NATO and Peace Support Operations, 1991-1999: Policies and Doctrines (Cass Series on Peacekeeping)

NATO AND PEACE SUPPORT OPERATIONS 1991–1999

This book addresses the question of how NATO and three of its member states configured their policies and military doctrines in order to handle the new strategic environment. This environment became increasingly dominated by ‘new wars’— more precisely, civil wars within states—and peacekeeping as the strategy devised by outside actors for dealing with them. The book seeks to explain how this new strategic environment has been interpreted and how the new conflicts and peacekeeping have been fitted into ‘defence’ and ‘war’—key concepts in the field of security studies. Henning-A.Frantzen has served in the Norwegian Army since 1987 and he has taught at the Norwegian Military Academy since 1997. He completed his doctorate in the Department of War Studies, King’s College London in 2004, and works for the Norwegian Ministry of Defence. The views expressed in this book are his own and should not be taken to reflect any official view.

THE CASS SERIES ON PEACEKEEPING ISSN 1367– 9880 General Editor: Michael Pugh This series examines all aspects of peacekeeping, from the political, operational and legal dimensions to the developmental and humanitarian issues that must be dealt with by all those involved with peacekeEping in the world today. 1. BEYOND THE EMERGENCY Development within UN missions Edited by Jeremy Ginifer 2. THE UN, PEACE AND FORCE Edited by Michael Pugh 3. MEDIATING IN CYPRUS The Cypriot communities and the United Nations By Oliver P.Richmond 4. PEACEKEEPING AND THE UN AGENCIES Edited by Jim Whitman 5. PEACEKEEPING AND PUBLIC INFORMATION Caught in the crossfire By Ingrid A.Lehman 6. US PEACEKEEPING POLICY UNDER CLINTON A fairweather friend? By Michael MacKinnon 7. PEACEBUILDING AND POLICE REFORM Edited by Tor Tanke Holm and Espen Barth Eide 8. PEACEKEEPING AND CONFLICT RESOLUTION Edited by Oliver Ramsbotham and Tom Woodhouse 9. MANAGING ARMED CONFLICTS IN THE 21ST CENTURY Edited by Adekeye Adebajo and Chandra Lekha Sriram 10. WOMEN AND INTERNATIONAL PEACEKEEPING Edited by Louise Olsson and Torunn L.Tryggestad 11. RECOVERING FROM CIVIL CONFLICT Reconciliation, peace and development Edited by Edward Newman and Albrecht Schnabel 12. MITIGATING CONFLICT The role of NGOs Edited by Henry F.Carey and Oliver P.Richmond

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13. IRELAND AND INTERNATIONAL PEACEKEEPING 1960–2000 A study of Irish motivation Katsumi Ishizuka 14. PEACEKEEPING OPERATIONS AFTER 11 SEPTEMBER 2001 Edited by Thierry Tardy 15. CONFRONTING PAST HUMAN RIGHTS VIOLATIONS Justice vs peace in times of transition By Chandra Lekha Sriram 16. THE NATIONAL POLITICS OF PEACEKEEPING IN THE POST-COLD WAR ERA Edited by Pia Christina Wood and David S.Sorensen 17. A UN ‘LEGION’ Between Utopia and reality By Stephen Kinloch-Pichat 18. UNITED NATIONS PEACEKEEPING IN THE POST-COLD WAR ERA By John Terence O’Neill and Nicholas Rees 19. THE MILITARY AND NEGOTIATION The role of the soldier-diplomat By Deborah Goodwin 20. NATO AND PEACE SUPPORT OPERATIONS 1991–1999 Policies and doctrines By Henning-A.Frantzen

NATO AND PEACE SUPPORT OPERATIONS 1991–1999 Policies and doctrines

Henning-A.Frantzen

FRANK CASS LONDON AND NEW YORK

First published 2005 by Frank Cass 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN Simultaneously published in the USA and Canada by Frank Class 270 Madison Ave, New York, NY 10016 Frank Cass is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group This edition published in the Taylor & Francis e-Library, 2005. “To purchase your own copy of this or any of Taylor & Francis or Routledge’s collection of thousands of eBooks please go to www.eBookstore.tandf.co.uk.” © 2005 Henning-A.Frantzen All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilized 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. 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 Frantzen, Henning-A. NATO and peace support operations 1991–1999: policies and doctrines/ Henning-A.Frantzen. –1st ed. p. cm. —(Cass series on peacekeeping ; 20) Includes bibliographical references and index. 1. North Atlantic Treaty Organization—Military policy. 2. Peacekeeping forces— Great Britain. 3. Peacekeeping forces—Denmark. 4. Peacekeeping forces—Canada. 5. World politics–1989– I. Title. II Series. UA646.3.F74 2005 355.3′57–dc22 200413018 ISBN 0-203-01031-0 Master e-book ISBN

ISBN 0-415-34996-6 (Print Edition)

CONTENTS

Acknowledgement

vii

List of abbreviations

ix

1

Introduction

1

2

New threats, new wars, internal wars

17

3

Doctrines for PSO in the 1990s: from ‘consent’ to ‘permissive environment’

36

4

NATO 1991–9: strategy and doctrine

61

5

Britain: from ‘Options for Change’ to Strategic Defence Review

93

6

Canada: protection of sovereignty, peacekeeping or combat capacity?

126

7

Denmark: international or national defence?

158

8

Comparative analysis

191

9

Conclusion

210

Bibliography

218

Index

245

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

During the years of working on the thesis that eventually became this book I have accumulated debts I can probably never repay. First, I have to thank Hilde for her love, encouragement and support ever since we met. I hope that you understand how deeply grateful I am. I also want to thank my two daughters: Hanne, who had to move to London at the age of three weeks so that her father could study for his MA in War Studies, and Hedda, who was born somewhere during Chapter 5 of this book. Also, I want to thank my mother, brother and sister for always believing in me. My father passed away all too early, but he gave me the best possible start in life. My supervisors, Professor Sir Lawrence Freedman and Professor Beatrice Heuser, have both contributed significantly to the process. I have to thank you both for guidance, for corrections, for inspiration and for making me believe I could do this. I am deeply grateful for the opportunity of being supervised by both of you. It was the support of the Military Academy in Oslo that made this project possible. Thanks to Brigadier Kjell Grandhagen, former Commandant of the Academy; Leif Svendsen, Director of Studies; Ola Johan Berntsen, Head of the International Studies Department, and the present Commandant Colonel Geir Holmenes. I could never have done this without your financial and moral support and your acceptance of the fact that it does take time to complete a PhD. I would also like to thank all friends and colleagues within and outside the Army. In particular I want to thank Merethe for help with proofreading, the librarians Bjørg and Turid; and Carsten, Richard, Bjørn-Inge and Knut for taking the time to discuss and for your encouragement. During these years, I have had the privilege of teaching in the Advanced Course in the Academy, and I am grateful to all of the officers for taking the time to listen to my arguments, although I am aware you did not have much choice. Thanks also to the Director of the Institute for Defence Studies in Oslo, Professor Rolf Tamnes, for providing a grant. The Secretary General of the Norwegian Atlantic Committee, Chris Prebensen, as well as Marianne and Line, have been most helpful in arranging visits to Brussels on several occasions throughout this period. Numerous people have helped me in planning trips, in organising and agreeing to interviews and in providing sources. Some of you have taken the time to

viii

read parts of this book. I am deeply grateful to all of you. Thanks also to David forproviding accommodation in London. Although many have contributed and helped,this work, including any errors of judgement or misinterpretations, is myresponsibility alone.

LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS

AFOR AMF AJP ALLC ARRC AWACS BALTBAT BALTAP BiH BOAR CDS CF CFE CFL CIMIC CJTF COIN CRO CSCE DAT DCI DFAIT DIB DND DPC EAPC

Albania Force Allied Command Europe Mobile Force Allied Joint Publication Army Lessons Learned Centre (Canada) Allied Command Europe Rapid Reaction Corps airborne warning and control system Baltic Peacekeeping Battalion Baltic Approaches Bosnian government army British Army of the Rhine Chief of the Defence Staff (Canada) Canadian Forces Conventional Forces Europe confrontation line civil-military cooperation combined joint task forces counterinsurgency crisis response operations Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe Directorate of Army Training (Canada) Defence Capabilities Initiative Department of Foreign Affairs and International Trade (Canada) Danish International Brigade Department of National Defence (Canada) Defence Planning Committee European-Atlantic Partnership Council

x

EU FCO FIBUA FPG GDP GO HoC HQ HVO IFOR IISS IMS IRF JOPP JWP KFOR LANDJUT LIC MC MFA MFO MoD MSC NAC NACC NATO NBC weapons NGO NORAD ONUC OOTW OSCE PfP PK PE PJHQ PSO

European Union Foreign and Commonwealth Office fighting in built-up areas funcational planning guide gross domestic product governmental organisation House of Commons headquarters Bosnian Croat army NATO Implementation Force, Bosnia International Institute for Strategic Studies International Military Staff (NATO) immediate reaction forces Joint Operational Planning Process Joint Warfare Publication (UK) Kosovo Force German—Danish Land Corps low-intensity conflict Military Committee (NATO) Minister of Foreign Affairs (Denmark) Middle East Force and Observers (Sinai) Ministry of Defence Military Staff Committee (UN) North Atlantic Council North Atlantic Cooperation Council North Atlantic Treaty Organisation nuclear, biological and chemical weapons non-governmental organisation North America Air Defence United Nations Operation in Congo operations other than war Organisation for Security and Cooperation in Europe Partnership for Peace peacekeeping peace enforcement Permanent Joint Headquarters (UK) peace support operations

xi

ROE RRF RUSI SACEUR SACLANT SAS SBS SDR SFOR SHAPE SHIRBRIG STANAVFOR MED TA UK UN UNTAC UNEF I UNEF II UNPROFOR US USMC WEU WTO

rules of engagement rapid reaction forces (NATO) Royal United Services Institute (for Defence and Security Studies) Supreme Allied Commander Europe Supreme Allied Commander Atlantic Special Air Service Special Boat Service Strategic Defence Review (UK) NATO Stabilisation Force, Bosnia Supreme Headquarters Allied Powers Europe Standing High Readiness Brigade (UN) Standing Naval Forces Mediterranean Territorial Army (UK) United Kingdom United Nations United Nations Transitional Authority in Cambodia United Nations Emergency Force I United Nations Emergency Force II United Nations Protection Force (to the former Yugoslavia) United States of America United States Marine Corps Western European Union Warsaw Treaty Organisation

1 INTRODUCTION

Clausewitz pointed out that ‘every age had its own kind of war, its own limiting conditions, and its own peculiar preconceptions’.1 This book is about strategic change in the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation (NATO) following the end of the Cold War. It addresses the question of how NATO and three of its member states configured their policies and military doctrines in order to handle the new strategic environment from 1991. This environment became increasingly dominated by ‘new wars’, more precisely wars within states, and peacekeeping as the strategy devised by outside actors for dealing with them. This book will seek to explain how this new strategic environment has been interpreted and how the new conflicts and peacekeeping have been fitted into ‘defence’ and ‘war’, key concepts in the field of security studies. The focus will thus be on conceptualisation and prioritisation of the new strategic environment and the new task of peacekeeping, or conducting peace support operations (PSO), in ‘new wars’. This book analyses and discusses the process of change within NATO, with a focus on NATO’s new task of PSO, in order to explore how NATO and three of its members responded at the institutional and national level. This process of change raises several questions: What has been the main response of NATO to the new strategic environment? What have been the main problems when transforming policy and the doctrine of the old NATO into more appropriate concepts for the new NATO? Where do PSO fit in security thinking within the Alliance? What are the possible tensions between the traditional defence role of the military and the new ones? How has policy been interpreted by the military in terms of doctrines? To what extent have PSO been integrated as a natural task of the Armed Forces? And, lastly, what does this tell us about the perception and understanding of the concepts of defence and war? The aim is thus to analyse and discuss the conceptualisation, rationale and priorities of policy and doctrine within NATO and three NATO members: Britain, Canada and Denmark. The period of 1991–9 encompasses great changes in the strategic environment in Europe and in Europe’s neighbouring regions and is thus a period well suited for studying strategic change. With the end of the Cold War, the original rationale and purpose of NATO, linked to preparing for a war in defence of its members against an attack from the Soviet Union, faded. The end of the Cold

2 INTRODUCTION

War, the Gulf War, the 1991 strategic concept of NATO, the break-up of the Warsaw Treaty Organisation (WTO) and the former Soviet Union, and the emerging conflicts in the Balkans, are central features of the beginning of this period. At the other end of the decade are a revised strategic concept of NATO and the conflict over Kosovo, NATO’s first ever non-United Nations (UN) sanctioned intervention outside NATO’s own territory. It became customary to speak of ‘NATO’s new tasks’ as well as the ‘new’ or ‘transformed’ NATO. The so-called transformation of NATO has encompassed several processes. First, NATO initiated the outreach initiatives to old enemies (North Atlantic Cooperation Council [NACC], Partnership for Peace [PfP], European-Atlantic Partnership Council [EAPC]), including the process to enlarge NATO by including new members. Secondly, the transatlantic relationship was readjusted, in order to find a role for the European Union’s (EU) emergence on the security arena through the European Security and Defence Initiative and subsequent developments. Finally, NATO reformed its command structure and took steps to improve and adjust the military capabilities of NATO members (Defence Capabilities Initiative [DCI]). NATO transformed peacekeeping into the much wider concept of PSO in parallel to NATO’s efforts and operations in the Balkans. During the 1990s it can be argued that PSO became the most concrete and visible sign of NATO’s new role and this role will be the focus of this book. As a starting point, a three-layer problem in the adaptation of armed forces to a new strategic environment is assumed. The first is the potential and perceived conflict between the national/territorial defence and international military involvement in general. The second is the tension between maintaining a major war-fighting capability and the relevance of such capabilities when facing conflicts arising from internal conflict, failed states and irregular actors and strategies. The third dimension is the above-mentioned potential conflict between major war-fighting capabilities and capabilities needed for so-called PSO. The purpose is to analyse and discuss the process of change, to identify the dilemmas of the different actors and, more importantly, to try to explain why they are regarded as dilemmas. The basic argument is that even though there are significant variations in the responses provided by the different actors examined here, and in spite of the high profile of the ‘new conflicts’ and PSO in NATO as well as in the policies of the three states, change has been slow, hesitant and incomplete. The distinction made between ‘war’ and ‘operations other than war’ (OOTW), as well as the distinction made in NATO between ‘Article 5’ and ‘non-Article 5’ tasks, exemplify and underpin this argument. Even though the ‘new tasks’ have been included as an element of defence policy, they have not been fully included in the concept of defence. The predominant way of conceptualising war in this period has been based on interpretations of Clausewitzian thinking that are of less relevance to the ‘new conflicts’, and this prevailing way of thinking about defence and war is an important factor in preventing change from taking place. Whereas it was commonly assumed that the nature of peacekeeping had to

INTRODUCTION 3

change to accommodate the strategic requirements of the new strategic setting, the realisation that the concept of war was changing too was far less accepted. Rather than accepting the changes in war and warfare taking place, the new wars were put in the category of OOTW. Much has been written on the predominantly political dimensions of the adaptation process, such as the enlargement issue, PfP, NATO—Russian relations and so forth. The adaptation of NATO’s political and military structures to the new security environment, dominated by internal conflicts on the periphery of the NATO area, has been less subject to discussion.2 De Wijk has written on the internal work of the Alliance on the adaptation process covering the period up to 1996.3 Yost also deals with the process of NATO adaptation, but the analysis stops at the political level.4 This book will thus combine the national and alliance dimensions as well as the political and military dimensions. When discussing NATO strategy and military structures, it is important to bear in mind that NATO is an inter-governmental institution, an alliance based on the principle of consensus, without military assets of its own. Consequently, the institutional bricks, such as the Alliance’s strategic concept, force structures and doctrines, are sums of and compromises between the national equivalents. To speak of a ‘grand strategy’ of the Alliance is, in many respects, an exaggeration of what is achievable given the institutional principle of consensus. It has been said that ‘NATO can never have its own strategy because it is a component of US strategy.’5 However, it can be assumed that, at least over time, decisions in NATO have an effect on national policy and strategy. To what extent national policy adapts to Alliance policy is in part dependent on the power relations within the Alliance. Also, what the actual role of the NATO bureaucracy has been in developing the institutional bricks is an interesting question. In theory, Alliance bureaucrats and officers are merely servants of the members, but they also represent their individual states. On the other hand, these structures can play a significant role in the process leading up to political compromises and take an active role in influencing and shaping the national inputs. Thus, NATO’s process of adaptation is influenced by a complex, three-way dynamic process in which national inputs, Alliance compromises and NATO bureaucratic structures all play an important part. Policy and doctrine In democratic states, elected governments are responsible for developing and guiding defence policy, while the military, to a great extent, is tasked with implementation. Thus, as the title of this book indicates, it is useful to explore both the political level and the armed forces to see how the latter respond to and implement change in policy. Policy determines objectives and ambitions (what is to be defended), structure and force level (how), alliance and coalition partners (with whom) as well as threats and enemies (against whom).

4 INTRODUCTION

Any study of policy through official statements, reports and speeches will have to exercise caution. As pointed out by Frankel, a policy process is most of the time reactive and short term, geared towards imminent problems and challenges. One can distinguish between aspirational and operational policies as well as explanatory and polemical ones. Coherence does not always exist between official, stated, long-term ambitions and the day-to-day policymaking process.6 However, this study discusses policy as stated officially and publicly. Analysing policy alone, however, is not sufficient to grasp strategy fully. In particular, when analysing processes of change within the security and defence realm, this can hardly be comprehensive without taking the institution of the Armed Forces into consideration. Military doctrines can be seen as a translation and implementation of policy into military concepts and priorities. Doctrine is formally defined within NATO as ‘fundamental principles by which the military forces guide their actions in support of objectives. It is authoritative but requires judgement in application.’7 Doctrine will seldom be specific and detailed but rather broad and general to allow for improvisation and adaptation in accordance with the special circumstances of each conflict. One can distinguish between strategic, operational and tactical doctrines, as well as technical manuals. As Howard has pointed out, there will only be rare cases in which an actual war corresponds to the war one has prepared for. What matters is the ability of the military to face the unexpected with success.8In accordance with this view, a doctrine can be viewed not only as a product, but also as a process. Mackinlay has pointed to doctrine as providing the basis for reflex reaction when faced with hostile actions.9 It is when faced with the stress of combat that soldiers turn to their reflex and instinct shaped by their training, education and institutional beliefs. One can argue that doctrines tend to mix three functions. First, they tend to determine how things ‘are’. Typical examples are so-called military principles. Second, doctrines prescribe how things should be. The view on how politics should relate to military affairs is one example. And third, they set the framework for development in the future by elaborating on possibilities and limitations. They thus mix descriptive and normative functions. Doctrines can also be a source of collective identity and make explicit or implicit statements that indicate what the military itself perceives as its primary role and function. Thus, doctrine is a source of what is regarded as ‘proper soldiering’. The idea of what ‘proper soldiering’ is, however, changes as the concept of ‘war’ changes. After the First World War, the British Army, for instance, looked forward to going back to the task of what they considered to be ‘proper soldiering’, i.e. the task of imperial policing. The Great War was regarded an exception, not a rule.10 In the early 1990s, a Canadian officer was quoted as saying he looked forward to going back to ‘proper soldiering’, i.e. training for war-fighting, after having been deployed to a peacekeeping mission.11 It can thus be argued that military identity is to a great extent shaped by the perception of what is regarded as ‘proper soldiering’ and what the military itself regards as its primary role and function. Since the Armed Forces in general

