspect of life of the population. He did not interfere with the different government ministries which provided services to the population, but he did monitor their work and often times asked the government to improve it.81

98   E. Shamir Dayan established co-­ordination between ministerial committees that published a document setting out the principles underlying the administration of the territories. These included a policy of harsh measures against any potential insurgency. However, it also included the promise of ‘a fair and humane treatment of the population’ which meant respect for places of worship and clerics, the maintenance of and respect for local family and tribal structures, avoiding any unnecessary contact between soldiers and the population (especially women), and finally providing social and medical services.82 Although Dayan supported harsh punishment for those who were directly engaged in or supported terror activities, he was against collective punishment.83 There was, however, a schizophrenic character in Dayan’s management of the territories. His close association with the population and its problems often led him to deviate from the policies he himself dictated, often in favor of the population, but in some instances he ignored actions taken by local Israeli officials that were contradictory to his policies.84 Another aspect of his policy was the empowerment of local municipalities and their mayors. The idea was to create a functioning agency that could deliver a whole range of services as a substitute for government on a national level.85 Dayan’s ideas concerning the Arab population were published in a series of lectures he gave to different Israeli audiences about a year after the war. In these lectures he outlined his vision of the future of the occupied territories and their Arab residents. These lectures were later published in a book that contains a collection of short essays written by Dayan and discussing his vision in relation to the territories.86 Yet Dayan had his critics. Broadly speaking they found three major flaws in his policies. The first was the lack of substantive political rights for the populace. The second was Dayan’s desire to annex the territories, or large parts of them. The third concerned the issue of economic integration. Dayan’s ideas did not seem to lead to the creation of a strong independent economy in the territories. The outcome of Dayan’s policy was the creation of a situation of economic dependency of the territories on Israel. The reasons mentioned above led them to characterize Dayan’s ideas as ‘neo-­colonialism.’87 Shimon Shamir wrote: The integration involves the establishment in Palestine, by an unspecified date, of an Arab unit that will have neither political status within the state nor a political life of its own. It seeks to reduce the inhabitants of this unit into what Dayan himself rejected . . . [when] he declared that the Arabs in the occupied territories could not remain ‘political invalid’. However he also acknowledged the strengths of the plans: One cannot ignore some of the positive aspects of Dayan’s plan. It is clearly and rationality expounded, it reflects a basically liberal approach and it is based on policies which have already proven successful in the occupied territories . . . economically for the gradual integration of the West Bank . . .

Moshe Dayan and Israeli counterinsurgency   99 socially it calls for the cultivation of de facto peaceful relation on the local level . . . and culturally it calls for respect for the Arab identity. . . . However Dayan’s tactics are wrong for Israel.88 In this debate the critics represented those who believed that the only way to solve the conflict would be to implement a two-­state solution – the two communities should separate while Israel must cede all (or most) of the territories in order to create the conditions for a Palestinian state. But Dayan refused to give back the territories. He was not fearful of a large Arab presence and believed that he could find a way to accommodate their needs. Therefore he encouraged selective Jewish settlements. These opposing views still persist in Israeli politics today, more than 40 years later. Dayan believed that his policy would serve his long-­term vision. He believed that by facilitating open borders and free economic activity between Israel, the occupied territories, and Jordan, he was creating the platform for normal relationships that later on would enable a formal peace agreement and coexistence.89 Peace would evolve in a bottom-­up process. The importance was not only economic, but also psychological. With the suicide terror and construction of the separation barrier in the last decade, the chances of Dayan’s vision becoming reality have receded. And yet the fact that Israel enjoyed a peaceful rule over the territories for two full decades90 stems from the success of Dayan’s policies that included invisibility, normalization and a policy of discriminated punishment.

Dayan’s legacy and the impact on the IDF There is no doubt that Dayan was fundamental in shaping IDF culture; his presence dominated its first three decades of existence. A balanced assessment of his contribution must include the culture he instilled, one that embraced free spirit, initiative, creativity and guile. The IDF is the only military that features ‘stratagem’ as its first principle of war.91 His famous phrase while serving as Chief of Staff during the Sinai Campaign (1956), ‘better to be engaged in restraining the noble stallion than in prodding the reluctant mule’, became a motto for generations of IDF officers.92 Richard Simpkin, the British military analyst, wrote that since Dayan’s departure he had observed a decline in the IDF ’s performance and the loss of the sharpness and ingenuity it was known for.93 However, Dayan also instilled a legacy of disregard for classroom studies. This has affected, and continues to affect, IDF officers up to today. The military education system of the IDF is lagging behind parallel institutions in leading Western militaries. True, most of today’s IDF officers are equipped with university degrees, but most of these are not in military studies and are seen more as a way of preparing for civilian careers after retirement.94 During Operation Cast Lead in Gaza in 2008, the Staff and Command cadets pressured their instructors to stop the course so they could join their fighting units and gain practical experience in the field. After a short debate the instructors agreed, signaling that practical experience is the best form of learning.95 Dayan himself was full of

100   E. Shamir curiosity, and he was a brilliant student of life; but he didn’t consider that most officers are ordinary, and that therefore they might need the structure provided by a classroom environment. In recent years Dayan has been reintroduced into the syllabus of senior officers’ educational courses. Warrior-­scholars such Brigadier General Shimon Naveh, Brigadier General Dov Tamari (who headed the IDF Operational Research Institute (OTRI)), Brigadier General Itai Brun (head of the Dado Center), and Major General Gershon Hachoen (Commander of the IDF Colleges), are teaching Dayan’s planning and action as an example model of operational art.96 In his manuscript on IDF Operational Art and Culture of Command, commissioned for the Office of Net Assessment in the US Defense Department, Shimon Naveh describes Moshe Dayan’s period as Chief of Staff as one of the IDF highpoints in the era of operational art.97 Only in a later period in his life, after the 1973 October blunder, did he sit down and write down his ideas, writes Naveh, but nevertheless he was ‘a brilliant thinker and articulate speaker; there is plenty of evidence indicating that he had been unofficially working out in his mind all these operational trends and strategic lines of logic and even shared some of them with his close associates.’98 He goes on to quote General Ariel Sharon, who famously said of Dayan: ‘He would wake up with a hundred ideas. Of them, ninety-­five were dangerous; three more were bad; the remaining two, however, were brilliant.’99 Shimon Naveh himself advocated a contextualized and unconventional approach to counterinsurgency, moving away from mainstream military doctrine.100

Conclusion As this chapter shows, Moshe Dayan’s continuous learning and exploring of COIN evolved and changed over the years. At times he could be very tough while during others he was very considerate. As in other areas in his life, Dayan was never committed to a certain ideology; he developed his ideas with one criterion in mind: to provide the best solution to the problem. Growing up between Arabs and near Arabs, he never demonized the other side but also never romanticized him. As he wrote in his memoirs: ‘I never felt hostility towards the Arabs, the wars we fought were a national matter not a personal one. . . . The hospitality I received in their homes was occasionally interrupted by battles and killings but was never forgotten.’101 Dayan could build close personal relationships with Arabs as demonstrated during the time he spent in a British jail sharing a common destiny as an outlaw insurgent. But he could also support a cruel policy of revenge and punishment directed at the population, as evidenced in the period leading to the operation in Qibya. At the same time he was also quick to learn the moral and practical faults of this policy.102 He was aware that reprisals had led to an unavoidable escalation resulting in war – a short violent burst that he had hoped to use in order to create new security reality on the borders. A few years later he went to Vietnam. Despite his admiration of the American servicemen and American technology he

Moshe Dayan and Israeli counterinsurgency   101 understood that whoever wins over the population wins the war. With his sharp instincts he saw clearly that the campaign for hearts and minds was a failure, and that the idea that the Vietnamese people wanted to become Americanized was an illusion. The vast majority wanted only to be left alone. The key for winning the population was providing their basic needs through good administration and provision of basic services. Upon returning to Israel he sought to emulate his approach among the new Palestinian population under Israeli control. The policy of ‘open bridges’ was meant to provide maximum economic and political freedom and minimum intervention in daily life. This policy gave Israel stability for almost two decades. Despite the lack of clear strategy towards the future of the occupied territories, Dayan managed to design and execute a liberal policy towards the population in the territories. The solution was limited because he did not hold the one position, that of Prime Minister, that would have enabled him to decide on Israel’s long-­ term strategy with regard to the occupied territories that avoided what he perceived to be the mistakes of Vietnam.103 Moreover, Dayan’s political vision for the Israeli–Palestinian issue was never fully articulated; he played with different ideas, such as autonomy, or a confederation with Jordan and Palestine.104 During his last two years Dayan devoted his time to an attempt to promote full Palestinian autonomy. He believed that Israeli military rule was no longer sustainable. Dayan also felt a sense of urgency to solve the refugee problem. He rejected the option of a complete disengagement from the territories, but equally he also rejected a policy of complete annexation. Instead, he believed the solution to be found in coexistence created by pragmatic arrangements in daily life, and economic interdependency.105 He was not the type who writes doctrinal manuals or obtains advanced degrees at prestigious universities. However, he was one who seeks knowledge, constantly learns and adapts, develops creative ideas, and is not bound by tradition. Some of the dilemmas Dayan faced are still relevant today, in Israel and elsewhere. The verdict is still open on debates such as focusing on hearts and minds versus harsh retaliation, escalation versus de-­escalation and how to tailor each one to different situations. What might Dayan’s response have been to Israel’s current policy in the West Bank and Gaza? Given his approach in his late years as Defense Minister and Foreign Minister, he might have seen the security barrier that divides the land and the populations as a temporary tactical barrier (as was originally intended) and would have opposed any attempts to separate the populations permanently. For he once noted: ‘[N]ow the people who sit in Judea and Samaria (West Bank) are Arabs . . . they are all part of this country. They do not make a barrier between me and the land.’106

Notes    1 J. Thompson, ‘Foreword’ in M. van Creveld, Moshe Dayan, London: Weidenfeld & Nicholson, 2004, p. 11 and p. 14; and R. Simpkin, Race to the Swift: Thoughts on Twenty-­First Century Warfare, London: Brassey’s, 1985, p. 305.

102   E. Shamir    2 See: S. Catignani, Counter-­Insurgency and the Intifadas: Dilemmas of a Conventional Army, New York: Routledge, 2008, p. 4.    3 See, E. Shamir, Transforming Command: The Pursuit of Mission Command in the US, UK and Israelis Armies, Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2011, pp. 180–1.    4 S. Teveth, Moshe Dayan, Tel Aviv: Shoken, 1972, p. 350 [Hebrew].    5 Ibid., pp. 351–2.    6 M. Dayan, Story of my Life, Tel Aviv: Edanim Publishers, 1976, p. 104 [Hebrew].    7 M. van Creveld, Moshe Dayan, London: Weidenfeld and Nicholson, 2004, pp. 100–1.    8 See Chapter 1 of this volume, A. Mumford and B. Reis, ‘Constructing and Deconstructing Warrior-­Scholars’.    9 D.A. Schon, The Reflective Practitioner: How Professionals Think In Action, New York: Basic Books, 1983, p. 68.   10 C. von Clausewitz: On War (translated by M. Howard and P. Paret), Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007, fn.30.   11 M. van Creveld, The Transformation of War, New York, NY: Free Press, 1991, pp. 57–62.   12 See: C. Khal, ‘COIN of the Realm’ in Foreign Affairs, Nov./Dec. 2007, 86 (6), pp. 472–4; J. Nagl, Learning to Eat Soup with a Knife: Counterinsurgency Lessons from Malaya and Vietnam, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2002, pp. 27–8; and M. Moyer, A Question of Command: COIN from Civil war to Iraq, New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2009, pp. 2–4.   13 H.G. Summers, ‘A War is War is a War’ in L.B. Thompson (ed.) Low Intensity Conflict: The Pattern of Warfare in the Modern World, Lexington, MA: Lexington Books, 1989.   14 On ‘hearts and minds’ see a critical discussion in R. Egnell, ‘Winning “Hearts and Minds”? A Critical Analysis of Counterinsurgency Operations in Afghanistan’ in Civil Wars, 2010, 13(3), pp. 282–303.   15 Nagl, Learning to Eat Soup with a Knife, p. 223.   16 Department of the Army, ‘FM 3–24/MCWP 3–33.5: Counterinsurgency’, Washington DC: 2006, p. 51.   17 J. Kelly, ‘How to Win in Afghanistan: Time to move on from Hearts and Minds: Annihilation in COIN’ in Quadrant, 2009, 53(4).   18 Major General Orde Charles Wingate was a British Army officer and creator of special military units in Palestine in the 1930s and in World War Two. Yitzhak Sadeh, an ex-­Red Army officer who immigrated to Palestine, was the commander of the Palmach, one of the founders of the Israel Defense Forces at the time of the establishment of the State of Israel. Both taught future IDF commanders the importance of initiative, offensiveness and guile.   19 S. Gazit, The Stick and the Carrot, The Israeli Administration in Judea and Samaria, Tel Aviv: Zmora Bitan, 1985, pp. 341–2 [Hebrew].   20 Ibid., p. 37.   21 B. Morris, Righteous Victims, A History of the Zionist – Arab Conflict, 1881–2001, Tel-­Aviv: Am-­Oved, 2004, pp. 142–3 [Hebrew].   22 Ibid., pp. 147–9.   23 Haganah (Hebrew: ‘The Defense’) was a Jewish paramilitary organization during the British Mandate of Palestine from 1920 to 1948, politically associated with the Labor movement led by David Ben Gurion who later became Israel’s first Prime Minister while the Haganah became the core of the Israel Defense Forces.   24 Dayan, Story, p. 36.   25 Creveld, Dayan, p. 44.   26 Teveth, Moshe Dayan, p. 161.   27 Ibid., p. 161.   28 Creveld, Dayan, p. 46.

Moshe Dayan and Israeli counterinsurgency   103   29 Reuven Gal, A Portrait of The Israeli Soldier, New York, NY: Greenwood, 1986, p. 5.   30 Creveld, Dayan, p. 49.   31 Ibid., p. 50.   32 Teveth, Moshe Dayan, pp. 214–16.   33 Creveld, Dayan, pp. 59–61.   34 Morris, Righteous Victims, pp. 229–30.   35 Creveld, Dayan, p. 70.   36 Z. Drory, Israel’s Reprisal Policy, 1953–1956, The Dynamic of Military Retaliation, London: Frank Cass, 2005, p. 65.   37 Ibid., p. 66.   38 Ibid., p. 65.   39 Ibid., p. 65.   40 Ibid., p. 65.   41 Morris, Israel’s Border Wars, p. 396.   42 Drory, Israel’s Reprisal Policy, p. 67.   43 Dayan, Story, p. 115.   44 B. Morris, Israel’s Border Wars, 1949–1956: Arab Infiltrators, Israeli Retaliation and the Countdown to the Suez War, Tel Aviv: Am-­Oved, 1997, p. 291 and p. 448 [Hebrew].   45 Dayan, Story, p. 115.   46 Morris, Israel’s Border Wars, p. 443.   47 Drory, Israel’s Reprisal Policy, p. 45.   48 Morris, Israel’s Border Wars, p. 291.   49 Ibid., pp. 268–9.   50 Drory, Israel’s Reprisal Policy, p. 46.   51 S. Naveh, ‘Operational Art and the IDF: A Critical Study of a Command Culture’, Center for Strategic and Budgetary Assessment (CSBA), September 2007, p. 58.   52 Y. Erez and I. Kfir, Conversations with Moshe Dayan, Israel: Masada, 1981, pp. 36–8 [Hebrew].   53 Teveth, Dayan, p. 550.   54 M. Dayan, Vietnam Diary, Tel Aviv: Dvir, 1977, pp. 7–17 [Hebrew].   55 Ibid., pp. 8–20.   56 Ibid., pp. 26–9.   57 Ibid., pp. 39–40.   58 Ibid., pp. 29–34.   59 Ibid., p. 40.   60 Creveld, Moshe, p. 117.   61 Dayan, Diary, p. 138.   62 Ibid., p. 149.   63 Ibid., p. 148.   64 Ibid., pp. 137; p. 142; p. 148 and p. 151.   65 Ibid., p. 142.   66 Ibid., p. 111.   67 Creveld, Moshe, pp. 120–1.   68 Ibid., p. 150.   69 A. Brown, Moshe Dayan and the Six Days War, Tel Aviv: Yedioth Ahronot, 1997, p. 114 [Hebrew].   70 Ibid., p. 142.   71 Gazit, The Stick, pp. 39–43.   72 Brown, Moshe Dayan, p. 145.   73 Ibid., p. 146.   74 Shlomo Gazit, Trapped, Tel Aviv: Zmora-­Bitan, 1999, p. 62 [Hebrew].   75 Brown, Moshe Dayan, p. 149.

104   E. Shamir   76   77   78   79   80   81   82   83   84   85   86   87

Ibid., p. 160. Ibid., p. 124. Gazit, Trapped, pp. 74–5. Brown, Moshe Dayan, p. 143. Ibid., p. 153. The villages were: Amoas, Hova, Dir Ayob, Yalo, Beit Nova. Ibid, p. 145. Ibid, pp. 162–3. Gazit, Trapped, p. 64. Gazit, The Stick, p. 183. Ibid., p. 203. M. Dayan, New Map, New Relations, Tel Aviv: Ma’ariv Library, 1969 [Hebrew]. S. Shamir, ‘Integration and Its Price’ in Ha’aretz (a newspaper), December 25, 1968.   88 Ibid.   89 Gazit, Trapped, p. 68.   90 1967–1987. In 1987 the first intifada (national upraising) broke out.   91 Z. Lanir, ‘The “Principals of War” and Military Thinking’ in Journal of Strategic Studies, 1993, 16(1), pp. 1–17.   92 E. Luttwak and D. Horowitz, The Israeli Army, London: Allen Lane, 1975, p. 160.   93 Simpkin, Race to the Swift, p. 305.   94 For the shortcomings of the IDF educational system see: M. van Creveld, The Sword and Olive: A Critical History of The Israeli Defense Forces, New York, Public Affairs 1998, pp. 315–16. On the efforts to reform the IDF educational system see: Shamir, Transforming Command, pp. 182–5.   95 The author was an academic instructor at the IDF Staff and Command Course.   96 The author was a research fellow at the Dado Center.   97 Naveh, Operational Art and the IDF. See Chapter 4, pp. 55–70.   98 Ibid., p. 57.   99 Ibid. See reference 118. 100 See: S. Naveh, ‘Asymetric Conflicts: Operational Criticism of Hegemonic Strategies’ in H. Golan and S. Shai, Low Intensity Conflict, Tel Aviv: Ma’arachot, 2004, pp. 101–44 [Hebrew]. 101 Dayan, Story, p. 493. 102 Ibid., p. 115, and Teveth, Dayan, p. 396. 103 Gazit, The Stick, p. 41. 104 Teveth, Dayan, p. 587. 105 Gazit, Trapped, pp. 202–3. 106 Dayan, Story, p. 493.

6 Low intensity operations in theory and practice General Sir Frank Kitson as warrior-­scholar Huw Bennett and Rory Cormac Since 1945, the British Army has conducted counter-­insurgency (COIN) operations with few pauses, running campaigns in Malaya, Kenya, Cyprus, Aden, Northern Ireland, Iraq and Afghanistan, to name only some prominent examples. Within debates on these conflicts, a common dispute has arisen over the relative importance of pivotal commanders, such as General Sir Gerald Templer in Malaya, compared with the system as a whole – or in other words, the implementation of doctrine. While Britain has produced notable COIN thinkers, such as Sir Robert Thompson, and able COIN commanders, such as General Sir George Erskine, finding these two attributes in one person is quite rare. General Sir Frank Kitson is in this sense exceptional. Kitson built up wide experience in the field, serving in Kenya, Malaya, Oman, Cyprus and Northern Ireland. He encapsulated these experiences in several important books: Gangs and Counter-­ gangs (1960), Low Intensity Operations (1971), Bunch of Five (1977) and Warfare as a Whole (1987). This chapter assesses General Kitson’s campaigning experience, the intellectual significance of his writings, and his lasting influence on the British Army and beyond. The first section examines Kitson as a warrior-­scholar. The second section explores the formative years, focusing on his part in the colonial campaign in Kenya, and exploring how this affected his thinking about COIN. In Kenya, Kitson became particularly expert in the intelligence dimensions of military operations, an aspect which would feature prominently throughout his career. He played an important part in improving the intelligence machinery and developing special forces techniques. The third section describes his subsequent experiences in the conflicts in Malaya, Oman and Cyprus. During this period, from 1957 to 1970, he diversified his expertise, acting as a company commander, a peacekeeper, a staff officer and a student. The varied demands placed on him provided a firm preparation for his next posting, probably his most challenging, in command of army forces in Belfast at the height of the Northern Irish ‘Troubles’. Kitson’s tenure at the head of 39 Brigade is explored in the fourth section, placing his sometimes controversial actions within the wider historical context. The chapter’s final part sets out General Kitson’s impact on British military thought and practice, which continues to this day, as evident in current army doctrine.

