Washington Rules_ America's Path to Permanent War - Andrew J. Bacevich [69]
The expectations generated by RMA theorists—forces optimized for “network centric” warfare providing the foundation for lasting American primacy—grew out of a specific context in which post–Cold War triumphalism blended with a rising faith in the transformative power of technology married to the forces of globalization. In a fast, flat, and wide-open world, this new way of war offered an enticing blueprint for extracting the maximum benefit from the arena in which the United States enjoyed unquestioned superiority. Unlike LeMay’s SAC, instruments of violence designed to fit RMA precepts wouldn’t risk blowing up the world. Unlike Dulles’s CIA with its limited repertoire of dirty tricks, those forces would possess broad utility. Best of all, for the moment at least, the United States owned the RMA franchise.
Yet strip away the cyberjargon and the RMA bore more than a passing resemblance to flexible response. The new generation of semiwarriors—Democrats like Madeleine Albright eager to succor the afflicted; Republicans like Donald Rumsfeld, pursuing more overtly imperial ambitions—were, in fact, the heirs of Taylor, McNamara, and Bundy. In the RMA they saw the possibility of fulfilling the promise of flexible response, dashed by Vietnam: Here once again was the prospect of devising a broader array of power projection options; here once again was the seductive vision of force employed in a controlled and limited manner, with costs contained and risks minimized.
The debate over the new American way of war, pitting those who saw Desert Storm as perfection against those who saw it as portent, extended throughout the 1990s and did not come to a head until after 9/11. By that time, Rumsfeld, a self-described conservative who, on matters related to the future of war, entertained genuinely radical views, had become secretary of defense. His agenda upon taking command of the Pentagon reduced to a single word: transformation.
Rumsfeld was intent on breaking military resistance to the RMA and then remolding the services according to its dictates. During the first eight months of his tenure he made frustratingly little progress. The attacks of September 11, 2001, changed all that. The global war on terror promptly declared by the Bush administration presented a made-to-order opportunity to shatter that resistance once and for all. Rumsfeld grasped the opportunity with alacrity.
SPEED KILLS
America’s crusade to extirpate terrorism—in size, scope, and significance comparable to the world wars of the last century, according to some observers—opened on a seemingly promising note.10 In the fall of 2001, U.S. forces launched Operation Enduring Freedom, toppling the Taliban regime that had provided Osama bin Laden sanctuary and putting Al Qaeda to flight. Dazzled by this apparent success, the Bush administration almost immediately began shifting its attention to Iraq, identifying the overthrow of Saddam Hussein as its main objective. Although top U.S. officials did not expect the global war on terror to end with Saddam’s removal, they felt certain that removing the Iraqi dictator would yield large strategic gains. Once Washington had removed Saddam, further successes would come easily.
As with the campaign in Afghanistan, Operation Iraqi Freedom began on a promising note. Within a matter of weeks, U.S. forces had shattered the Iraqi army and captured Baghdad. Speaking on the deck of the USS Abraham Lincoln against the backdrop of a banner reading MISSION ACCOMPLISHED, a giddy President Bush announced on May 1, 2003, that major combat operations in Iraq had ended.
The president spoke prematurely, however. Saddam’s ouster had decided nothing. Things became not easier, but more difficult.
Intended to solve problems, Saddam