INTRODUCTION 5

consider their role to be to prepare for and if necessary fight wars, it is interesting, first, to see how they define wars, and second, what are considered to be OOTW. In the field of peacekeeping, doctrines have not been at the top of the agenda, much because this activity has been regarded as a second-rate task up to the 1990s.12 With the expansion of peacekeeping activities experienced in the 1990s, the doctrinal issue came to the forefront. During the 1990s, great efforts have been devoted to explaining different forms of operations, accompanied by numerous labels, and sections of classification. This classification seems at the heart of the problem, as the ‘new’ operations and style of peacekeeping did not fit in with the traditional stereotype of peacekeeping. As late as 1998, Hillen concluded that there still was ‘conceptual confusion’ in most literature on the new peacekeeping.13 Conceptual clarity is important and beyond semantics. Ruggie commented after years of trial and errors in Somalia, Rwanda and Bosnia that ‘in several major recent UN peace operations, neither the UN nor its member states strictly speaking has fully known what it has been doing or how to do it.’14 In the midst of the Bosnian crisis Roberts called for ‘some intelligent means of using force in support of peacekeeping operations’.15 While much attention has previously been devoted to the subject, recommendations often tend to make this issue a matter of clear political objectives, Chapter VII mandates, available resources and general discussions on the ability and capacity of the UN or command and control arrangements.16 These are important issues and should not be underestimated. However, the use of force in peacekeeping seems to be at the core of the issue of providing a doctrinal basis and understanding of the new style of peacekeeping. Strategic mentality and concepts Military innovation and adaptation has been a theme of great interest in previous periods. Works on military change and adaptation have focused on explaining why different states chose different strategies in specific periods,17 while others have sought to explain how armed forces learn from ‘peripheral wars’18 or from wartime experience and how they adapt to technological innovation.19 Two bodies of theory are normally used for analysis of policy and doctrines: bureaucratic politics and balance of power theory. Additionally, military innovation or adaptation can be analysed within the context of civil—military relations, addressing to what extent the military is under political control, or to what extent the military responds to the needs and demands of their political leadership. The approach here will be different, as the focus is on concepts. This framework is chosen for three reasons. First, concepts are important because they provide a common language necessary for our understanding. A new strategic environment, new threats and risks and new norms as well as roles and tasks necessitate new conceptualisation. Defence policy and doctrines provide this

6 INTRODUCTION

conceptualisation. Second, conceptualisation can be analysed to discern the underlying strategic thinking. And, third, the 1990s saw a flow of new concepts both in terms of ‘new wars’ and ‘new peacekeeping’. It was argued, as it has been before, that ‘major war’ in the traditional sense was highly unlikely.20 Following the end of the Cold War, there has been a discussion in academia on the changing character and concept of war. It has been argued that war is now ‘post-heroic’, ‘post-modern’, that war has been transformed and that war is now post-Clausewitzian.21 A conceptual discussion seems thus to be in place, as the 1990s have seen a proliferation of terms and concepts of both war and PSO. The point here is to study the conceptualisation, the choices and priorities of policies and doctrines, and the assumptions and calculations on which these choices are made. This approach will thus be a combination of the study of perceptions;22 the study of ideas defined as institutionalised beliefs23 and the body of thought referred to as strategic thinking. There is thus also a constructivist element in the approach of this book, as it will address how concepts within security studies are constructed and focus on shared and accepted ideas and beliefs rather than material forces. As Wendt has pointed out, ‘the content of interests are in turn constituted in important part by ideas’.24 This approach is chosen because it is argued that concepts are important. Discussion of concepts is more than semantics. Conceptualisation of security and defence policy provides ‘mental maps’ affecting policymaking and military implementation. For instance, the concept of ‘war’ invokes historical memories, certain expectations relating to how things should be done and how things are in a condition of war, fears of danger, pain and suffering as well as specific rules for guidance.25 Conceptualisation thus provides a source that can be informative when it comes to analysing the underlying thinking. In this context, perceptions, concepts and language are of significance. How war is defined, how wars are classified, what are regarded as military and non-military tasks and how conflicts are perceived can be seen as reflections of institutionalised beliefs and ideas, that will affect policy, structures and doctrine. Furthermore, it will be of interest to see how states and their armed forces learn from the recent past as well as from history and how this affects their present ability to change and adapt. A relevant question is whether such labels matter and to what extent it is useful to devote time and energy to such conceptualisation exercises. The labels of internal wars encompass a magnitude of attempts to attach to these kinds of war names that accurately describe their origin and conduct and simultaneously exclude them from the realm of ‘proper war’. All labels have inherent a set of generalisations which can be useful and clarify rather complicated matters. Used as mental models, typology matters. If accurate and relevant, labels can be helpful to forward understanding and devise strategies.26 If not, they can be counterproductive and cause confusion and form the basis for miscalculations. Labels can also be of political value as a means of sending signals to either the opponent or to parties to a conflict, to the domestic public and actors as well as to

INTRODUCTION 7

other players on the international arena. Furthermore, there are legal aspects to the issue of declaring war or not. By doing so, one accepts the opponents as a party with rights and duties according to the laws of warfare. By not declaring war, opponents are denied their rights as actors fighting on equal terms. The issue of monopolising legitimate use of violence to states is thus also a matter of concepts. Strategic theory is an appropriate framework for discussing whether, in what direction and to what extent the challenges of internal conflicts, PSO and out-ofarea deployments command armed forces to change. It is the framework in which some of the current changes in war and warfare can be discussed. Concepts like defence, war and PSO are multifaceted with no singular meaning. It is thus necessary to explore and discuss conceptualisation and what understanding of security, defence, war and PSO the concepts and their usage reflect. Comparative analysis The structure of the book is, first, to discuss the ‘new wars’ and PSO and address in what ways these depart from traditional concepts of war and defence. Then the process in NATO from 1991–9 is examined, followed by three case studies. The findings are discussed in a comparative analysis in Chapter 8. The countries chosen for this analysis and discussion are the United Kingdom (UK), Canada and Denmark. The three case studies are analysed against the background of developments within NATO. NATO cannot be compared directly to each of these states, but it sets the context for the analysis. The reason for choosing these states is that they have different ambitions, roles, geostrategic positions and history. Canada and Denmark have both contributed significantly to UN peacekeeping since its origin in 1956. Canada, in particular, had little reason to fear its territorial integrity being severely threatened after the end of the Cold War. Denmark has had her strategic situation drastically improved by the end of the Cold War. Both of these states border neighbour state(s) that are more powerful or at least have the potential for more power. Britain did not contribute significantly to peacekeeping missions during the Cold War, but has a tradition of imperial policing and became the most active ‘peace supporter’ in Europe by the end of the last decade. Denmark and Canada have both belonged to ‘the leftist’ group within NATO, while Britain is a nuclear power more accustomed to thinking about using military means to achieve political ends beyond national survival, due to her imperial past. ‘Defence’ is a concept that one may assume carries different meanings in Denmark, Canada and Britain. Denmark has a tradition of territorial defence and conscription, while the two others rely on professional armies and have throughout the Cold War committed large parts of their defence resources to continental Europe. Therefore it is of interest to use this diversified group of states within NATO in order to see whether there are common problems and challenges of strategic thinking underpinning policy and doctrine development affecting the process of adaptation, in spite of the

8 INTRODUCTION

differences pointed out above. Also, by using these different states, it is possible to explore the differences between them in handling the new challenges. As the focus is on potential concepts and priorities, it is also possible to explore the meaning of these concepts within the policy and doctrinal debate within each country and outline differences. While the case study method cannot be used to make general conclusions, the aim and commonalities is still to illustrate the process of change within NATO and the relationship between Allied and national policy and doctrinal processes. However, the approach will not be able to produce general conclusions relevant to and valid for all of NATO’s members. This book makes use of a qualitative methodology. In the first part, the new challenges will be analysed in the theoretical frameworks outlined above. Central questions will be: to what extent do these new tasks require changes in policy, structure and doctrine? How are such additional tasks judged historically and currently? How are such tasks placed with reference to war and what are the special features of such conflicts? What are the capabilities judged to be required when dealing with them? Thus, the first part will establish a framework for the case studies. In the second part, case studies will be used to explore how and to what extent policy, structure and doctrine changed during this period. Central policy papers such as defence reviews and annual governmental defence papers will be examined and analysed. Then military doctrines will be analysed. Secondary literature on particular countries and press files have been used as sources in order to fully grasp the essence of the ‘defence debate’ in the different countries. As the case study method is dependent upon ‘structured and focused comparison’,27 the questions used for such comparison will be: 1 What has been the response to the new conflicts and peacekeeping at the political level within defence policy? 2 How has this new security environment been conceptualised and incorporated into the concept of defence? 3 How do PSO relate to the concepts of defence and to war, and what does this say about the understanding of these concepts? 4 To what extent have military doctrines been adjusted to this new environment and to the new tasks? These four questions will form the framework for analysis in the case studies, and the comparative analysis in Chapter 8 will be structured around them. Given the broad scope of this work it is necessary to narrow down the subject. Thus, the book is primarily concerned with armies. Armies have traditionally been most involved with both peacekeeping and internal conflicts and seem to be most relevant to the scope of this study. Naval and air issues will be discussed only if relevant to armies. Furthermore, the topic is narrowed down to the challenges of peace support, internal conflicts and out-of-area deployments and not the entire defence debate in general.

INTRODUCTION 9

The concept of war As Holsti has pointed out, the problem of defining war is that historically, ‘the use of force in statecraft has had different meanings’ and, further, that in the twentieth century ‘the forms of warfare have diversified to the point where we can no longer speak of war as a single institution of the state system’.28Whereas Mandelbaum’s concept of modern war, ‘the use of mechanized weapons in formal battles between the professional armed forces of sovereign states’,29 encapsulates a common perception of what war is by how it appears, how it is organised and by the means that are being used, war is a multifaceted phenomenon that can occur in a multitude of forms and for a multitude of purposes. War is a powerful concept, invoking certain expectations of how it will appear. These expectations are invoked, also subconsciously, not only by formal definitions, but very much by the experience of history, by assumptions made on most likely threat scenarios, and by procedures institutionalised as a part of preparations for war. For example, training of soldiers for war is likely to shape their expectations of what war will be like or should be like. Scenarios used for threat assessment and force structures will contribute to shaping expectations. A community’s collective memory of war is likely to invoke fears about future war. Together, these expectations constitute a ‘mental map’ that guides thinking and action. Central to this mental map are the so-called ‘principles of war’ distilled from military campaigns by Fuller: To advance against the enemy’s main force (objective), with the intention of destroying it (offensive), with the greatest numbers possible (mass and economy of force) with the least friction (co-operation), and in the shortest possible time (movement) so that we may take him unaware (surprise), without undue risks to ourselves (security).30 The concept of proper war in Western military thinking has thus revolved around the idea of war as a distinct condition with clear beginnings and ends. Guiding principles have been maximum use of force used overwhelmingly and concentrated in time and space in order to bring about decisive victory in the shortest time possible. Thus, states have organised their violent conflicts in formalised battles, shaped by these informal, but widely accepted, rules of warfare. Clausewitz’s definition of war as ‘a continuation of policy with other and violent means’ is indeed wide and can encompass any organised use of force to fulfil political aims. However, his concept of strategy, the ‘use of the engagement for the purpose of the war’, is narrower and centres on the engagement or the battle.31 The latter reflects Clausewitz’s primary concern when writing on war: campaigns fought for specific purposes with decisive

10 INTRODUCTION

battles as the main ingredient. Such a battle-oriented concept of war and strategy excludes wars and strategies like insurgencies, guerrilla warfare, low-intensity conflicts, non-state warfare or asymmetric warfare, and indeed OOTW in which formalised battles play a less significant role, if any. Indeed, the aim of such strategies is to avoid confrontation with the enemy in battle. As Aron has pointed out, ‘perfect wars, according to the political notion of war, are inter-state’ fought by ‘political units which recognize each other’.32Since 1648, the authority to wage war has belonged to states and war has in part been shaped by the mutual recognition that exists between them. Interstate wars have thus followed certain patterns and rules based on this mutual recognition, and only in exceptional cases, like in the Second World War, did the objective develop into absolute destruction and demands for unconditional surrender. Traditionally, wars of an irregular nature involving non-state actors have been kept apart from the concept of war. Non-state actors have not been considered equal partners, and guerrilla fighters, freedom fighters, insurgents and terrorists have thus not been accepted as proper enemies in war. Thus, an attempt has been made to deprive them of their legitimacy. Michael Howard has defined war as ‘politically motivated use of force by generally recognized parties’.33 Again, this concept is wider and will encompass almost any armed struggle, not only those between states. Howard’s concept accepts that actors that neither are nor represent states can undertake war. It accepts the realities of history as well as of the present. As long as the use of force is a central feature and it is being used to achieve political objectives of a wider collective, it is war. For the study of war, Howard’s definition is clarifying and useful. The concept of defence The concept of defence has an important function in providing legitimacy for war. In general, it can be argued that the predominant thinking favours defence at the expense of offence in strategic terms. Defence is legal and legitimate while offence is not. Claiming defence as purpose is to claim legitimacy. After the Second World War, ministries and cabinets of war changed names to those of defence, and official labels of military affairs were thus brought in line with international law. Often ‘defence’ simply refers loosely to the military establishment and institutions. The effect of international law and norms has become so strong that the very concept of ‘war’ can only be linked to defensiveness if legitimacy is to be preserved. To maintain armed forces with a rationale other than defence has come to be regarded as illegitimate. In accordance with this prevailing view, during the Cold War both NATO and WTO adopted defensive intentions while regularly accusing each other of having offensive intentions.34 Quester has pointed out that, ‘offenses produce war and/or empire; defences support independence and peace’,35 Defence can and will be claimed for a

INTRODUCTION 11

number of causes. Defence can be thought of as defence of territory, defence of interests or defence of international order or particular values. Whereas defence of territory may seem a clear-cut case at the outset, defined by Roberts as ‘armed national defence in depth against foreign attack’,36 defensive campaigns can be transformed into offences out of the need to bring an end to wars. Preemption brings defence close to offence and, since modern war is mobile and dependent upon highly mobile and long-range capabilities, even the tactical level of war contributes to blurring the distinction between defence and offence. The ‘defensive defence’ argument, which suggested tactical concepts to underpin strategic defensive intentions and purposes, clashes with the realities of modern military thinking focused on mobile warfare.37 As Freedman has pointed out, defence is best defined by what it is not: ‘unprovoked expansion of national boundaries’.38 Claiming defence for the purpose of national interests is also conceptually problematic because of the blurred concept of national interest and because such use of military power may be related as much to offence as to defence. Often, national interests’ are more shaped and invoked by the security elites of a state than by the nation, i.e. the people of a given society.39 Such interests are completely subjective. National interests ‘are not just “out there” waiting to be discovered; they are constructed through social interaction’ within a society and between societies.40 ‘PSO’and ‘humanitarian intervention’ do not automatically fit traditional concepts of defence or with concepts of war. However, the use of military power for such purposes became predominant during the 1990s. Such interventions and operations can be explained in terms of defence of international order and defence of values; ‘a pattern of activity that sustains the elementary or primary goals of the society of states’ .41 Defence of order is also motivated by selfinterest, but maintains that mutual interests of a broader community is a better starting point than selfishness. PSO and humanitarian intervention can take various forms, from ‘efforts by outside parties to ensure the delivery of emergency aid and accompanying efforts to protect the rights of local peoples without the consent of local political authorities’42 to ‘intervention for humanitarian objectives’.43 As Roberts has pointed out, there is a distinction between humanitarian action and humanitarian intervention.44 Whereas nongovernmental organisations (NGOs) see humanitarian assistance as being governed by the principles of impartiality and neutrality,45 humanitarian intervention may include situations in which it is deemed necessary to ‘invade, establish control, and temporarily play the role of sovereign over much or all of a country’s territory’.46 Claiming justification for war by referring to values is not particularly new. Several analysts have made the link between humanitarian intervention and the just war tradition with roots back to medieval times. As pointed out by Fisher, ‘humanitarian motives constitute prima facie just causes for intervention’.47 According to Hoffman, justified intervention is undertaken in order to counter gross human rights violations, genocide, ethnic cleansing and brutal repression.48

12 INTRODUCTION

Such a doctrine may be seen as in direct contradiction to the rationale for having armed forces and such operations may be characterised by ideas and guiding principles which clash with ideas of ‘proper wars’ and ‘proper soldiering’. It is a doctrine for the defence of others. It means that soldiers are asked to risk their lives, not for their countries, but for ‘saving strangers’, as Wheeler has argued.49 Conclusion ‘Defence’ and ‘war’ are both concepts which can be given a number of meanings. Defence can be claimed for territory, interests, order or values. For the same reasons, war can be fought. Both concepts can be used within realism as well as within idealism. The end of the Cold War was indeed a revolution for a generation used to living under the threat of nuclear devastation. With its end the concept of security came under discussion and the content of the security agenda shifted. It was argued that security would now encompass a wider set of issues; and that internal unrest in one state could seriously damage the security of others. As argued by Gow, new norms in international relations called for new understanding of the concept of defence.50 The principle of sovereignty was debated and subsequently watered down by humanitarian interventions. Historically, ‘proper war’ has been war between states, fought by hierarchical military organisations within a framework of formal and informal, conscious and unconscious rules in order. They were fought by the principles of maximising force in time and space to produce quick and decisive victories. The messier cases of war are those which involve irregulars and that are fought outside these rules. They are fought within the framework of civil society and entail a high degree of public involvement. Similarly, the concept of defence is just as wide and can encompass a wide range of motives and subjects to be defended. Defence is a source of legitimacy. What role PSO has played in defence policymaking and doctrinal processes within NATO will be discussed in the following chapters. The question is thus whether the events in the period examined here have brought about a new or different understanding of the concepts of defence and war. If the security environment and agenda, or even the concept of security, changed, this would logically have consequences for the understanding of ‘defence’ and ‘war’. This does not necessarily mean that the concepts have been transformed. The various interpretations and meanings of concepts as outlined above are not necessarily mutually exclusive. Consequently, they may have taken on new meanings in addition to older ones. The challenge is thus to determine what role various concepts play in policy making and doctrinal processes. This book addresses the meaning of defence and war by examining the defence policy and doctrine of NATO and NATO members in the 1990s with an emphasis on the new conflicts and on PSO. The point here, however, is not to determine the ‘right’ understanding of the new security environment, but to attempt to analyse the

INTRODUCTION 13

process of defence policymaking in order to see what kind of understanding of security the usage of concepts of ‘defence’ and ‘war’ signals. Notes 1 Carl von Clausewitz, On War, transl. and ed. by Michael Howard and Peter Paret (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1976), p. 593. 2 Thomas-Durell Young (ed.), Command in NATO after the Cold War: Alliance, National and Multinational Considerations (Carlisle Barracks, Pennsylvania: Strategic Studies Institute, US Army War College, 1997); Thomas-Durell Young, Multinational Land Formations and NATO: Reforming Practices and Structures (Carlisle Barracks, Pennsylvania: Strategic Studies Institute, US Army War College, 1997). 3 Rob de Wijk, NATO on the Brink of the New Millennium: The Battle for Consensus (London: Brassey’s, 1997). 4 David S.Yost, NATO Transformed: The Alliance ‘s New Roles in International Security (Washington, DC: US Institute of Peace Press, 1998). 5 Comment made during an interview with a British officer, Oslo, October 2002. 6 Joseph Frankel, National Interest (London: Pall Mall, 1970), pp. 26, 31–8. 7 NATO, NATO Glossary of Terms and Definitions, AAP/6, 1995. 8 Michael Howard, ‘Military Science in an Age of Peace’, RUSI Journal, March (1974), p. 7. 9 John Mackinlay, The Peacekeepers: An Assessment of Peacekeeping Operations at the Arab—Israel Interface (London: Unwin Hyman, 1989), p. 6. 10 Michael Dockrill, British Defence Since l945 (London: Basil Blackwell, 1988),p. 17. 11 Christopher Bellamy, Knights in White Armour: The New Art of War and Peace (London: Hutchinson, 1996), pp. 144–5. 12 John Mackinlay and Randolph Kent, ‘A New Approach to Complex Emergencies’, International Peacekeeping, 4:4 (1997), p. 35. 13 John Hillen, Blue Helmets: The Strategy of UN Military Operations (London: Brassey’s, 1998), p. 139 14 John Gerard Ruggie, ‘The UN and the Collective Use of Force: Whither or Whether’, in Michael Pugh (ed.), The UN, Peace and Force (London: Frank Cass, 1997), p. 4. 15 Adam Roberts, ‘The Crisis in UN Peacekeeping’, Survival, 36:3 (1994), pp. 93– 120; 103. 16 See for instance Donald C.F.Daniel and Bradd C.Hayes, ‘Securing Observance of UN Mandates through the Employment of Military Forces’, in Pugh, The UN, pp. 105–25; Hillen, Blue Helmets, pp. 236–7. One of the conclusions drawn by Hillen was that Bosnia and Somalia failed due to lack of competence and appropriate command structures within the UN. 17 Barry R.Posen, The Sources of Military Doctrine: France, Britain and Germany Between the World Wars (London: Cornell University Press, 1984); Elizabeth Kier, Imagining War (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1997). 18 Deborah D.Avant, Political Institutions and Military Change (London: Cornell University Press, 1994).