106   H. Bennett and R. Cormac

Frank Kitson as ‘warrior-­scholar’ Frank Kitson is arguably the most influential and important warrior-­scholar in the British tradition. If warrior-­scholars are ‘thinkers-­cum-practitioners’ who mix their own experience with theorizing about counter-­insurgency, then Kitson is an archetypal example. Indeed, Kitson can lay undisputable claim to being both warrior and scholar. He was undoubtedly an experienced campaigner, serving in a variety of conflicts and contexts, and yet was very much of the warrior-­scholar breed who sought to influence future military organization and campaigning. What distinguishes Kitson from others in this tradition was his symbiotic treatment of the two aspects. Kitson did not simply experience counter-­insurgency and then write about it afterwards. Neither did he study the theory of counter-­insurgency and then attempt to implement it. Kitson did both. He experienced a variety of campaigns, theorized, and then sought to put his own ideas into practice in Northern Ireland, before theorizing once again. This process throughout his career allowed for an element of reflexivity in his writings and the chance for the scholar and the warrior to become mutually reinforcing. Kitson stands out amongst his fellow warrior-­scholars for a second reason: his variety of experience. From communist guerillas in the jungles of Malaya to tribes in the forests of Kenya; from planning operations on the plateaus of Oman, to peacekeeping in Cyprus; and action on the streets of the United Kingdom, Kitson had been exposed to the gamut of low-­intensity operational contexts. He was, therefore, well-­placed to theorize. Indeed, his extensive experience allowed Kitson to avoid excessive generalization from one case study – a common criticism leveled against warrior-­scholars. Kitson sought to transcend the contemporary focus on the Cold War and communism, examining how insurgencies are driven by a variety of political motivations. However, one could still argue that through his conceptualization of a three-­phase model of insurgency (from subversion to insurrection to civil war), Kitson ultimately relied upon Maoist understandings.1 Frank Kitson has been hugely influential. His impact as a warrior-­scholar must be understood within the context of British counter-­insurgency thinking at the time. Whilst it is true that Kitson’s work has shaped the classic British approach to counter-­insurgency, it has done so in conjunction with his contemporary, Robert Thompson – and there are certainly thematic and conceptual overlaps between the two (along with others, such as Julian Paget and Richard Clutterbuck).2 First and foremost, Kitson emphasized the importance of political will in defeating insurgents and acknowledged the primacy of the political. He argued that ‘there can be no such thing as a purely military solution because insurgency is not a primarily military activity.’3 And yet, it would be wrong to equate the focus on political factors and the population with a conciliatory approach to counter-­insurgency. Kitson has a notorious reputation. Once again, his writings can be placed in the context of the British tradition where, along with Thompson and Paget, Kitson was generally unwilling to consider the

General Frank Kitson as warrior-scholar   107 morality of counter-­insurgency operations and accusations of British atrocities and human rights abuses.4 As a result, he is often associated with coercive tactics and dirty tricks – particularly by those in Ireland. Kitson’s notoriety extended to the mainland. His expectation that the army would become involved in domestic counter-­subversion, which he defined very broadly as, for example, including strikes, created much concern.5 A key factor underlying Kitson’s influence was the doctrinal context, or lack thereof. His experience, both in terms of fighting and writing, was set against a time when the British Army had little in the way of formal written doctrine. Lessons from the experiences of the various wars of decolonization and counter-­ insurgency campaigns were therefore transferred by those who served. This informal system afforded prominence to the warrior-­scholar. In the absence of doctrine, books and memoirs took on heightened significance. Within the British tradition, the canon included Thompson and Paget, but, according to Warren Chin, it was Kitson’s works which ‘provided a contemporary overview of how to make colonial counterinsurgency operate within the social, political and economic setting of Northern Ireland.’6 Paul Dixon agrees: ‘Kitson’s principles for fighting counterinsurgencies were influential on and probably more widely read than the army’s counterinsurgency doctrine.’7

From the British Army of the Rhine to Kenya’s insurgency, 1948–1955 Frank Edward Kitson was born in 1926 and educated at Stowe. He came from a naval family, but asthma dictated he enter the army instead, with a commission into the Rifle Brigade coming in January 1945. After 18 months in England he went to join the British Army forces in Germany, where he remained for seven years.8 It came as something of a relief to be called for service in Kenya, a welcome change from the tedium of garrison life, waiting for a Soviet attack which never came. Kitson arrived in Kenya in June 1953. A State of Emergency had been in place since the preceding October, with the government struggling to control a swelling insurgency from the Kikuyu, Embu and Meru tribes. Kitson, probably like most British people at the time, knew little about the conflict or the country as a whole. He went as part of a small contingent of army officers designed to reinforce the weak police Special Branch, tasked with developing intelligence on the insurgent Mau Mau movement. Lacking any prior experience or training in intelligence work, Kitson found his posting somewhat surprising.9 The briefings provided on arrival did little to clarify the situation. Kitson was to be the District Military Intelligence Officer for Kiambu, with instructions to keep a watch on the nearby Thika District too. The senior military intelligence officer in the colony, Major John Holmes, gave his subordinates a fairly free hand in deciding how to improve the intelligence situation in their own areas.10 Kitson decided to rent a house in the village of Kamiti, on the border of his two districts, and converted it into a secure base.11 The area appeared quiet at the

108   H. Bennett and R. Cormac time, but there was little cause for complacency as it transpired that the Mau Mau were using Kiambu as a major recruitment and supply centre. Within a short time, the district would become one of the most violent areas in the country.12 Meanwhile, he decided to define his own objective: to provide the security forces with the information they needed to destroy Mau Mau.13 To achieve this goal, Kitson could at first only draw on the support of two police inspectors and four constables, plus one Kenya Regiment sergeant and a police reservist.14 This was hardly a formidable intelligence machine, but representative of the dire position throughout the emergency areas in mid-­1953.15 Kitson improvised a basic, yet effective method for making the most of the situation he found himself in. He would drive around his area, ‘collecting gossip from anyone who would give it to me, such as district officers, policemen, soldiers, chiefs, settlers or other casual acquaintances.’ These pieces of information were then recorded at the base in Kamiti.16 By December, his organization had increased to include three Field Intelligence Assistants for Kiambu and two for Thika, plus an assistant at Kamiti. These men were generally young Kenya Regiment sergeants with a good knowledge of the local land and peoples, a vital asset for a poorly informed army facing a mysterious enemy.17 Productive relations between police Special Branch and army units seeking out Mau Mau gangs took time to establish, as did the basic information about the opponent and civilian population in each area. Kitson enjoyed life in Kenya, living for much of the time on the road in his Land Rover, singing to stop himself falling asleep at the wheel.18 As many young soldiers found, the Mau Mau posed little threat to them (they mainly attacked fellow Africans), leaving time to focus on the breathtaking scenery and distinctive wildlife. However, the brutalities committed by Mau Mau on African loyalists and, less often, European settlers, horrified Kitson. He devoted a chapter in his book about the Emergency to explaining the bestial nature of the Mau Mau’s oaths. Clearly the need to eliminate the movement impressed him greatly.19 By spring 1954 the organization working for Kitson, now covering Nairobi city too, was producing a considerable volume of background information about the Mau Mau. Several hundred Kikuyu, Embu and Meru informers had been recruited. But as Kitson admitted, this was the kind of information ‘the army did not want.’ Commanders were after actionable intelligence, suitable for launching offensive operations to kill and capture insurgents.20 Almost by accident, his team devised a method for exploiting background information, in April 1954. Kitson acknowledged the method had been used in previous wars, but argued he and his assistant Eric Holyoak were innovators in Kenya.21 A similar approach was adopted by the Special Night Squads, consisting of British soldiers and Jewish volunteers during the Arab revolt in Palestine between 1937 and 1939.22 In Kenya, the pseudo-­gang method involved taking a combined team of former ‘turned’ Mau Mau and disguised security force men on patrol. The gang would pass themselves off as Mau Mau, trying to meet genuine insurgents in order to gather detailed intelligence on local organization, tactics, plans and movements. Sometimes the pseudo-­gangs withdrew after intelligence gathering, and

General Frank Kitson as warrior-scholar   109 sometimes they quickly launched offensives. Kitson preferred using the pseudos to gather intelligence, because immediately going on the attack would make the Mau Mau suspicious and thus jeopardize the method’s utility. Therefore, the teams under his control only initiated offensives if a major advantage could be gained, such as the elimination of a key insurgent leader.23 Persuading Mau Mau to join pseudo-­gangs involved several stages: first, harsh treatment to ‘put them in their place’; second, gradual involvement in the pseudo-­community at the training centre, treating them as a friend. In the third stage, recruits were entrusted with performing sentry duty and carrying arms. Finally, they were taken on patrol.24 Kitson thought focusing on Mau Mau ‘savagery’ bad for intelligence and tried to understand the Mau Mau in order to turn them.25 It has been argued that the pseudo-­gangs and other special forces succeeded because they treated the enemy with a degree of respect.26 Knowing precisely how insurgents were turned is impossible to tell from the surviving documentary records. The head of military intelligence gave formal approval for the method, and helped arrange a system for co-­ordinating pseudo-­operations through the District Operations Rooms, to prevent clashes with other operations and thus friendly fire incidents.27 After securing backing from the Commander-­in-Chief, General Sir George Erskine, Kitson explained the pseudo-­method to a meeting of all military intelligence officers in Nairobi towards the end of June.28 The post in Kamiti was turned into the Special Methods Training Centre, teaching Field Intelligence Assistants from all over the Emergency areas.29 Kitson was in no doubt that his methods were the most effective way to defeat the Mau Mau,30 yet within the security forces opinion was divided, with many favoring conventional patrols. Kitson, however, viewed conventional operations as wasteful failures.31 Such a view ignored the way in which conventional and special forces methods were often used in a complementary fashion in an area, large sweeps pushing Mau Mau gangs into areas worked by pseudos.32 But his attempts to explain and teach the pseudo-­gang method was certainly important in increasing the use of special forces techniques within the overall campaign’s military strategy. Winning General Erskine’s support in this regard was thus a turning point. Kitson’s pseudo-­gangs must be understood within the context of the development of special forces methods throughout the security forces from 1954. The Kenya Regiment began running pseudos from October, though they tended to try and kill Mau Mau rather than gather intelligence and capture prisoners.33 Kitson’s teams tended to work mainly in the African Reserve areas, and the European-­owned farmlands, where the civilian population were concentrated. In September and October 1954 the Army started to experiment in using Tracker Combat Teams. They drew on pseudo-­gang experiences, but differed in being composed of regular soldiers with ex-­insurgents merely acting as guides, and operating mainly in the forests. They also enjoyed much less autonomy from the chain of command.34 By this point, Kitson was responsible for military intelligence in the newly created Central Province South, which included Nairobi. Kitson’s achievements

110   H. Bennett and R. Cormac were recognized with the award of the Military Cross in January 1955.35 Promoted to Major, he gained valuable experience in commanding a substantial intelligence organization, and in running military intelligence courses for the whole colony.36 By September 1955 he was winding up the pseudos under his command, as they were gradually replaced by teams run by Special Branch commander Ian Henderson.37 At the year’s end, Kitson left Kenya for the Army Staff College in Camberley.38 The time in Surrey provided the first of several important opportunities during his career for reflection, drawing lessons from recent experiences and disseminating them widely. At the Staff College Kitson wrote a paper on intelligence problems faced in insurgencies, a theme later developed in his book Low Intensity Operations.39

Malaya, Oman, Cyprus – and Oxford Kitson went on to serve in Malaya, Oman and Cyprus – and it was this variety of experience which marks him out as an important warrior-­scholar. Kitson’s theories were not composed in light of only one campaign against one insurgent movement. Instead, Kitson drew upon a wide range of different experiences to theorize on low intensity operations more broadly. The Malayan Emergency, which saw government forces pitted against insurgents led by the Malayan Communist Party’s armed wing, stretched from 1948 to 1960. The most violent years had passed by the time Kitson arrived in January 1957 to command the Rifle Brigade’s ‘S’ (Support) Company. Building on his previous experiences, Kitson swiftly emphasized the importance of exploiting background information in order to find and neutralize insurgents. As had been the case in Kenya, the security forces lacked detailed contact information and thus expended time and effort ‘flagging around’ in the dense jungle looking for elusive insurgents.40 Drawing on his experiences from Kenya, Kitson developed his own approach to reconnaissance: working with the local Special Branch and focusing on background information acquired through maps, files and discussions with as many people as possible. Such information was steadily collected, analyzed, and then cross-­checked by patrols. This, it was hoped, would generate contact information enabling the use of ambush tactics to capture insurgents, which in turn would lead to more information.41 The treatment of captured and surrendered personnel was thus crucial to Kitson, who argued that fostering trust would lead to more success than direct interrogation in producing useable information.42 More controversially, Kitson further attested that, because the army was the primary user, the responsibility for developing background information into contact information lay with the operational commander as opposed to the intelligence organization.43 This contention raises important questions not only in terms of intelligence theory regarding the efficacy of a commander being his own intelligence analyst – which can lead to questions over accurate and impartial assessment – but so too of military primacy. Indeed, upon arrival as ‘Supremo’ in 1952, Gerald Templer placed the onus of intelligence work, including gathering intelligence and agent-­running, ‘squarely on Special Branch.’44

General Frank Kitson as warrior-scholar   111 Templer’s reform of Special Branch, and intelligence more broadly, is cited as being particularly influential.45 Given Templer’s success, Kitson’s brief time in Malaya, and the fact that the insurgency was winding down, it is difficult to definitively state how much impact Kitson had outside his own regiment at this stage of his career. His methods did, however, achieve some notable successes,46 and his achievements were certainly recognized by his superiors. He was awarded a Bar to his Military Cross in May 1958, for his ‘exceptional skill and leadership.’47 Kitson left Malaya in October 1957 and six months later was appointed to the planning department of the War Office. It was in this capacity that he became involved in the conflict in Oman, which lasted between 1957 and 1959 and involved a rebellion on the Jebel Akhdar plateau in the Omani interior. This time Kitson occupied a planning rather than an operational post, again affording him a new perspective from which to shape his thinking. Likely influenced by experiences in Kenya and Malaya, Kitson stressed the need to generate contact information from which teams of ex-­rebels, British forces, and trackers would be used to neutralize the rebels.48 Ultimately, however, the actual operation used to end the rebellion in January 1959 – an assault on the Jebel led by the Special Air Service (SAS) – was far removed from Kitson’s original plan. Provoking doubts about the transferability of Kitson’s thinking, senior figures in Oman deemed the proposed use of counter-­gangs as inapplicable to Omani conditions. Unlike in Kenya there was very little cover on the Jebel and it would have been difficult for British officers to disguise themselves as Omanis.49 Despite this, Kitson’s experiences concerning Oman contributed to his thinking on counter-­insurgency warfare, reaffirming not only the centrality of intelligence, but also the importance of trackers. Indeed, he later called for a permanent tracker and dogs section to be created.50 He was awarded an MBE in June 1959.51 Setting him apart from other warrior-­scholars, Kitson’s writings also drew on his experiences as a peacekeeper, thereby giving his writing a broader character. In November 1962, Kitson became second in command of the 3rd Green Jackets, the Rifle Brigade, stationed in Cyprus. By this time, the Cyprus Emergency, which dominated the mid- to late-­1950s, was over, but inter-­communal tensions remained. Following debates over proposed constitutional amendments, violence erupted in December 1963 between the Greek-­Cypriot and Turkish-­Cypriot communities. Although involved in peacekeeping operations, Kitson’s experiences in Cyprus informed his thinking on low-­intensity operations more broadly. Accurate and timely information again proved an integral theme as, in order to successfully keep the peace, British (and later United Nations) forces needed to know the names and intentions of the local leaders. Drawing parallels with his previous experience, Kitson noted that ‘once again, as in Oman, we had been operating without the backing of an intelligence organization, and we had therefore been obliged to get what we could for ourselves.’52 Kitson collected and collated scraps of background information, from which he developed an outline of the opposing structures. From this, as had happened in Malaya, he hoped to generate a chain reaction of useable intelligence. A key difference, however, was

112   H. Bennett and R. Cormac that in Cyprus covert intelligence collection was regarded as a hostile act by both warring parties – as such Kitson had to rely on open source intelligence gathering.53 Unknown to the Cypriots, Kitson later briefly ran a covert intelligence gathering operation for deputy UN commander Major-­General Michael Carver. The resulting intelligence was passed to the UN commander, who asked no questions of its source.54 In order to successfully press for a ceasefire, negotiators needed to be fed accurate and timely information from the battlefield. As such, Kitson helped monitor a battle between the Greek-­Cypriots and Turkish-­Cypriots in November 1967, disseminating information to the UN headquarters in Nicosia.55 According to a Chief of Staff of the UN force, Kitson’s ‘running commentary . . . would have done credit to a football cup final at Wembley’, giving negotiators a detailed picture of events.56 As a result of his experiences in Cyprus, Kitson’s place within the warrior-­ scholar canon became more uniquely defined: Kitson was the first to establish the link between counter-­insurgency and UN-­style peacekeeping.57 As Brocades Zaalberg has explained, Kitson’s original analysis demonstrated a fundamental, and increasingly relevant, difference between the two: the role of impartiality. Kitson acknowledged the overlaps between counter-­insurgency and peacekeeping in terms of ending civil unrest and of the techniques used – but his writings pointed out that unlike a counter-­insurgency force, a peacekeeping force ‘must as far as possible carry out its task without having recourse to warlike action against either of them.’58 Accordingly, Kitson recognized that despite apparent similarities, peacekeeping and counter-­insurgency were ‘totally different activities.’59 As Zaalberg argues, over the last 20 years ‘the “surprising similarities” mentioned by Kitson were primarily noticeable on the tactical level, where the notion of impartiality often had different implications for peacekeepers on the ground.’60 He was awarded an OBE in January 1968.61 Operational experiences were again followed by a pause to consider the enduring lessons. Under the Defence Fellowship scheme, Kitson spent a year at University College, Oxford, from October 1969, examining means of preparing the army to deal with subversion, insurrection and peacekeeping operations.62 Studying at Oxford boosted Kitson’s warrior-­scholar credentials by providing first-­rate intellectual rigor to complement his operational experience. This raises questions about the place of the warrior-­scholar in the military. Why was the study conducted at a university and not at a military education institution? And what impact did this exposure to civilian life have on his thinking? It could certainly be argued that study at Oxford allowed Kitson to reflect critically on his experiences and on the military’s organization and culture. His time at Oxford allowed him to engage with theoretical prescriptions useful for practitioner audiences, as opposed to writing a more populist memoir, which came later. The outcome was met with much approval from within the army and the book was ‘to remain the mainstay of the Army’s counterinsurgency education and staff training for the next 20 years.’63 Kitson’s central thesis broadly argued that successful counter-­insurgency strategy employs a combination of political, economic, psychological and

General Frank Kitson as warrior-scholar   113 military measures. Soldiers needed to be taught about counter-­insurgency before being deployed on specific operations. Kitson also argued that the army was ill-­ equipped for such irregular warfare, and recommended establishing a permanent, well-­equipped special unit to intervene quickly and effectively in counter-­ insurgency operations.64 This thesis was published as Low Intensity Operations in 1971, and coincided with Kitson’s deployment in Northern Ireland – thus giving its conclusions added pertinence.

Putting ideas into practice: command in Belfast at the height of the Troubles The British Army had been on the streets of Northern Ireland for just over a year when Kitson was appointed to command 39 Brigade in Belfast in September 1970.65 Before leaving in April 1972, Kitson saw the army’s role shift from peacekeeping to counter-­insurgency and his time in Northern Ireland has been associated with the two concepts of de-­escalation (attempts to remove civilian support for the Irish Republican Army (IRA)) and attrition (arrests directed against the IRA leadership).66 Importantly, however, Kitson’s tenure proved incredibly controversial and he became a bête noire of the Republican movement, amongst whom he was widely blamed for British covert operations and dirty tricks.67 As a result of his stint in Belfast, Kitson is often associated with an aggressive and coercive approach to counter-­insurgency operations. Not only were the soldiers involved in ‘Bloody Sunday’ known as Kitson’s Private Army but he also opposed the tolerance of no-­go zones and the more conciliatory approach favored by Brigadier MacLellan in Derry.68 Kitson demonstrated a no– nonsense approach to no-­go areas. When Republican barriers went up, they were immediately taken down.69 His personal role should, however, be considered in light of British policy in Northern Ireland in the 1970s, which proved disastrous.70 Whether any other commander could have better handled the spiraling violence in Belfast is certainly debatable. Kitson’s posting to Belfast at the height of the Troubles and at the same time as his thesis was published raises a broader issue regarding the deployment of warrior-­scholars. Does having a warrior-­scholar in command impact upon the enemy’s understanding of policy? By prescribing the supposedly ideal counter-­insurgency approach, does deployment of the author shape enemy strategy? And does deployment have an impact upon enemy propaganda? Interestingly, it appears that Kitson seems to have generated little attention until the publication of his Oxford thesis. Gangs and Counter-­Gangs had, after all, been published long before Kitson’s posting to Belfast but had remained under the radar until the publication of Low Intensity Operations, when debates about counter-­gang tactics suddenly raged intensely – especially when the activities of the Mobile Reconnaissance Force came to light (as discussed below). Copies of Low Intensity Operations were soon bought by the IRA and became required reading for its strategists. Kitson was continually attacked by Republicans for being the architect of internment, torture, black propaganda, incitement

114   H. Bennett and R. Cormac to sectarian murder, and even assassination by the SAS.71 Interestingly, Kitson’s ideas not only alienated the nationalists but put pressure upon civil–military relations. As Paul Dixon has argued, the dominant British counter-­insurgency strategy, espoused by Kitson and supported by the military, police, the right wing of the Conservative Party, and the Unionists, highlighted coercion in defeating the IRA and avoiding negotiation. By contrast, the British political elite tended to take a more conciliatory and political approach, paving the way for ‘severe strains’ in civil–military relations.72 It would have been no surprise for those IRA strategists pouring over Low Intensity Operations that Kitson’s priorities were to be an efficient intelligence system and the need to win the support of the local population. As such, Kitson aimed to streamline intelligence-­sharing by calling for Special Branch to pass information directly to the local battalion officer.73 Second, he focused on collecting background information, developing it into contact information, and the responsibility of the operational commander in doing so.74 Perhaps based on his experience as a peacekeeper in Cyprus, Kitson had earlier described in detail how this could be done in an urban environment.75 Putting these ideas into practice, Kitson used each company under his command as a low-­level intelligence unit tasked with identifying and pursuing the rebel organization in its own area, allowing local forces to collect background information. This was stored on computer, shared, and developed into contact information.76 Yet military primacy in intelligence, which existed until at least 1973,77 created some weaknesses, namely the military’s inability to root itself in the local community on a long-­term basis when compared to the local police force.78 This does seem to somewhat undermine Kitson’s argument dating back to his time in Malaya, that the army should be in charge of background information-­gathering. To rectify this, Kitson wrote of the importance of continuity in certain postings, so as to allow the local tactical commander to develop contacts and information.79 Intelligence cooperation between the military and police was therefore paramount, yet with Special Branch unable (or unwilling) to pass operational intelligence to the military, Kitson’s forces had to take the initiative in generating their own. With intelligence-­gathering at the heart of Kitson’s counter-­insurgency ethos, it is little surprise that nationalists angrily blamed the Brigadier for the development of the MRF in tactics reminiscent of the counter-­gangs used in Kenya. In reality the MRF was not Kitson’s brainchild, but he did encourage its use.80 Unsurprisingly, such techniques proved more controversial on the streets of the United Kingdom against British citizens than they had done in colonial outposts. Kitson’s theorizing was not interested in the ethics of counter-­insurgency – just in getting the job done. The Brigadier used special forces (transferred to 39 Brigade by the end of 1970) and recently turned IRA members, known as ‘Freds,’ to find, identify, infiltrate, confront, discredit, and (according to nationalists) even assassinate leading rebels.81 Such activity demonstrated Kitson’s theoretical ideas on intelligence, the role of special forces,82 and the exploitation of turned rebels. And interestingly an amendment to the army’s Land Operations manual in January 1973 subsequently highlighted the value of special forces in