14 INTRODUCTION

19 Stephen P.Rosen, Winning the Next War: Innovation and the Modern Military (London: Cornell University Press, 1991); Martin van Creveld, War and Technology: From 2000 BC to the Present (New York: Free Press, 1989), p. 220. 20 Some ruled out major war just as the Cold War ended. See for instance John Mueller, Return from Doomsday: The Obsolescence of Major War (New York: Basic Books, 1989). For a more recent discussion, see Michael Mandelbaum, ‘Is Major War Obsolete?’, Survival, 40:4 (1998–9), pp. 20–39. 21 Martin van Creveld, The Transformation of War (New York: The Free Press, 1991); Edward N.Luttwak, ‘Post-Heroic Warfare’, Foreign Affairs, 74:3 (1995), pp. 109– 22; Christopher Coker, ‘Post-Modern War’, RUSI Journal, June (1998), pp. 7– 14; Jan Wilhelm Honig, ‘Strategy in a Post-Clausewitzian Setting’, in G.C.de Nooy (ed.), The Clausewitzian Dictum and the Future of Western Military Strategy (Leiden: Kluwer Law International, 1997) pp. 109–21; Christopher Bellamy, knight to White Armour: The New Art of War and Peace (London: Hutchinson, 1996); Lawrence Freedman, ‘The Revolution in Strategic Affairs’, Adeplhi Paper no. 318 (Oxford: Oxford University Press for the International Institute for Strategic Studies [IISS], 1998); Mary Kaldor, New and Old Wars: Organized Violence in a Global Era (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1999); Christopher Coker, Humane Warfare (London: Routledge, 2001); Alvin and Heidi Toffler, War and Anti-War (New York: Warner Books, 1993). I have discussed elements of this debate in Henning-A. Frantzen, ‘Proper War’ and ‘War in Reality’: The Changing Concept of War, IFS Info 6:2002 (Oslo: Norwegian Institute for Defence Studies, 2002). 22 Robert Jervis, Perception and Misperception in International Politics (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1976). 23 Judith Goldstein and Robert O.Keohane (eds.), Ideas and Foreign Policy: Beliefs, Institutions and Political Change (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1993). For one study of the concept of war see Edward Rhodes, ‘Constructing Peace and War: An Analysis of the Power of Ideas to Shape American Military Power’, Millennium, 24:1 (1995), pp. 53–86. 24 See Alexander Wendt, Social Theory of International Politics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001), pp. 1, 47–91. 25 Kalevi J.Holsti, The State, War, and the State of War (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), pp. 1–6. 26 For discussions on various forms of war, see Julian Lider, Problems of the Classification of Wars (Stockholm: The Swedish Institute of International Affairs, 1980), pp. 1–6; Paddy Griffith, ‘Small Wars and How they Grow in Telling’, Small Wars & Insurgencies, 2:2 (1992), pp. 216–29; Gran T.Hammond, ‘Low-Intensity Conflict: War by Another Name’, Small Wars and Insurgencies, 1:3 (1990), pp. 226–38. 27 Alexander L.George, ‘Case Studies and Theory Development: The Method of Structured, Focused Comparison’, in Paul Gordon Lauren (ed.), Diplomacy: New Approaches in History, Theory and Policy (New York: The Free Press, 1979), pp. 43– 68. 28 Kalevi J.Holsti, Peace and War: Armed Conflicts and International Order 1648– 1989 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991), pp. 10, 272. 29 Michael Mandelbaum, ‘Is Major War Obsolete?’, p. 35.

INTRODUCTION 15

30 Principles of war from an article in the RUSI Journal in 1915 by J.F.C.Fuller, quoted in Jay Luvaas, British Military Thought 1915–1940 (London: Cassel and Co, 1965), p. 340. 31 Clausewitz, On War, pp. 87; 128. 32 Raymond Aron, Peace and War: A Theory of International Relations, transl. by Richard Howard and Annette Baker Fox (London: Weinfield and Nicholson, 1966), pp. 153– 4. 33 Michael Howard, War in European History (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1976), p. 37. 34 Lawrence Freedman, ‘Strategic Defence in the Nuclear Age’, Adelphi Paper no. 224 (London: IISS, 1987), pp. 4–5. 35 George H.Quester, Offense and Defense in the International System (New York: John Wiley & Sons), p. 208. 36 Adam Roberts, Nation in Arms: The Theory and Practice of Territorial Defence (London: Chatto and Windus, 1976), p. 15. 37 For a discussion of ‘defensive defence’, see David Gates, Non-Offensive Defence: An Alternative Strategy for NATO? (London: Macmillan, 1991); Stephen J.Flanagan, NATO’s Conventional Defences: Options For the Central Region (London: Macmillan, 1988), pp. 98–120. 38 Lawrence Freedman, ‘Strategic Defence’, p. 32. 39 Frankel, National Interest, pp. 15–30. 40 Martha Finnemore, National Interests in International Society (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1996), p. 2. 41 Hedley Bull, The Anarchical Society: A Study of Order in World Politics (London: Macmillan, 1977), p. 8. 42 Thomas G.Weiss and Cindy Collins, Humanitarian Challenges and Intervention: World Politics and the Dilemmas of Help (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1996), p. 219. 43 Weiss and Collins, Humanitarian Challenges, p. 11. 44 Adam Roberts, ‘Humamtanm Action in War, ‘Adelphi Paper no. 305 (Oxford: Oxford University Press for the IISS, 1996), p. 22. 45 Task Force on Ethical and Legal Issues in Humanitarian Assistance convened by the program on Humanitarian Assistance World Conference on Religion and Peace, The Mohonk Criteria for Humanitarian Assistance in Complex Emergencies (1998 reprint provided by the Lester B.Pearson Peacekeeping Training Centre), paras. 2 and 3, p. 2. See also Oliver Ramsbotham and Tom Woodhouse, Humanitarian Intervention in Contemporary Conflict: A Reconceptualization (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1996), pp. 218–21; 226. 46 Michael O’Hanlon, Saving Lives with Force: Military Criteria for Humanitarian Intervention (Washington, DC: Brookings Institutions Press, 1997), p. 7. 47 David Fisher, The Ethics of Intervention’, Survival, 36:2 (1994), p. 56. 48 Stanley Hoffmann, ‘The Politics and Ethics of Military Intervention’, Survival, 37: 4 (1995–6), pp. 37–8. 49 Nicholas J.Wheeler, Saving Strangers: Humanitarian Intervention in International Society (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), p. 39. 50 See Ronnie D.Lipschutz (ed.), On Security (New York: Columbia University Press, 1995); Barry Buzan, People, States and Fear, 2nd edn (Hertfordshire: Harvester

16 INTRODUCTION

Wheatsheaf, 1991), in particular pp. 15–16; and James Gow, ‘A Revolution in International Affairs’, Security Dialogue, 31:3 (2000), pp. 293–306.

2 NEW THREATS, NEW WARS, INTERNAL WARS

An essential component of the strategic environment with which the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation (NATO) became preoccupied following the end of the Cold War was the rise of ‘new’ conflicts, i.e. conflicts that were predominantly an internal issue of states rather than external issues between states.1 The break-up of Yugoslavia was indeed a manifestation of the fear of what would happen if the disciplinary effect of the Cold War came to an end. The nightmare was a belt of instability in Eastern Europe and/or a break-up along ethnic lines in the Soviet Union and Russiaproper.2 These conflicts were regarded as both ‘new’ and ‘ethnic’. It was argued that the era of Clausewitzian war was indeed over, and, as pointed out by Kaldor, the popular but somewhat misleading view was that these were wars of ‘primitivism’, ‘tribalism’ and ‘ethnic hatred’. Callahan argued that they were somehow inevitable and unwinnable.3 Whereas they were new to NATO and even to some of NATO’s members, as several analysts have rightly reminded us, these conflicts are not new as a phenomenon, but rather the most significant form of warfare since 1945. Historically, the frequency of internal wars is higher than that of wars between states.4 As several observers have noted, ‘warfare carried out by irregular forces […] is certainly as old as the hills’.5 Laqueur has pointed out that guerrilla tactics ‘predate recorded history, as indeed they predate regular warfare’.6 The ‘Cold War stability’ is a phrase only appropriate for certain parts of the world, as wars were constantly fought out during this period in Asia, Latin America and Africa. It can be argued that internal wars were ‘rediscovered’ as the Cold War ended. The ‘coming anarchy’ expected to follow the relative stability of the Cold War was not so much anarchy between states, but anarchy within weak and failing states in which crime and war were to become indistinguishable.7 Internal wars: concepts In the 1990s, conflicts were seen as being ‘ethnic’. ‘Ethnicity’ received attention as lines of conflict seemingly followed ‘ethnic’ lines. In 1993, it was argued that the ‘defining mode in the era ahead is ethnic conflict. It promises to be savage.’8 Ethnic wars were to be regarded as a form of internal wars of particular

18 NEW THREATS, NEW WARS, INTERNAL WARS

cruelty. The horrors of the Balkans and in Rwanda supported this view. In the United States (US), Bosnia was described as ‘a formidable, scary place of high mountains, brutish people, and tribal grievances rooted in history and myth born of boozy nights by fire’.9 However, the patterns of conflict in the 1990s were predominantly a version of war that has roots in history. There were obvious links between the ‘ethnic’ wars of the 1990s and earlier ‘small’ and ‘low-intensity wars’ of the colonial era. This other form of war has been given numerous labels: it has been referred to as small wars, low-intensity, unorthodox, unconventional and irregular wars, tribal wars, ethnic wars, guerrilla wars, and the old and newly resuscitated label of savage or barbarian war. Wars of this kind have been defined as of the ‘other’ or the third or fourth kind.10 They have been fought for revolutions and national liberation. Although guerrilla warfare was associated with communism, during the Cold War, it has in fact been the instrument of a variety of ideologies and objectives. A former Supreme Allied Commander Europe (S ACEUR) in the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation (NATO), General Galvin, separated between ‘comfortable’ and ‘uncomfortable’ wars. The former, wars between states, was a type of war the military ‘would be most comfortable dealing with’.11 This may be true, but to describe state warfare as comfortable is ahistorical and absurd. As Callwell noted, the ‘expression “small war” has in reality no particular connection with the scale on which any campaign may be carried out’, but rather encompassed wars in which irregulars fought against regulars.12 It is striking the degree to which these concepts fail to define internal conflicts accurately. Words like ‘small’, ‘minor’, ‘limited’, ‘low-intensity’ and ‘insurgency’ are attached to conflicts which are total in commitment, consequences and indeed intensity. The 1990s saw the emergence of the concept of ‘operations other than war’ (OOTW) as a framework for all other cases than the clear-cut, traditional war of battles between states, and by the end of the 1990s, threats were considered to be ‘asymmetric’.13 It can be argued that neither of these concepts encapsulates the nature and characteristics of these other cases of war in a satisfactory manner. ‘In writing on this subject one of the most difficult problems concerns the matter of terminology’, wrote Kitson.14 Eckstein has pointed out that the problem of theorising about internal wars was in part due to the problem of delimitation and questioned whether such a diverse area as internal wars could be the object of general and theoretical work.15 Recently, Mackinlay has pointed out the lack of conceptual thinking by doctrine makers on various forms of insurgents in the postCold War era.16 True, there is diversity within the theme of ‘internal wars’. The conflicts in the Balkans, Somalia, the Caucasus and Rwanda were so different that it can be problematic to place them in one category. They vary as to the explanation for why war starts and how they are fought in terms of strategy and tactics. However, as pointed out by Howard, popular involvement in wars restrains the utility of the use of violence organised in formalised battles.17 Freedman has pointed to the analytical distinction between wars that are fought apart from or within civil society.18 This distinction is useful as it points to the

NEW THREATS, NEW WARS, INTERNAL WARS 19

context in which wars are fought, rather than to the scale and intensity, both of which can vary in all kinds of conflict. A basic characteristic of most internal wars is that at least one of the belligerents is a non-state actor and employs military techniques, tactics and strategy that differ widely from the predominant characteristics of inter-state warfare. Various versions of guerrilla warfare are the weapon of the weak. It is not a way of warfare that is necessarily chosen, or preferred: it is rather the one available to the weaker party.19 Whether these actors fight for independence from a given political system, to take over a given system, to change a given system, to establish a new system, or to exclude others from an existing one, one of the parties will in most cases be a non-state actor and accordingly resort to the weapon of the weak, i.e. some form of guerrilla or hit-and-run tactics, dependent on civil society to provide for their logistics. In those cases where at least one party resorts to some variation of guerrilla strategy and tactics, it is because they are weak and not prepared to offer battle with a likelihood of winning, nor are they prepared to accept the verdict of the battle. The solution is to inflict pain, to hurt in order to wear down the opponent, utilising time to one’s advantage. However, to qualify as a war, the level of violence, in order to differentiate it downward from mere criminal activity and thus a legal problem, must constitute ‘a direct challenge to the authority of the government and its place within the political system of the state.’20 Thus, a distinction can be drawn between conflicts involving actors aiming for political power, and those who merely utilise criminal organisations for personal gain. The distinction fluctuates, but organised crime and related activities only become a security problem when their scope or nature threaten the political stability within a state or the affairs between states, i.e. when there is a political effect.21 Classical military thinkers have been aware of the particular problems and challenges of irregular wars, but their focus has been on wars of battles. Clausewitz and Jomini were almost solely occupied with the Napoleonic style of warfare, where great armies fight great decisive battles on the European plains, at least in their published writings. There is little doubt that Clausewitz viewed Napoleonic warfare as the ‘highest’ form of warfare, the one which came closest to his ideas of ‘absolute war’; war’s ‘absolute perfection’.22 Consequently, other forms of warfare were treated as secondary both in importance and in quality. Clausewitz distinguished between wars among civilised people and wars among savages.23 Jomini distinguished between wars of opinion, national wars, civil wars and wars of religion. Civil wars can have several sources and objectives, although, he stated, they ‘are generally the result of a conflict of opinions’. Jomini regarded these as more terrible than regular wars and he preferred ‘loyal and chivalrous warfare to organized assassination’.[…] ‘To give maxims in such wars would be absurd.’24 The view that wars could be classified according to the categories of civilised and less civilised actors was maintained in the colonial era. Callwell defined small wars as those in which a regular army faced ‘irregular forces’, ‘savages’ and ‘semi-civilised races’.25 By the late nineteenth century, guerrilla warfare was

20 NEW THREATS, NEW WARS, INTERNAL WARS

regarded as outdated due to technological innovations, and scant attention was devoted to this kind of war.26 The British military thinker Fuller regarded small wars as a short- term problem as civilisation was expanding. He defined ‘small wars’ as wars against ‘non-industrialised nations’ and he accepted that mechanised troops were not the right instrument for such conflicts. Still, he argued, it was neither necessary nor possible to prepare and organise for such scenarios in peacetime. ‘Throughout military history, no army has been prepared or organised in peace-time to meet every type of war’; they only prepared for what they perceived as ‘the most formidable type’.27 There are indeed political reasons why many war-like scenarios are not referred to as war. Politically, denying opponents status as parties to a war is a way of depriving them of legitimacy. As pointed out earlier, names and labels do not matter per se, they only become important when they reflect or imply a certain understanding. As pointed out by Lider, ‘the traditional study of war […] ignored revolutions or other conflicts involving a combatant without sovereign status’. Even though guerrilla warfare was given increased attention after the Second World War, ‘it seems’, wrote Lider, ‘that in most literature internal wars have not yet acquired the same status as interstate wars’.28 The study of internal wars was for long largely ignored in formal military institutions, and most of the work on such conflicts stems from informal sources and scholars outside the military establishment.29 Even in the British Army, whose main mission in greater parts of the nineteenth and twentieth century was ‘imperial policing’ or dealing with conflicts arising from the process of terminating the Empire, doctrinal work in official military circles was largely ignored until the 1950s.30 With the Cold War, guerrilla warfare was placed in a communist revolutionary context by the Western bloc, and was consequently given gradually more attention.31 In certain respects, the attention devoted to the guerrilla threat, notably in the United States (US) from the 1960s, took the form of exaggeration of the threat posed by subversive guerrilla movements, and a certain degree of paranoia. Low-intensity conflict (LIC) enthusiasts argued that LIC was the mode of conflict for the future, that the Army was preparing for the wrong kind of war. Van Creveld provocatively stated at the end of the Cold War, ‘the most powerful modern armed forces are largely irrelevant to modern war’.32 In the US tradition, LIC has been the predominant label, while the British gradually replaced the concept of ‘small wars’ with insurgencies and counterinsurgencies (COIN). The British situation was somewhat different from that of the US. Faced with pressure both internationally and from nationalist and independence movements to give up large parts of the empire, the British saw ‘counterinsurgency’ as more than just a threat: it was a fact of life. Whereas it may be argued that ‘the conduct of “small wars” is in fact in certain respects an art in itself’,33 it has, in most cases, at least within military circles, been viewed as a second-rate task. In Western military literature and in military practice, internal conflicts in their various forms have predominantly been viewed with a mixture of discontent, horror, respect and paternalism. Internal conflicts, and the military

NEW THREATS, NEW WARS, INTERNAL WARS 21

strategies of non-state actors, or of the weak, have been portrayed as less developed and as second-rate warfare which, however, is more brutal, messy and difficult to cope with. In general, even powerful states have had problems in developing strategies for dealing with ‘irregular’ opponents. Napoleon in Spain, France in Algeria, the US in Vietnam and the Soviet Union in Afghanistan all failed in reaching their objectives. With the end of the Cold War, the problems continued in Somalia, in Chechnya and in the Balkans and in numerous other states. As has been pointed out, states have in general failed when dealing with largescale non-state violence, i.e. internal wars.34 Using the empirical evidence it is difficult to support the argument that conventional military doctrines and training produce warfare of a superior nature appropriate as a starting point for all scenarios, or the argument that ‘any good soldier can handle guerrillas’.35 It can of course be pointed out that there have been other reasons for the failures to cope with internal conflicts: lack of political will and commitment, resulting in limited resources and too heavy constraints on the military, constraints which are not placed on the opponent. To establish a direct causality between doctrine and training on the one hand and failure or success on the other is not possible. But, even if one takes these arguments into consideration, the model of the superior method of warfare does not match the realities. The view that the state version of strategy is superior to less developed forms of warfare is at least historically problematic. There is a good case for arguing that the strategy and tactics for dealing with ‘irregulars’ deserves significant attention. Ethnic wars? In the 1990s, war, predominantly internal war, was typically seen as a function of ethnicity, and the popular view of this kind of war shared the perspectives outlined above: less rational and more intense and cruel as well as of longer duration.36 Keegan has taken issue with Clausewitz and argued that war is not the continuation of politics, but rather a cultural activity.37 Van Creveld distinguishes between state warfare as a function of policy and other forms of conflict as functions of religion and identity.38 Van Creveld furthermore argues that in certain cultures, war was a part of culture, a way of life, an end in itself, not a means. This distinction is less credible. Religious or tribal motives do not preclude politics, or policy. As Gray has recently reminded us, politics is especially important in this kind of war.39 The objectives of wars will unavoidably be linked to power, and sustaining war can be a means to achieve that end. Aron has argued that ‘state hostility does not imply hatred’ and that ‘statesmen […] can deal with the enemy without being accused of treason’.40 There are good reasons to question Aron’s and Clausewitz’s argument of savage peoples being ruled most of all by hostile feelings, that some peoples fight each other by instinct. For instance, the genocide in Rwanda was not simply a sudden outburst