General Frank Kitson as warrior-scholar   115 ‘less overt methods’ of intelligence gathering.83 Although Kitson prioritized information-­gathering over using counter-­gangs to eliminate the enemy, the use of MRFs added to Kitson’s notoriety. They have been accused of being British undercover murder squads and colluding with Loyalist paramilitaries.84 Intelligence issues also lay at the heart of internment. Kitson opposed the policy’s introduction in 1971 on practical grounds rather than on principle. He supported the idea of taking dangerous men who could not be charged off the streets, and had few qualms with using the judiciary as another weapon in the counter-­insurgent’s arsenal – as seen in the juryless ‘Diplock Courts.’85 Instead, Kitson criticized the timing of internment, arguing that had it been implemented simultaneously with direct rule from London, political gains could have been made.86 He further questioned the weak intelligence relied upon and the use of special interrogation techniques, the latter running contrary to his belief in gaining the trust of detainees.87 Intelligence and attrition alone, however, would not defeat the IRA. Kitson therefore recommended separating the insurgents from the civilian population through a de-­escalation strategy, combining good governance, propaganda, and psychological operations. Kitson’s theories called for the rapid establishment of a psychological operations organization, which was vital in undermining the enemy and gaining the sympathy of the civilian population by exploiting unfolding events.88 Psychological operations and propaganda were subsequently used in Belfast in an attempt to discredit the IRA and promote the government’s cause. An Information Policy Unit was established in Lisburn in autumn 1971 tasked with covert propaganda.89 Like counter-­gangs, black propaganda and psychological operations proved controversial and amplified Kitson’s notoriety. Good governance (which Kitson referred to as ‘counter organization’) was intended to boost popular support. Whilst at Oxford, Kitson stressed the need to remove sources of popular grievance through activities such as teaching and the setting up of clinics.90 He attempted to put these theories into practice in Northern Ireland, where the military engaged in civil projects, such as youth work, to benefit the local population. Kitson initiated a system of community liaison officers designed to improve relations with local communities.91 Recognizing the importance of both military and political measures, Kitson emphasized unified planning and co-­ordination between military and civil authorities at every level.92 Despite this, unity of command was not fully implemented between 1969 and 1976, with the army taking the lead in counter-­insurgency until police primacy was restored as part of the process known as ‘Ulsterisation.’93 To Kitson’s credit, he attempted to enhance co-­ordination using a committee system.94 In Belfast, Divisional Action Committees met once a week as a forum for the military and police to discuss local problems and work towards unified planning and centralized control. The committees, however, diverged from Kitson’s vision because he proved unable to include representation from the civil administration. This was partly due to the IRA dissuading well-­intentioned locals from becoming involved.95 A disconnect between theory and practice therefore becomes apparent. It is not always possible for the warrior-­scholar to put his ideas into practice.

116   H. Bennett and R. Cormac Kitson’s connection to the Bloody Sunday massacre of 14 unarmed protestors on a banned civil rights march in Derry on January 30, 1972 – the soldiers involved were loaned from 39 Brigade – has seen him accused of excessive force. It has been alleged that under Kitson, the Parachute Regiment developed a reputation for toughness and brutality,96 whilst the Bloody Sunday Inquiry presented Kitson with allegations that his writings had inspired the massacre. Based on Kitson’s theories, it was alleged that military planners hoped to attack the civil rights march, which for prestige reasons the IRA had to defend, thereby forcing the rebels into an open conflict.97 Kitson denied such brutality and was ultimately vindicated by the inquiry, which concluded that there was no evidence to prove the military deliberately planned to use lethal force.98 But what did Kitson’s writings preach? When discussing protest marches, he noted that the level of force used was a political decision, but that it was a commander’s responsibility to inform governments about the implications of force restrictions on manning requirements. This was important because, according to Kitson, ‘the number of troops required . . . goes up as the amount of force which it is politically acceptable for them to use goes down.’ Kitson further stressed the importance, regardless of political limitations, of generating the impression that a great deal more force could be used, thus maintaining the ‘respect and awe’ of the community.99 As with internment, it appears practical considerations, as opposed to moral concerns, underpinned Kitson’s thinking. Overall, however, whilst Kitson acknowledged the military difficulties of using too little force, he appears an advocate of more subtle and underhand tactics.100 Kitson advised officers to develop ‘deviousness, patience, and a determination to outwit opponents by all means compatible with the achievement of the aim.’101 For critics, such thinking cemented his notoriety as an exponent of dirty tricks. Selective readers ignored the fact that Kitson explicitly condemned illegal or immoral special operations.102 The government considered his service in Northern Ireland commendable, and he was made a Commander of the Order of British Empire in February 1972.103 By 1977, British Army counter-­insurgency doctrine had started to capture some of the lessons acquired from experiences in Northern Ireland. Interestingly, these clearly reflect some of Kitson’s thinking, not least the importance of co-­ordination between the civil, police and military agencies and the importance of an effective intelligence and surveillance network.104

Higher command and enduring influence The time in Northern Ireland was followed by a series of high-­ranking posts within the British Army. Though Kitson had had his last taste of active operational command, his service and thinking continued to influence the British defense establishment. In January 1976 he was made an Acting Major-­General and appointed to command 2nd Armoured Division.105 Though renowned for his expertise in counter-­insurgency, Kitson took a keen interest in developing the army’s new armored formation.106 He relinquished this post in February 1978,

General Frank Kitson as warrior-scholar   117 going on to serve as Commandant of the Army Staff College, until January 1980.107 In the same month Kitson received the KCB.108 In March he was appointed Deputy Commander-­in-Chief, United Kingdom Land Forces and Inspector General of the Territorial Army, and promoted to Lieutenant-­ General.109 He held these posts until May 1982.110 The Queen made him an aide-­ de-camp in February 1983, and appointed him an Ordinary Knight Grand Cross of the Military Division of the Order of the British Empire in January 1985.111 Before retiring from the army in August 1985, he spent the final three years of his service as Commander-­in-Chief, United Kingdom Land Forces.112 In retirement General Kitson wrote several well-­received historical biographies on Prince Rupert and Oliver Cromwell.113 Frank Kitson’s influence may be assessed in two ways: by examining his impact on the army, and by analyzing his theories on counter-­insurgency warfare. The most direct impact was, as observed throughout this chapter, the role played during active military operations. But after the battle Kitson was notable for frequently reflecting on experiences and conveying the lessons to a wide audience. He shared ideas with other influential COIN thinkers at a symposium held by the RAND Corporation in April 1962, which included figures such as David Galula, Anthony Jeapes and Edward Lansdale.114 Besides the two spells at Camberley and the fellowship in Oxford, postings to the Royal Naval College at Greenwich and the United States Staff College at Norfolk, Virginia, provided opportunities to disseminate ideas.115 Although never responsible for writing doctrine manuals himself, Kitson’s imprint on them is evident from the 1970s to today. The British Army’s 1969 manual for counter-­revolutionary warfare recognized the importance of intelligence as ‘the key to success in counter revolutionary operations.’ Yet there was no mention of the primacy of the commander in generating contact information, as Kitson advocated.116 The revised 1977 manual noted the importance of the commander in directing intelligence, although this still fell short of Kitson’s prescription.117 Nonetheless, Kitson’s influence in reorienting the army to counter-­insurgency was important in the early 1970s, when attention was largely focused on NATO’s Central Front.118 More recently, those writing Britain’s new stabilization and counter-­insurgency doctrines drew inspiration from his writings, and consulted the retired General in person.119 The army’s 2009 counter-­insurgency manual cites him on the need for a political solution, and in creating a conceptual framework for understanding insurgency.120 The Ministry of Defence’s 2009 joint stabilization doctrine draws on Kitson with relation to the attributes needed to fight insurgencies, and the direction of intelligence operations.121 Kitson’s impact on military doctrine has also been felt beyond the British Army, such as the reference to his Low Intensity Operations as a classic work in the United States Army and Marine Corps Counterinsurgency Field Manual (FM) 3–24.122 Kitson’s several books have been widely read – the British Chief of the Defence Staff since 2010, General Sir David Richards, claims to have read Bunch of Five early in his career.123 All his writings received attention from the

118   H. Bennett and R. Cormac date of publication, though Low Intensity Operations is probably the most cited. Major figures in the study of international relations have drawn on his thinking, including Adam Roberts, Cynthia Enloe, Paul Wilkinson, Stathis Kalyvas, Frank Hoffman and David Kilcullen, to name only a few.124 How far Kitson’s ideas represent an original stance in counter-­insurgency theory is debatable. Leading British Army doctrine writer Colonel Dr Alexander Alderson considers Kitson ‘the most important twentieth century British military thinker in the field.’125 By contrast, General Sir Frank King, GOC Northern Ireland from 1973–1975, thought Low Intensity Operations nothing more than a summary of everything previously said on the topic.126 Kitson’s framework for counter-­insurgency success – encompassing sound intelligence, effective co-­ordinating machinery, a political solution and a competent legal system – has much in common with the writings of his counterparts in the British tradition, such as Robert Thompson.127 But as The Economist observed in 1971, Kitson’s contribution lay in adding detail on the precise role of intelligence, and clearly explaining how armed forces should organize for and conduct counter-­insurgency.128 What is most striking about his two most important books, Low Intensity Operations and Bunch of Five, is just how readable they are. These two books present very similar ideas; but one in the form of strategic analysis, and the other through personal memoir. So Kitson’s ideas are thus accessible to quite distinct readerships. They are accessible to professional soldiers and the interested civilian. The sense that defense matters needed to be widely understood and discussed is a prominent feature of Kitson’s thought. It is even more significant for a professional soldier from a country which traditionally treats defense policy as the exclusive preserve of the elite. His writings are both accessible in themselves and explicitly advocate the need for soldiers to study counter-­insurgency throughout their careers.129 A final major foray into the national defense debate occurred in 1987, with the publication of Warfare as a Whole. Again, the charge could be levied that much in the book repeated established strategic thinking – the emphasis on understanding all forms of war in the round being a case in point.130 But this would unfairly dismiss the book’s key virtues: to explain military policy to the country, and to suggest reforms which might be too radical for a serving officer to propose. Besides its more didactic sections, Warfare as a Whole made several more controversial claims. Kitson attracted public attention for suggesting there were too many senior officers in the army, who were unfit for battle command.131 Due to his experience commanding 2nd Armoured Division in Germany, he appreciated that future conventional wars were likely to be conducted at a very high tempo, which older officers would physically struggle to keep up with.132 This prediction about speed was proven accurate in the Gulf War only a few years later. Kitson’s criticisms of rank inflation in the armed forces, where senior officers filled jobs more suitable for younger men, retains validity today, as does his call for fewer staff officers in the Ministry of Defence.133 The warning against relying too heavily on cheaper Territorial Army units also holds relevance at a

General Frank Kitson as warrior-scholar   119 time of defense cuts. Support for keeping staff officers in post, and increased ‘jointery’, have been taken up by government in recent years.135 Perhaps Kitson’s most controversial opinion, though, was that subversion constituted a form of war, which the army should be ready to tackle.136 This went against the traditional preference for leaving such matters to the police, and proved particularly incendiary when first advocated in the early 1970s, a period riven with domestic strife and strikes on the mainland, quite besides the chaos in Northern Ireland. Kitson’s prediction that the army would increasingly have to counter subversion reportedly attracted widespread sympathy within the army’s top echelons.137 General Kitson had publicly rubbished the suggestion made by a BBC television reporter that these views implicated him in plotting a military coup.138 For him, if not for his critics, there was a very big difference between the army operating in aid of the civil power, and the erosion of British democracy. 134

Conclusion General Sir Frank Kitson’s writings helped push counter-­insurgency (and low-­ intensity operations more broadly) onto the British Army’s agenda at a time when conventional Cold War considerations dominated. Aided by periods in his career which allowed him time for post-­operational reflection (such as in Camberley and Oxford), Kitson was able to become an influential warrior-­scholar. Influencing doctrine manuals since the 1970s, Kitson’s writings have called for better training and education as well as organizational measures to ensure the British Army was well-­prepared to undertake counter-­insurgency and other low-­ intensity operations. In terms of theory, his works have emphasized the importance of a framework for counter-­insurgency success which included civil–military co-­ordination, good governance, and a legal system adequate to the needs of the moment. It is, however, Kitson’s emphasis on intelligence which provides much of his work’s originality. His writings consistently stressed the importance of the handling of information within a successful counter-­ insurgency framework and emphasized the need for background information to be collected, collated, and turned into contact information. Within this framework, Kitson’s original input also included ideas on the role of covert operations – indeed his counter-­gang idea was resurrected in a variety of forms throughout his career. Yet such thinking also ensured that Kitson was, and remains, a highly controversial figure. However, the practical application of Kitson’s ideas remains debatable, despite appearing potentially impressive theoretically. For example, Kitson’s initial plans for Oman differed to the eventual operation executed, in part owing to the difficulty of transferring ideas from the forests of Kenya to the Omani plains. Similarly, the attempted transfer of certain tactics from distant territories to the streets of the United Kingdom proved controversial and left Kitson a notorious figure in Northern Ireland. More recently, despite some theoretical adherence to the doctrine, the effective implementation of counter-­insurgency principles was slow to develop in operations in Helmand province in Afghanistan

120   H. Bennett and R. Cormac from 2006. Indeed, it has been argued that British forces have had to relearn basic counter-­insurgency principles before any progress could be made.139 The conduct of British operations in Afghanistan has been conditioned by years of professional training which focused on conventional warfare, thus generating a cultural predisposition towards kinetic activities.140 Clearly these issues run counter to Kitson’s calls for the army to be adequately trained and sufficiently prepared so as to engage in low-­intensity operations effectively from the outset. Moreover, specific flaws in intelligence – an issue so important throughout Kitson’s work – have impeded the counter-­insurgency effort in Afghanistan.141 Yet overall, General Sir Frank Kitson’s influence on the British Army since the Second World War has been remarkable, especially for a soldier who has, after all, never commanded a campaign. Over a series of four books spanning 27 years, Kitson has acquired a unique position as a prominent counter-­insurgency theorist with extensive operational experience.

Notes    1 See F. Grice, ‘Reflections of Mao not Empire: British Counterinsurgent Thought after the Second World War’, paper delivered at the Annual Meeting of the Society for Military History, 2012. Online. Available at: http://smh2012.org/wp-­content/ uploads/2012/02/British-­counterinsurgent-thought-­WWII-Grice.pdf, p. 13 (accessed 13 December 2012).    2 P. Dixon, ‘Beyond Hearts and Minds: Perspectives on Insurgency’ in P. Dixon (ed.), The British Approach to Counterinsurgency: From Malaya and Northern Ireland to Iraq and Afghanistan, Basingstoke: Palgrave, 2012, p. 58.    3 F. Kitson, Bunch of Five, London: Faber and Faber, 1977, p. 283.    4 P. Dixon, ‘The British Approach to Counterinsurgency: “Hearts and Minds” from Malaya to Afghanistan?’ in Dixon, The British Approach to Counterinsurgency, p. 7.    5 P. Dixon, ‘Britain’s Vietnam Syndrome: Perspectives on British Counterinsurgency, the Media and Public Opinion’ in Dixon, The British Approach to Counterinsurgency, p. 90.    6 W. Chin, ‘From Belfast to Lashkar Gar via Basra: British Counterinsurgency Today’ in P. Rich and I. Duyvesteyn (eds.), The Routledge Handbook of Insurgency and Counterinsurgency, Abingdon: Routledge, 2012, pp. 276–7.    7 Dixon, ‘The British Approach to Counterinsurgency’ in Dixon, The British Approach to Counterinsurgency, pp. 2–3.    8 F. Kitson, Gangs and Counter-­gangs, London: Barrie and Rockliff, 1960, p. 1.    9 Kitson, Bunch of Five, p. 14. For a comprehensive history of the Kenya Emergency, see: D. Anderson, Histories of the Hanged, London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 2005. For an analysis of the military campaign, see: H. Bennett, Fighting the Mau Mau: The British Army and Counter-­Insurgency in the Kenya Emergency, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012.   10 Kitson, Gangs and Counter-­gangs, p. 10.   11 Kitson, Bunch of Five, p. 19.   12 Ibid., p. 21.   13 Kitson, Gangs and Counter-­gangs, p. 28.   14 Kitson, Bunch of Five, p. 22.   15 For an analysis of intelligence in the campaign, see: R.W. Heather, ‘Intelligence and Counter-­Insurgency in Kenya, 1952–56’ in Intelligence and National Security, 1990, 5(3), pp. 57–83.

General Frank Kitson as warrior-scholar   121   16   17   18   19   20   21   22

Kitson, Bunch of Five, p. 22. Ibid. Ibid., p. 23. Kitson, Gangs and Counter-­gangs, pp. 123–33. Kitson, Bunch of Five, p. 30. Ibid., p. 49. G. Hughes, ‘Intelligence Gathering, Special Operations and Air Strikes in Modern Counterinsurgency’ in P. Rich and I. Duyvesteyn, Routledge Handbook of Insurgency and Counterinsurgency, p. 111.   23 Kitson, Gangs and Counter-­gangs, p. 76.   24 Heather, ‘Intelligence and Counter-­Insurgency’, p. 83.   25 J. Lonsdale, ‘Mau Maus of the Mind: Making Mau Mau and Remaking Kenya’ in Journal of African History, 1990, 31 (3), p. 414.   26 J. Newsinger, ‘A Counter-­Insurgency Tale: Kitson in Kenya’ in Race and Class, 1990, 31 (4), p. 68.   27 Kitson, Gangs and Counter-­gangs, p. 75.   28 Ibid., p. 92.   29 Ibid., p. 76, p. 103.   30 Ibid., p. 170.   31 Kitson, Bunch of Five, p. 53.   32 Bennett, Fighting the Mau Mau, p. 217.   33 D. Holman, Elephants at Sundown: The Story of Bill Woodley, London: W.H. Allen, 1978, p. 80.   34 Bennett, Fighting the Mau Mau, p. 153.   35 London Gazette, 1 January 1955.   36 Kitson, Bunch of Five, p. 48.   37 Kitson, Gangs and Counter-­gangs, p. 210.   38 Kitson, Bunch of Five, p. 56.   39 Ibid., p. 60.   40 Ibid., p. 149, p. 83.   41 Ibid., p. 150, pp. 89–96, p. 296.   42 R. Clutterbuck, The Long Long War, London: Cassel, 1967, pp.  107–8; Kitson, Bunch of Five, p. 151.   43 Kitson, Bunch of Five, p. 296; Kitson, Low Intensity Operations: Subversion, Insurgency and Peacekeeping, London: Faber and Faber, 1971, p. 97; See also: C. Malkasian and D. Marston, ‘Introduction’ in C. Malkasian and D. Marston (eds.), Counterinsurgency in Modern Warfare, Oxford: Osprey, 2008, p. 15.   44 M. Jones, ‘Intelligence and Counterinsurgency: The Malayan Experience’ in R. Dover and M. Goodman (eds.), Learning from the Secret Past: Cases in British Intelligence History, Washington, DC: Georgetown University Press, 2011, p. 147.   45 Jones, ‘Intelligence and Counterinsurgency’, pp. 135–54.   46 Kitson, Bunch of Five, p. 148.   47 London Gazette, May 23, 1958.   48 Kitson, Bunch of Five, p. 168.   49 J.E. Peterson, Oman’s Insurgencies: The Sultanate’s Struggle for Supremacy, London: SAQI, 2007, p. 117.   50 Kitson, Low Intensity Operations, p. 136, p. 195.   51 London Gazette, June 13, 1959.   52 Kitson, Bunch of Five, p. 246.   53 Kitson, Low Intensity Operations, pp. 156–8; see also: M. Carver, ‘Peacekeeping in Cyprus’ in J. Koumoulides (ed.), Cyprus in Transition, 1960–1985, London: Trigraph, 1985, p. 28.   54 P. Murtagh, ‘Hope that Britain Destroyed: Cyprus’, The Guardian, 2 April 1988.   55 Kitson, Bunch of Five, pp. 254–77; Kitson, Low Intensity Operations, pp. 150–2.

122   H. Bennett and R. Cormac   56 M. Harbottle, The Impartial Soldier, London: Oxford University Press, 1970, pp. 156–7.   57 T.B. Zaalberg, ‘Counterinsurgency and Peace Operations’ in Rich and Duyvesteyn, The Routledge Handbook of Insurgency and Counterinsurgency, p. 87.   58 Kitson, quoted in Zaalberg, ‘Counterinsurgency and Peace Operations’, p. 87.   59 Ibid., p. 88.   60 Ibid.   61 London Gazette, 1 January 1968.   62 Kitson, Bunch of Five, p. 281.   63 Alderson, ‘Britain’, p. 35.   64 Kitson, Low Intensity Operations.   65 See T. Hennessey, The Evolution of the Troubles, 1970–72, Dublin: Irish Academic Press, 2007.   66 T.P. Coogan, The Troubles: Ireland’s Ordeal 1966–1996 and the Search for Peace, London: Arrow, 1996, pp. 144–5; M. Dillon, The Enemy Within, London: Doubleday, 1994, pp. 98–102.   67 D. Porch, ‘The Dangerous Myths and Dubious Promise of Counterinsurgency’ in Small Wars and Insurgencies, 2011, Vol. 22, pp. 239–57, at p. 249.   68 Dixon, ‘Beyond Hearts and Minds: Perspectives on British Insurgency’, p. 67.   69 P. Taylor, Brits: The War against the IRA, London: Bloomsbury, 2001, p. 76.   70 R. Thornton, ‘Getting it Wrong: The Crucial Mistakes in the Early Stages of the British Army’s Deployment to Northern Ireland (August 1969 to March 1972)’ in Journal of Strategic Studies, 2007, 30 (1), pp. 73–107.   71 Taylor, Brits: The War against the IRA, p. 53; R. Davis, ‘Kitson Versus Marighela: The Debate Over Northern Ireland Terrorism’ in Y. Alexander and A. O’Day (eds.), Ireland’s Terrorism Dilemma, London and Massachusetts: Martinus Nijhoff, 1986, pp. 181–3.   72 Dixon, ‘Hearts and Minds: British Counterinsurgency in Northern Ireland’, p. 267.   73 Taylor, Brits: The War against the IRA, pp. 55–6.   74 Kitson, Low Intensity Operations, pp. 95–101.   75 Ibid., pp. 129–30.   76 D. Hamill, Pig in the Middle: The Army in Northern Ireland, 1969–1984, London: Book Club Associates, 1985, p.  121; F. Kitson, ‘Evidence of Frank Kitson to the Bloody Sunday Inquiry’ in The Bloody Sunday Inquiry, February 18, 2000, Paragraph 5. Online. Available at: http://webarchive.nationalarchives.gov. uk/20101103103930/http://report.bloody-­sunday-inquiry.org/evidence/CK/ CK_0001.pdf [accessed January 2013]; R. Faligot, Britain’s Military Strategy in Ireland: The Kitson Experiment, London: Zed Press, 1983, p. 123.   77 M. Kirk-­Smith and J. Dingley, ‘Countering Terrorism in Northern Ireland: The Role of Intelligence’ in Small Wars and Insurgencies, 2009, 20 (3 and 4), pp. 551–73, at p. 553.   78 P. Dixon, ‘ “Hearts and Minds”? British Counter-­Insurgency Strategy in Northern Ireland’ in Journal of Strategic Studies, 2009, Vol. 32, pp. 445–74, at p. 465.   79 Kitson, Low Intensity Operations, p. 92, p. 130.   80 Taylor, Brits: The War against the IRA, p. 129.   81 Coogan, The Troubles, pp.  285–6; Faligot, The Kitson Experiment, p.  26, p.  37; Taylor, Brits: The War against the IRA, pp. 127–8.   82 Kitson, Low Intensity Operations, p. 100, p. 130.   83 Liddell Hart Centre for Military Archives, King’s College London (hereafter LHCMA), Box 1: Land Operations Vol. III, 1969–1977, British Army Field Manuals and Doctrine Publications, GB0099: British Army, Land Operations, Volume III: Counter-­Revolutionary Operations. Part 1 – Principles and General Aspects, Amdt.2/Jan/73 (1973), p.  60; Part 2 Internal Security, Amdt.2/Jan/73, p.  42D, London: Ministry of Defence.

General Frank Kitson as warrior-scholar   123   84 Taylor, Brits: The War against the IRA, pp.  128–9; G. Adams, ‘A Compensation Double Standard’ in Guardian Unlimited, September 8, 2009. Online. Available at: www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2009/sep/08/libya-­ira-compensation-­gerryadams?INTCMP=SRCH [accessed July 25, 2011].   85 Kitson, Bunch of Five, p.  289; Kitson, Low Intensity Operations, p.  69; Taylor, Brits: The War against the IRA, p. 67.   86 Dixon, ‘ “Hearts and Minds”?’, p. 457.   87 Hamill, Pig in the Middle, pp. 64–5; J. Bowyer Bell, The Irish Troubles: A Generation of Violence, 1967–1992, New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1993, pp. 229–30; Hennessey, The Evolution of the Troubles, p. 345.   88 Kitson, Low Intensity Operations, pp. 77–8.   89 Faligot, The Kitson Experiment, p.  57, p.  68; Mike Thomson, ‘Document’, BBC Radio Four, March 22, 2010. Online. Available at: www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/ b00rdxm1.   90 Kitson, Low Intensity Operations, p. 79.   91 D. Charters, ‘Intelligence and Psychological Warfare Operations in Northern Ireland’ in RUSI Journal, 1977, 122 (25); Dixon, ‘ “Hearts and Minds”?’, pp. 463–4; A. Edwards, ‘Misapplying Lessons Learned? Analysing the Utility of British Counterinsurgency Strategy in Northern Ireland, 1971–76’ in Small Wars and Insurgencies, 2010, Vol. 21, p. 316.   92 Kitson, Low Intensity Operations, pp. 51–3.   93 Edwards, ‘Misapplying Lessons Learned?’, p. 304.   94 Kitson, Low Intensity Operations, p. 54.   95 Taylor, Brits: The War against the IRA, p. 55.   96 Ibid., pp.  76–7; R. Cowan, ‘Soldiers who Shot 13 Dead “Not Thugs”: Bloody Sunday Inquiry’ in The Guardian, September 25, 2002, p. 10.   97 F. Kitson, Transcript of the Bloody Sunday Inquiry, Day 237, The Bloody Sunday Inquiry, September 4, 2002, Kitson, p. 41. Online. Available at: http://webarchive. nationalarchives.gov.uk/20101103103930/http://report.bloody-­sunday-inquiry.org/ transcripts/Archive/Ts237.htm [accessed January 2013].   98 The Bloody Sunday Inquiry, Report of the Bloody Sunday Inquiry, ‘The Question of Responsibility for the Deaths and Injuries on Bloody Sunday’, Vol. I, Chapter 4, Paragraphs 4.2–4.5.   99 Kitson, Low Intensity Operations, pp. 89–90. 100 Ibid., p. 70. 101 Ibid., p. 200; S. Jenkins, ‘Direct Hit by an Old Sniper: The Latest War at the Ministry of Defence’ in The Sunday Times, March 15, 1987. 102 Kitson, Bunch of Five, p. 298. 103 London Gazette, February 14, 1972. 104 Chin, ‘From Belfast to Lashkar Gar via Basra’, p. 277. 105 London Gazette, January 26, 1976. 106 For his views on the topic, see: F. Kitson, ‘The New British Armoured Division’ in RUSI Journal, 1977, Vol. 122, pp. 17–19. 107 London Gazette, February 28, 1978; London Gazette, February 19, 1980. 108 London Gazette, December 31, 1979. 109 London Gazette, March 18, 1980. 110 London Gazette, 31 May 1982. 111 London Gazette, February 15, 1983; London Gazette, December 31, 1984. 112 London Gazette, August 12, 1985; A. Alderson, The Validity of British Army Counterinsurgency Doctrine after the War in Iraq 2003–2009, PhD Thesis, Cranfield University, 2009, p. 2. 113 The Independent, April 5, 1998, p. 35. 114 S.T. Hosmer and S.O. Crane, Counterinsurgency: A Symposium, April 16–20, 1962, Santa Monica: RAND, 2006 [1963].

124   H. Bennett and R. Cormac 115 Hosmer and Crane, Counterinsurgency: A Symposium, p. xx. 116 LHCMA, Box 1: Land Operations Vol. III, 1969–1977, British Army Field Manuals and Doctrine Publications, GB0099: British Army, Land Operations, Volume III: Counter-­Revolutionary Operations. Part 1 – Principles and General Aspects, London: Ministry of Defence, 1969, p. 69, p. 83. 117 LHCMA, Box 1: Land Operations Volume III, 1969–1977, British Army Field Manuals and Doctrine Publications, GB0099: British Army, Land Operations Volume III Counter-­Revolutionary Operations, Part 1 – General Principles, London: Ministry of Defence, 1977, pp. 53–4. 118 Alderson, British Army Counterinsurgency Doctrine, p. 120. 119 The Times, February 13, 2010, p. 109. 120 Land Warfare Development Group, Army Field Manual Volume 1, Part 10 Countering Insurgency, Warminster: Land Warfare Centre, 2009, pp. 1–9, p. 43. 121 Development, Concepts and Doctrine Centre, Security and Stabilisation: The Military Contribution. Joint Doctrine Publication 3–40, Shrivenham: DCDC, 2009, p. xvii, p. 85. 122 U.S. Army/U.S. Marine Corps, Counterinsurgency Field Manual, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2007, p. 392. 123 ‘RUSI Interview with General David Richards’ in RUSI Journal, 2007, Vol. 152, p. 26. 124 A. Roberts, ‘The British Armed Forces and Politics: A Historical Perspective’ in Armed Forces and Society, 1977, Vol. 3, pp. 531–56; C. Enloe, ‘Police and military in Ulster: peacekeeping or peace-­subverting forces?’ in Journal of Peace Research, 1978, Vol. 15, pp.  243–58; P. Wilkinson, ‘Proposals for government and international responses to terrorism’ in Terrorism, 1981, Vol. 5, pp. 161–93; S. Kalyvas, ‘The urban bias in research on civil wars’ in Security Studies, 2004, Vol. 15, pp. 160–90; F. Hoffman, ‘Small wars revisited: the United States and nontraditional wars’ in Journal of Strategic Studies, 2005, Vol. 28, pp. 913–40; D. Kilcullen, ‘Counter-­insurgency Redux’ in Survival, 2006, Vol. 48, pp. 111–30. 125 Alderson, British Army Counterinsurgency Doctrine, p. 2. 126 The Times, January 10, 1973, p. 14. 127 Kitson, Bunch of Five, pp. 281–91; Alderson, British Army Counterinsurgency Doctrine, p. 17. 128 The Economist, November 20, 1971, pp. 68–9. 129 Army Field Manual, pp. 3–17. 130 F. Kitson, Warfare as a Whole, London: Faber and Faber, 1987, p. 2. 131 The Economist, March 14, 1987, p. 96. 132 Kitson, Warfare as a Whole, p. 100. 133 Ibid., pp. 167–9. 134 Ibid., p. 94. 135 Ibid., p. 122, p. 144. 136 Kitson, Warfare as a Whole, p. 4. 137 The Times, May 23, 1972, p. 6. 138 The Times, January 9, 1980, p. 1. 139 R. Egnell, ‘Lessons from Helmand, Afghanistan: What Now for British Counterinsurgency?’ in International Affairs, 2011, Vol. 87, p. 297, p. 305. 140 A. King, ‘Understanding the Helmand campaign: British military operations in Afghanistan’ in International Affairs, 2010, Vol. 86, p. 313, p. 323; Egnell, ‘Lessons from Helmand’, p. 306. 141 Egnell, ‘Lessons from Helmand’, p. 297, p. 303.

7 Warrior-scholarship in the age of globalised insurgency The work of David Kilcullen Andrew Mumford

Being chief counter-­insurgency advisor to General David Petraeus at a time when the American military grappled with two asymmetric quagmires in Afghanistan and Iraq was a task of intellectual enormity. The complex conflict dynamic of the ‘Long War’ on terrorism, wrought by a perceptible paradigm shift in the very nature of insurgencies, has given rise to a new generation of ‘warrior-scholar’. At the forefront of this wave is a man Thomas Ricks affectionately labelled ‘the Crocodile Dundee of counter-­insurgency’, the Australian David Kilcullen.1 This chapter aims to harness Kilcullen’s scholarly output to critically analyse his conception of the changing face of insurgencies, and assess his tactical and strategic approaches to counter the evolving threats. Kilcullen has been prominent within the school of thought promulgating the understanding of a ‘globalised’ Islamist insurgency since 9/11 and has enunciated the need for a more nuanced understanding of the counter-­insurgent response away from ‘classical’ era theories. The bulk of Kilcullen’s scholarly output was between 2005 and 2009. This should perhaps be of little surprise given the widespread strategic soul-­searching and doctrinal realignment that the degeneration of the occupation of Iraq in particular had caused the US military during this time. Against a backdrop of nearly 900 insurgent attacks against coalition forces every week, Kilcullen attained widespread attention in policy-­making and military circles in 2006 when his contemporary reinterpretation of T.E. Lawrence’s ‘Twenty Seven Articles’ was emailed to officers serving in Iraq.2 His major offering, a memoir-­ cum-manual for modern counter-­insurgency, The Accidental Guerrilla, was published in 2009 at a time when a re-­energised ‘neo’-Taliban had emerged in Afghanistan, threatening the longevity of nation-­building projects. This chapter’s central critical engagement will be with the arguments enshrined across his works, primarily the notion that contemporary civil–military conceptions of the insurgent threat emanating from Islamist extremists are unrefined and wrongly conflate local and international movements to create a false threat perception.

126   A. Mumford

Kilcullen the modern ‘warrior-scholar’ In late 2006 David Kilcullen observed that ‘counter-­insurgency is fashionable again’, and he has undeniably been one of the primary style gurus behind this trend.3 Kilcullen’s centrality to contemporary warrior-scholarship emanates from three broad contributions to the understanding of irregular warfare. First is his problematising of the modern insurgent threat, positing Al-­Qaeda not as phenomenological but rather as ‘the harbinger of a new era of conflict’.4 By premising the need to adequately conceptualise the complexities of contemporary insurgency Kilcullen offers a second strand of major contribution through his advocacy of perceived solutions for the complex problem of counter-­insurgency. By urging us to contemplate the symptoms before we administer the remedy, Kilcullen’s third, and perhaps most important contribution, is to offer policy-­ makers, strategic studies scholars, and military leaders at all levels of command a subtle account of the interdependent relationship between the causes and conduct of contemporary irregular warfare. Taken as a whole, Kilcullen’s prescriptions for Western counter-­insurgents in the early twenty-­first century are designed to enable them to ‘adapt, evolve new responses, and get ahead of a rapidly changing threat environment’.5 Kilcullen’s scholarly credentials are firmly rooted in a rich and varied military career. He spent 20 years as an infantry officer in the Royal Australian Regiment, rising to Lieutenant Colonel on the Australian Army Headquarters Staff where, in 2004, he was seconded to the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade in Canberra to undertake his first major piece of policy shaping in his capacity as military advisor on the formulation of Australia’s counter-­terrorism doctrine. Yet it was his military experience, most formatively commanding military advisory teams in Indonesia and a company of counter-­insurgents in East Timor in the 1990s, that gave Kilcullen exposure to insurgencies in traditional Muslim societies. This encouraged him to undertake specialist language training and prompted him to complete a PhD (seemingly a hallmark of contemporary Western warrior-scholarship, á la David Petraeus, H.R. McMaster and John Nagl) at the University of New South Wales entitled ‘The Political Consequences of Military Operations in Indonesia, 1945–1999’. Yet what marks Kilcullen’s doctoral achievements out from that of his contemporaries is that he trained and completed his thesis as an anthropologist. This versed Kilcullen in the cultural aspects of conflict, ensuring that his contribution to the debate on counter-­insurgency did not emerge from a technologically obsessed desire to kill the enemy, but from a population-­centric viewpoint that presaged an understanding of customs, religion and society as a prerequisite for the utility of force in counter-­insurgency.6 This deep cultural appreciation of such societies stood Kilcullen in good stead in the post-­9/11 world. His understanding of the subtle links between culture and violence are evident in his writings. Yet there does appear to be a rather large gap across his corpus of work (which shall all be addressed in detail later in the chapter) namely the religious drivers of modern insurgency. The specificities of

David Kilcullen and globalised insurgency   127 Al-­Qaeda’s perversions of Koranic verse and the theological premise of their actions are overlooked. Kilcullen’s focus on tracing social networks misses an important component of contemporary jihadist motivation and means that Kilcullen is primarily dealing with effect and not cause in his understanding of the dynamics of modern insurgency. By 2004, as the occupation of Iraq had degenerated into a vicious insurgency, Kilcullen was given an opportunity to impress his ideas on a wider policy audience. A meeting at a US Marine Corps Warfighting Laboratory conference in August 2004 with the head of the Quadrennial Defence Review (QDR) writing team, James P. Thomas, led to Kilcullen being co-­opted onto the Pentagon unit drafting the irregular warfare and counter-­terrorism elements of the 2006 QDR. As Kilcullen and his team were, in his own words, thinking ‘ideas that were too subversive even to write down’ in 2004–2005, the FM  3–24 writing team had yet to be assembled.7 Perhaps here we can see the germinal origins of a substantive counter-­insurgency rethink that predates the much vaunted Counterinsurgency Field Manual (a document Kilcullen influenced, as shall be seen later). Kilcullen had clearly made his mark at the Pentagon. A meeting with leading CIA figure Hank Crumpton at a conference in mid-­2005 paid off when months later Crumpton was appointed US Co-­ordinator for Counter-­Terrorism and secured Kilcullen’s services as his chief strategist at the State Department. In 2007 Kilcullen swapped Foggy Bottom for the Green Zone of Baghdad to serve as senior counter-­insurgency advisor to General David Petraeus in a part-­ diplomatic, part-­military role, allowing him to gain substantive and valuable field experience that would come to hone his ideas about the theory and practice of modern irregular warfare.

The problem: Al-­Qaeda as a globalised insurgency One of Kilcullen’s notable marks on contemporary warrior-scholarship in the realm of irregular warfare is his membership of the school of thought that posited Al-­Qaeda as a globalised takfiri insurgent group.8 First enunciated in an influential Adelphi Paper by John Mackinlay in 2002, the understanding that Al-­ Qaeda represented a globally networked transnational movement encouraged its advocates to promulgate counter-­insurgency solutions that were suitably global in scope.9 Kilcullen built upon Mackinlay’s foundations and sought to assert the actual relevance of counter-­insurgency approaches to the ‘War on Terror’. This reconceptualisation of Al-­Qaeda has reshaped the debate surrounding the contemporary threat environment and has significant implications for the construction of the policy response as it challenged the so-­called ‘neo-­classical’ theorists who advocated the need for a reworking of counter-­insurgency theory from its ‘classical’ heyday in the 1960s against essentially Maoist enemies.10 This global insurgency, Kilcullen claims, is held together ‘through a nested series of links . . . including common ideologies, shared languages, cultures and a common Islamic faith’.11 Furthermore, we can identify tribal and friendship networks that unite key nodes of the network in fraternal bonds of esprit de corps.

128   A. Mumford Despite this view of a globalised insurgency, Kilcullen is right to point out that Al-­Qaeda is ‘not a central headquarters or “high command” for the global jihad’. Instead, Kilcullen paints a picture of a ‘sponsorship system’ whereby Al-­Qaeda provides training, funding and logistical help for allied groups to undertake attacks.12 The spirit of solidarity is further enhanced by the sharing of propaganda material over the internet, including the uploading of martyrdom videos and tapes of attacks taking place. This is not to say that local groups with specific grievances no longer exist, Kilcullen explains, but that they are now linked into wider regional, or even global, networks who plug these localised groups into the wider body politic of jihad. Modern insurgency, in the form of Al-­ Qaeda, has thus transcended traditional territorially defined uprisings that pitted one group of sub-­state actors against a government. Instead we are now witnessing, in Kilcullen’s words, ‘real time co-­operation and cross-­pollination amongst insurgents in many countries’.13 However, it would be wrong to interpret the global jihad as a monolithic movement that coalesces around the same set of strategic goals. Instead, Kilcullen argues, it ‘comprises a loosely aligned confederation of independent networks and movements, not a single unified organisation’.14 Beset by what he terms ‘clones and competitors’, Al-­Qaeda in Kilcullen’s opinion is not indispensible to the proliferation of this insurgency. Other groups, such as Hizbollah for example, could step into the breach to direct the global conduct of the jihad. We can also note the establishment of semi-­autonomous national or regional franchises of Al-­Qaeda (such as Al-­Qaeda in Iraq, or Al-­Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb) as indications of the involuntary devolution of control over the direction of the jihad at a strategic and operational level away from the traditional hub of Al-­Qaeda that fractured after the coalition invasion of Afghanistan in 2001. Yet the ‘global’ nature of Al-­Qaeda’s insurgency, as Kilcullen depicts it, does run the risk of being conceptually misleading. Kilcullen opens himself to criticism that modern insurgency is only global by default because his understanding is based on an assumption that the (local) sum parts make the (global) whole. It takes for granted that there is a constitutive link between the two and that sum parts do indeed make the whole. Kilcullen talks of the need for greater ‘disaggregation’ of threats, yet this is one area in which the author himself needed to disaggregate the phenomena of insurgencies to a larger degree. There is an uncritical understanding in Kilcullen’s work that insurgencies today are global because of their connectivity or the expanse of common motives and tactics, not simply by dint of their geographical dispersal. Another issue that Kilcullen is perhaps too keen to dismiss is the strength and influence of rural Al-­Qaeda strongholds.15 Positing that contemporary insurgents are now predominantly urban belies the significant rural violence that still controls the strategic game plan in Afghanistan, particularly given the links between rural poppy cultivation and Taliban financing. Kilcullen is arguably too quick to have urbanised modern insurgents. Cities may provide perfect cover for insurgents to blend into the population, but the rabbit warren mountain passages in

David Kilcullen and globalised insurgency   129 Afghanistan allow the Taliban to blend into the landscape. Furthermore, with the proliferation in the number of rural roadside bombs, particularly crude Improvised Explosive Devices (IEDs), being set by Taliban fighters, the countryside remains an important operational space for contemporary insurgents seeking contested or ungovernable hinterland in which to plan and carry out isolated attacks. Kabul arguably remains the focal point of coalition security efforts, but counter-­insurgent control (and indeed that of President Hamid Karzai) has yet to permeate the large swathes of rural Afghanistan – and this will be the arena in which Al-­Qaeda’s takfiri agenda can irrevocably manifest itself in the longer term. Yet the most illuminating angle from which Kilcullen deconstructs Al-­Qaeda is by defining it not solely by violent activity alone. This is where his anthropological background – the scholar over the warrior – comes to the fore, particularly when he stresses the need to interpret the jihad as ‘a variant on a traditional Middle Eastern patronage network. It is an intricate web of dependency and, critically, the patterns of patronage are its central defining features, rather than the insurgent cells and their activities’.16 This interpretation has a direct repercussion upon counter-­insurgency solutions as Kilcullen’s description implies a greater emphasis on the engrained social roots of the movement, rather than its amorphous violent contingent (even if, as mentioned earlier, an overt religious strand to the analysis is missing). So having set up the problem (Al-­Qaeda as a globalised insurgency), Kilcullen’s secondary contribution has been to create perceived remedies for counter-­ insurgents to administer.