22 NEW THREATS, NEW WARS, INTERNAL WARS

of massive and spontaneous violence ruled by inter-ethnic hatred. The undertaking was systematically planned by groups close to the President as a response to a process of power-sharing and democratisation initiated by the Arusha Peace Accords from August 1993, which would have deprived the ruling Hutu elite of power and privileges. Special units were set up and trained for the purpose of slaughter, radio broadcasting was used as a means of creating a climate of fear, and machetes were imported large-scale from China.41 It was important for those in command to make the conflict appear like a spontaneous act, because they assumed that the outside world would abstain from intervening in something which appeared to be a result of mere inter-ethnic hatred. And they succeeded. In the former Yugoslavia, as has been argued by Gow, ‘ethnic cleansing’ was a strategy devised by the Serb leadership. Other nationalities within the new boundaries were seen as a strategic threat to the idea of a greater Serbia. Thus, Serb elites underpinned by their military deliberately ‘turned a potentially violent unrest into war’ of terrorisation.42 Genocide is not the result of neighbours’ sudden desire to kill each other. While inter-ethnic rivalry can certainly sustain conflicts and contribute to their intensity and make the killing develop into a spiral with no apparent end, ethnicity alone is not the true root cause of conflict. As one observer of these ‘ethnic’ wars concluded: ‘Disintegration of the state comes first, nationalist paranoia comes next. People become “nationalistic” when they are afraid”.’43 One has to bear in mind the effects of socialisation and radicalisation that wars have on societies, whether state societies or ethnic societies. Such radicalisation increases tensions and efforts to make peace are most difficult when violence has been ‘acute, indiscriminate and widespread’.44 There are clearly elements within such identity conflicts which may be difficult to understand, which may seem to lack coherence and logic. This passage from Ignatieff, a summary of his conversation with a Serb soldier, can illustrate this: First he tells me that Croats and Serbs have nothing in common. Everything about them is different, down to their cigarettes. A minute later, he tells me that the real problem with Croats is that they think they’re ‘better than us’. Finally, he decides: We’re actually all the same.45 Certainly, identity issues and conflicts arising from these have a certain irrational outlook. However, for those involved, emphasis on identities can be a protective measure in times of uncertainty. Identity can be perceived as a means to achieve security. When one feels threatened, group identity can offer at least a perceived security. Portraying wars as irrational because they are caused by historic hatred between different groups bent on killing each other is more a political argument against intervention than an accurate description. Recent scholarship has provided a new focus and additional perspectives on these kinds of internal war.46 In addition to emotions, identities and values, another factor contributing

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to sustaining these internal wars is ‘the structure of conflict itself: the system of incentives for continued violence and disincentives to settlements which arise during the course of the war itself’.47 And, as another student of internal wars has pointed out, internal war and chaos provide opportunities for power and for economic interests which sustain the conflicts:’ War is not simply a breakdown in a particular system, but a way of creating an alternative system of profit, power and even protection.’48 Breakdown of order, not surprisingly, seems to create opportunities for organised crime with links to armed political factions.49 The use of violence for criminal purposes, i.e. for personal gain, has normally been excluded from concepts of war as well as internal war, as this has not been regarded as a political motive.50 As pointed out above, in the post-Cold War conflicts, such a rigid distinction can be problematic, as political issues are inherently intermingled with issues of economy, security and power. Studies have shown that, since 1945, the ratio of civilian to military casualties has increased from 0.8 to 8.1.51 In the same period, there have been nearly 50 genocide-like incidents causing between 9 and 20 million casualties, and in the mid-1990s there were 23 million refugees and another 27 million internally displaced persons. Most of the wars were internal wars. On the other hand, ‘not all civil conflicts create a ‘climate of impunity’.52 To describe these conflicts as a return to some kind of medieval savagery and tribalism beyond strategy is not a very fruitful contribution to the problem of coping with them. To some degree, it can be argued that stigmatising internal conflicts has contributed to the problem of how to deal with them. If the perception is that conflict is a product of ancient ethnic and natural hatred, it can indeed become a rationale for non-intervention. If ethnic hatred is perceived as the main root cause of the war, it is indeed difficult to find appropriate solutions. If people want to kill each other out of a natural inclination for hatred, why the outside should intervene, and how one can intervene, may seem to be natural questions arising from such a perspective. However, if these kinds of wars are indeed planned and subordinated to leadership, and if there are incentives for both sustaining conflicts and for terminating them, which can be defined and exploited by interveners, and most importantly, if a majority of the people can be persuaded to pursue alternatives to violence, it becomes less problematic to create strategies and doctrines for dealing with them. Internal wars have a number of causes, origins and aims, and are fought in different ways and by different means than normal wars. The ‘root causes’ of domestic conflicts that lead to internal wars are probably as diverse as the causes of war in general, encompassing both social and economic issues, political and identity issues, ideology and values. The label ‘ethnic conflict’ has been a preeminent label in the 1990s. In the Caucasus, in the Former Yugoslavia and in Rwanda, to mention a few, conflicts have arisen largely along ethnic lines. Whether ethnicity and hatred between ethnic entities in itself constitutes the root cause is, however, doubtful.53 What seems more certain is that ethnicity is a powerful tool for political elites prepared to sacrifice humanity for the sake of

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their own ambition for power. Multi-ethnic states thus have a great potential for conflict, whereas the majority of multi-ethnic states in fact avoid violent conflict. The popular view of many internal conflicts, ‘ethnic’ conflicts in particular, is that they are a result of centuries of hatred between ethnic groups, of unexplainable and irrational factors, and thus are immensely difficult to cope with. The ‘irrational’ aspects, although not completely absent, have been overrated and are quite easily used as convenient arguments against interventions, rather than describing accurately the causes and nature of conflicts. Whereas statistics can be used to back the claim that internal wars generally last longer than interstate wars,54 such an analysis and conclusion builds on the idea that state warfare is decisive, fought within defined time spans and campaigns. Although wars can be like this, not all wars between states terminate the issues of conflict. The Middle East has had ‘decisive’ wars which have failed to settle the issues generating war. The First and Second World Wars can be seen as two distinct wars, or one can argue that they were one long war originating late in the nineteenth century with the rise of German nationalism.55 However, when internal wars are of longer duration it is not only because of the degree of polarisation, hatred and involvement of the people in the war that make the necessary compromises difficult. Long duration of internal wars can be also explained by the strategy used; in a war dominated by irregular tactics, in which decisive battles as a rule are not fought, conclusion of the fighting may be difficult to achieve because it is difficult to produce military defeats and victories. Even guerrilla theorists themselves acknowledge this weakness in guerrilla warfare, and prescribe a second phase in which the guerrillas have to engage the opponent in some kind of battle in order to win.56 Mao stressed that guerrilla operation, although fundamentally different from classical war, did not constitute an independent form of war. Rather, it was a necessary phase of any revolutionary war; ‘one step in the total war, one aspect in the revolutionary struggle’. He stressed the need for the objectives of guerrilla war to coincide with the desires of the people. Thus, without popular support there could not be a guerrilla war. The objectives of guerrilla warfare were to be achieved by harassing the enemy and by avoiding the decisive battle.57 Guerrilla strategy is to use time to one’s advantage. Civil-military relations of internal conflict may also provide an explanation; the degree of unified political and military control and command tend to be diluted in these kinds of wars.58 Internal wars can produce, or can be the result of, fragmentation of the armed forces of a given state to a multitude of differing wills and motives for continued fighting. There is no doubt that internal conflicts do inflict tremendous civilian suffering and that savagery plays a part in them. It is, however, problematic to argue that state warfare is less cruel than intra-state warfare. On the contrary, total war fought with total means is a product of the European part of the state system.59 The genocide in Rwanda was systematically planned and conducted by the state. In those situations where states have faced opponents in parts of the world

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peripheral to Europe, they have frequently resorted to indiscriminate violence.60 As it was noted by a French officer participating in the campaign in North Africa in the 1830s, ‘we have surpassed in barbarity the barbarians we came to civilize’.61 The brutality of the Russian military in Chechnya and the indiscriminate use of force by the US troops in Vietnam are all products of states and their ‘properly trained forces’. In intra-state wars, the means used are often less sophisticated than those in possession of many states. In Rwanda, 800,000 people were killed by soldiers with machetes and handguns.62 In the former Yugoslavia, the bands committing atrocities used light weaponry. It can be argued that killing from a distance makes it easier to come to grips with large-scale killing. In the nineteenth century, Ardant du Picq noted that in war, man had always sought to kill from distance.63 Killing from a distance may not generate the level of hatred that may be necessary to motivate soldiers who fight hand to hand, but it is not necessarily more humane. Strategies for interventions in intra-state conflicts The British experience from the process of founding and later guarding the Empire has contributed to the study of irregular warfare. Callwell emphasised the difficulty and enormous challenge of crushing a people in arms. He also points out that under certain circumstances, ‘defeat of the enemy need not be so complete and crushing to attain the objectives sought.’64 In general, however, it was necessary to employ decisive action and even sometimes to ‘conform to the savage method of battle’, even though he saw this as highly unfortunate. In particular, Callwell noted, it is difficult to articulate a clear objective of a given campaign ‘when there is no king to conquer, no capital to seize, no organized army to overthrow, and when there are no celebrated strongholds to capture, and no great centres of population to occupy’.65 The frustration felt by the ‘conventional military mind’ when facing an unconventional opponent is summarised in this sentence. Gwynn divided imperial operations into three categories. The first were ‘small wars’, which were ‘deliberate campaigns with a definite military objective, but undertaken with the ultimate object of establishing civil control’. The second were the cases when ‘civil control does not exist, or has broken down’. The third category was that in which civil authorities, although still in place, find the police forces insufficient for maintaining order. Thus, the principal criteria for distinguishing between the three types of task for the military are the presence of civil power and control and the use of force to support such control in the best way. He emphasised the importance of the minimum use of force in the two latter categories. He argued that there were no ‘limitations on the amount of force’ employed in small wars because such campaigns are ‘a purely military responsibility’. However, in the two latter categories Gwynn emphasised that the army should ‘exercise the minimum use of force required to attain its object’. Minimum use of force is important so that unnecessary bitterness among the

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population is not created. So important was this principle that the entire book was written ‘to illustrate military action achieving its result with the minimum use of force’.66 As pointed out by Freedman, there have been two schools of thought on winning this kind of war: ‘search and destroy’ and ‘hearts and minds’.67 This first focuses on killing opponent soldiers and destroying their units, and the need to pursue a rather ruthless campaign. In this approach, targeting civilians is, at best, unfortunate, but under some circumstances unavoidable. Paret and Shy have argued that the main objective when fighting guerrillas is to destroy their units, and that holding ground is a secondary task. They also emphasise the need to separate the guerrillas from the population and to gain the people’s support. They argue that defeat alone could not bring a closure to the hostilities, although ‘military defeat of the guerrilla forces, widely and persuasively publicized, is among the strongest ways of convincing people that support of the guerrillas is unwise’. They conclude, ‘rarely can guerrillas be isolated from the people without the use of unusually harsh coercive measures’.68 Such measures should, however, be emergency measures of a temporary character, and the failures of using too much and indiscriminate force in past campaigns is underlined as well. Tsar Nicholas, when facing rebels in the Caucasus, stated in frustration: ‘Do you know that I have powder enough to blow up all your mountains?’69 In the aftermath of Somalia, a US general stated that if one more ounce of lead had been put into the streets of Mogadishu, it would have sunk in the ocean.70 The point is that firepower has a limited role in these kinds of conflicts; ‘search and destroy’ alone is unlikely to succeed. When facing unconventional opponents, emphasis is placed on the need for a flexible tactic and the dire consequences of not adopting such.71 It has been argued that the worst means one can apply when facing guerrillas are conventional tactics, treating the guerrilla movement as if it was a conventional opponent.72 Another aspect, which enhances the importance of flexibility, is that, as pointed out in the first section, even though irregular opponents often are lumped into one category, there are indeed differences between the various conflicts as well as between the various belligerents. While some are highly disciplined and under decentralised but still unified control, fighting guerrilla wars in the Maoist sense for clear political objectives, others mix conventional and guerrilla tactics, while again others appear as a mixture of armed criminal bands. In Bosnia, for instance, the Bosnian Serb Army was largely dependent on artillery, due to lack of infantry, and even though the fighting can be viewed as irregular, it did not employ traditional guerrilla tactics. Large parts of the war in Bosnia was in fact artillery duels, in which the parties, instead of targeting each other’s artillery positions, targeted the civilian population of the opponent in combination with siege warfare. The Bosnian Serbs were thus more dependent on fixed positions than guerrillas normally are. The US Small Wars Manual, printed in 1940, defined ‘small wars’ as those wars in which military force is a means used in combination with diplomatic

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pressure in both internal and external affairs of another state with a weak civil control. The ideal campaign is one that is won without fighting: ‘A Force Commander who gains his objective in a small war without firing a shot has attained far greater success than one who resorted to the use of arms.’73 Four broad characteristics of internal wars can be outlined. First of all, irregular wars differ from regular wars in a fundamental issue of strategy, the relationship between policy and military means. The first characteristic of counterinsurgencies and small wars—a characteristic of such great importance that the 1940 US Small Wars Manual used it as a defining criterion when distinguishing ‘small wars’ from major ones—is the politicisation of military actions. The manual defined small wars as those wars in which ‘diplomacy has not ceased to function’ and in which the military was under constant ‘control and influence by the State Department’. In consequence, the military strategy of small wars is more directly associated with the political strategy of the campaign than is the case in regular campaigns.74 British military operations carried out in the Empire were, in some respects, ‘internal’ operations carried out within the Empire. This required the military cooperation with civil governments, authorities and administration, including the local police.75 Most scholars of the various forms of internal conflicts agree that when facing irregulars in insurrections or insurgencies, the key to victory lies not only in overwhelming military force, but in the sphere of politics.76 Kitson has argued that in such wars, ‘force […] is used to reinforce other forms of persuasion’, whereas in more orthodox forms of war ‘persuasion […] is used to back up force’.77 As it was noted in the US after the Vietnam War, fighting guerrillas required harmonisation of policy with military force both at the strategic and tactical level, something that the US failed to achieve.78 Thus, while accepting Clausewitz’s thesis of war as a continuation of policy, there is indeed a limit to this acceptance. In war, the military assumes a degree of autonomy from political and civilian affairs and agencies. If the political influence over military issues becomes too strong, the conflict ceases to be regarded as war altogether and is turned into OOTW. In this perspective, military and political means are regarded as mutually exclusive. Wars are military, while OOTW are political. Secondly, in irregular wars, military and civilian means and actors are integrated. The US Small Wars doctrine included a chapter on the ‘military— civil relationship’ which today is referred to as ‘civil—military cooperation’ or CIMIC, well known to the practitioners and scholars of peacekeeping. The book also describes in detail tasks such as establishing neutral zones, disarmament of the population and supervision of elections. The civil wars of the 1990s also underlined the need for strategies that involved both military and civilian actors. The problem was to get all the actors involved to co-ordinate their activities and integrate the different strands into a coherent, long-term strategy. These civil wars were, according to Mackinlay and Kent, ‘essentially not military problems’, and they were eventually defined internationally by the civil non-governmental organisation (NGO)/GO sector as ‘complex emergencies’:

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[…] a humanitarian crisis in a country, region or society where there is a total or considerable breakdown of authority resulting from internal conflict and which requires an international response that goes beyond the mandate of capacity of any single agency and/or the ongoing United Nations country programme.79 There is no doubt that conflicts within societies are multidimensional and that the response needs to be equally multidimensional. Nor is there any doubt that the effects of civil wars were indeed humanitarian crises as civilians were increasingly targeted. However, it should be stressed that, even though humanitarian concerns may motivate intervention, these conflicts do have political root causes that need to be addressed. The use of force will often be a crucial element in an intervention strategy. However, force and military activities need to be coordinated with other means. In short, the military component is crucial but not sufficient, as it cannot stabilise the conflict zone on its own. There is a danger that by defining wars as predominantly humanitarian problems, one may underestimate the political issues and the military component of intervention strategies. Also, it is important to accept that there is a limit to the degree of coordination and integration that is possible between military and civilian NGOs, given the desire by most NGOs, and bodies like the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC), to remain independent from the military and neutral to the conflicting parties. Finally, the feature of civil and military means being used together is not an entirely new phenomenon. The integration of military and civilian means was an important aspect of British COIN experience to adjust command structures to cope with civilian aspects and to provide security for the population. Also, a functioning civil society was necessary to win hearts and minds. As pointed out by Thompson, in COINoperations the military had to get involved in social, economic and political fields: provision of schools, clinics, markets, water supplies, electricity and communications.80 The motive was political, rather than humanitarian, and it may not have involved NGO/ humanitarian actors, but the fact remains that integration of civil and military strands, and the conviction that military force alone is not sufficient, are themes of continuity from Cold War COIN thinking. Again in the ‘small war’ tradition, during the Cold War the military had to operate within a larger civilian context and underpin civilian actors and political processes in ways quite remote from the perception of traditional wars between states. Thus, the autonomy of the military is challenged vertically by the political nature of the conflict, and horizontally by the need to integrate military means with civilian ones. The third way in which irregular war differs from more conventional conflict is in the most important component of warfare: the use of force. Strategies relying on overwhelming force and tactics relying on firepower alone are unlikely to succeed in these kinds of conflict. Igniateff has suggested that Western interventions have been less effective because soldiers are prohibited

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from using ‘ruthless’ methods.81 Luttwak has criticised the peacekeeping strategy because it placed such heavy restrictions on the use of force that soldiers had to pretend they were not soldiers.82 Luttwak may be right in pointing out that there is a limit to what soldiers can achieve if they are too constrained. On the other hand, to suggest that ‘ruthlessness’ and ‘force’ alone can make intervention more effective is highly questionable. In many instances, conventional military forces have resorted to brutal methods or overwhelming force, thus alienating civilians and minimising the support and legitimacy of their operations. While most scholars of internal wars acknowledge the importance of winning ‘the hearts and minds’ of civilian population, this error has been repeated several times. However, the difficulties of combat operations in an environment of which civilians constitute the main body without inflicting civilian casualties should not be underestimated. In these kinds of intervention force needs to be controlled. This is not a matter of ‘softness’ but a matter of strategy. Firepower from a distance, a basic feature of modern warfare, either through air power, tanks or long-range artillery, has great destructive effect, but in many cases the road to victory has to be found elsewhere than through mere killing and destruction.83 Use of force and the winning of hearts and minds are not mutually exclusive. Combat is indeed often necessary. The important thing is that in fighting a war within civil society, fighting should not be allowed to undermine efforts to win people’s support. Therefore, providing security to the insecure requires territorial control and may be as important as fighting the opponent with the intent of destroying him. As noted by Joes, ‘counterinsurgency is not about killing guerrillas; it is about depriving guerrillas of supplies, information and recruits’.84 In general, campaigns in which the interventionist party has resorted to excessive use of indiscriminate force and focused on killing guerrillas have failed.85 Ignatieff has argued that liberal ideas commit those who support and represent such an ideology to intervene in order to put an end to wars. Simultaneously, the very same ideology prevents the intervening side from applying ‘the imperial ruthlessness required to make intervention succeed’, i.e. to achieve absolute victory and a subsequent occupation.86 This dilemma is somewhat exaggerated. Ruthlessness can indeed be counterproductive. Intervention in these forms of conflicts requires commitment, but not necessarily ruthlessness. In the British tradition of counterinsurgencies, minimum use of force has become a defining principle.87 Rather than using overwhelming force as a doctrine, force needs to be controlled and regulated. However, the British understanding of the principle of minimum force was not something imposed on the military by the political leadership, but partly grew out of an understanding of the requirements of the use of military forces in unconventional operations within the military itself. Excessive use of force may serve neither the military nor the political cause; and it may be the best recruiting agent there is for the guerrillas.88 In particular, this applies to the extent to which civilians are targeted, killed or exposed to destruction of their way of life.