The solutions: counter-­insurgency redux In late 2006 Kilcullen identified the need in this new counter-­insurgency era for nothing short of ‘fundamental reappraisals of conventional wisdom’.17 Kilcullen’s perspective on the shape of contemporary counter-­insurgency demands that looking back will not illuminate the way forward, cautioning against the urge to ‘ “cut and paste” the tenets of classical 1960s counter-­insurgency’.18 Yet just how much of a refreshing antidote to ‘conventional wisdom’ Kilcullen’s work actually is remains debatable given his close affiliation with the so-­called ‘COINdinistas’ – essentially the advocates of counter-­insurgency who found themselves brought within the inner circle of General David Petraeus during the writing of the revamped US Army and Marine Corps Counterinsurgency Field Manual (FM  3–24). The hard lobbying the ‘COINdinistas’ did from within the US military for a recalibration of US strategy in Iraq was rewarded with high-­level strategic influence once Petraeus took command of US forces in Baghdad in January 2007. The common mindset of the ‘COINdinistas’, revolving around promulgating greater population-­centric operations and asserting the non-­kinetic solutions to the thorny issue of winning ‘hearts and minds’, became strategically pervasive from this point. The effect of this, as Jeff Michaels and Matthew Ford  have convincingly argued, is that the ability to debate the direction of

130   A. Mumford counter-­insurgency strategy has been restricted because the common ‘COINdinista’ agenda shared by Petraeus, Kilcullen et al. has become so engrained that is has itself transformed into the new mode of conventional thinking.19 This has ensured a more narrow analytical focus on the mechanisms of counter-­ insurgency implementation and overlooked alternative conceptualisations that take a broader political view into account. As a fully signed up ‘COINdinista’, Kilcullen has, across his works, enunciated numerous manifestos for change and alternative bullet-­pointed strategic maxims. So what are these ‘new’ doctrinal conventions that are designed to overhaul what he perceives to be traditional thinking in the realm of irregular warfare? Encapsulating Kilcullen’s evolutionary redesign of doctrine are his seven ‘new counter-­insurgency paradigms’ that he offered in 2006 as ‘tentative hypotheses’ regarding the development of modern asymmetric war-­fighting: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

In a modern counter-­insurgency, the side may win which best mobilises and energises its global, regional and local support base – and prevents its adversaries from doing likewise. In a modern counter-­insurgency, the security force ‘area of influence’ may need to include all neighbouring countries, and its ‘area of interest’ may need to be global. In a modern counter-­insurgency, the security force must control a complex ‘conflict ecosystem’ – rather than defeating a single specific insurgent adversary. In a modern counter-­insurgency, a common diagnosis of the problem, and enablers for collaboration, may matter more than formal unity of effort across multiple agencies. Modern counter-­insurgency may be 100 per cent political – comprehensive media coverage makes even the most straightforward combat action a ‘political warfare’ engagement. In a modern counter-­insurgency, ‘victory’ may not be final – ‘permanent containment’ may be needed to prevent defeated insurgents transforming into terrorist groups. In a modern counter-­insurgency, secret intelligence may matter less than situational awareness based on unclassified but difficult-­to-access information.20

Essentially, Kilcullen’s observations here are arguably a twenty-­first century equivalent of Sir Robert Thompson’s ‘Five Basic Principles of Counter-­ Insurgency’ written in the ‘classical’ era in the 1960s.21 Like Thompson before him, Kilcullen is attempting to reflect fundamental changes in the conflict environment, particularly the shift in enemy operating practices. They also convey a sense of the increased conflation of the tactical and strategic levels of irregular warfare given the way in which a globalised world allows one incident (such as the photos emanating from Abu Ghraib) to have a significant impact upon the overarching strategic narrative of the campaign.

David Kilcullen and globalised insurgency   131 It is certainly worth giving magnified attention in particular to the fifth of Kilcullen’s paradigms, namely the assertion that counter-­insurgency may be 100 per cent political (an assertion in itself that raises the bar on David Galula’s famous 1964 declaration that counter-­insurgency is ‘20 per cent military action and 80 per cent political’,22 as discussed by Bruno Reis in Chapter 3). This hypothesis is forwarded by Kilcullen based on an understanding that counter-­insurgency is a ‘whole-­of-government problem rather than a military or law enforcement issue’ given the way in which insurgents, as opposed to terrorists, ‘are regarded as representative of deeper issues or grievances within society’.23 The problem is therefore socially entrenched and cannot be solved by weight of military resources alone. This hypothetical has, in Kilcullen’s opinion, played out in reality when assessing the political malaise in Afghanistan typified by the discredited 2009 presidential election in the country. Trust in government is a prerequisite of retarding insurgent support and this has been evidently lacking in Afghanistan. Corruption, political stagnation and a lack of democratic credibility have all hindered the implementation of effective governance in Afghanistan, and, as a consequence, maligned the counter-­insurgency strategy because of a lack of public faith in a system they are being asked to invest their trust in. Kilcullen’s outlook for Afghanistan, from the viewpoint of late 2009, was bleak, arguing that unless significant political reform was undertaken then the government in Kabul will inevitably fall to the Taliban.24 Alongside the promotion of the ubiquity of politics in contemporary counter-­ insurgency warfare, Kilcullen has also promulgated the essential role cultural awareness plays in effective counter-­insurgency operations, arguing that it is a ‘critical combat capability’.25 The level of cultural awareness within the American armed forces was starkly raised by a provocative article by the British Brigadier Nigel Aylwin-­Foster in Military Review in late 2005, in which he accused the Americans of being deeply ignorant of the cultural values of the Iraqi people, which he felt was inflaming the situation.26 At the same time as Aylwin-­Foster’s article was providing food for thought amongst the higher echelons of the Pentagon, Kilcullen was espousing more constructive criticisms regarding predeployment cultural education. At base, Kilcullen argued, every soldier should have a ‘basic degree of cultural awareness’, whilst ‘every key operator in the War on Terrorism needs a comprehensive understanding of Islam, jihad, Islamist ideology and Muslim culture’.27 The high expectations that Kilcullen places on all levels of the military is a reflection of the impact cultural appreciation can have upon aiding the political aspect of any counter-­insurgency strategy. This takes place in an environment where, if Kilcullen’s calculations are rightly manifested, 100 per cent of strategic effect is leveraged politically. Improved cultural awareness is therefore not only pragmatic but tangibly rewarding. As an additional policy prescription to remedy the strategic disquiet the War on Terrorism found itself in by 2005, Kilcullen’s voice was calling for the implementation of a strategy of disaggregation. Essentially, this entailed a more  nuanced approach in the perception of the gamut of threats facing the West, requiring a more discriminate interpretation of each strand. Accordingly,

132   A. Mumford terrorism should not be synonymous with nuclear proliferation issues or ‘rogue states’. Such a disaggregated strategy, Kilcullen argued, would allow for such elements that are connected to the global jihad to be adequately addressed, thus avoiding the implementation of a broad brushstroke strategy by ‘de-­linking local issues from the global insurgent system’.28 But, as argued earlier, this notion is still riddled with the internal contradiction of the aggregation of localised conflicts with the presence of a global insurgency. Such ‘de-­linking’, as Kilcullen put it in 2005, would form the cornerstone of his later ‘accidental guerrilla’ theory, as he attempted to shed greater analytical light upon the inter-­relationship between the causes and conduct of modern irregular warfare.

The causes and conduct of modern irregular warfare The apogee of Kilcullen’s warrior-scholarship came with the publication in 2009 of The Accidental Guerrilla, a book that, by his own admission, is ‘part field study, part personal recollection’.29 Building upon ideas enunciated in his earlier articles, Kilcullen locates the book (whether wittingly or not) firmly within the annals of warrior-scholarship, in particular when he identifies a perennial problem within the wider discipline by pre-­empting criticism of the book for being ‘too academic to be popular and too populist to be purely academic’.30 One of Kilcullen’s most important claims in the book is that the security environment in the era of the ‘Long War on Terror’ is best understood as a hybrid, based upon what he claims are ‘four conceptual frameworks’ that each partially contribute explanations of the whole. The four strands to the model help perceive the environment from different angles and aid identification of the causes of violence and thus offer signposts for appropriate responses to it.31 The first concept posits modern takfiri violence as a backlash against globalisation – a phenomena that concomitantly provides a spur to violence yet whose side-­ effects allow the group to undertake operations globally with greater efficiency and publicity.32 The second element reinforces Kilcullen’s earlier espousal of the ‘globalised insurgency’ theory, urging us to perceive the often very local causes of globally connected violence.33 The third paradigm holds that what we are in part witnessing is violence emanating from a civil war within Islam. Not only have we witnessed Sunni versus Shia violence in Iraq, but Al-­Qaeda also represents a takfiri usurpation of mainstream, legitimate Islamic values.34 The fourth and final element pertains to asymmetric warfare and puts forth the explanation that the disparity in power and capability between the US and other states, and crucially non-­state actors, actually exacerbates the logic behind Al-­Qaeda’s insurgency.35 This multi-­dimensional interpretation offers nuance to the complex threat and challenging environment facing modern counter-­insurgents. Kilcullen is relatively pragmatic in his promulgation of a multi-­causal and not a mono-­ causal explanation of contemporary insurgent violence and does not shy away from attempting to deconstruct this intricate conflict dynamic. The most useful tool that Kilcullen offers as a means of making sense of this complexity is the notion of the ‘accidental guerrilla’ to which the title of his

David Kilcullen and globalised insurgency   133 book alludes. This theory is the foundation upon which Kilcullen builds his analysis. In essence he argues that the fighters who participate in local conflicts where Al-­Qaeda is a catalyst to violence are ‘fighting us because we are in his space, not because he wishes to invade ours’.36 For Kilcullen this syndrome, whereby locals are drawn into violence by fault and not by design, is constitutive of four stages: 1 2 3 4

INFECTION: Al-­Qaeda establishes a presence in an area. CONTAGION: Once established, Al-­Qaeda manifests its ideas in local communities and creates safe havens. INTERVENTION: The previous two stages prompt a response from outside forces keen to suppress Al-­Qaeda. REJECTION: Inevitably, the local community rejects the external interference and consolidates links with Al-­Qaeda.37

This ‘accidental guerrilla’ theory has significant consequences in as much as it essentially posits that the entire prosecution of the Global War on Terrorism could potentially have created more evils than the ills it sought to overcome. In other words, it has driven local populations into the arms of Al-­Qaeda, albeit inadvertently, as the external intervention of foreign forces in Afghanistan and Iraq has unleashed resentments at such interference, not because these communities naturally align themselves with Al-­Qaeda’s worldview. This fundamental assumption drives a stake through the strategic heart of the War on Terror. This hypothesis crystallises Kilcullen’s evident reluctance to shield his erstwhile paymasters in Washington from his criticism. He openly labels the invasion of Iraq ‘an extremely serious strategic error’,38 and lambasts ‘the international community’s failure to allocate adequate resources for Afghanistan’.39 Yet despite such previous strategic errors, Kilcullen makes it plain that ‘the task of the moment is not to cry over split milk but to help clean it up’.40 Kilcullen’s work therefore becomes a useful mop to aid this clean-­up operation. Bearing in mind his perennial mantra regarding the omnipresence of politics in counter-­insurgency, it is little surprise to hear Kilcullen argue that ‘instability in Afghanistan is a far broader problem than insurgency’.41 Implicitly critical of existing strategy in Afghanistan, Kilcullen is keen to premise state-­building as a prerequisite for enhanced security, succinctly stating that: ‘effective counterinsurgency is a matter of good governance’.42 For Kilcullen, this involves strengthening the new Afghan government, augmenting the effectiveness of local security forces, and nurturing best practice in local government.43 Yet it is the war in Iraq that draws both the sharpest of Kilcullen’s ire but also his strongest defence of in-­theatre adaptation. As senior counter-­insurgency advisor to General David Petraeus (a soldier no stranger to the complex exigencies of irregular warfare, as James Russell discusses in the next chapter) Kilcullen helped shepherd in a new modus operandi of forces in Iraq during the 2007 ‘surge’. He remains resolutely proud of the strategic achievements made since

134   A. Mumford then: ‘We turned around a war that many believed had already been lost, though a strategy of protecting the people from intimidation, forging genuine partnerships with local communities, co-­opting “accidentals” . . . and killing or capturing the few on the extreme fringes.’44 However, Kilcullen (a vocal critic of the original invasion) locates the Iraq War at a different originating point on his ‘accidental guerrilla syndrome’ cycle as opposed to that of the war in Afghanistan, therefore changing how we think about the causes of Iraqi insurgent violence. Unlike Afghanistan, where takfiri terrorists had already infected and spread contagion through communities before the 9/11-inspired Western invasion, Iraq had no such levels of societal infection until the US-­led intervention sparked a contagion of takfiri violence.45 By applying his experiences in Iraq to his ‘accidental guerrilla’ theory, Kilcullen offers an insight into not only the causes of post-­2003 violence but, most usefully, an explanation of how he and senior US military commanders of Multi-­National Force – Iraq (MNF-­I) constructed a joint counter-­insurgency approach as a response. Kilcullen acknowledged that ‘the Surge of 2007 was an attempt to arrest a vicious cycle that we ourselves had begun’, however he elucidates upon the cycle of violence that dragged Iraq to the brink of outright civil war.46 He notes how Al-­Qaeda infiltrated Sunni communities (in part through intimidation rather than consensually) and used them as bases to mount attacks against rival Shia groups. Such violence would then spark retaliatory attacks that were often indiscriminate, thus causing cross-­communal resentment, friction, and pushing the cycle of violence into another revolution.47 Kilcullen was keen to find ways to ameliorate this civil conflict and developed approaches that corresponded with the component elements of the cycle of violence. As a consequence, US forces created joint security stations (JSS) with local Iraqi forces and embedded them in vulnerable communities in order to act as a bulwark against Al-­Qaeda infiltration. Furthermore, ‘gated communities’ were created in Shia areas, complete with checkpoints and barriers, in order to enhance civilian protection and prevent penetration by insurgent outsiders. In the event of an Al-­Qaeda attack occurring, Kilcullen and his units were resolute in their attempts to persuade Shia’s not to lash out at their Sunni neighbours and established JSSs in Sunni communities to protect them. Collectively, these measures, Kilcullen argues, ‘were designed to reduce the feeling of intimidation and lift the pall of fear from communities’.48 In a nutshell, here we have the application of counter-­insurgency practice in acknowledgment of theoretical perspectives on the causes of insurgent violence – a tangible manifestation of warrior-scholarship in action. Kilcullen borrows Frank Hoffman’s phrase to characterise Iraq as a ‘hybrid war’ constitutive of four strategic problems for US forces: capacity-­building the Iraqi state; terrorism from Al-­Qaeda in Iraq (AQI); Sunni and Shia insurgent violence directed against the new Iraqi government and the coalition; and communal conflict between the Sunni and Shia communities.49 The last three of these security problems, Kilcullen observes, overlapped and impinged upon the efficiency of the capacity-­building efforts on a governance level. Arguably, though,

David Kilcullen and globalised insurgency   135 Kilcullen’s omission of organised crime from this list overlooks a significant security issue that transcended sectarian and religious motives and represented a notable strand of law and order degeneracy. Other than this, Kilcullen’s prescription for the remedy to such intertwined security problems involves the adoption of what he labels ‘counter-­insurgency plus’ – ‘an agile mixing of counter-­ insurgency, counter-­terrorism, border security, nation-­building, and peace enforcement operations, all of which must be underpinned by a robust political strategy’.50 This strategy essentially presages a population-­centric approach over an enemy-­centric approach, effectively cutting off the insurgents from their targets, enhancing the resilience of the state to sporadic violence, and reminding his audience that counter-­insurgency is most effective in its non-­kinetic capacities. In a holistic manner, Kilcullen eventually draws together lessons learned from his extensive field deployments, from Indonesia to Pakistan, from Thailand to the two theatres of the War on Terror, to offer an eight-­point counter-­insurgency ‘best practice’ checklist that calls for some broad principles to be enacted in any future campaign: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

the adoption of an effective political strategy a comprehensive civil–military approach be ensured ensure the continuity of key civil–military personnel presage population-­centric security synchronise development, governance and security efforts forge close host nation partnerships build effective and legitimate local security forces construct a region-­wide approach.51

By painting in such broad brushstrokes, Kilcullen creates a transferable strategic model, broken down into eight memorable soundbites, which can stand as a lasting testament to his contribution to warrior-scholarship and to the direction of future irregular war-­fighting. But what are the implications of Kilcullen’s theoretical thinking on the causes and conduct of irregular war? Kilcullen states that his personal position in the wake of his experiences in Afghanistan and Iraq is that ‘we [America] should avoid any future large-­scale, unilateral military intervention in the Islamic world’.52 This stark warning has significant long-­term policy implications in as much as he clearly prioritises the unintentional consequences of the ‘accidental guerrilla syndrome’ (inflamed violence and a stiffening of resistance to the West) over the kinetic effect of unsettling insurgent safe havens. Yet this policy advice is not as illuminating as his prescriptions for current deployments. It is his argumentation regarding the ‘surge’ in Iraq that opens up a loophole in his theory. Having admitted that the invasion of Iraq was a ‘serious strategic error’, Kilcullen rejected the notion of a hastened withdrawal despite the ongoing fermentation of the ‘accidental guerrilla syndrome’ as the occupation wore on. He argues that the aim of the ‘surge’ was ‘to end the war, not abandon it half way through,

136   A. Mumford leaving the Iraqis to be slaughtered’.53 Yet Kilcullen does not sufficiently ponder the obvious corollary to his self-­diagnosed syndrome; that a swift exit strategy from a theatre where the presence of foreign troops was a significant catalyst to violence can be seen as a natural solution to breaking the cycle of conflict. Kilcullen swiftly dismisses withdrawal from Iraq at the height of insurgent violence by stating in just two short sentences how once the invasion occurred the Coalition took on ‘a moral and legal responsibility’ for the Iraqi people.54 A noble assessment though this may be, it would be desirable for Kilcullen to have not only expanded upon this rejection of an early timetabled exit but also have him reflect upon the possibility that having identified foreign intervention as a spur to violence that the morally responsible thing to do would be to remove that spur. Kilcullen also glosses over the possibility that the Sunni tribal awakenings – an occurrence he clearly holds up in his book as crucial to diminishing AQI violence – would still have developed without an American military presence in the country. It is not beyond the realm of possibility that without the primary appeal of rebelling against the Coalition presence in Iraq, AQI would have naturally withered as, if Kilcullen’s ‘accidental guerrilla syndrome’ is correct, far fewer Sunnis would have felt cause to sympathise or collaborate with AQI. In turn this would have exposed AQIs takfiri agenda in all its stark brutality, without the omnipresent shadow of the Coalition occupation clouding the judgements of Sunni communities. Another critical policy prescription offered by Kilcullen is the need to couch national counter-­terrorism strategies in proactive terms, arguing that it ‘cannot be based on the negative objectives of defeating terrorism. . . . We know what we are fighting against but what are we fighting for?’55 In part Kilcullen posits that this can be achieved by adopting ‘five practical steps’ in responding to this complex form of warfare. First of these is the development of a new lexicon in which a more ‘positive’ linguistic approach could shape a coherent counter-­ insurgency narrative. This would invariably help reinforce what future campaigns would be fought for. The other practical steps Kilcullen offers include the formulation and enunciation of adequate grand strategy; the identification of new ‘strategic services’, akin to a modern special forces and intelligence agency hybrid to tackle complex violence; and the development of a capacity for strategic information warfare in order to convey counter-­narratives more effectively.56 A major criticism to be made of Kilcullen’s work is his tendency to advocate so many numerical strategic prescriptions as to overload the reader with bullet-­ pointed checklists. By way of example, in The Accidental Guerrilla Kilcullen offers up the following frameworks and principles: four ways to think about today’s threat environment; four phases to the ‘accidental guerrilla syndrome’; seven ‘basic elements’ of the Taliban operating system; seven principal characteristics of an effective strategy in Afghanistan; a four-­strand model of hybrid warfare in Iraq; 12 key lessons for negotiations with Sunni tribes; eight key components of tribal-­style reconciliation; five classes of threat confronting Europe; eight ‘best practices’ in counter-­insurgency; a three-­point ‘Anti-­Powell doctrine’

David Kilcullen and globalised insurgency   137 as intervention criteria; and five ‘practical steps’ to take to shape future strategy. This of course does not take into account his celebrated ‘28 Articles’ of company-­level counter-­insurgency or his seven ‘new counter-­insurgency paradigms’ offered in previous journal articles. This proclivity towards counter-­ insurgency learning by numbers runs the risk of fulfilling Kilcullen’s own prophecy about his work being too academic to be popular, not to mention the blunting of his theoretical insights. The avalanche of numbered steps, paradigms and plans occasionally obfuscates Kilcullen’s wider message and could potentially prevent his ideas from being as easily digestible in the heat of battle as they may seem in the cool of an air-­conditioned conference room. So for all these policy implications, what impact have Kilcullen’s ideas actually had?