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In some cases, the restrictions on British soldiers have been so severe that a soldier killing an opponent in combat has had to submit detailed accounts justifying the killing.89 Such restrictions are normally referred to as ‘rules of engagement’ (ROE) and these have become a regular feature of the PSO of our time. As stated above, such rules are, in most cases—in particular in internal conflicts—regarded as a product of restrictions placed on the military by political authorities as a means of control, and thus they become a source of friction, controversy and irritation between policymakers and the military. However, in general such limitations and rules of engagement are indeed a strategic requirement and a reflection of sound strategy. In any case, the notion that ‘subordinate leaders should be aided in making […] decisions’ on when to open fire ‘by previously announced policies and instructions’ has been important in the past and seems even more so at present.90 This issue is connected to a fourth feature of military forces facing irregulars, the emphasis placed on decentralisation of command and control, and on independent operations carried out by lower-level units from the company downwards. This places enormous challenges on junior officers. When operating in an environment where the battlefield is nowhere and everywhere at the same time and where the tactics of the opponent is to avoid pitched battles, large amounts of time and energy have to be devoted to finding the enemy. As argued by van Creveld, the US conventional command system was unsuited for the war in Vietnam.91 Small-unit patrols sent in order to find the enemy is thus a dominating feature of such operations. The company is the unit level responsible for independent operations, a task normally placed at brigade or divisional level.92As has been noted, in counterinsurgencies ‘the actual fighting [occurs] at platoon or section level’ and any operations start with patrols.93 The key person is thus the patrol leader. Furthermore, the typical engagement in ‘search and destroy’ operations is that of sudden and abrupt firefights. Thus, patrolling, close combat battle drills and a high degree of initiative on the part of junior commanders are necessary military requirements for those units dispatched to fight irregular opponents. Operating in this manner also requires a great deal of confidence. Operating more or less independently far away from a secure base can constitute a strain both physically and mentally. Adaptation in organisation, in particular in the services of command and control and supplies, is also important. The US Small Wars Manual notes this aspect, and recommends both an increased number of junior officers in each company, and that the command-and-support elements are adjusted to suit the independent role of each unit.94 The system of command and control has to be adjusted so that the initiative lies on the lower levels in order to be able to meet the demands for a rapid response to the opponent’s actions. The command chain of conventional forces in conventional wars is dominated by initiation of operations by the higher levels, passed on downwards through the chain of command. Such a system can be inappropriate for irregular warfare, in which

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operations are, as noted above, in many cases initiated from below. Thus, conventional command systems may not work in irregular wars. Conclusion: strategy and doctrine Internal wars have in general been excluded from the concept of war. This has several reasons and is in itself not too important. It only becomes important when it leads to failure in understanding these wars and the actors they involve. Internal wars dominated by irregulars are not more irrational than wars between states; the causes of these wars not that different from those of wars between states. The concept of ‘low-intensity conflict’ separates various forms of war along an intensity scale in which it becomes easy to assume that wars of low intensity are easier than wars of high intensity. It is important to remember that there is more that separates various forms of wars than intensity. Irregular actors are no less rational than state actors are; they have their own rationality and strategy. These wars are cruel, but cruelty is indeed a feature of most wars, whether they employ ‘high’ or ‘low’ technology, or are of ‘high’ or ‘low’ intensity. The use of force and firepower plays a more limited role in such conflicts than in conventional wars, but it does have a role. Force has to be regulated instead of applied massively. Patience rather than tempo dominate wars of this kind. The cases that are ‘quick and decisive’ are likely to be rare. Bringing an end to these wars takes time, building a stable peace even more so. Success is dependent on a close relationship between policy and the use of military means and on winning the support of the population, rather than winning decisive victories. Although it can be difficult to make general doctrines for various forms of internal wars, given their diversity, a reasonable conclusion is that strategies for interventions in internal wars are different from those of external wars. Other kinds of challenges are placed on soldiers and the military organisation. Complexity characterises the environment in which soldiers operate as well as the nature of strategic and tactical decision-making. Doctrines for irregular war are, and should be, different from those of regular war. Given the problems of states in dealing with such wars, there is good reason to take internal wars and irregular opponents seriously. Preparing for traditional war against opponents is simply not sufficient for being able to handle the challenges that arise in internal wars. Notes 1 See Peter Wallenstein and Margareta Sollenberg, ‘The End of International War? Armed Conflict 1989–95’, Journal of Peace Research, 33:3 (1996), pp. 353–70 for an overview and categorisation of conflict in this period, based on data collected by SIPRI. 2 Stanley Hoffmann, ‘Humanitarian Intervention in the Former Yugoslavia’, in Stanley Hoffman (ed.), The Ethics and Politics of Humanitarian Intervention

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3

4 5

6 7 8 9

10

11 12 13

14 15 16

17 18 19 20

(Notre Dame: Notre Dame University Press, 1996), p. 38; Jack Snyder, ‘Nationalism and the Crisis of the Post-Soviet States’, Survival, 35:1 (1993), pp. 5– 26. Mary Kaldor, ‘Introduction’, in Mary Kaldor and Bashir Vashee (eds), Reconstructing the Global Military Sector: Vol I, New Wars (London: Pinter Publishers, 1997); David Callahan, Unwinnable Wars (New York: Hill and Wang, 1997), pp. 3–21. Van Creveld, The Transformation, p. 21; Walter Laqueur, ‘Diversities of Violence and the Current World System’, Adelphi Paper no. 82, December (1971), p. 1. Samuel P.Huntington, ‘Civil Violence and the Process of Development’, Adelphi Paper no. 83, December (1971), p. 11; Anthony James Joes, Guerrilla Warfare (London: Greenwood Press, 1996), pp. 3–4. Walter Laqueur, Guerrilla: A Historical and Critical Study (London: Weidenfeld and Nicholson, 1977), p. 1. Robert D.Kaplan, ‘The Coming Anarchy’, The Atlantic Monthly, February 1994, pp. 44–76, 74. US Senator Daniel Patrick Moynihan in The New York Times, 7 February 1993. Richard Cohen, quoted in Michael E.Brown, ‘Causes of Internal Conflicts’, in Michael E.Brown (ed.), The International Dimensions of Internal Conflict (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1996), p. 12. David Tucker, ‘Fighting Barbarians’, Parameters, Summer (1998), pp. 69–79; J.J. Mearsheimer, ‘Back to the Future: Instability in Europe After the Cold War’, International Security, 15:1 (1990), pp. 5–56; Edward E.Rice, Wars of a Third Kind (London: University of California Press, 1988); Michael Elliott-Bateman (ed.), The Fourth Dimension of Warfare, vol. 1 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1970). Max G.Manwaring, ‘An Interview with General John R Galvin’, Small Wars and Insurgencies, 9:1 (1998), p. 8. Charles E.Callwell, Small Wars: Their Principles and Practice (London: HMSO, 3rd edn, 1906), pp. 21–2. By the end of the 1990s, there was a growing concern for ‘asymmetric threats’, but the label had been used since the mid 1970s. Brynjar Lia and Rolf-Inge Vogt Andresen, Assymetri (FFI Report 2000/01718) (Norwegian Defence Research Establishment, 2000). Frank Kitson, Low Intensity Operations: Subversion, Insurgency and Peacekeeping (New Dehli: Dehra Dun, 1992), p. 2. Harry Eckstein, ‘Introduction’, in Harry Eckstein (ed.), Internal War: Problems and Approaches (London: Collier-Macmillan, 1964), pp. 1–32. John Mackinlay, ‘Globalisation and Insurgency’, Adelphi Paper no. 352 (Oxford: Oxford University Press for the International Institute for Strategic Studies [IISS], 2002), pp. 10–11. Michael Howard, ‘When Are Wars Decisive?’, Survival, 41:1 (1999), p. 130. Freedman, ‘The Revolution in Strategic Affairs’, p. 38. Peter Paret and John W.Shy, Guerrillas in the 1960s (London: Pall Mall Press, 1961), pp. 8–10. Martin Edmonds, ‘Civil War, Internal War and Intrasocietal Conflict’, Robin D.S. Higham (ed.), Civil Wars in the Twentieth Century (Lexington, KY: The University Press of Kentucky, 1972), p. 19.

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21 See David Keen, ‘The Economic Functions of Violence in Civil Wars’,Adelphi Paper no. 320 (Oxford: Oxford University Press for the IISS, 1998); Mats Berdal and David M.Malone, Greed and Grievance: Economic Agendas in Civil Wars (Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 2000). 22 Von Clausewitz, On War, pp. 586, 593. 23 Ibid, p. 76. 24 Baron Antoine Henri de Jomini, The Art of War (English translation 1862) (London: Greenhill Books, 1992) pp. 25–36, 34–5. 25 Callwell, Small Wars, pp. 21–7. 26 Laqueur, Guerrilla, pp. 50–1; 98. 27 J.F.C.Fuller, ‘The Mechanisation of Warfare’, in The Interparliamentary Union, What Would Be the Character of a New War (London: Victor Gollancz, 1933), pp. 64–6. 28 Lider, Problems of Classification, pp. 13–14. 29 Eckstein, ‘Introduction’, pp. 2–5. 30 Thomas R.Mockaitis, British Counterinsurgency in the Post-Imperial Era (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1995), pp. 133–41. 31 See Michael T.Klare and Peter Kornbluh (eds), Low Intensity Warfare (New York: Pantheon Books, 1988) on US developments. 32 Van Creveld, The Transformation, p. 32; Klare and Kornbluh, Low Intensity Warfare, p. 5. 33 Callwell, Small Wars, pp. 21–2. 34 Van Creveld, The Transformation, pp. 20–32 and Asprey, War in the Shadows, ‘Foreword’ and pp. 3–32. 35 US Army Chief of Staff contradicting President Kennedy’s urge for adjusting strategies, structures and training in 1962. Rice, Wars of a Third Kind, pp. 2, 92. 36 Huntington, ‘Civil Violence’, p. 3. 37 John Keegan, A History of Warfare (London: Pimlico, 1994). 38 Van Creveld, The Transformation, pp. 124–49. 39 Colin S.Gray, Modern Strategy (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999), pp. 284– 5. 40 Aron, Peace and War, pp. 100–1. 41 See African Rights, Death, Despair and Defiance (London: African Rights, 1995), pp. 29–176. 42 James Gow, The Triumph of the Lack of Will (London: Hurst & Co, 1997), pp. 41– 3. 43 Michael Ignatieff, The Warrior’s Honour: Ethnic War and the Modern Conscience (New York: Metropolitan Books, 1997) p. 45. 44 Mats R.Berdal, ‘Disarmament and Demobilisation after Civil Wars’, Adelphi Paper no. 303 (London: Oxford University Press for the IISS, 1996), p. 13. 45 Ignatieff, The Warriors Honour, p. 36. 46 Barry R.Posen, ‘The Security Dilemma and Ethnic Conflict, Survival, 35:1 (1995), pp. 27–47. 47 Charles King, ‘Ending Civil Wars’, Adelphi Paper no. 308 (London: Oxford University Press for the IISS, 1997), pp. 12–14, 25–8. 48 Keen, ‘The Economic Functions’, p. 11.

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49 Cherif Bassiouni, ‘Organized Crime and New Wars’; Vesna Bojicic and Mary Kaldor, The Political Economy of the War in Bosnia-Herzegovina’, in Kaldor and Vashee, New Wars, Chs 2 and 6. 50 See Hedley Bull, ‘Civil Violence and International Order’, Adelphi Paper no. 82, December (1971), p. 1. 51 Kaldor and Vashee, New Wars, p. 9. For an overview of internal conflicts, see Ted Robert Gurr, ‘Minorities, Nationalists and Ethnopolitical Conflict’, in Chester A. Crocker et al. (eds), Managing Global Chaos: Sources of and Responses to International Conflict (Washington, DC: United States Institute of Peace Press, 1996), pp. 53–77. 52 Keen, ‘The Economic Functions’, p. 52. 53 Brown (ed.), The International Dimensions, pp. 12–23. 54 Holsti, Peace and War, p. 304; Gurr, ‘Minorities, Nationalists and Ethnopolitical Conflict’, p. 54; Huntington, ‘Civil Violence’, p. 13. 55 Brian Bond, The Pursuit of Victory from Napoleon to Saddam Hussein (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996), p. 136. 56 See Edmonds, ‘Civil War’, p. 20. 57 Mao Tse-tung, ‘Guerrilla Warfare’ in Mao Tse-tung and Che Guevara, Guerrilla Warfare, transl. and ed. by Brigadier-General Samuel B.Griffith (London: Cassel & Co, 1961), pp. 31–51. 58 Charles H.Fairbanks, Jr. ‘The Post Communist Wars’, in Larry Diamond and Marc F. Plattner (eds), Civil—Military Relations and Democracy (London: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1996), p. 140. 59 Van Creveld, The Transformation, p. 29. 60 Joes, Guerrilla Warfare, pp. 3, 184–93. 61 Asprey, War in the Shadows, p. 97. 62 See UN, The United Nations and Rwanda 1993–1996 (New York: UN Department of Public Information, 1996), p. 61. 63 Ardant du Picq, Battle Studies, transl. and ed. by John N.Greely and Robert C.Cotton (Harrisburg: Stackpole Books, 1958), p. 112. 64 Callwell, Small Wars, pp. 21–7. 65 Ibid., pp. 31–41,40. 66 Gwynn, Imperial Policing, pp. 3–7, 14. 67 Lawrence Freedman, ‘The Changing Forms of Military Conflict’, Survival, 40:4, (1998–9), p. 47. 68 Paret and Shy, Guerillas, pp. 42–51, p. 47 for quote. 69 Asprey, War in the Shadows, p. 100. 70 Commander of US Delta Force, Major-General William Garrison, quoted in Charles Dobbie, ‘A Concept for Post-Cold War Peacekeeping’, Survival, 36:3 (1994), p. 127. 71 Mockaitis, British Counterinsurgency, p. 2; Brian Bond (ed.), Victorian Military Campaigns (London: Hutchinson, 1967), p. 22–4; Callwell, Small Wars, pp. 374– 401 on infantry tactics. 72 Paret and Shy, Guerrillas in the 1960s, pp. 41–3, 72; Mockaitis, British Counterinsurgency, p. 2; 18; Asprey, War in the Shadows, p. xiii. 73 US Marine Corps (USMC), Small Wars Manual (Washington, DC: US Government Printing Office, 1940, 1987 reprint). The manual was reprinted in 1987, because it

NEW THREATS, NEW WARS, INTERNAL WARS 35

74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93

94

supposedly is ‘one of the best books on military operations in peacekeeping and counterinsurgency operations’, para. 2a:pp. 1, 18. USMC, Small Wars Manual, paras. 1–1, 1–7, 1–18, 1–19 and Chapter I, Section VI. Mockaitis, British Counterinsurgency, pp. 1, 39. Joes, Guerrilla Warfare, pp. 183–90 on various positions on the relationship between the military and civilian authorities. Kitson, Low Intensity Operations, pp. 4–5. Rice, Wars of a Third Kind, pp. 115–16. Mackinlay and Kent, ‘A New Approach’, p. 36. Sir Robert Thompson, Defeating Communist Insurgency: The Lessons of Malaya and Vietnam (New York: Praeger Publishers, 1966), pp. 124–5. Ignatieff, The Warrior’s Honour, p. 94. Edward N.Luttwak, ‘From Vietnam to Desert Fox: Civil—Military relations in Modern Democracies’, Survival, 41:1 (1999), p. 105. Anatol Lieven, Chechnya: Tombstone of Russian Power (London: Yale University Press, 1998), pp. 274–9. Joes, Guerrilla Warfare, p. 105. Joes, Guerrilla Warfare, pp. 183–93. Ignatieff, Warriors Honour, pp. 89–108. Mockaitis, British Counterinsurgency, pp. 1–2, 142–9. See also Gwynn, Imperial Policing, pp. 4–5. See Rice, Wars of a Third Kind, pp. 90–5; Paret and Shy, Guerrillas, pp. 24–40. Mockaitis, British Counterinsurgency, pp. 19, 142. USMC, Small Wars Manual, para.1-15c; Callwell, Small Wars, pp. 382–3. Martin van Creveld, Command in War (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1985), pp. 242–4. USMC, Small Wars Manual, paras. 4–1, 4–3. Mockaitis, British Counterinsurgency, pp. 25–6; G.Bulloch, ‘The Application of Military Doctrine to Counter Insurgency (COIN) Operations—A British Perspective’, Small Wars & Insurgencies, 7:2 (1996), p. 168. USMC, Small Wars Manual, paras. 2–39, 2–49.

3 DOCTRINES FOR PSO IN THE 1990s From ‘consent’ to ‘permissive environment’

Peacekeeping became the tool for managing the new conflicts in the 1990s. It became the tool because it was politically available and the alternative, enforcement, synonymous with war, was not. Tharoor claimed that peacekeeping was used as a framework for intervention ‘because the world is unable or unwilling to pursue the alternative course of going to war’.1 From the late 1980s a shift gradually took place, inspired by the post-Cold War optimism, in which the United Nations (UN) expanded the original version of peacekeeping and applied it to internal conflicts in various parts of the globe. Consequently, peacekeepers were inserted into ongoing conflicts, leaving the concept of peacekeeping somewhat inappropriate at the outset since peacekeepers were deployed where there was no peace to keep. This led to a crisis in the UN; ‘a crisis of expectations’.2 From 1995, the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation (NATO) by and large replaced the UN as a military peacekeeper in Europe. During this entire decade, the doctrinal basis for the new peacekeeping was very much at the centre of the debate. Roberts has argued that this process in which peacekeeping changed character was ‘Orwellian’, i.e. the concept of peacekeeping was hijacked and transformed into something completely different.3 A discussion of the underlying thinking and the assumptions made in this process thus follows, as well as a discussion of how peace support operations (PSO) and peace enforcement relate to the concept of war. Peacekeeping and enforcement: the historical context The concept of collective security does not rest on ideas of peacekeeping, but on the contrary on the collective use of force to counter aggression. Kant, who suggested abandoning standing military forces altogether, argued in favour of a collective body of deterrence, ‘a covenant of peace’ in a world of anarchy.4 Thus, one element in the attempts to create a system of stable and just peace has been the use of military force to uphold such an order. Indeed, the thought of collective use of force is fundamental to collective security. The warrior king Gustav Adolphus of Sweden proposed the idea of ‘enforcing peace’.5 Following the First World War, the League of Nations was set up ‘in order to promote international coopera tion and to achieve international peace and security’.6 War

DOCTRINES FOR PSO IN THE 1990S 37

was perceived as a crime and an attempt was made to abolish it altogether. The League, however, lacked the military means to uphold its credibility and to manage major crises. Although it was active in several minor disputes, the League failed to prevent or manage the Second World War. All of these ideas to create an international order proposed the use of military force on behalf of a greater collective to uphold peace. To ‘enforce peace’ can, if all other means fail, mean to wage war, or at least an explicit threat to do so. Thus, the idea of using war for the purpose of peace is old, and this thought was central to the idea of collective security and the just war tradition. It was also central in the making of the UN Charter. The UN was primarily intended to cope with major, inter-state aggression and prevent a third world war through effective and collective deterrence. If such deterrence failed, the UN would turn to collective enforcement actions, including war. The means suggested to put this idea into effect were massive military formations, not lightly armed peacekeepers.7 The UN was to have a Military Staff Committee (MSC) and forces, with explicit reference to air forces, were to be made available to the organisation by member states to deal with maintenance of international peace and security.8 However, not once has the UN handled a crisis according to the procedures outlined in the charter. The MSC has never been effective and the forces were never made available as prescribed. Neither the Korean War nor the Gulf War was handled by the UN, but undertaken under United States (US) leadership. Thus, UN strategy has always had to adapt to realities and has been characterised very much by ‘ad-hockery’. Whereas peacekeeping has been thought of as a UN speciality, the League of Nations also set up multinational commissions to monitor and conduct polls, and to set up administration arrangements of contested territories, including ‘law and order’ forces of up to 15,000 men.9 The originality of peacekeeping, an idea of which there is no mentioning in the UN Charter, is that it did not prescribe some kind of collective enforcement means, but established an essentially ‘nonviolent’ use of military forces to preserve international peace and security, rather than using force to counter aggression. Thus it represented a radical change in ways of thinking compared to the idea of collective security. It was an alternative to the use of war for the purpose of peace. Traditional peacekeeping As Roberts has noted, […] the lack of a formal Charter framework for all peacekeeping operations may have facilitated a tendency […] to regard peacekeeping as a flexible technique, whose legal basis, purposes and mode of operating can be radically adapted, and to apply it to difficult situations for which it is not necessarily appropriate.10

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Traditional peacekeeping developed as improvised responses to challenges not corresponding to what was foreseen in the UN Charter and as steps taken to alleviate the fact that the intentions of the Charter were not fulfilled. Various observer missions preceded UN peacekeeping before the first armed peacekeeping force (United Nations Emergency Force [UNEF] I) was sent to Egypt following the Suez war in 1956.11 UNEF I is generally regarded as the first military peacekeeping operation. The concept of armed peacekeepers wearing blue helmets under UN command was introduced.12 The conceptual basis for this operation was improvised and adapted to the immediate needs. UN Secretary-General Dag Hammarskjöld personally drafted the resolution later approved by the General Assembly, outlining the principles for the operation: non-use of troops from Security Council members, independence of the commander from national policies, non-use of force except in self-defence or defence of positions, and the dependence on consent of the conflicting parties to the deployment of the troops.13 These peacekeeping principles were elaborated further, formalised, and somewhat modified, in connection with the deployment of UNEF II in 1973. It was suggested that force could be used for a wider purpose than self-defence; the term ‘defence of the mandate’ was introduced.14 In practice, however, due to the limitations inherent in the force posture of peacekeeping missions and the role they were assigned, this expanded role of the use of force has had little practical effect. Consequently, the primary principles of traditional peacekeeping have been consent of the belligerent actors within the context of a cease-fire or peace agreement; neutrality or impartiality of the peacekeeping troops; and non-use of force, except in pure self-defence. Peacekeeping can be seen as a peaceful means of regulating the conflict arising from the clash of ‘forces of change and forces of maintenance of the status quo’ in the international system.15 Peacekeeping has widely been seen as a Chapter VI measure: peaceful resolution of conflict. Considering that it does involve the military, armed-personnel peacekeeping has been rather popular within various peace or pacifist groupings, as it has been regarded as a nonviolent method of conflict resolution. As noted by Alan James, ‘not often does the term denote the threat or use of force to deter or repel aggression, despite the fact that action of this kind is a traditional and important way of keeping the peace’. Peacekeeping was a secondary activity, dependent on the will of others, while peacekeeping by force was a primary activity.16 To the expert in international law, peacekeeping is most likely defined in terms of the UN Charter. This leads into the next issue, i.e. that peacekeeping is a trademark of the UN. The UN itself defined peacekeeping as a UN activity.17 To those who support the idea of ‘collective security’, the UN is seen as the institution most suitable to undertake these missions, as individual states ‘abuse’ the concept, and, in consequence, the ‘surest way of maintaining the integrity of the peacekeeping function is to retain it within the United Nations’.18 As it has been argued, ‘peacekeeping outside the United Nations has been made to mean whatever those applying it have wished it to mean, from total suppressive action

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to the use of minimum force in the control of violence’.19 Peacekeeping has a political, a legal and a military meaning. The doctrinal debate The new strategic situation and the hopes for an expanded role of the UN after 1989 were reflected in the new names of peacekeeping: ‘second-generation peacekeeping’ (and further third-, fourth- and fifth-generation as well), ‘postCold War peacekeeping’,’wider peacekeeping’, ‘beyond peacekeeping’, ‘peace support’, ‘peace creating’, ‘aggravated peacekeeping’, ‘peace enforcement’, ‘peace restoration’, ‘peace inducement’, ‘strategic peacekeeping’, ‘postmodern peacekeeping’, ‘multifunctional peacekeeping’, ‘preventive diplomacy’, ‘preventive deployment’, ‘peace operations’, ‘peace making’ and ‘conflict mitigation’ are all labels resulting from the developments in the field of international conflict resolution of the 1990s.20 The amount of literature on peacekeeping increased dramatically. This search for a name was only a small part of a greater conceptual and theoretical problem concerning limitations and opportunities within a peacekeeping framework. The debate centred on the applicability and interpretation of traditional peacekeeping principles. Altogether, this contributed to the conceptual confusion that has been associated with the realm of peacekeeping since the early 1990s. In many respects, the ‘new’ doctrinal debate reflected issues that were raised during the Cold War: the problem of applying peacekeeping to internal conflicts; the problem of overstretch and funding; the limitations of the UN decision-making and command-and-control systems.21 The history of UN peacekeeping up to 1988 covers low-profile observation or monitoring missions (the smallest counts two observers deployed to the Dominican republic in 1965) and the ‘standard’ peacekeeping force of 5–6,000 troops. The United Nations Operation in Congo (ONUC), counting some 20,000, was an exceptional case during this period. Although traditional peacekeeping is often portrayed as a simple and uncontroversial issue, the historical records show otherwise. The ‘new’ peacekeeping was in part a result of the ambition to intervene while war was still raging. It was used in internal wars, not in wars between states. Thus, the ‘new’ peacekeeping had to cope with failed or failing states and became involved in restoring state structures and with the humanitarian consequences of wars. Military forces got engaged with civil affairs under the label of ‘civilmilitary cooperation’ (CIMIC) and peacekeeping became civilianised and multifunctional.22 Peacekeepers had to engage in civilian activities and with civilian agencies and non-governmental organisations (NGOs) operating outside the chain of command. Focus of effort, a well-known military principle, cannot be maintained only on the military front, but has to be distributed between military and civilian sectors. Consequently, military operations were not necessarily strictly military anymore, but came to include both military and nonmilitary aspects. This relationship with non-military actors and civilian

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population challenges the horizontal autonomy of military commanders. It also takes resources away from the role of managing force, and, in the mid 1990s, the buzz words describing military resistance to take on such missions were ‘mission creep’ and later ‘nation building’. The relationship also requires new sets of skills and areas of competence. In total war, the military could assume authority over civilian resources. When the society is mobilised for war, the military would be in charge. In small wars, however, this was different. CIMIC in ‘counterinsurgencies’ and ‘small wars’ meant cooperation with or subordination to civilian actors and agencies. The 1940 US Marine Corps (USMC) Small Wars doctrine included a chapter on CIMIC, and the British army operated in support of civilian authorities. CIMIC can also be seen as measures applied to help the military in gaining the moral high ground and thus ‘winning hearts and minds’. The military has regarded CIMIC as a supporting arm of the military objectives.23 The aim of CIMIC is, however, to facilitate not only military success, but rather the overall success of a mission. The military frequently emphasises the problems of working with civilians, in particular NGOs: their lack of priorities; their hidden agendas of public relations; competition and prestige; their lack of will to cooperate as well as their overall lack of administrative and leadership skills.24 CIMIC has developed into more than just the relationship between military and humanitarian actors in humanitarian operations. There is still confusion about what CIMIC is and what it is not.25 The widest definitions of CIMIC relate to the entire non-military sphere: population, government and authorities; NGOs/GOs; international bodies; religious and cultural groupings and so on. In short, it is a framework in which the military regulates its relationship to the outside world. As it has become almost impossible to see war and conflict as only a military problem in a battlefield outside the context of civilian society, the military has to coordinate and cooperate with civilian actors. However, it was the question of use of force that fundamentally challenged the traditional peacekeeping ethos and spurred a lively debate. As pointed out in the Introduction, the use of force in the ‘new peacekeeping’ was an issue of debate, confusion and conceptual lack of clarity. Agenda for peace An important source of this debate was the thoughts reflected in the UN Secretary-General’s An Agenda for Peace in 1992.26 It voiced the views of officials and academics within and outside the UN system. The report, written at the request of the Security Council, set out to define the concepts of preventive diplomacy and peacemaking—essentially political activities—and peacekeeping. The latter was defined as ‘the deployment of a United Nations presence in the field, hitherto with the consent of all parties concerned, normally involving a United Nations military and/or police personnel and frequently civilians as well’. The report also referred to peace building, i.e. efforts to sustain peace and rebuild

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societies and political institutions after conflict had ended. Additionally, the report suggested establishing ‘peace enforcement units’. These were not to be units as originally foreseen in Article 43 of the UN Charter, but were to be ‘more heavily armed than peacekeeping forces and would need to undergo extensive preparatory training’.27 The UN Secretary-General suggested that Article 40 of the UN Charter could constitute a legal framework for peace enforcement as it referred to ‘provisional measures’ under Chapter VII. Thus, while an important intention of the report was to clarify concepts relating to the peacekeeping activities of the UN, both the insertion of the word ‘hitherto’ in the definition of peacekeeping and the simultaneous introduction of the term ‘peace enforcement forces’—clearly distinguished from traditional Chapter VII operations, but without a clear definition of what peace enforcement was to be—caused a certain conceptual confusion. Hammarskjöld had already labelled peacekeeping Chapter VI ½ operations because such non-coercive use of military forces was seen to lie somewhere between Chapters VI and VII of the UN Charter. However, peace enforcement would mean a new style of operation, short of enforcement, but beyond peacekeeping, i.e. some kind of Chapter VI¾ authorisation. The suggestions were short-lived in the UN. The Secretary-General withdrew the views in Agenda for Peace only a year later. Some two-and-a-half years after presenting it, years full of problems in Somalia, Rwanda and the Balkans, the Secretary-General rejected many of the views contained in Agenda for Peace in a UN report.28 He concluded by stating that ‘to blur the distinction between [peacekeeping and enforcement] can undermine the viability of the peacekeeping operation and endanger its personnel’. Furthermore, ‘peacekeeping and enforcement should be seen as alternative techniques and not as adjacent points on a continuum’.29 The middle ground debate The ‘consent debate’ developed between the ‘traditionalists’ and the ‘middle ground’ school favouring a more robust approach.30 The issue was whether there existed or could be constructed a distinct form of military operations under the label of peace enforcement, located somewhere between limited war or enforcement, as foreseen in Chapter VI of the UN Charter, and traditional peacekeeping ‘a potential third category of operations’.31 As had been suggested within UN circles, a new concept of operations, based on the principle of impartiality, could constitute a new middle ground concept of operations.32 It was argued that ‘the idea that UN peacekeeping principles and enforcement measures are incompatible [and] that the “middle area of contingencies” […] cannot really exist, defies the reality of the UN experience in Bosnia and Herzegovina’.33 The existence of such operations could easily be proven by referring to ongoing conflicts; the problem seemed to be how, if possible at all, to devise strategies short of all-out warfare. After Somalia, the traditionalist conclusion and key lesson to be learned was that ‘the distinction between

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peacekeeping and enforcement must be reasserted, and the tendency of combining the two into one operation must be rejected’.34 The proponents of ‘middle ground peacekeeping’ aimed at making peacekeeping more effective in the ‘new’ conflicts. The term ‘second generation peacekeeping’ was a version of the term ‘second generation multinational operations’ introduced by Mackinlay and Chopra in 1992. The argument presented was that, as the UN was to enter its second generation and become more active, ‘a humane, but more proactive, concept of operations’ was needed.35 The various forms of operations were seen along a continuum between traditional peacekeeping and enforcement, with increasing demands for military effectiveness along a spectrum ranging from observer mission to enforcement. The new operations opened with a more robust and forceful approach. They drew intellectually on the British counterinsurgency (COIN) tradition, i.e. the British role of ‘keeping the peace’ in the former colonies and in Northern Ireland.36 The concept of ‘complex emergencies’, elaborated on by Mackinlay and Chopra, attempted to describe the challenges in failing or failed states, highlighting many of the problems of the conservative approach to peacekeeping and arguing in favour of a new doctrinal approach and operational practices.37 The emphasis was on historical parallels between the conflicts and wars resulting from the collapsing or failing states of the post-Cold War period and the conflicts resulting from the colonial era. The authors emphasised the need for political and legal limits on the use of force, but pointed out that minimum force does not mean minimum number of troops.38 Furthermore, popular support was seen to be a prerequisite for success, while any attempt to compromise the integrity of a mandate should be opposed, if necessary with force. The COIN approach to peacekeeping is based on the assumption that the intervening side will be used in support of civil authorities. While the British record of COIN operations rested on the thinking that peace and internal security could be maintained by external assistance to and cooperation with local political and security structures, this was not a viable option in many of the conflicts which emerged in the 1990s. In Rwanda, East Timor and Kosovo, internal security forces in support of their political masters were responsible for crimes, massacres and grave human rights abuses. They were not only a part of the problem, they were considered to be the problem. In other conflicts, caused by collapsed or collapsing states like Somalia, there might not be any official structures to support at all. The utility of a doctrine based on cooperation with such forces was thus limited. Also, such a practice would have violated the UN practice of impartial conduct. Operations based on cooperation with or support for one party would clearly not be impartial. As developments showed in Bosnia and Somalia, it is highly problematic to deploy forces for the sole purpose of securing humanitarian aid and protecting civilians in an ongoing conflict. The political motives of the intervening side, pushed by media attention, will most often be to impact on the course of the conflict, providing some sort of peace agreement and effectively terminating the

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use of violence. Already when the UN deployed to Sarajevo in Bosnia in 1992, the aim was to ‘secure the airport for humanitarian transport’, and thus establish ‘a security zone’ in Sarajevo, but there was simultaneously a hope that this would mitigate the conflict.39 In 1994, a UN report on the safe haven concept stated that ‘the intention of the safe area is primarily to protect people and not to defend territory’.40 This reflects the humanitarian concerns that drove the UN missions. Defending people and ground are of course interlinked, and it can be argued that, in practice, such defence is impossible without causing a strategic impact that will influence the balance between the opposing parties. Wider peacekeeping and the traditionalists ‘Middle ground theorists’ were countered by a new British doctrine for ‘wider peacekeeping’, espoused by Charles Dobbie.41 The doctrine was issued as an ‘interim edition, because of the dynamic nature of doctrinal developments in this area’ ,42 However, there seemed to be very little that was temporary about Dobbie’s basic argument. His main argument was that there was a conceptual divide between enforcement and peacekeeping encapsulated in the principle of consent, and, consequently, that the primary aim of peacekeepers should be to ‘manage consent’. The existence of consent distinguished peacekeeping from enforcement, and, as argued by peacekeeping veterans a long time ago, ‘the degree of force is really irrelevant’.43 Thus peacekeeping and peace enforcement were ‘separate and mutually exclusive [strategies] that cannot be mixed’. Dobbie acknowledged that new and more complex scenarios sometimes required responses more dependent on force than traditional peacekeeping. However, by distinguishing between the tactical and operational level, Dobbie claimed that reactive use of force, which did not violate operational consent, i.e. consent given by the politico-military leadership of the opposing parties, was within the limits of peacekeeping. Use of force exceeding this ‘line of consent’ would unavoidably push an operation over the edge to enforcement, an undertaking which, according to Dobbie’s argument, should be guided by ‘standard military principles predicated on the identification of an enemy’.44 On the tactical level, the use of force was permissible and sometimes required, and could sometimes be used massively, as long as consent on the operational level was not violated. The important point was that force had to be used in a way that reinforced local consent. Thus, criminal gangs and factions, bandits and other actors involved in activities that did not enjoy local or central support and that clearly violated the terms outlined in agreements or hampered the peacekeepers’ ability to fulfil their tasks, were to be considered as legitimate targets, simply getting what they deserved. The British doctrine was welcomed in the UN, and later NATO officials were referring to the need of ‘strategic consent’ of the parties in the Bosnian conflict prior to any deployment of NATO peacekeeping troops.45 This line of thinking corresponded with the idea of using robust peacekeepers to enforce a peace

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agreement, but after achieving consent to the deployment from the principal belligerent parties.46 However, the critique of the doctrine was also severe. It was argued that it was ‘Bosnia specific’, that it represented an unimaginative and rigid distinction between two alternatives, and that it was out of date already when it was published.47 The traditionalist school made an obvious point in arguing that lightly armed peacekeepers could not be entrusted with enforcement tasks, and in Bosnia, General Rose’s reference to ‘the Mogadishu line’ echoed the Wider Peace-keeping doctrine.48 Conceptually, however, the traditionalist school, through this either/or thinking, was not successful in coming up with a new concept more appropriate for the new strategic needs. Traditionalists saw only two possible strategies: peacekeeping or full-scale, traditional war. Dobbie’s article as a whole, however, played down the role of force in shaping consent. He quoted various commanders who emphasised the need for consent,49 while leaving out the reality that the British troops took a robust approach when operating under the UN mission in Bosnia. As one analyst concluded, the British troops ‘engaged in some of the techniques, but not the objectives of counter insurgency warfare’, i.e. a more politically correct version of imperial operations.50 The US doctrine, issued in late 1994,51 appeared as a hybrid of traditionalist and middle ground thinking heavily influenced by events in Haiti and Somalia.52 While the starting point of the American view on ‘aggravated peacekeeping’ had been within the ‘middle ground school’, experience from these operations coupled with influence by British doctrine makers pushed in the other direction. The outcome, FM 100–23, drew basically the same conclusions as the British at that point. With reference to the use of force, the doctrine warned that excessive use of firepower might be dangerous and counterproductive and that in peace missions, the fighting itself, and not the belligerents, was the enemy. Echoing the recent experience in Somalia the doctrine stated that ‘compromised impartiality may trigger an uncontrollable escalation from PK [peacekeeping] to PE [peace enforcement]’. Furthermore, use of force and impartiality were seen as incompatible: ‘PK enjoys high levels of consent and impartiality and low levels of force while PE is marked by the reverse.’53 Force and impartiality could not be combined. Thus, the critique of US thinking and practice on peacekeeping hitherto, as operations along a continuum on which one could slide from one end to the other, was appreciated and the US doctrine was amended, apparently a result of British influence.54 While the US doctrine focused on the three operational variables of consent, impartiality and force to explain the differences between the various types of operations, it was the level of force which constituted the decisive factor and determined the nature of the operation. In peacekeeping the use of force was to be regarded as a last resort, in peace enforcement it was to be exercised with constraint, sufficient to compel or coerce. The doctrine was confusing when trying to explain the difference between war and peace enforcement. Critics of US thinking prior to Somalia pointed to the

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emerging British doctrine for solutions.55 FM 100–23 distinguished between three types of missions: first, support to diplomacy (encompassing peace making, peace building and preventive diplomacy); second, peacekeeping; and third, peace enforcement. It was stated explicitly that the Gulf War was a war, and not a peace operation. This distinction seems to reflect the understanding that the political dimension gives way as the degree of military involvement and force increases. These peace operations were special because of the relationship between diplomacy and military means.56 Overall, the US doctrine was conceptually confusing. Dandeker and Gow argued that the problems of expanded peacekeeping strategies boiled down to a case of legitimacy. ‘Strategic peacekeeping’ recognised that neither traditional peacekeeping nor full-scale war matched the strategic needs. The basic premise is that instead of relying on consent, strategic peacekeeping rests upon a process of legitimation, defined by legal principles, normative values and the performance of the peacekeepers on the ground and social support by groups and institutions within multifunctional operations. To achieve legitimacy, operations were to be under UN control. Competent performance by the troops on the ground demonstrating success and progress were necessary. At the strategic level, initiative was to lie more with the intervening side than with the conflicting parties. The function was to hold the ring, buy time and pave the way for political solutions to be found and negotiated; it would involve a mixture of coercive and non-coercive measures, require robust troops and be complex and multifunctional.57 However, even strategic peacekeeping was to be based on impartiality. Strategic peacekeeping was to be more ambitious than pure ‘conflict mitigation’ as it was designed to impact on the strategic outcome of a conflict, push the belligerents to the negotiating table and ensure their compliance. Again, however, the issue of what role force could or should play within this concept was not discussed any further. Others rejected the concept of impartial intervention altogether, both because of the practical problems of implementing such a doctrine in practice and because a stable peace rested upon decisive military outcome or ethnic separation rather than compromise.58 The argument made by Betts, however, was somewhat con-fusing, as he rejected impartiality at the outset, while simultaneously arguing in favour of ‘imperial impartiality’: ‘an active harsh impartiality that overpowers both sides’.59 Imperial impartiality thus means taking power within a certain territory and is fundamentally different from the traditional peacekeeping concept of neutrality or impartiality in a situation where the original disputing parties are in power. In short, if you take power, you are independent of the parties, not impartial. French and British inputs: the doctrinal consensus By 1996, doctrine makers in France and Britain presented new doctrines, which borrowed from the UN idea of basing forceful interventions on impartiality,