The impact of David Kilcullen’s warrior-scholarship Contemporary warrior-scholarship has three core audiences: the academy, the policy-­maker, and the military. Kilcullen has made an impact upon all of them from the inside. At the end of 2009 Foreign Policy magazine ranked him 44th in their poll of the top 100 global thinkers of the year, such had been his role in influencing US thinking (academically and militarily) on the issue of counter-­ insurgency.57 Yet this accolade had been several years in the making. Back in 2006 Kilcullen made a major splash in military circles when he published a piece entitled ‘ “Twenty-­Eight Articles”: Fundamentals of Company-­Level Counterinsurgency’ in Military Review. Authored whilst Chief Strategist in the Office of the Co-­ordinator for Counter-­Terrorism at the State Department, Kilcullen’s ‘twenty-­eight articles’ for successful counter-­insurgency (borrowing from and adding to T.E. Lawrence’s ‘twenty-­seven articles’ of tribal desert warfare from 1917), are ‘expressed as commandments for clarity, but are more like folklore’.58 This article, more so than his other academically focused work, aimed to make a practical difference at the company level of the US military by improving the awareness and effectiveness of America’s boots on the ground in Iraq and Afghanistan. Space is too short here to divulge all of Kilcullen’s 28 prescriptions; suffice to say that they coalesce around the themes of good predeployment preparation; swift learning during early deployment; maintaining mid-­tour momentum; and ensuring end of deployment results. Like much of his other scholarly outputs, Kilcullen’s ‘articles’ are peppered with memorable turns of phrase for the modern counter-­insurgent to imbibe: ‘rank is nothing, talent is everything’; ‘engage the women, beware the children’; ‘counterinsurgency is armed social work’. It is for these reasons that the piece was forwarded to all company commanders in Iraq and Afghanistan, such were the articles’ impact upon senior military personnel. But in this information-­heavy world of counter-­ insurgency, Kilcullen leaves the readers with one article that if all else is forgotten, must be remembered: ‘Whatever else you do, keep the initiative.’59 That, in essence, is what Kilcullen’s whole body of work is geared towards achieving: the maintenance of initiative. By pressing the need for an overhaul of our understanding of the insurgent problem we face, Kilcullen has allowed us to reflect

138   A. Mumford upon how best to shape the response and, crucially, wrestle the initiative and the momentum away from Al-­Qaeda. For this reason, Kilcullen finds himself an implicit presence in FM  3.24 – perhaps an explicit sign of his influence within the ‘COIN lobby’. He is singled out by John Nagl in his forward to the University of Chicago Press edition of the field manual, for his conceptualisation of the Long War as a global counter-­ insurgency campaign,60 whilst Sarah Sewall, in her introduction, labels him a ‘prescient critic’ for the same assertion – even though she does accuse him and others who concur with such an opinion, as being ‘ahead of themselves’ for discounting the applicability of tenets from the ‘classical’ era of counter-­ insurgency.61 Yet despite this mild rebuke, Kilcullen finds his three major journal articles (‘Countering Global Insurgency’; ‘Twenty-­Eight Articles’; and ‘Counterinsurgency Redux’) approvingly recommended in FM  3.24s annotated bibliography as ‘good ones . . . useful for Soldiers and Marines’.62 Incidentally, Kilcullen is the most cited author in the FM 3.24 bibliography, with three references, more than any other historical or contemporary warrior-scholar – although this is perhaps more a reflection of the rather insular ‘COINdinista’ community that coalesced around Petraeus, of which Kilcullen was a leading light. Others within the strong ‘COIN lobby’ were keen to press the importance of Kilcullen’s work. When writing a review of Kilcullen’s Accidental Guerrilla, John Nagl (himself a contemporary warrior-scholar of note) labelled it ‘the most important book yet written on the war with which we are struggling today’, stating that Kilcullen has ‘done greater wartime service to the United States than any other foreign advisor since Polish Colonel Thaddeus Kosciusko helped the fledgling Colonial Army’.63 As for Kilcullen himself, he likens the military leaders of the Long War on Terror to the ‘chateau generals’ of the First World War, in as much as both groups stood at the edge of a new evolution in warfare (mechanised total war in 1914 and ‘hybrid’ war from 2003), and each had to quickly adapt and conceive of new strategic concepts and organisational priorities in the face of overwhelming complexities.64 When reading Kilcullen’s work one is left with the impression that the stakes of getting it ‘right’ today remain as high as they were for that past generation of innovative military leaders. Although not innovating the ‘global insurgency’ theory, and despite some flaws in his analysis, Kilcullen’s main contribution to warrior-scholarship on modern irregular warfare is his demonstration of how Al-­Qaeda has been able to successfully exploit localised grievances and exacerbate pre-­existing conflicts, thus multiplying the disruptive effect. Paradigm-­defining warfare then, like now, required some inspirational and original warrior-scholarship to lead the way in recasting the problem in order to mould the response. David Kilcullen’s body of work makes some inroads in facing up to those challenges.

David Kilcullen and globalised insurgency   139

Notes   1 T. Ricks, ‘The COINdinistas’ in Foreign Policy, 2009, No. 176, p. 63.   2 ‘Lawrence of Arabia takes on the Taliban’ in The Sunday Times (‘News Review’ section’), 11 March 2007.   3 D. Kilcullen, ‘Counterinsurgency Redux’ in Survival, 2006–2007, 48 (4), p. 111.   4 D. Kilcullen, ‘New Paradigms for Twenty-­First Century Conflict’ in e-­journal USA: Foreign Policy Agenda, 2007, 12 (5), p. 40.   5 Ibid., p. 40.   6 For a deconstruction of the relationship between anthropology and counter-­insurgency see M. McFate, ‘Anthropology and Counter-­Insurgency: The Strange Story of their Curious Relationship’ in Military Review, March-­April 2005, pp. 24–38.   7 D. Kilcullen, The Accidental Guerrilla: Fighting Small Wars in the Midst of Big One, New York: Oxford University Press, 2009, p. xvi.   8 Kilcullen states his preference for the use of the term takfiri, as opposed to Islamist or jihadi, given its theological connotations in Islam with illegitimate action outlawed by the Koran (see The Accidental Guerrilla, pp. xviii–xix).   9 J. Mackinlay, ‘Globalisation and Insurgency’ in Adelphi Paper, 2002, No. 352. 10 For a useful assessment of the ‘neo-­classical’ school versus the ‘global insurgency’ school see D.M. Jones and M.L.R. Smith, ‘Whose Hearts and Whose Minds? The Curious Case of Global Counter-­Insurgency’ in Journal of Strategic Studies, 2010, 33 (1), pp. 81–121. 11 D. Kilcullen, ‘Counter Global Insurgency’ in Journal of Strategic Studies, 2005, 28 (4), p. 600. 12 Ibid., p. 600. 13 Kilcullen, ‘Counterinsurgency Redux’, p. 114. 14 Kilcullen, ‘Countering Global Insurgency’, p. 602. 15 Kilcullen, ‘Counterinsurgency Redux’, p. 120. 16 Kilcullen, ‘Countering Global Insurgency’, p. 603. 17 Kilcullen, ‘Counterinsurgency Redux’, p. 111. 18 Ibid., p. 125. 19 Jeffrey H. Michaels and Matthew Ford, ‘Bandwagonistas: Rhetorical Redescription, Strategic Choice and the Politics of Counter-­Insurgency’ in Small Wars and Insurgencies, 2011, 22 (2,) pp. 352–84. 20 Kilcullen, ‘Counterinsurgency Redux’, pp. 121–3. 21 R. Thompson, Defeating Communist Insurgency, St Petersburg, FL: Hailer Publishing, 2005 [1966], pp. 50–62. 22 D. Galula, Counterinsurgency Warfare: Theory and Practice, Westport, CT: Praeger Security International, 2006 [1964], p. 63. 23 Kilcullen, ‘Countering Global Insurgency’, p. 605. 24 D. Kilcullen, ‘10 steps to victory in Afghanistan’ in New York Times, 4 October 2009. 25 Kilcullen, ‘Countering Global Insurgency’, p. 613. 26 N. Aylwin-­Foster, ‘Changing the Army for Counterinsurgency Operations’ in Military Review, November/December 2005, pp. 2–15. 27 Kilcullen, ‘Countering Global Insurgency’, pp. 613–14. 28 Ibid., pp. 608–9. 29 Kilcullen, The Accidental Guerrilla, p. xi. 30 Ibid., p. xi. 31 Ibid., p. 28. 32 Ibid., pp. 7–12. 33 Ibid., pp. 12–16. 34 Ibid., pp. 16–22. 35 Ibid., pp. 22–27. 36 Ibid., p. xiv.

140   A. Mumford 37 Ibid., p. 35. 38 Ibid., p. 268. 39 Ibid., p. 43. 40 Ibid., p. 268. 41 Ibid., p. 46. 42 Ibid., p. 60. 43 Ibid., p. 110. 44 Ibid., p. 116. 45 Ibid., p. 118. 46 Ibid. 47 Ibid., p. 141. 48 Ibid., p. 143. 49 Ibid., pp. 149–50. 50 Ibid., p. 152. 51 Ibid., p. 265. 52 Ibid., p. 269. 53 Ibid., p. 268. Original emphasis. 54 Ibid., p. 268. 55 Ibid., p. 274. Original emphasis. 56 Ibid., p. 294. 57 ‘Top 100 Global Thinkers’ in Foreign Policy, 2009, No. 176, pp. 63–4. Incidentally, Kilcullen’s erstwhile boss General Petraeus was ranked 8th. 58 D. Kilcullen, ‘ “Twenty-­Eight Articles”: Fundamentals of Company-­Level Counterinsurgency’ in Military Review, May–June 2006, p. 103. 59 Ibid., p. 108. 60 US Army and Marine Corps Counterinsurgency Field Manual (FM  3.24), Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2007, p. xix. 61 Ibid., p. xlii. 62 Ibid., pp. 394–5. 63 J. Nagl, ‘Reviews’ in RUSI Journal, 2009, 154 (2), pp. 108–9. 64 Kilcullen, Accidental Guerrilla, p. 288.

8 Counterinsurgency, American-­style David Petraeus and twenty-­first century war James A. Russell On November 9, 2012, David H. Petraeus announced his resignation as director of the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) following revelations about an extra-­ marital affair with Paula Broadwell, who had written a laudatory biography about him.1 Many shared Broadwell’s overwhelmingly positive assessment of Petraeus’ impact on America’s wars in Iraq and Afghanistan.2 His resignation marked an abrupt fall from grace for a figure who had been at the center of American military operations against Islamic insurgents for nearly a decade. He commanded America’s armies in Iraq and Afghanistan, spearheaded the development of new military doctrine for the land forces to help fight these wars, and further carried on the struggle against terrorism in his last job as director of the CIA. The rise and fall of David Petraeus had been nothing if not dramatic. On the surface, the decline of Petraeus seemed relatively straightforward and even unremarkable by the standards of Washington politics, in which scandal routinely undoes senior leaders and political figures. But the rise and fall of Petraeus is far more complex – yet, in some ways, is in keeping with his own legacy. He was seen by many as a hero who almost single-­handedly rescued the country from disaster in Iraq and Afghanistan; by some as a classic maverick and transformative figure who overcame seemingly insurmountable odds to force innovation and change on hidebound and backward looking bureaucracies; by others as a narcissistic and tireless self-­promoter who consistently oversold his accomplishments; and still by others as an inherently corrupt figure who deliberately created false and misleading narratives in both the Iraq and Afghanistan war.3 By the end of America’s decade of war, Petraeus had come to embody the complexities and contradictions not just of the institution he represented but of the country itself and the strategic choices made by its political leadership and endorsed by its citizenry. The task of this book is to assess the impact, importance, and intellectual development of a cast of warrior-­scholars on the theory and practice of counterinsurgency. Petraeus, armed with his Princeton PhD,4 is a perfect subject for this book – a figure who had the chance to exercise the tenets of counterinsurgency in the field and to expound its benefits as national strategy in the highest reaches of government. Like other figures covered in this book, Petraeus openly

142   J.A. Russell championed counterinsurgency as the solution to the strategic problems confronting America’s land forces in its guerrilla wars, and unabashedly sold the solution to the country. This chapter assesses the complex legacy of Petraeus and his role in shaping the decade of America’s irregular wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. He profoundly influenced both wars, not just by his command of military forces in both conflicts, but through his role in championing the tactics of counterinsurgency in the manual FM  3–24 Counterinsurgency. The manual provided a template around which battalion and brigade commanders could structure their training to prepare their units for deployments to Iraq and Afghanistan. Petraeus did more than just put together a team to produce new counterinsurgency doctrine when he was assigned to take over the Army’s Training and Doctrine Command from 2005–2007. He commanded the 101st Airborne Division in Mosul in 2003 and 2004, and then took over as the first commander of the Multi-­National Security Transition Command (Iraq) from 2004–2005. Following his assignment at the Army’s Training and Doctrine Command from 2005 to 2007, Petraeus took over command of Multi-­National War (Iraq) in the spring of 2007 in conjunction with the commitment of 30,000 additional troops as part of the ‘surge’ to reverse the tide of what was widely perceived to be a losing war. His shadow became widely cast, and he was identified in various laudatory accounts as a singularly heroic figure who rescued the country from strategic disaster in Iraq during 2007 and 2008 as he imposed a new way of fighting on supposedly reluctant institutions that opposed his ideas.5 He held that post until 2008, when he was assigned to take over the United States Central Command in Tampa, Florida, where he served until the Obama Administration sent him to Afghanistan, following the firing of General Stanley McChrystal in 2010, to rescue the country from another failing war – this time in Afghanistan. This chapter frames the evolution of Petraeus and his impact on military operations in historical and strategic terms, and attempts to deconstruct some of the myths that grew up around this larger-­than-life figure at different stages in the wars. The chapter argues that Petraeus profoundly affected the conduct of military operations in America’s irregular wars, but not necessarily in the ways suggested in the popular narratives. Far from being a transformative figure who offered a new way of war, Petraeus trod a well-­beaten path like those before him, offering up a shop-­worn set of tactics that could not alter the negative strategic circumstances of the wars he fought in.

War and the political general By the time of his fall, Petraeus had become an embodiment of the quintessentially political–military figure cut from the cloth described by the British historian Hew Strachan in his seminal work, The Politics of the British Army,6 and by Andrew Bacevich in his equally important book, The New American Militarism.7 Both books chronicle the evolution and inherently political nature of military institutions in Britain and the United States. Some figures who rose

David Petraeus and twenty-first century war   143 within the ranks of their respective countries did so through wartime leadership and political meddling. Petraeus unquestionably represented one of these figures. Petraeus represented an important political figure on two levels. First, he presented himself, along with a coterie of advisers that followed him to Iraq and Afghanistan, as fighting against the entrenched political interests of the Army in reorienting the institution towards the demands of fighting irregular wars. Second, and perhaps more significantly, he became aligned with, and the darling of, neo-­conservative Republicans clustered in the Pentagon at the outset of the Bush Administration in 2001 as well as right-­wing ideologues prowling the halls of Washington think-­tanks such as the American Enterprise Institute, the Washington Institute for Near East Policy, the Institute for the Study of War, the Heritage Foundation, and the Project for a New American Century. He also became a favorite of the Center for New American Security, which provided a centrist, democratically oriented, think-­tank stuffed full of pro-­war counterinsurgency experts who enthusiastically supported him. Petraeus indeed built a wide and varied political constituency. Neo-­conservatives used the circumstances of the 9/11 attacks to execute a more militarized and muscular foreign policy around the world, packaged under the Bush Administration’s ‘global war on terror.’8 Petraeus and his allegedly new way of war offered these groups the military leader they needed to organize and lead American’s armies in their quest to assert American primacy and to fight the so-­called ‘long war’ against anti-­modern Islamic terrorists. Petraeus accepted and encouraged the political alliance for his own purposes as he sought higher military and, later, government office. The Obama Administration rightfully regarded him with suspicion as a potential political rival and gave him the job as CIA Director partly to keep him off the streets during the election season in 2012.9 His alliance with the neo-­conservatives stemmed from strategic failure that in some ways dealt Petraeus a losing hand at the outset – despite his tireless and arguably effective attempts to create an alternative storyline. The neo-­ conservatives and their military guru Andy Marshall, the Pentagon’s long-­time director of Net Assessments, argued that that America’s twenty-­first century wars should be fought with advanced weaponry under the rubric of the revolution of military affairs (RMA) using precision-­guided munitions destroying enemy targets at great distances in operations knitted together by the overarching concept of effects-­based operations. RMA theorists believed that a new generation of long-­range weapons guided onto targets by advanced digital sensors could destroy enemy centers of gravity, leading to the quick collapse of enemy armies. RMA advocates argued this new way of war meant that large armies fighting attritional, protracted and bloody battles were no longer necessary. This vision fit perfectly with the neo-­conservative embrace of conducting preventative wars against despotic dictators developing weapons of mass destruction in the newly proclaimed age of terror. The neo-­conservative adoption of Petraeus came only after the strategic failure of the ‘shock and awe’ invasions of Iraq and Afghanistan, as it became apparent that the toppling of their respective regimes

144   J.A. Russell only represented the opening phase of the struggle for political ascendancy inside each country. As the insurgencies gathered strength in both countries, it became obvious that the United States would have to resort to the constabulary missions and the kinds of nation-­building activities that the neo-­conservatives wanted to avoid. These missions needed large armies on the ground for extended periods, just as the fired Army Chief of Staff General Eric Shinseki had presciently suggested in 2003. The struggle for political control in each country remains ongoing more than a decade after the invasions of Afghanistan in 2001 and Iraq in 2003.10 The neo-­conservatives needed someone to rescue them and their country from their strategic debacles, and, in Petraeus, they thought they had their man. The appearance of the iconic Petraeus, whose image routinely appeared in print and on the airwaves over the decade of America’s wars, also must be seen as reflecting the broader militarization of US society and the veneration of its military institutions. This became particularly pronounced and encouraged by political leaders in the aftermath of the 9/11 attacks.11 The veneration of these institutions in some senses sought to lift the stain on the legacy of the land forces that had been defeated in Vietnam a generation before in another irregular war thousands of miles from home. Despite the clever packaging job provided by the neo-­conservatives, the 9/11 attacks ushered in only the latest episode of American constabulary/policing missions in the developing world that bore striking resemblance to similar uses of force by France and Britain in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Right-­ wing ideologues justified the Iraq and Afghanistan wars partly as a return to America’s imperial policing missions of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, and cast the twenty-­first century wars as a justifiable and necessary cost of asserting global American leadership.12 Whether by design or not, Petraeus became the American face of these wars – a heroic and larger-­than-life figure sent out from the homeland to try and tame the unruly and dangerous masses thousands of miles from home. Like military leaders before him who had fought these wars during the last century, Petraeus clearly realized the importance of manipulating information and managing popular perceptions to avoid a repeat of Vietnam, where popular support for the war collapsed. Unlike British and French military leaders of an earlier generation, however, Petraeus conducted business in the digital age of globalization and the continuous 24-hour news cycle. He consciously sought to create favorable narratives about himself and his activities by cultivating journalists and alleged think-­tank experts who could help in his self-­aggrandizement and the broader cause he saw himself as serving. A coterie of reporters and analysts followed him around as a kind of imperial entourage through his various high-­level jobs. A hallmark of his tenure commanding the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan was strict control over the message released to the media. During his command of Coalition forces in Afghanistan, he fired officers who spoke to the press expressing negative comments about the war; this had a chilling effect throughout the organizations he commanded.13 Some believed he deliberately

David Petraeus and twenty-first century war   145 falsified information about the wars he fought in, and created a misleading impression to the public and his political leaders about the actual state of affairs on the ground.14 In the end, the system that helped propel him to prominence proved his undoing, as he made a personal misstep with one of the many coterie of admiring journalists and analysts that he collected to help sell and promote himself to an admiring public.

Past as prologue Americans have notoriously short historical memories. If they chose to delve into military history more deeply, they would realize that political–military figures like Petraeus routinely appeared during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. The history of Western militaries fighting irregular wars in far-­flung corners of the globe is populated with a variety of military leaders who had much in common with Petraeus – many of whom are analyzed in other chapters of this volume. These leaders, many of whom are regarded as the ‘fathers’ of counterinsurgency, all had similar narratives and common themes that surrounded their careers.15 Thomas-­Robert Bugeaud, Joseph Gallieni, Hubert Lyautey, Roger Trinquier, Jacques Massu, David Galula, C.E. Callwell, Sir Gerald Templer, Sir Robert Thompson, Sir Garnet Wolseley, Harold Briggs, Frank Kitson, and Orde Wingate were all in one way or another Petraeus-­like figures. Similar to Petraeus, these military leaders from France and Great Britain commanded forces in different strategic circumstances and confronted difficult (if not impossible) tactical environments that were dropped into their laps by strategic choices made by their political leaders.16 Like Petraeus, all were military leaders tasked with fighting guerrillas in foreign lands. Many amounted to colonial and imperial policing missions that, to varying degrees, turned into grand and largely unsuccessful social engineering projects. Many of these foreign wars included a powerful moral component that was packaged with the narrative surrounding the commitment of force. In the nineteenth century, the West’s imperial colonial wars were cast partly as civilizing missions consistent with Rudyard Kipling’s ‘white man’s burden’ poem published in 1899 in McClure’s magazine. Kipling and others believed these imperial wars would uplift the less advanced peoples of the world with Western values, culture, religion, and institutions.17 The imperial wars of the nineteenth and twentieth century had an undeniable racist character; a theme that resonated with neo-­conservative and right-­wing ideologues in the United States following the 9/11 attacks which cast the American wars as a crusade against anti-­Western Islamic radicals.18 Interestingly, in the American context, the neo-­conservative ideologues eventually found themselves joined at the hip with liberal internationalists like the political scientists Joseph Nye, Fareed Zakaria, Samantha Power, Anne-­Marie Slaughter, and others who argued that military interventions could serve broader moral purposes. In addition to desperate attempts to hold on to their imperial domains, the West packaged their twentieth century wars as part of a global crusade against

146   J.A. Russell communism. Both France and the United States dove head first into irregular wars in Indochina partly, in the case of France, to preserve their empire, and, in the case of the United States, to prevent the spread of communism throughout southeast Asia. During the 1960s, many believed that Vietnam represented one of a series of ‘dominoes’ that would collapse under control of the Soviet and Chinese central committees if the United States did not hold the line. Britain likewise fought a series of similar and largely unsuccessful holding actions to preserve its empire throughout the twentieth century. In the end, the twentieth century’s wars of national liberation were just that, and the West proved unable to substantially alter the quest for independence that swept the globe after the end of World War II. The strategic circumstances of the post-­World War II environment simply could not be reversed by clever tactics practiced by Western militaries under the rubric of counterinsurgency.19 Like the nineteenth and twentieth century wars, the twenty-­first century American wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, in which Petraeus participated, were packaged as wars with a higher moral purpose. Like his predecessors before him, Petraeus became the American face of what became grand civilizing missions and the most ambitious social engineering projects ever attempted in the modern era. Western military leaders tasked with fighting these wars offered up ideas packaged under the concept of ‘counterinsurgency’ as a scheme for the employment of military force to cope with the task of bending the will of an indigenous population in ways that suited the interest of the occupying power. Petraeus must be seen as only the most recent incarnation of these Western military figures, and there is nothing particularly distinct or remarkable about his experiences and his wider impact in this regard. Most of these military leaders, including Petraeus, suggested that counterinsurgency represented a kinder and gentler form of warfare that sought to win the ‘hearts and minds’, or political allegiance, of the indigenous population. They argued that fighting in this way could be done at relatively lower human, economic, and moral cost to the occupying power in contrast to the bloody conventional wars fought by developed states in World Wars I and II. Counterinsurgency advocates suggested that the objective of military operations in irregular war was not to defeat the insurgents through direct action, but to protect the local populations from the insurgents through establishing what French military leader Joseph Gallieni and his protégé Hubert Lyautey called ‘oil spots’ or zones of security, that were free from insurgent control and influence. Once security had been established in these zones, they argued it was possible to establish political control and promote economic development so the indigenous population would turn their allegiance from the insurgents to whatever authority was responsible for providing security and governance.20 Gallieni and Lyautey plied their trade in policing operations in Indochina and North Africa in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Both were forerunners of a later cast of French military leaders that were decisively defeated in Vietnam and Algeria (whom Bruno Reis addresses in Chapter 3 of this book).

David Petraeus and twenty-first century war   147 An irony of America’s experiences in Iraq was that Bush Administration officials initially looked back at France’s disastrous experiences in Algeria, as represented in Gillo Pontecorvo’s movie The Battle of Algiers, as holding valuable lessons for American commanders in their fights against Iraqi insurgents. Viewings of the movie actually occurred in the Pentagon as the insurgency in Iraq gathered momentum in 2004 and 2005. American field commanders in Iraq indeed did familiarize themselves with France’s failed counterinsurgency tactics, as suggested by David Galula and others during 2005 and 2006, after their political leaders unexpectedly asserted in late 2005 that the US strategy in Iraq sought to ‘clear, hold, and build’ areas of Iraq as a way to wrest them from insurgent control.21 In the end, like those before him, Petraeus proved no more successful than his predecessors in altering the negative strategic circumstances of the wars through the employment of counterinsurgency tactics. Like the French in Algeria and Vietnam, no amount of tactical proficiency by US military units could alter the unfavorable strategic circumstances of the wars in either Iraq or Afghanistan. Like these earlier wars, America’s wars in Iraq and Afghanistan proved no kinder or gentler than their predecessors, in which tens of thousands of people perished in brutal, bloody, and awful circumstances.22 The wars did little to win the political allegiance of the indigenous populations in either Iraq or Afghanistan. The Maliki government in Iraq breathed an audible sigh of relief when the US finally exited in 2011, and declined to endorse any arrangements to allow US forces to operate out of bases in Iraq. Last but not least, far from being ‘low cost’ military ventures, the Afghanistan and Iraq wars were wars fought at enormous monetary, strategic and human cost to both the occupied country and the occupying power, belying the fraudulent promises of Western counterinsurgency experts stretching back over a century.23 Another commonality with the earlier wars that was also practiced by various of these nineteenth and twentieth century military leaders, and this was certainly true of Petraeus, was that they sought to control and shape the release of public information about military operations. All these leaders grasped an inescapable truth of irregular war; it was almost impossible for the occupying power to demonstrate progress in the fight.24 Irregular war required decentralized operations with authority delegated down the chain of command to shape operations to suit local circumstances. In these environments it was difficult for commanders to demonstrate success to secure continued political support on the home front for the continued employment of force. All of the West’s leaders during these wars grappled with this problem and generated a dizzying array of indicators as they sought to manage public and political perceptions of success and failure. Petraeus in particular proved to be a master at crafting a favorable narrative of success that resonated with the public, the Washington journalist commentariat, and his political masters. In David Petraeus, the country got what it paid for and, it must be said, it got what it wanted and deserved.

148   J.A. Russell

Sex, lies and videotape: deconstructing the myths of Petraeus This chapter argues that Petraeus remains an unremarkable figure, an unoriginal warrior-­scholar, when taken in historical context. Many military leaders before him had confronted similar circumstances in fighting guerrillas, had addressed the same kinds of problems on the battlefield, and reacted in similar ways to try and defeat the insurgents. The next section of the chapter addresses specific parts of the Petraeus narrative as contained in books by Paula Broadwell, Thomas Ricks and others that deal with more specific accomplishments. This section will address three central issues in assessing the impact of Petraeus on America’s wars in Iraq and Afghanistan: (1) his role in reorienting a change-­resistant Army away from conventional war to irregular war; (2) his impact on military operations in Iraq, particularly after the increase of US troops in 2007 and 2008; and (3) his role in implementing counterinsurgency operations in Afghanistan. At the strategic level, the most significant assertion is that Petraeus and a coterie of maverick advisers single-­handedly reoriented a change-­resistant and bureaucratically hidebound Army away from conventional to irregular war.25 Petraeus clearly played an important role in this process, but neither he nor his cast of advisers were singularly responsible for forcing a supposedly change-­ resistant institution to adopt a new way of war. Over the decade of war, America’s land forces (Army and Marine Corps) became focused on the tasks of fighting irregular wars since these were the wars their civilian masters directed them to fight in 2001, and then backed up their words by sending them to Iraq and Afghanistan to fight them. Their sister services, the Navy and the Air Force, followed suit primarily in a supporting role to transport the land forces to the fight and to keep them in the field once there.26 There is no doubt that American political leaders directed their military institutions to prepare for and then carry out these wars, and that the institutions responded, however grudgingly. Moreover, the experiences of actual combat (starting in 2001 in Afghanistan and 2003 in Iraq) created its own pressures for learning and adaptation in the field as it became apparent in both wars that the land forces were unprepared to fight in these environments. Over the course of the wars, pressures to adapt bubbled up from within the units as a natural part of the experience of fighting, which greatly influenced the building of irregular warfare-­focused units.27 In sum, the pressures on the land forces to adapt in the field came from myriad sources – and the institutions responded. America’s decade of war following the 9/11 attacks represented an unprecedented period in recent US history in which civilian authorities subjected their military institutions to an unprecedented level of top-­down direction backed up with implementing directives that ordered these institutions to improve their ability to fight irregular wars.28 The Bush Administration released a veritable flood of strategy documents setting new priorities for its armed forces that all emphasized the need to reorient the nation’s armed forces away from conventional conflict towards fighting irregular warfare and combating terrorism, which was believed to be the most likely environment encountered in these operations.

David Petraeus and twenty-first century war   149 The strategy documents became operationalized in various Department of Defense reports, directives, and guidance directing the military departments to reorient their priorities to the demands of fighting the so-­called War on Terror.29 The Department of Defense promulgated a host of internal planning documents and directives designed to shape military operations in Afghanistan and Iraq. On the eve of the Iraq invasion, the Army released FM  2–07, Stability Operations and Support Operations, followed by the interim 3–07.22, Counterinsurgency Operations in October 2004. In September 2004, the Joint Forces Command published the Stability Operations Joint Operating Concept to guide commanders in the field. As the Marines and Army blasted their way through Fallujah in November 2004, the Defense Science Board published a report Transition to and From Hostilities that called for the Defense Department to develop new organizational capacities to manage environments following the conclusion of conventional military operations. Following this report, the Defense Department in November 2005 promulgated DOD Directive 3000.05, Military Support for Stability, Security, Transition, and Reconstruction (SSTR) Operations, which established stability operations as a core mission for the Defense Department. That guidance was subsequently updated in September 2009 to further reinforce and align intra-­organizational support for the mission.30 In September 2007 the Joint Forces Command and the Special Operations Command published an initial Irregular Warfare Joint Operating Concept that was updated most recently in May 2010.31 While extremely important, the release of FM  3–24 in December 2006 occurred in a particular context amidst a host of what could be characterized as ‘rear echelon’ activities to support engaged forces. All of these directives and reports were in one way or another designed to foster the growth of counterinsurgency capabilities across the board, which was seen as necessary to improve performance in the field. Importantly, the Defense Department, in parallel, established an elaborate and expensive support structure to address myriad problems facing troops in the field. For example, to counter the pervasive problem of Improvised Explosive Devices (IEDs), the United States mounted a massive research and development effort that incorporated various arms of the US government. According to one count, the counter-­IED effort involved as many as 23 separate government offices and 73 companies. In 2006 the Defense Department formed an entire new organization called the Joint Improvised Explosive Device Defense Organization (JIEDDO) to co-­ordinate the effort. By the spring of 2010 the organization was reported to have 3,600 employees and to have spent an estimated $17 billion on its programs. Petraeus unquestionably played a central role in the development of the land forces’ counterinsurgency doctrine. His initiative and relationship with the Marine Corps’ General James Mattis were instrumental in forming the drafting team headed by Conrad Crane during 2006 that prepared the new manual. The new doctrine and concepts for operations were both developed in parallel with wartime learning that to some extent had already seen the land forces become

150   J.A. Russell completely focused on irregular warfare by 2007.32 There can be no doubt that the combination of learning in wartime and deliberate organizational efforts at the national level combined to reorient the military departments towards developing the capabilities originally called for by the Bush Administration in 2001 to combat terrorism and fight irregular war.33 The new joint doctrine in FM 3–24 represented an important centerpiece of this overall effort, and Petraeus rightly deserves credit for its promulgation. As the preceding summary has shown, however, publication of the manual represented only one of a number of actions involving multiple organizations that sought to address the obvious problems being experienced by troops in the field. The second major impact of Petraeus was his role in overseeing military operations in Iraq in conjunction with the decision by the Bush Administration to increase troops by 30,000 in early 2007. It is generally believed that the surge proved instrumental in reversing the tide of a losing war. The surge occurred in conjunction with the release of FM  3–24 and the appointment of Petraeus to command the Multi-­National Forces (Iraq). Petraeus arrived in Baghdad in the spring of early 2007 with prior field experience in Mosul commanding the 101st Division in 2003 and 2004. During his command in Mosul, he certainly previewed his preference for counterinsurgency in contrast to many of his colleagues following the invasion. The 101st opened a police training academy, held elections for a local governing council, and made generous use of reconstruction funds. Many saw Mosul as the exception to an otherwise badly bungled occupation, and credited Petraeus.34 Like other areas of Iraq, however, no amount of tactical proficiency by the 101st, or imaginative leadership by Petraeus, could reverse the slide into chaos and violence as the insurgency became steadily more lethal throughout 2003 and 2004. Following the departure of the 19,000-strong 101st in early 2004, it was replaced by a single brigade, which proved wholly incapable of policing Mosul’s population of 1.8 million – to say nothing of the surrounding countryside. Order collapsed in the city in November 2004 as the police abandoned their posts and insurgents ruled the city for several days until Kurdish militia and US troops restored order. Mosul and the rest of the province remained extremely dangerous for the next few years. The experience of the 101st and Petraeus in Mosul represented a classic problem for militaries fighting in irregular war; how were units supposed to evaluate progress in the field and how were they supposed to evaluate the impact of their operations in that environment? It was a problem that hounded US commanders throughout the war. Were they succeeding or failing? What impact were their operations having? How did they measure success? The experience of the 3rd Armored Combat Regiment (ACR) commanded by Colonel H.R. MacMaster in Tal Afar in Ninewa province during 2005 and 2006 similarly encapsulated these problems.35 The occupation of Tal Afar by the regiment’s 5,200 troops, using counterinsurgency tactics, was seen by many as one of the early successes of the war, and many commanders following these operations copied the approach taken by McMaster in quelling violence in the city of 220,000. Whatever the  assessments of the 3rd ACR performance, however, as follow-­on units

David Petraeus and twenty-first century war   151 discovered, the city remained a dangerous environment long after the departure of the celebrated regiment. The 3rd ACR did not defeat the insurgency in Tal Afar, contrary to the popular narrative – although insurgent violence clearly declined over the course the deployment. One lesson learned from the experience, however, was that (as in Mosul) high concentrations of US troops in urban areas, but spread out in the neighborhoods, could help reduce insurgent violence. The experiences of the 3rd ACR had important implications for the tactical approach taken by the US land forces elsewhere in Iraq. Commanders paid attention to the approach employed by the 3rd ACR and began adapting their methods to suit their own localized circumstances. There is no question that during 2005 and 2006 a process of learning in the field occurred – albeit on an ad hoc basis that depended on the willingness of battalion commanders to learn and adapt. That process began building momentum around the country and most particularly in western Anbar by the Marine Corps units and, most significantly by the 1st Brigade, 1st Armored Division, or 1/1, in Ramadi in the summer and fall of 2006.36 Operations in Ramadi in 2007 and 2007 occurred in conjunction with the turning of the allegiance of the Sunni tribes of Anbar away from the Jihadist insurgents towards the occupying US forces. By the spring of 2007, the epicenter of the Sunni insurgency in Anbar province was relatively quiet as many insurgents that had been shooting at the occupying forces had been given uniforms and told to start directing traffic and performing other constabulary duties by their tribal leaders. Just as the tribal awakening unfolded in Anbar in 2006, pressure began building in Washington to replace the US military commander, General George Casey, in order to reverse the direction of the war. Late in 2006, a group of advisers and think-­tank experts convinced President Bush to finally send more troops to Iraq.37 It had been abundantly clear since the outset that the United States had under-­resourced the war. The troop shortage was so acute during the summer of 2005 that a Marine unit in Ramadi acknowledged using cardboard dummies to deceive Iraqis.38 Petraeus arrived as MNF-­I commander in early 2007 to orchestrate a national counterinsurgency campaign, and there is no doubt that he executed this plan through top-­down direction that emphasized a common and co-­ordinated approach in the field. For the first time in the war, the United States was able to move forces into areas that had received no significant Coalition presence. In addition to having additional troops, Petraeus unleashed Joint Special Operations Command units in Baghdad, commanded by then Colonel Stanley McChrystal, in 2007 and 2008. These operations eviscerated insurgent networks in and around Baghdad. By 2007 and 2008, the United States and its conventional and special forces had become adept at attacking insurgent networks through intelligence collection and directed raids that killed and detained hundreds of suspects. All agree that there was a dramatic reduction in insurgent violence in Iraq after mid-­2007, but it remains unclear what caused the reduction. By mid-­2007 various national political and military factors had altered the  landscape of the war, particularly surrounding Baghdad.39 Perhaps most

152   J.A. Russell significantly, by 2007 the Sunnis had lost the sectarian civil war. Those that remained aligned themselves with the US as a survival tactic and entered into an uneasy truce with the Maliki government in Baghdad. Ethnic cleansing by Shi-­ ite death squads operating out of units created by the United States in the Iraqi Security Forces also had driven hundreds of thousands of mostly Sunni middle-­ class Iraqis (as well as other religious and ethnic minorities) from their neighborhoods in Baghdad. By the end of 2007 the United Nations estimated that 2.2 million Iraqis had fled the country and were residing in refugee camps in surrounding states. It is also clear that the Iraqi Security Forces (ISF ) had become more capable after Herculean efforts by US advisers, and billions of dollars spent on rebuilding an army that had been serendipitously disbanded in 2003 by the Coalition Provisional Authority.40 All these factors affected the political environment in the country and the sources of grievance with the occupying force and the national government that had driven the insurgency. The reduction of insurgent violence during the period of the surge can be traced to various political and military factors. Military operations co-­ordinated by Petraeus and his deputy, General Ray Odierno, undoubtedly represented an important piece of the puzzle.41 Contrary to the popular narrative, however, the surge did not win the war. The net result was to help create circumstances to facilitate the US withdrawal, so neo-­conservatives and others could assert that the United States had in fact achieved something worthwhile in Iraq. While he did not ‘win’ the war in the surge, Petraeus deserves great credit for helping to create the circumstances for the withdrawal from what had been the most disastrous military adventure undertaken by the United States since the Vietnam War. Like the surge in Iraq, the assignment of Petraeus to Afghanistan to replace McChrystal happened in the context of an increase in troops thought necessary to change America’s battlefield fortunes. When he arrived in Afghanistan, Petraeus set about trying to continue along the path that had been emphasized by his predecessor: executing a national counterinsurgency campaign. The increase in troops provided commanders with the means to protect the population in areas that had never had significant Coalition forces present. The US also redirected many of its information, surveillance and reconnaissance (ISR) platforms, that had been deployed in Iraq, into the war in Afghanistan. Specialized Army units like Task Force Odin (a package of ISR platforms) deployed into Afghanistan, providing ground units with a new level of surveillance and intelligence support.42 The use of ISR and intelligence collection capabilities fed into a targeting process that had been refined and used to great effect in Iraq against insurgent groups. Military operations under both McChrystal and Petraeus featured the integration of special forces more comprehensively into the counterinsurgency campaign. This included initiatives like the Village Stabilization Operations in the spring of 2010 that sought to build security from the ground up in addition to the top-­down efforts at the national level.43 The program inserted 12-man special operations teams into villages around Afghanistan to develop local police and militias to provide security for their villages. It initially focused on nine villages

David Petraeus and twenty-first century war   153 in Arghandab District located just to the north of Kandahar in southern Afghanistan.44 These programs initially received only the grudging support of the Afghan government because of fears that that they would create forces not directly connected to the Afghan government. By fall of 2011, a program that had started with the nine villages in 2010 had expanded to include 1,000 US Special Forces personnel from the Combined Joint Special Operations Task Force (CJSOTF-­A) in over 103 locations covering 23,300 square kilometers.45 Special forces became more integrated in operations after 2009 in other ways. In Iraq, both the conventional and special operations forces had refined a targeting process built on intelligence collection and coupled with link-­nodal analysis that provided a detailed picture of insurgent networks. In Iraq, the targeting centered on ‘high value targets’ (HVTs). In Afghanistan, the Joint Special Operations Command and conventional forces took the basic methodology developed in Iraq and aggressively applied it to Afghanistan, particularly after 2009 when McChrystal took over control of the war effort. The primary intelligence collection methods were intercepted phone calls, surveillance by unmanned drones, and pinpointing the locations of cell phones.46 After 2009, the targeting broadened from HVTs associated with the Taliban leadership structure to anyone thought to be contributing to the Taliban war effort.47 Mounting night raids against suspected insurgents represented only the end result of collection, analysis, and packaging request sent up the chain of command for approval. Before McChrystal arrived in May 2009, the US was mounting an estimated 20 raids per month. Within five months, that number increased to 90. By the spring of 2010, those numbers increased to 250 per month – a 12.5-fold increase in the course of one year. After Petraeus took over the number of night raids continued its rapid increase, reaching 600 per month in the summer of 2010. According to some sources those raids further increased to more than a 40 a night by April 2011.48 Gauging the impact of these raids on the will of the enemy to continue the fight was difficult, and some suggested that the raids were in fact counterproductive due to the widespread popular disapproval of them among Afghans. Some figures suggest that the raids may have been responsible for more civilian deaths in Afghanistan than IEDs. After replacing General McChrystal in June 2010, General Petraeus reiterated the commitment to counterinsurgency operations through his release of Counterinsurgency Guidance Tactical Directive (Rev 2). The guidance sought to more clearly articulate roles and missions at the operational level, and reaffirmed the commitment under McChrystal to reduce civilian casualties. Figures released by the International Security Assistance Force (ISAF ) covering the period from July 2008 to September 2010 showed a reduction from 140 per quarter at the beginning of the reporting period to 110 over the final reporting quarter. In February 2011 General Petraeus and the American Ambassador to Afghanistan published the Integrated U.S. Government Civilian–Military Campaign Plan in a clear attempt to spell out roles and missions in the carrying out of the myriad activities underway in-­country. The plan specifically sought to nest tactical operations by

154   J.A. Russell military units, and supporting activities by civilian agencies, within the operational and strategic levels of the war. In the field, increased troops levels allowed the United States to deploy significant forces to execute the same sort of ‘clear, hold, build’ approach to counterinsurgency that it had used in Iraq. Forces were deployed into the most dangerous areas of the country in Helmand Province and Kandahar. In February 2010, ISAF launched Operation Moshtarak, in Helmand province, using Afghan, British, and US forces to wrest control over various areas of the province that had been controlled by the Taliban. The operation was seen as a test of McChrystal’s new approach of clearing areas to be followed by Afghan security forces and government officials. The template played to mixed initial success in Marjah – a focal point of the operation – although violence there had reduced significantly by 2012.49 In parallel with the offensive in Helmand, ISAF launched Operation Hamkari in November 2010 to secure Kandahar – the historic center of the Taliban in Afghanistan. Like the operation in Helmand, ISAF designed an integrated civil– military campaign plan to clear the area of the Taliban with a combination of Coalition and Afghan troops, and simultaneously launch economic development projects. Most importantly, the campaign template called for Afghan government officials to flow into the cleared areas in order to prevent the Taliban from reasserting their political authority. As was the case in Operation Moshtarak, military operations aimed at clearing the Taliban were successfully conducted, but the follow-­up stage featuring Afghan-­government police and administration was mixed.50 As was the case in Iraq, Petraeus arrived at a critical juncture of the war, but his wider impact remains unclear. He continued the same basic approach that had been established by McChrystal in orchestrating a national counterinsurgency campaign. As in Iraq, he integrated Special Forces into his campaign and dramatically increased the military pressure and violence directed at the Taliban. It is unclear, however, whether he and the nationwide counterinsurgency campaign had a discernable impact on the overall political and strategic circumstances of the war. As of writing, the Taliban has not lost the will to continue the fight and continues to operate in the field, and the government of Hamid Karzai seems no closer to commanding the political allegiance of the Afghan people. After more than a decade of war, the United States and its Coalition partners are withdrawing, and it is difficult to determine what has actually been achieved strategically.