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which contradicted earlier doctrines and experience. Thus a third alternative, labelled peace enforcement or peace restoration, came into being and was more or less accepted.60 The concept resembles and is very much influenced by French thinking on ‘peace restoration’ and experience gained in Rwanda. The idea was that in situations where consent was weak, robust peacekeepers could reestablish peace by the threat of use of force, but separated from war by impartial conduct. Thus, this concept seeks to rectify the failures of the United Nations Protection Force (UNPROFOR) in the former Yugoslavia.61 The starting point of British doctrine makers was that they wanted to create a concept that General Rose could have used in Bosnia, given that he had had the necessary resources.62 In this framework, impartiality does not necessarily exclude the use of force: the important issue is what aim force is used to achieve. Peace enforcement operations were thus to be of an impartial nature in which force was to be used coercively against those who violated the peace agreement and was thought of in terms of punishment. Peace enforcement operations should be conducted on the basis of military strength: ‘To be credible, a PE force must be perceived as being willing and capable of overmatching whatever opposition it might be offered.’ Consequently, the doctrine states that any troops committed should be prepared for, capable of and willing to engage in combat if necessary, with all the risks this involves. However, on the issue of the use of force, the doctrine brings no revolutionary messages. Peace enforcement is intended to encompass a more active approach in which the force commander is to be given the flexibility to ‘enforce compliance where there is opposition, to promote consent where there is indifference and to maintain and reward where consent exists.’63 However, emphasis was on reactive use of force, the potential danger connected to the use of force and the issue of warnings prior to the use of force; it also reflected Dobbie’s distinction between tactical/local and operational level. The potential for the use of force was not conceptually broadened, as this reflects earlier versions of the principle of ‘minimum force necessary’ defined as ‘the measured and proportionate application of violence or coercion, sufficient only to achieve a specific objective and confined in effect to the legitimate target intended’. The doctrine stated that a peace enforcement force, like a legal court system, only punishes the guilty. In this respect force was thought of in terms of punishment in order to rectify behaviour. The latter is presented as a distinction from war, in which defeating the enemy is seen as the overriding aim. Thus, force is seen also as a means to influence the course of the conflict, to support a political conflict resolution process. The loss of consent or status of impartiality is considered far less drastic for a peace enforcement mission than for a peacekeeping mission.64 This is obviously right as a robust force would be more capable of determining for itself the basis for its operation and be less vulnerable and dependent on the good will and cooperation of the conflicting parties. Thus the essence of the doctrine is that the principles of consent and impartiality are tentative objectives rather than principles. They are norms to

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strive for, but if not present, it does not really matter, given that the force posture is right. A peace enforcement operation derives its logic and credibility from military capability and coercion, rather than from cooperation with the parties. Peace enforcement or war? Intellectually, the debate stimulated serious thinking on the utility of force in peacekeeping operations. The distinction between the various viewpoints may in reality be not all that clear-cut. The perception of traditional peacekeeping may be somewhat inaccurate. The peacekeeping principles and the way they were practised in their original sense are portrayed as too rigid and absolute, the passivity of the peacekeepers is exaggerated, and the complexity of traditional peacekeeping is underestimated. By examining peacekeeping history from Sinai, Congo, Cyprus and Lebanon, it is clear that classical peacekeeping was not that simple, but included major challenges, especially in the initial phases.65 Thus it may be argued that the generational gap was given too much weight because the new operations were compared to those that had been consolidated and stabilised for several years. The question remains: is peace enforcement credible as an alternative strategy to war? The middle ground school presented ‘peace enforcement’ as a third option between war and peacekeeping. While supporters of the new doctrine have pointed to doctrinal improvements by referring to NATO’s ground operations in Bosnia and Kosovo, these operations cannot be analysed without taking into consideration the full context and the strategy that enabled them to deploy there after all. The air campaign over Kosovo can be seen, as one of the authors of the British ‘peace enforcement’ doctrine does, as a war fought to set the ground for a successful peace support operation.66 It is important to note that the author of the doctrine himself sees neither the NATO Implementation Force in Bosnia (IFOR) nor the Kosovo Force (KFOR) as examples of peace enforcement, because they were deployed only after a peace agreement had been reached. Peace enforcement was a concept for intervention while war between the original belligerents was still going on. The real question, it can be argued, was not so much about finding a third category of operations, but about adjusting the concept of war into a more appropriate one given the nature of the conflicts and the political objectives of creating peace at an acceptable cost. In short, what was needed was a doctrine for limited war based on the tradition of COIN warfare sensitive to the special characteristics of internal conflict coupled with the use of air power. Again we return to the question of proper soldiering and the expectations that the concept of war raises. Instead of using Somalia and Bosnia as evidence for the impossibilities of mixing consent and coercion, force and impartiality, an alternative line of analysis would be to explore in more depth the way in which force was used and for what purpose. As has been argued earlier, Somalia was not an attempt to put a middle ground doctrine into reality but rather an

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application of the principles and logic of traditional warfare to the wrong situation.67 And, as argued by Mockaitis, altering the mandate from Chapter VI to VII is in itself not sufficient.68 There has to be a concept for how to use force to achieve desired ends, a concept which regulates force without depriving it of its desired effect. The concept of war has been dominated by ideas of ‘overwhelming force’ which are of less relevance in these kinds of conflict and counterproductive in relation to the declared humanitarian objectives. Dobbie himself argued that the alternative to peacekeeping was enforcement, guided by ‘standard military principles’. While standard military explanations for failure are political micro-management and lack of resources, most notably firepower, events in Somalia constitute a good example of where indiscriminate and massive use of force, guided by ‘standard military principles’, might lead when applied to internal conflict. The doctrine of overwhelming force is hard to combine with discriminate use of force, especially in internal conflicts. From June 1993, US troops in Somalia killed hundreds of civilians, among them civilian clan leaders perceived as crucial to the peace process, which damaged public support for the operation.69 Overwhelming force runs the danger of increasing opposition among civilians and strengthening the support for local warlords. Nor does overwhelming force correspond to the political objectives of rebuilding, reconciliation and no ‘collateral damage’. Force was being used overwhelmingly in order to produce quick and decisive results. Thus it can be argued that the failure of Somalia was not mixing coercion and consent, but rather the underlying thinking guiding the use of military force. A weakness in thinking, represented by the traditionalist school, was thus the rigid and absolute distinction between enforcement, or war, and peacekeeping. It is representative of classical military thinking, arguing that if and when military force is used, it should be used massively and overwhelmingly. This is in fact a reflection of Clausewitz’s theoretical construct of ‘absolute war’ as an ideal to strive for in reality, and reflects the belief that war inevitably will follow a logic of its own, once the first steps have been taken. It follows from this kind of logic that if it is not possible to wage war in an ‘absolute’ way, based on overwhelming superiority and massive use of force, it should not be waged at all. The thought that it is possible to wage limited war in the sense of using limited means and limited force for limited purposes is left out. To achieve objectives by using as little force as possible appears to be a doctrine more appropriate for the current political needs. As noted above, the ‘new’ situations in which peacekeeping has been used as a means of conflict resolution or mediation has given the concept a more robust appearance. The sharp distinction that existed between enforcement or warfighting and peacekeeping has become blurred. To draw a line between these new peace missions and war, as is often attempted, may not be all that easy. Just as with war, peacekeeping is a concept with judicial and political meanings and consequences, used to gain legitimacy for oneself and deny it to others. As

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pointed out by James, ‘the term “peacekeeping” has a very favourable resonance, so that states are glad to use it’.70 When studying peacekeeping literature it is indeed interesting so see how these operations are contrasted to war. According to one analyst, an early version of the draft NATO doctrine for PSO used the Korean War and the Gulf War as examples of peace enforcement. It is hard not to agree with the analyst’s concluding comment: ‘One can only wonder, then, what constitutes “war” in the lexicon of peace operations’.71 The concept of PSO can include the use of war for the purpose of reestablishing peace or the status quo in the interest of a wider international community, or it can mean alternatives to war, such as peacekeeping. According to analysts, the peace enforcement operation in Haiti ‘differed from traditional combat in that US forces did not plan to destroy the Haitian military units unless it offered resistance’.72 It can indeed be a question of whether unopposed destruction has ever been the meaning of war. The US Doctrine for Peace Operations, FM 100–23, states that in peace operations, the relationship between such operations and political objectives is more ‘sensitive, direct and transparent’. As noted above, the US doctrine saw these operations as being conducted in support of diplomacy. The doctrine sees the Korean War and the Gulf War as wars, and not peace operations. It defines peace enforcement as […] the application of military force or the threat of its use, normally pursuant to international authorisation, to compel compliance with generally accepted resolutions or sanctions. The purpose of [peace enforcement] is to maintain or restore peace and support diplomatic efforts to reach a long-term political settlement. The doctrine further states that in peace operations, massive use of force and firepower can be counterproductive; destruction of the enemy is not the objective, but rather to establish ‘conditions that are conducive to peace’. The concept of traditional military victory or defeat is inappropriate in peace operations.’ When force must be used, its purpose is to protect life or compel, not to destroy unnecessarily’.73 This implies three sets of assumptions that distinguish PSO from war. First, close political control over military operations is a feature of PSO, not of war. War is a replacement of diplomacy and is as political as ‘peace operations’ are. The use of force to advance political and diplomatic processes constitutes something apart from war. War is defined by the breakdown of diplomacy, not as being in support of it. Second, controlled use of force applies only to PSO and not to the concept of war. There is the assumption that in war there will be higher tolerance of casualties, that the leverage enjoyed with regard to the issue of ‘collateral damage’ will be greater in war and that the principle of military necessity will override ethical or legal constraints. Third, military victory can be important in PSO, but only if it leads to the realisation of political objectives.

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Too much emphasis is placed on the significance of ‘military victory’ in traditional wars. These assumptions are not convincing in creating a concept apart from war. Rather, it can be argued that all these ‘special characteristics’ of PSO are elements of sound strategy that applies to war as well. To avoid unnecessary destruction; to focus on political results rather than simply on military victories; to use force within political limitations; to use policy to control violence; to stop fighting when the enemy gives in, and to look for objectives that provide for peace in the long term, does not clash with the idea of war. Thus, these views are not persuasive as criteria for distinguishing war from peace enforcement. The freedom of the commanders to act on the basis of military principles and judgement is greatly reduced in PSO. The very concept of viewing the 1990s doctrine of ‘military operations in support of diplomacy’ as a distinct category apart from war74 illustrates this point: in war, diplomacy is expected to cease to function and military commanders take over responsibility at the expense of politicians and diplomats. There is nothing new about such a way to categorise wars; the pre-Second World War US Marine Corps doctrine for ‘small wars’ stated that the special feature of ‘small wars’ was that military force was used in combination with diplomacy, not as a replacement of it.75 War is regarded by traditional concepts not as a means of supporting or reinforcing diplomatic processes but rather as a substitute for diplomacy, an autonomous method of settling disputes and achieving political goals. Military means and combat replaces politics, which is seen to deprive war of its natural course. In this kind of conflict, the principles guiding the use of force have followed the path of ‘minimum force’. Force is a means of deterrence, punishment or coercion, i.e. to rectify the behaviour of the opponents rather than to cause military defeat. In one sense the ultimate defeat may be achieved in ‘disarmament operations’ undertaken by the UN and NATO: parties more or less voluntarily give up their weapons by means of coercion or persuasion and are thus ‘rendered powerless’,76 The point is that such defeats are caused by political-military coercion, not by physical destruction alone. Furthermore, force is to be used in a measured and discriminate way within guiding rules of engagement outlining conditions for when it can be used. If and when force is being used, strategic and political consequences must be considered. The effect of the use of force cannot only be measured against defined objectives but also against the effect it may have on complex processes involving several actors. This is not to say that the conduct of soldiers will always have a strategic impact, but the point is that force cannot be used without thinking through possible consequences. Thus, soldiers are forced to operate from a position of weakness, rather than from a position of strength. Soldiers are more vulnerable and exposed to potentially greater risk, not less. The principle of minimum force can thus be broken down to four guidelines: 1 force is used as a last resort, and then only

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2 in a measured way to influence behaviour 3 after appropriate warnings have been issued, and finally 4 with avoidance of collateral damage. These apply throughout the levels of war; from strategic crisis management to tactical level operations.77The problem is to regulate the use of force in a way which does not deprive it of the desired effect. It can indeed be questioned whether peace enforcement, as an independent third way based on impartiality, is conceptually sound and logical. As Berdal has pointed out, the idea that force can be distributed in an impartial manner without creating political impact is highly unrealistic and has little evidence in the PSO in the 1990s.78The use of force beyond pure self-defence cannot be combined with impartiality because it will have a strategic impact affecting the interests of the parties.79Furthermore, it can be argued that upholding impartiality as a principle is unnecessary if you are, as doctrines state, militarily stronger than the parties combined. Related to this point is the problem of deploying troops when consent is weak or lacking. IFOR/SFOR (the Stabilisation Force in Bosnia) and later KFOR were made possible by the use of air power in a way that is quite remote from traditional peacekeeping. Instead of representing ‘a third way’ between war and peacekeeping, ‘peace enforcement’ was a concept dependent on fighting an initial war from the air to set the strategic conditions for taking control on the ground. In Kosovo, the issue was not consent, but using air power to create a ‘permissive environment’.80 The handling of the Kosovo crisis echoes US thoughts on future war. Central to US military thinking, as it developed in the 1990s, is the necessity of shaping the battle space so that ‘decisive operations are facilitated or rendered unnecessary’, and to ‘kill the enemy at a distance in order to set conditions for decisive manoeuvre’ in order to reduce the risks of one’s own troops.81 Air power can do the fighting; ground troops move in when the fighting is over and the enemy has given in. The distinction between ‘robust peacekeeping’, ‘peace enforcement’ and ‘war’ can thus be marginal. While doctrines in general have tended to focus on how to operate when deployed, the issue of ‘entry’ has largely been ignored. This issue was also ignored in the academic debate. The discussion centred on what to do when the troops were in place, but ignored the question of how to get there. Perhaps this was played down because all peace support operations up to 1995 started out as peacekeeping: the mandates were indeed limited to Chapter VI and addressed humanitarian concerns, i.e. peacekeeping in nature and militarily weak. They were acceptable to the parties because they were not seen as a threat and could be controlled. Somalia also started out as a peacekeeping operation, and when the US launched the operation under Chapter VII, it was only for a limited period of six months without intending to disarm the factions. This would thus merely provide a pause, and constitute no threat to the power base of the warlords. Consequently, the parties accepted the presence of peacekeepers, because they

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were seen as weak or not as a danger to the interests of the parties. Consent to a deployment does not automatically encompass consent to every undertaking carried out by the intervening side. UNPROFOR was a consent-based deployment of troops. However, the limits to the consent offered might be illustrated by the following estimate made by Canadian personnel on how to enter the enclave of Srebrenica against the will of the Bosnian Serbs in 1993: We operate in theatre of war. BiH [the Bosnian government army] and HVO [the Bosnian Croat army] tolerate us. Serbs would see this as direct intervention into their territory and against their war aims. Once across the CFL [confrontation line], if force was used, tasked organization would be surrounded and cut-off. Serb intention would be to either attack and destroy force or blockade it to humiliate UN.82 The point is that consent to presence does not mean consent to all kinds of activities and capabilities. Consent rarely means acceptance of any kind of interference with the strategy of the parties or granting full rights to the intervening side. Without consent to a deployment, intervention has to rely on force in order to enter the disputed territory. Entry was also a major problem to the reinforcements sent to rescue UNPROFOR.83 A war of entry has to be fought in many cases, or entry has to be postponed. The planners in NATO, preparing for evacuation of UNPROFOR in 1994, feared that NATO forces would have to fight their way in.84 It can be argued that the concept of peace enforcement was built on the illusion that a robust force would be allowed to enter the disputed territory by the parties without resistance, and that trouble would only begin once the force had been deployed and was ready for it. If a peaceful entry is made possible by diplomatic means, the necessary level of consent is established. The need for robustness decreases as the force has only to deal with local warlords that operate outside political control. Moreover, if one party gives consent and other parties do not, the intervening side will hardly be seen as impartial. If scrutinised, the model of peace enforcement as an independent alternative to war based on impartiality breaks down. Peace enforcement presupposes war and will in most cases become a realistic option only afler a war of entry is in fact over. The apparent success of IFOR/SFOR can be ascribed also to contextual factors and, importantly, IFOR/SFOR has faced many of the problems experienced by UNPROFOR. There is no doubt that IFOR/SFOR has had to compromise on a number of issues and events. However, the challenges that faced IFOR/SFOR are very different from those of UNPROFOR, and the post-Dayton environment has by and large been characterised by absence of war. Additionally, it has been argued that the practice in the field revealed that the basic principles of peacekeeping were applied in this operation as well.85 This may be a valid point and it should not be underestimated that IFOR/SFOR has followed a rather

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cautious approach with regard to the most sensitive issues in Bosnia. The utility of military power when facing civil unrest is undoubtedly limited. Whereas ‘robust peacekeeping’ based on robust forces and the logic of force may be seen to solve some problems, it also raises new questions and issues. The use of military force in law and order roles is problematic and the tendency to apply ‘overkill’ in estimates on force requirements makes peace enforcement expensive, perhaps unnecessarily so. Seven years after entering, NATO is still present in Bosnia with a contingent three times as big as traditional UN contingents. In Kosovo, NATO remains with some 30,000 soldiers, plus police elements, in an area with a population of 1.8 million. NATO’s operation in Kosovo was ten times as big as a normal peacekeeping operation, in a rather small piece of territory. This was regarded as necessary in order to present a credible deterrent in order to prevent Serb forces from trying to reoccupy Kosovo by challenging NATO. As events unfolded, this scenario became highly unlikely, but the number of troops was maintained. Interventions based on military capability and credibility are expensive, and only a few states are able to meet the standards set by, for instance, NATO. This mode of operation seems to be valid only for some parts of the world and even then may prove too costly for it to be a general model for peacekeeping elsewhere.86 Finally, Chapter VII mandates and robust forces and approach are not necessarily blueprints for success. The operation in Somalia may serve as a good reminder of this. If consent is to be mixed with coercion, troops with the ability to perform well-tuned analysis regarding the situation in the mission area are required, as well as the ability to fulfil multiple roles in the mission area. Also, a greater emphasis on the use of force and Chapter VII mandates should not be thought of as an automatic authorisation to wage all-out war based on military principles and logic. To uphold local and international support, discriminate and minimum use of force should continue to be guiding principles. Mission planning as well as the intellectual framework for how to face and counter potential escalation of the conflict need to be thought through carefully. Most internal conflicts are irregular in nature, and the historical records show how problematic such wars have been for the Western military. Thus, escalation does not necessarily mean grand manoeuvre-styled, battle-oriented operations in which operational and tactical procedures are known to the Western military soldiers after centuries of evolution within a distinct Western military culture. Arguably, enforcement would have meant different things in the Gulf War in 1990–1 and in Somalia and Bosnia. They would have been different kinds of wars. As pointed out in the previous chapter, the distinction between so-called high- and low-intensity war is more than just a matter of intensity. Intensity can vary within both forms of conflicts: regular and irregular. The response to the challenge of internal conflicts has led to a greater reliance on force and on coercive operations, in which the mere presence of external units has prevented violence. Through effective military formations, a deterrent or coercive

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capability is provided which makes actual fighting unnecessary. One should recognise the particular conditions of Bosnia in 1995, before letting this line of thinking become an absolute truth. This kind of deterrence worked in Bosnia and has enabled KFOR to handle the short-term prospect of violence so far; on the other hand, it failed dramatically in Somalia. The new peace enforcement style of operation, in which the intervening side claims all rights in order to function properly, is indeed a departure from the idea that peacekeepers are guests of the government of the host country. Naturally, this effectively reduces the power of the host government. Whether this in itself can make it harder to obtain consent and thus hinder, not foster, conflict resolution, should be a matter for further research and discussion. Furthermore, such forces have to rely on military capability to provide for their deterrent effect, rather than the moral authority of ‘Blue Helmets’. Military capability has, through the events of the 1990s, replaced the kind of moral deterrence that served UN peacekeepers more effectively during the initial 40 years of peacekeeping. The challenge of violent internal conflicts has thus diverted attention away from peacekeeping as a peaceful means of conflict resolution. This is not necessarily a problem, but one needs to apply sober expectations to what military force can achieve. New strategies will certainly raise new challenges, problems and issues. To rate peace enforcement as more effective than peacekeeping is not an obvious conclusion. Costs, in terms of resources used, and money spent, risks, material destruction and bloodshed as well as overall impact must be considered as well. Conclusion This chapter has shown how new doctrines for peace support operations and peace enforcement were developed in the 1990s. It can be argued that the larger debate on intervention in internal conflicts was trapped by a debate focusing too much on the application of peacekeeping principles. ‘Consent’ shifted to ‘operational consent’ and then to ‘permissive environment’. ‘Neutrality’ shifted to ‘impartiality’ and then to ‘active impartiality’. ‘Non-use of force’ shifted to ‘minimum use of force’ to ‘minimum force necessary’. The emphasis was on the changing nature of peacekeeping. However, rather than looking for something other than war, one should have asked how to transform the image of war into a concept of war more appropriate in the given circumstances. It was not only peacekeeping that changed in the 1990s; change also applied to the concept of war. The orthodox peacekeeping school stressed that there were only two choices: consent-based peacekeeping or enforcement (war) based on military principles. This invoked expectations and fears of ‘all-out war’ in messy situations. The middle ground school ignored the important question of entry strategy and constructed concepts apart from war on the combination of using force and impartiality. As pointed out, PSO may clash with central ideas and assumptions made on war. However, to create categories apart from war because