Conclusion As chronicled in this chapter, Petraeus leaves a complex legacy. This chapter argues that Petraeus, without question, played a significant role in America’s twenty-­first century irregular wars in ways that have been outlined. By historical standards, his rise to prominence remains unremarkable as a military leader asked to command forces fighting guerrillas thousands of miles from home. He

David Petraeus and twenty-first century war   155 deserves credit for spearheading the development of new counterinsurgency doctrine to guide operations in the field, but in the end the manual represented only one of a host of actions by many organizations that sought to improve performance in the field. In terms of his contributions to the conduct of counterinsurgency operations, perhaps his most significant was the integration of conventional and Special Forces in programs like the Village Stability Operations in Afghanistan, and the refinement of the insurgent kill-­and-capture program using refined targeting in both wars. These were hardly revolutionary or even innovative changes, but simply represented variations on the practices of military leaders before him. Importantly, however, this should not minimize his perhaps most significant contribution; helping to create conditions during the surge in Iraq that covered the US withdrawal in 2011. For that, his country should be eternally grateful. In the end, like his predecessors, Petraeus got sent off to these places to clean up the mess resulting from the strategic choices of America’s politicians who had been given a free hand by a confused and disoriented public following the 9/11 attacks. These politicians substituted slogans for strategy, and sent off the military to fight without clearly articulated objectives; objectives that kept shifting over the course of the wars. In Iraq, what began as a mission to find weapons of mass destruction became an attempt to build a democracy. In Afghanistan, what began as a mission to topple the Taliban evolved into a grand social engineering project. Petraeus seemed to magically appear in the midst of the crisis and offered up what seemed like a new way to solve the particular military problems facing the United States in both countries. In the end, however, despite all his attempts, and the attempts of those around him, to craft an alternative narrative, there was no way gloss over the strategic failure in Iraq and the inconclusive decade of military operations in Afghanistan.

Notes   1 P. Broadwell, All In: The Education of General David Petraeus, New York: Penguin Press, 2012. Also see L. Robinson, Tell Me How this Ends: General David Petraeus and the Search for a Way Out of Iraq, New York: Public Affairs, 2008; and B.T. Gericke, David Petraeus: A Biography, Santa Barbara, CA: ABC-­CLIO, 2011.   2 For example, in the dust cover endorsement of Broadwell’s book, former NBC News anchor Tom Brokaw declared that: ‘General Petraeus is one of the most important Americans of our time, in or out of uniform.’ Following Brokaw’s lead, CNN news consultant David Gergen declared that Broadwell’s book ‘helps us understand how Petraeus has become the living legend he is.’ The Brookings Institution’s Michael O’Hanlon similarly declared that in the book: ‘No one gives a truer picture of the war, or of the finest general of this era and one of the greatest in modern American history.’ In 2008, then Secretary of Defense Robert Gates used taxpayer funds to compile a video titled Surge of Hope as part of a tribute to his accomplishments that played at a reception honoring him before his departure from Iraq in 2008. In 2009, Newsweek magazine identified Petraeus as one of the 16 most powerful men in the world.   3 Some of these strands are captured by M. Thompson, ‘Beneath Glowing Public Image, Petraeus Had His Critics’ in Time magazine, November 13, 2012. Also see D. Davis, ‘Truth, lies and Afghanistan: How Military Leaders Have Let us Down’ in

156   J.A. Russell Armed Forces Journal, February 2012. See Gareth Porter’s series ‘How Petraeus Created the Myth of his Success’ in Truthout.org, November 12, 2012. Links to the four-­part series are at: http://truth-­out.org/news/item/13442-believing-­his-own-­mythpetraeus-­in-afghanistan; M. Cohen, ‘General David Petraeus’ fatal flaw: not the affair but his Afghanistan Surge’ in The Guardian, November 13, 2012; S.M. Walt, ‘The Real Lessons of l’affaire Petraeus’ in Foreign Policy, November 14, 2012.   4 The title of his dissertation submitted at Princeton in 1987 was ‘The American Military and the Lessons of Vietnam: A Study of Military Influence and the Use of Force in the Post-­Vietnam Era’.   5 Writing with a certain breathless quality, Tom Ricks in his book The Gamble: General David Petraeus and the American Military Adventure in Iraq, 2006–2008, New York: The Penguin Press, 2009, states: ‘The answer for what to do in Iraq would largely come through one person, General David Petraeus, who, over the next year [2007–2008] would lead the way in revamping the U.S. approach to the war.’ (p. 15).   6 H. Strachan, The Politics of the British Army, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997.   7 A. Bacevich, The New American Militarism: How Americans Are Seduced by War, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005. The seminal works on civil–military relations remain S. Huntington, The Soldier and the State, Boston: Harvard University Press, 1957; and M. Janowitz, The Professional Soldier, New York: The Free Press, 1971. Also see S.E. Finer, The Man on Horseback: The Role of Military in Politics, London: Pall Mall Press, 1962.   8 Lineage of the neo-­conservatives is chronicled in J. Mann, The Rise of the Vulcans: The History of Bush’s War Cabinet, New York: Penguin Books, 2004. The term ‘global war on terror’ is believed to have been initially suggested in the US context by Bush Administration political adviser Karl Rove, who saw the term as a powerful metaphor in domestic politics.   9 According to Bob Woodward, Fox News president Roger Ailes tried to convince Petraeus to run for President unless Obama offered him the job as Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, as reported in D. Byers, ‘Woodward: Roger Aisles Tried to Enlist Petraeus as a Presidential Candidate’ in Politico, December 3, 2012. 10 As chronicled in J.A. Russell, Innovation, Transformation and War: U.S. Counterinsurgency Operations in Anbar and Ninewa Provinces, Iraq, 2005–2007, Palo Alto: Stanford University Press, 2011. 11 As particularly noted by Bacevich, The New American Militarism. 12 A good example is M. Boot, The Savage Wars of Peace: Small Wars and the Rise of American Power, New York: Basic Books, 2003, and his more recent and equally poorly conceived and researched book Invisible Armies: An Epic History of Guerilla Warfare from Ancient Times to the Present, New York: Liveright, 2013. 13 During the author’s visit to the NATO Training Mission Afghanistan in January 2011, to evaluate the US adviser program in the Afghanistan Ministry of Defense, many of the advisers openly stated in interviews that they were not allowed to report negative assessments on Afghan Army readiness, a command directive that all attributed to Petraeus. 14 Colonel D. Macgregor, Ret., ‘The Petraeus Saga: Epitaph for a Four Star’ in Counterpunch, November 14, 2012. Online. Available at: www.counterpunch.org/2012/11/14/ epitaph-­for-a-­four-star/. 15 For a summary of the major works in counterinsurgency theory, see J. Thiel, et al., ‘Beyond FM 3–24: Readings for the Counterinsurgency Commander’ in Small Wars Journal, December 17, 2010. For another literature review, see D. Kilcullen, ‘Counterinsurgency Redux’ in Survival, 2006, 48 (4). 16 A narrative masterfully constructed by D. Porch, Counterinsurgency: Exposing the Myths of the New Way of War, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013. Also see Porch, ‘The Dangerous Myths and Dubious Promise of COIN’ in Small Wars and Insurgencies, 2011, 22 (2), pp. 239–57.

David Petraeus and twenty-first century war   157 17 An argument perhaps best encapsulated by the orientalist historian Bernard Lewis in his book What Went Wrong?: The Clash Between Modernity and Islam in the Middle East, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001. Lewis’ views found particular favor with Bush Administration neo-­conservatives as they prepared to launch the invasion of Iraq. Harvard historian Niall Ferguson argues this case in Empire: The Rise and Demise of the British World Order and the Lessons for Global Power, London: Allen Lane, 2002. 18 For a good example, see V. Davis Hanson, ‘Our Enemies, the Saudis’ in Commentary Magazine, July 2002. 19 As chronicled by D. Moran, National Wars of Liberation, New York: Harper Perennial, 2006. 20 Americans rediscovered the ideas surrounding this time-­honored tradition in COIN in Andrew Krepinevich’s article ‘How to Win in Iraq’ in Foreign Affairs, 2005, 84 (5), pp. 87–104. 21 During Congressional testimony in October 2005, then Secretary of State Condoleeza Rice was the first senior official to use these terms publicly. Neither the Central Command’s General John Abizaid or the US Commander in Iraq, General George Casey, had any idea what she was talking about. Needless to say, the phrase eventually became widely adopted as the prevailing concept used by US units to guide their employment in the field in Iraq and Afghanistan. 22 Estimates vary of Iraqi civilian casualties from between 100,000–200,000. An estimated 1.1 million mostly Sunni Iraqi refugees were displaced during the ethnic cleansing and sectarian fighting from 2004–2007 and they remain in refugee camps in surrounding states. According to the US Army Surgeon General’s Office, through November 2012, 5,225 US servicemen/women were killed in Iraq and Afghanistan and the number wounded in battle is more than 50,000 in both wars; 1,572 have had limbs amputated and 486 of these suffered multiple amputations; 73,674 army personnel are judged to be suffering from post traumatic stress disorder; 30,480 army personnel have suffered traumatic brain injury. The data is as reported by David Wood, ‘U.S. Wounded in Iraq, Afghanistan Includes More than 1,500 Amputees’ in Huffington Post, November 7, 2012. According to the United Nations, 12,793 Afghan civilians were killed between 2007–2011. Brown University’s Cost of War projects expenditures to finance the wars in Iraq, Afghanistan and Pakistan could reach $4.4 trillion. 23 Points made by M.A. Cohen, ‘The Myth of a Kinder, Gentler War’ in World Policy Journal, 2010, 27 (1), pp. 75–86. For an opposite reading of history, see C. Paul and C.P. Clarke, ‘Evidentiary Validation of FM  3–24: Counterinsurgency Worldwide, 1978–2008’ in Joint Forces Quarterly, 2011, 60 (1), pp. 122–8. Also see the authors’ (plus Beth Grill) more extensive treatment of the success of counterinsurgency in Victory has a Thousand Fathers: Sources of Success in Counterinsurgency, MG 964 OSD, Santa Monica: Rand Corporation, 2005. 24 Comprehensively addressed by B. Connable, Embracing the Fog of War: Assessment and Metrics in Counterinsurgency, Santa Monica: Rand Corporation, 2012. 25 Broadwell, All In; Ricks, The Gamble; and F. Kaplan, The Insurgents: David Petraeus and the Plot to Change the American Way of War, New York: Simon & Schuster, 2013. For a good summary that provides a context for the development of the new manual, see J. Nagl, ‘Constructing the Legacy of Field Manual 3–24’ in Joint Forces Quarterly, 2010, 58 (3), pp. 118–20. 26 This is not to minimize the participation by Navy and Air Force personnel conducting operations in Afghanistan and Iraq – of which there were thousands over the course of the war. But both wars were conducted primarily by the land forces, with the Air Force and Navy in a supporting role. 27 Russell, Innovation, Transformation and War. 28 Chronicled in D. Ucko, The New Counterinsurgency Era, Washington DC: Georgetown University Press, 2009.

158   J.A. Russell 29 No US Administration in recent history has ever publicly explained its strategic priorities in such detail. See, The National Security Strategy of the United States of America, The White House, Washington, DC, February 2006 and 2001; The National Strategy to Combat Weapons of Mass Destruction, The White House, Washington, DC, December 2002; The National Strategy for Homeland Security, The White House, Washington, DC, July 2002; The National Strategy for Combating Terrorism, The White House, Washington, DC, February 2003; National Military Strategy, Joint Chiefs of Staff, Washington, DC, 2004; National Defense Strategy, Department of Defense, Washington, DC, March 2005; The National Strategy for Maritime Security, The White House, Washington, DC, September 2005. This list is by no means exhaustive but provides a flavor of the unprecedented attention paid by the Bush Administration to such issues. 30 The September 2009 version of Department of Defense Directive 3000.5 can be accessed online at: www.dtic.mil/whs/directives/corres/pdf/300005p.pdf. 31 Latest version of the JFCOM/SOCOM irregular warfare Joint Operating Concept can be accessed online at: www.au.af.mil/au/awc/awcgate/irregular/iw_joc2_0.pdf. 32 Russell, Innovation, Transformation and War. 33 As emphasized in Ucko, The New Counterinsurgency Era. 34 Summarized in M.R. Gordon, ‘The Struggle for Iraq: 101st Scores Success in Mosul’ in New York Times, September 4, 2003. 35 D.R. McCone, W.J. Scott, and G.R. Mastroianni, The Third ACR in Tal’Afar: Challenges and Adaptations, Strategic Studies Institute, US Army War College, Carlisle, PA, September 8, 2008. 36 Russell, Innovation, Transformation and War. 37 Chronicled by Ricks, The Gamble; and K. Kagan, The Surge: A Military History, New York: Encounter Books, 2009. 38 M. Moss, ‘Bloodied Marines Sound Off About Want of Armor and Want of Men’ in New York Times, April 25, 2005. 39 The wider context of the surge and the myriad factors affecting insurgent violence and its relationship to US military operations is trenchantly addressed by D. Ucko, ‘Counterinsurgency After Afghanistan: A Concept in Crisis’ in Prism, 2011, 3(1). Also see D.A. Ollivant, ‘Countering the New Orthodoxy: Reinterpreting Counterinsurgency in Iraq’, National Security Studies Program Policy Paper, The New America Foundation, June 2011. Also see Porch, Counterinsurgency, Chapter X, ‘Vietnam with a Happy Ending: Iraq and the Surge’. 40 As emphasized by Ollivant. 41 For an example of the tactical approach taken by US forces during the surge, see D.E. Johnson, M. Wade Markel, and B. Shannon, ‘The 2008 Battle of Sadr City’, Occasional Paper, RAND Corporation, 2011. 42 For a summary of the task force’s capabilities, see ‘Task Force Odin: In the Valleys of the Blind’ in Defense Industry Daily, June 15, 2009. 43 Details and background on the launch of the Village Stabilization Program in R. Chandrasekaran, ‘U.S. Training Afghan Villagers to Fight the Taliban’ in Washington Post, April 27, 2010; S. Naylor, ‘Program has Afghans as First Line of Defense’ in Army Times, July 20, 2010, online. Available at: www.armytimes.com/news/2010/07/ army_specialforces_072010w; Y. Trofimov, ‘U.S. Enlists New Afghan Forces’ in Wall Street Journal, July 1, 2010; Colonel T. Connett and Colonel B. Cassidy, ‘Village Stability Operations: More Than Village Defense’ in Special Warfare, July/ September 2011. 44 For detail on implementing these programs and difficulties of balancing the local focus with the need to involve district-­level government, see A.R. Feitt, ‘The Importance of Vertical Engagement in Village Stability Operations’ in Small Wars Journal, November 1, 2011. Online. Available at: http://smallwarsjournal.com/jrnl/art/the-­ importance-of-­vertical-engagement-­in-village-­stability-operations; For a comparative

David Petraeus and twenty-first century war   159 look at VSO in several different cases, see M. Dearing, ‘Formalizing the Informal: Historical Lessons on Local Defense in Counterinsurgency’ in Small Wars Journal, December 1, 2011, Online. Available at: http://smallwarsjournal.com/jrnl/art/ formalizing-­the-informal-­historical-lessons-­on-local-­defense-in-­counterinsurgency. 45 Report on Progress and Stability Toward Security and Stability in Afghanistan, Department of Defense, October 2011, pp. 67–8. 46 Use of these techniques in Iraq detailed in G. Porter, ‘How McChrystal and Petraeus Built an Indiscriminate “Killing Machine” ’ in Truthout.org September 26, 2011; M. Urban, Task Force Black, London: Little Brown, 2010; Lt. Col. A. Shafer, Operation Dark Heart, New York: Thomas Dunne Books, 2010; also see Russell, Innovation, Transformation and War, pp. 155–9. 47 Porter, op. cit. 48 The Cost of Kill/Capture: Impact of Night Raid Surge on Afghan Civilians, Open Society Foundations, Kabul, Afghanistan, September 19, 2011, available online at: www.soros.org/initiatives/washington/articles_publications/publications/the-­cost-of-­ kill-capture-­impact-of-­the-night-­raid-surge-­on-afghan-­civilians-20110919/Night-­ Raids-Report-­FINAL-092011.pdf. 49 D. Filkins, ‘Prize on the Battlefields of Marja May Be Momentum’ in New York Times, February 20, 2010; also see N. Montgomery, ‘One Year After Offensive, Signs of Progress in Marja’ in Stars and Stripes, February 14, 2011; B. Van Ess, ‘The Fight For Marjah: Recent Counterinsurgency Operations in Southern Afghanistan’ in Small Wars Journal, September 30, 2010, available online at: http://smallwarsjournal.com/ jrnl/art/the-­fight-for-­marjah; D. Nissenbaum, ‘Knocked Out Of Power In Afghan Town, Taliban Turn to Intimidation’, McClatchy Newspapers, Washington Bureau, March 14, 2010: R. Chandrasekaran, ‘Commanders Fear Time Is Running Out in Marja; Operation Intended As Model Falters Amid Resistance from Taliban’ in The Washington Post, June 10, 2010. 50 In one indication of the lack of local enthusiasm for the Afghan national government, locals in Kandahar showed little interest joining the Afghan National Army – despite chronically high unemployment in the province. See R. Rivera, ‘Afghan Army Attracts Few Where Fear Reigns’ in New York Times, September 6, 2011.

Index

Afghanistan war 4, 15, 47, 125, 129, 131, 133, 134, 141–2, 144, 147; leadership of David Petraeus in 152–4 Algerian war 38–42 Al-Qaeda 79, 126, 133, 134, 138; as a ‘globalised insurgency’ 127–9, 132 Callwell, Charles 2, 6, 145; career 19–21; ideas in Small Wars 21–8; impact of his work 28–31 civil-military relations 11 Clausewitz, Carl von 3, 5, 22 Dayan, Moshe 2; approach to counterinsurgency 87–8; as an observer in Vietnam War 93–6; as Defence Minister 96–9; as IDF Chief of Staff 90–3; early career 85–6; experiences during British Mandate 88–90; legacy 99–101 De Gaulle, Charles 2, 35, 38, 42, 56, 64–5 Dien Bien Phu 37 Edson, Merritt ‘Red Mike’ 70, 71, 72, 73 Erskine, George 105, 109 Fall, Bernard 41, 76 FM 3–24, 11, 12, 14, 19, 63, 76, 80, 117, 127, 129, 138, 142, 149–50 Front de Libération Nationale (FLN) 40–1, 42, 47 Galula, David 2, 4, 11, 35–6, 117, 131, 145, 147; areas of agreement with Trinquer 45–9; areas of disagreement with Trinquer 49–53; early career 38–40; influence 57–62; location in broader French counter-insurgency tradition 53–7; post-military career 43–4; theory of counter-insurgency 45–53

Gentile, Gian 13 Iraq War 4, 9, 14, 15, 47, 125, 129, 132, 133–6, 141–2, 144, 147; leadership of David Petraeus in 150–2; performance of US Marine Corps in 79 Irish Republican Army (IRA) 113–16 Israeli Defence Force 2, 84, 88, 89, 92–3, 99–100; see also Moshe Dayan Kilcullen, David 3, 9, 11, 28, 59, 118; approach to counter-insurgency 129–32; career 126–7; contribution to warriorscholarship 126; impact of his work 137–8; on the causes and conduct of irregular warfare 132–7; theory of ‘globalized insurgency’ 127–9 Kiszely, John 9, 12 Kitson, Frank 2–3, 9, 145; as a ‘warriorscholar’ 106–7; early career 107; fellowship at Oxford 112–13; in Cyprus 111–12; in Kenya 107–10; in Malaya 110–11; in Northern Ireland 113–16; in Oman 111; late career 116–17; legacy 117–20; Low Intensity Operations 113–14; Warfare as a Whole 118–19 Krulak, Charles 77–9, 80, 94 Krulak, Victor 70, 71, 74, 75, 76–7 Lansdale, Edward 44, 117 Lawrence, T.E 2, 125, 137 Malayan Emergency 9, 15 Mansoor, Peter 80 Mau Mau 51, 107–10 McChrystal, Stanley 151, 152, 153 McMaster, H.R 80, 126, 150 military culture 5, 7, 10–11 military education 5, 9–10

Index   161 Nagl, John 9, 35, 63, 77, 87, 126, 138 Petraeus, David 3, 6, 9, 10, 35, 80, 84, 125, 126, 127, 129–30, 133, 138; as a political general 142–5; career and controversies 141–2; leadership in Afghanistan 152–4; leadership in Iraq 150–2; legacy 154–5; role and ideas in historical context 145–7; role in reorienting Army doctrine 148–50 Sadeh, Yitzhak 88, 89 Six Day War 84, 85, 96 Small Wars Manual (1940) see United States Marine Corps Suez crisis 2, 84, 93 Templer, Gerald 50, 105, 110–11, 145 Thompson, Robert 5, 15, 70, 74, 105, 106, 118, 130, 145 Trinquer, Roger 2, 35–6, 145; areas of agreement with Galula 45–9; areas of disagreement with Galula 49–53; early career 36–7; in Algeria 40–2; influence

57–62; location in broader French counter-insurgency tradition 53–7; postmilitary career 43; theory of counterinsurgency 45–53 Tsetung, Mao 2, 76 United States Marine Corps 2; counterinsurgency during ‘Banana Wars’ 71–3; counter-insurgency during Vietnam War 74–7, 94; history of 70–1; Small Wars Manual (1940) 72–3, 75, 80; ‘three block war’ doctrine 77–80 Van Riper, Paul 70, 77–8, 80 Vietnam war 9, 12, 14, 15, 58, 85, 144, 147, 152; Moshe Dayan as observer in 93–6; US Marine Corps performance in 74–7 Westmoreland, William 9 Wingate, Orde 88, 89, 145 Yom Kippur War 2, 84

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