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these expectations on what war should be like are not met, is dubious. If anything in this debate is ‘Orwellian’, this must be it. Rather, it can be argued that many of the characteristics of political control—force used in support of diplomacy, and regulated use of force in support of objectives that may provide for lasting peace—are not special to PSO, but apply to sound strategies for war as well. The assumption made in the development of new doctrines was that more force could provide the solution to peacekeeping problems. However, as is almost always the case in strategy, new solutions generate new problems. Alas, peace enforcement is not problem-free, and the use of force does not solve all problems by far. Establishing accurate indicators to measure degrees of effectiveness is problematic, and beyond the aim of this chapter. However, it should be pointed out that robust peacekeeping comes at a price and involves risks. It is hard to establish a credible alternative to war as long as it is based on the logic of force. Peace enforcement was intended to be such an alternative, but arguably it failed. This is not to say that it is futile. However, it demands resources on such a scale that it seems to be of limited value as a general doctrine. Notes 1 Shashi Tharoor, ‘Should UN peacekeeping Go “Back to Basics”?’, Survival, 37:4 (1995–6), p. 59. 2 Mats Berdal, ‘Whither UN Peacekeeping?’, Adelphi Paper no. 281 (London: International Institute for Strategic Studies [IISS] by Brassey’s), p. 75; see also Roberts, ‘The Crisis in UN Peacekeeping’, pp. 93–120 and Tharoor, ‘Should UN Peacekeeping’, pp. 52–65; ‘Stretched to breaking point’, The Financial Times, 17 July 1993. 3 Roberts, ‘The Crisis in UN Peacekeeping’, p. 110. 4 Immanuel Kant, Thoughts on Perpetual Peace, transl. by M.Campbell Smith (London: Swan Sonnenschein, 1903); F.H.Hinsley, Power and the Pursuit of Peace (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1967) on the evolution of ideas on perpetual peace and collective security. 5 For a discussion on the origin and development of peacekeeping preceding the UN see also Paul F.Diehl, International Peacekeeping (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Press, 1994), pp. 14–21; Kalevi J.Holsti, Peace and War: Armed Conflicts and International Order 1648–1689 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991), pp. 29–42. 6 ’The Text of the Covenant of the League of Nations’, Robert Jones and S.S.Sherman, The League of Nations: From Idea to Reality (London: Pitman & Sons, 1927), Appendix D. 7 Ruggie, ‘The UN’, pp. 2–4 on the enforcement system. Note in particular the US and Soviet proposals including numerous divisions and hundreds of combat aircraft. 8 UN Charter, Articles 43, 45, 47.

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9 Alan James, ‘Peacekeeping in Europe: The Historical Heritage’, in Espen Barth Eide (ed.), Peacekeeping in Europe (Oslo: NUPI, 1995), p. 28. 10 Roberts, ‘The Crisis in UN Peacekeeping’, p. 101. 11 For an overview of UN peacekeeping history, see Sally Morphet, ‘UN Peacekeeping and Election-Monitoring’, in Adam Roberts and Benedict Kingsbury (eds), United Nations, Divided World (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1993), 2nd edn, pp. 183– 239; Marrack Goulding, ‘The Evolution of United Nations Peacekeeping’, International Affairs, 69:3 (1993), pp. 451–64. 12 UNTSO, the first UN operation, included unarmed observers only. 13 See UN, The Blue Helmets: A Review of United Nations Peacekeeping, 3rd edn (New York: United Nations, 1996), Ch. 3 14 Based on the report produced by the UN Secretariat reprinted in Bertil Stjernfelt, The Sinai Peace Front: UN Peacekeeping in the Middle East, 1973–1980 (London: Hurst and Co, 1992), pp. 17–18. 15 Henry Wiseman, ‘Introduction’, in Henry Wiseman (ed.), Peacekeeping: Appraisals and Proposals (Oxford: Pergamon Press for the International Peace Academy, 1983), p. 1; N.D.White, Keeping the Peace (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1993), p. 208; the International Peace Academy also takes this view in Peacekeepers Handbook (New York: International Peace Academy, 1978). 16 Alan James, Peacekeeping in International Politics (London: Macmillan for the IISS, 1990), pp. 1, 83. 17 See UN, The Blue Helmets: A Review of United Nations Peacekeeping, 2nd edn (New York: United Nations, 1990), p. 4. 18 White, Keeping the Peace, pp. 211–12; Rikhye, Harbottle and Egge, The Thin Blue Line: International Peacekeeping and Its Future (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1974), pp. 213–31 on various positions taken by major states on peacekeeping up to 1973. 19 Rikhye, et al., The Thin Blue Line, p. 10. 20 See James Gow, ‘Strategic Peacekeeping: UNPROFOR and International Diplomatic Assertion’, in Eide (ed.), Peacekeeping in Europe, pp. 76–9. 21 See UN, The Blue Helmets (3rd ed.,1996), pp. 5, 689–776; Indarjit Rikhye, ‘Preparation and training of UN Peacekeeping Forces’, in Per Frydenberg (ed.), Peace-Keeping: Experience and Evaluation—The Oslo Papers (Oslo: Norwegian Institute of International Affairs, 1964), p. 183; Rikhye et al, The Thin Blue Line, pp. 5–6, 235. 22 Trevor Findlay, ‘Introduction’, in Trevor Findlay (ed.), Challenges For the New Peacekepers (Oxford: Oxford University Press for SIPRI, 1996), p. 21; Berdal, Whither UN, pp. 6–25. 23 ‘NATO develops CIMIC doctrine’, Jane’s Defence Weekly, 30 August 2000, p. 5. 24 For an analysis of the relationship between the military and NGOs see Daniel L. Byman, ‘Uncertain Partners: NGOs and the Military’, Survival, 43:2 (2001), pp. 77– 114. 25 For a view on CIMIC from NATO, see J.W.Rollins, ‘Civil-Military Cooperation (CIMIC) in Crisis Response Operations: The Implications for NATO’, International Peacekeeping, 8:1 (2001), pp. 122–30. 26 Report of the Secretary-General, A/47/277–S/24111, An Agenda for Peace: Preventive Diplomacy, Peacemaking and Peacekeeping, 17 June 1992. 27 Report of the Secretary-General, An Agenda for Peace, paras 20, 44.

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28 ‘Supplement to an Agenda for Peace: Position Paper of the Secretary-General on the Occasion of the Fiftieth Anniversary of the United Nations’, S/1995,13 January 1995. See also Boutros Boutros-Ghali, ‘An Agenda for Peace’, Orbis, Summer (1993), pp. 323–32. 29 ‘Supplement to an Agenda for Peace’, paras 14–37, 35–37. 30 For an outline of this debate see for instance Hillen, Blue Helmets, pp. 166–7; Cristopher Bellamy, Knights in White Armour, pp. 149–56; and Peter Viggo Jakobsen, ‘The Emerging Consensus on Grey Area Peace Operations Doctrine: Will it Last and Enhance Operational Effectiveness?’, International Peacekeeping, 7:3 (2000), pp. 36–56. 31 John Mackinlay and Jarat Chopra, ‘Second Generation Multinational Operations’, The Washington Quarterly, Summer (1992), p. 118. 32 John Mackinlay, ‘Improving Multifunctional Forces’, Survival, 36:3 (1994), pp. 149– 73. 33 James Gow and Christopher Dandeker, ‘Peace-Support Operations: The Problem of Legitimisation’, The World Today, August-September (1995), pp. 171–4. 34 Mats R.Berdal, ‘Fateful Encounter: The United States and UN Peacekeeping’, Survival, 36:1 (1994), p. 43. Similar arguments were presented by Roberts, ‘The Crisis’, pp. 93–112; Tharoor, ‘Should UN Peacekeeping’; and Yashusii Akashii, ‘The Limits of UN Diplomacy and the Future of Conflict Management’, Survival, 37:4 (1995–6), pp. 83–98. 35 Mackinlay and Chopra, ‘Second Generation’, p. 114. 36 Ibid., pp. 116–19 and footnote 21. 37 See John Mackinlay, ‘Improving Multifunctional Forces’, Survival, 36:3 (1994), pp. 149–74; John Mackinlay and Jarat Chopra, ‘A New Approach to Complex Emergencies’, International Peacekeeping, 4:4 (1997), pp. 31–49; John Mackinlay (ed.), A Guide to Peace Support Operations (Providence, RI: The Thomas J.Watson Jr Institute For International Studies, Brown University, 1996). 38 Mackinlay and Chopra, ‘Second Generation’, pp. 119–120. 39 See UN Security Council Resolutions: 757, 30 May 1992, para 17; 758, 8 June 1992, preamble; 761, 29 June 1992, para. 1; 764, 13 July 1992, para. 2. 40 UN Secretary-General, report S/1994/555, May 1994, para. 24. 41 Dobbie, ‘A Concept’, pp. 121–48. 42 Army Field Manual, Wider Peacekeeping (London: Crown/HMSO, 1995), p. xiii. Apparently, the word ‘interim’ was added by those disagreeing with Dobbie’s argument without his knowledge. Interview with a British officer central in the doctrinal process in Britain, London, February 2001. 43 Rikhye et al, The Thin Blue Line, p. 10. 44 Dobbie, ‘A Concept’, p. 121. 45 ‘Defence White Paper: Forces prepare to use expertise on a global stage’, The Daily Telegraph, 4 May 1995; ‘Bosnia Peace Agreement: NATO gives 60,000 reasons why the plan can succeed’, The Financial Times, 23 November 1995. 46 Goulding, ‘The Evolution’, p. 459. 47 See for instance Richard Connaughton, ‘Wider Peacekeeping—How Wide of the Mark?’, The British Army Review, no. 111 (1995), pp. 55–64. 48 General Sir Michael Rose, Fighting for Peace (London: The Harvill Press, 1998), pp. 126; 184. 49 Dobbie, ‘A Concept’, pp. 125–6.

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50 Michael Clark, ‘The Lessons of Bosnia for the British Military’, Brassey’s Defence Yearbook 1995 (London: Brassey’s, 1995), p. 42; Gow, The Triumph, p. 128; Colonel Alastair Duncan, ‘Operating in Bosnia’, RUSI Journal, June (1994), p. 12; Colonel Bob Stewart, Broken Lives (London: Harper Collins, 1993), p. 316; ‘British Army covert operations uncovered’, The Guardian, 2 April 1996; ‘Coldstream Guards give trigger-happy Serbs a taste of steel’, The Guardian, 18 April 1994. 51 Headquarters, Department of the Army, FM 100–23, Peace Operations (Washington, DC, 30 December 1994). 52 See Brigadier General Morris J.Boyd, ‘Peace Operations: A Capstone Doctrine’, Military Review, May/June (1995), pp. 20–9. 53 FM 100–23, Peace Operations, pp. 13–14, 34. 54 The critique of US ‘aggravated peacekeeping’ applied in part to the Department of State Publication 10161, The Clinton Administration’s Policy on Reforming Multilateral Peace Operations’, May (1993), and the thinking within the Army. Theo Farrell, ‘Sliding into War: The Somalia Imbroglio and US Army Peace Operations Doctrine’, International Peacekeeping, 2:2 (1995), pp. 199–214. 55 Farrell, ‘Sliding into War’, pp. 206–7. 56 FM 100–23, Peace Operations, pp. 1–19. 57 See the following articles by Christopher Dandeker and James Gow: ‘PeaceSupport Operations: The Problem of Legitimation’, The World Today, August— September (1995), pp. 171–4; ‘The Future of Peace Support Operations: Strategic Peacekeeping and Success’, Armed Forces & Society, 23:3 (1997), pp. 327–48, in particular pp. 334–7; ‘Military Culture and Strategic Peacekeeping’, in Erwin A.Schmidl (ed.), Peace Operations: Between War and Peace (London: Frank Cass, 2000), pp. 58–79. The term conflict mitigation has been introduced by Shashi Tharoor, ‘The Role of the United Nations in European Peacekeeping’, in E.B.Eide (ed.), Peacekeeping in Europe, p. 44. 58 See Richard Betts, ‘The Delusion of Impartial Intervention’, in Crocker et.al. (eds), Managing Global Chaos, pp. 333–42; Chaim Kaufmann, ‘Possible and Impossible Solutions to Ethnic Wars’, International Security, Spring (1996), pp. 136–75. After the Kosovo crisis, Luttwak voiced the same view: Edward N.Luttwak, ‘Give War a Chance’, Foreign Affairs, 78:4 (1999), pp. 36–44. 59 Betts, ‘The Delusion of Impartial Intervention’, p. 338. 60 Peace enforcement and peace restoration are both inspired by the French UNsanctioned Operation Turqoise in Rwanda in 1994. See Thierry Tardy, ‘French Policy Towards Peace Support Operations’, International Peacekeeping, Spring (1999), pp. 55–78, 73–4; Jakobsen, ‘The Emerging Consensus’, pp. 36–56. 61 See Appendix I: Lieutenant Colonel P.R.Wilkinson ‘Sharpening the Weapons of Peace’, Joint Warfare Publication 3–50: Peace Support Operations (London: Ministry of Defence, 1998). 62 Interview with a British officer central to the doctrinal process in Britain, London, February 2001. 63 Wilkinson, Joint Warfare Publication 3–50, pp. 3–4. 64 Ibid., pp. 3–4; 4–4–4–8. 65 Bertil Stjernfelt, The Sinai Peace Front, pp. 17–37; Emmanuel A.Erskine, Mission with UNIFIL: An African Soldier’s Reflections (New York: St Martin’s Press, 1989), pp. 20–50,114–22; Ray Murphy, ‘UN Peacekeeping in Lebanon and the Use of

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66

67 68 69

70 71

72

73 74 75 76

77 78 79

80

81

Force’, International Peacekeeping, 6:2 (1999), pp. 38–63; and Erwin A.Schmidl, ‘The “Battle” of Bukavu, Congo, 1960: Peacekeepers under Fire’, Small Wars and Insurgencies, 8:3 (1997), pp. 25–40. See Philip Wilkinson, ‘Sharpening the Weapons of Peace: Peace Support Operations and Complex Emergencies’, International Peacekeeping, 7:1 (2000), p. 72. Jarat Chopra, Åge Ekenes and Toralv Nordbø (eds), Fighting for Hope in Somalia (Oslo: NUPI, 1995), in particular pp. 16–18. Thomas R.Mockaitis, Peace Operations and Intrastate Conflict (Westport: Praeger, 1999), p. 127. John Drysdale, ‘Foreign Military Intervention in Somalia: The Root Cause of the Shift From UN Peacekeeping to Peacemaking and Its Consequences’, Walter Clarke and Jeffrey Herbst (eds), Learning From Somalia: The Lessons of Armed Humanitarian Intervention (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1997), p. 132; Berdal, ‘Fateful Encounter’ p. 42. Estimates on Somali losses during the Battle of Mogadishu on 3–4 October suggest up to 300 killed and 800 wounded. James, Peacekeeping, p. 9. Charles Barry, ‘Combined Joint Task Forces in Theory and Practice’, Philip H.Gordon, NATO’s Transformation: The Changing Shape of the Atlantic Alliance (Boston, MA: Rowman & Littlefield, 1997), p. 218, footnote 6. William J.Durch, ‘Keeping the Peace: Politics and Lessons of the 1990s’, in William J.Durch (ed.), UN Peacekeeping, American policy and the Uncivil Wars of the 1990s (New York: St Martin’s Press, 1996), pp. 6–7. FM 100–23, Peace Operations, pp. v–vi, 2, 6, 17. See for instance UK Ministry of Defence, British Defence Doctrine, 1997, pp. 6–3; FM 100–23, Peace Operations, p. 2. USMC, Small Wars Manual, pp. 1, 4. Paradoxically, the ultimate objective in Clausewitzian terminology was precisely this: to ‘disarm the enemy’ and render them ‘powerless’, but this was to be achieved by destruction through battle, rather than by coercion. Clausewitz, On War, pp. 77, 91. Frantzen, ‘Proper War’, p. 12. See Mats R.Berdal, Lessons Not Learned: The Use of Force in Peace Support Operations (Oslo: IFS, 2000). In 2000, the Brahimi report also criticised the practice of impartiality: ‘Impartiality for the United Nations operations must therefore mean adherence to the principles of the Charter.’ This is a different kind of impartiality than that prescribed in PSO doctrines. United Nations Panel on Peace Operations, A/55/305 S/2000/809 (New York: UN, 2000), executive summary, pp. ix–x. ‘Cook Stresses Allied Solidarity on Kosovo’, edited transcript of interview given to BBC Television, Friday 21 May 1999 and ‘Cook and Albright Reaffirm Alliance Unity’, edited transcript of interview given to CNN, 20 May 1999, available online at http:// www.fco.gov.uk/news. See TRADOC, Shape the Battlespace, 26 September 1995, p. 1 for quote, italics added; Lieutenant Colonel Jeff Duncan and Major Charles Hansrote, Doctrine Note: A New Paradigm for Combat Operations, 7 July 1995, p. 1 for quote. Both papers available online at http://www.-cgs.army. mil/cdd/papers. They were written in the context with the US ‘Force XXI’ project. The debate on the relationship

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82

83

84 85

86

between air and land power reemerged after the Gulf War. See Benjamin S.Lambeth, ‘The Technology Revolution in Air Warfare’, Survival, 39:1 (1997), pp. 66, 74. ‘Estimate on Deployment—COY GP Deployment to Srebrenica, BH’ not dated, provided by the Lester B.Pearson Peacekeeping Centre, Canada. Information in the report suggests that it was being written between 12 and 16 April 1993. ‘Rapid Reaction Force takes its time’, The Daily Telegraph, 18 July 1995; ‘Elite forces to form joint Rapid Deployment Unit’, The Guardian, 17 October 1995; ‘Force beset by problems called home from Bosnia’, The Daily Telegraph, 6 October 1995. Tim Ripley, Operation Deliberate Force (Lancaster: CDISS, 1999), pp. 47–9. See Wolfgang Biermann and Martin Vadset ‘After Dayton: Writing off the UN’, Biermann and Vadset, UN Peacekeeping in Trouble, pp. 355–69; Torunn Laugen, Stumbling Into a New Role: NATO’s Out-of-Area Policy after the Cold War (Oslo: IFS, 1999), pp. 62–87. Pauline Neville Jones, ‘Dayton, IFOR and Alliance Relations in Bosnia’, Survival, 38:4 (1996–7), p. 63.

4 NATO 1991–9 Strategy and doctrine

In the autumn of 1991, negotiations on the new Strategic Concept of the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation (NATO) went into their final stage. Simultaneously, NATO conducted exercise ‘Certain Shield’ on the German plains. This largely computer-simulated exercise was based on a scenario with a generic enemy, and was essentially an exercise in great tank battles, which resulted in 700,000 computer-simulated casualties in one week. NATO commanders justified the exercise on the grounds that this kind of warfare posed the greatest challenge to allied tacticians. Furthermore, the exercise was the first experiment with multinational formations below the divisional level. When asked, high-ranking officers rejected the idea that NATO divisions could intervene in Yugoslavia, even if there was political will to do so, because of logistic shortcomings.1Eight years later, NATO experienced severe problems in mounting a force of 50,000 troops to stop a civil war in Kosovo. This illustrates both the differences between the ‘old’ and ‘new’ NATO and the problems of adjusting the strategy of the Alliance to the new environment. A common conclusion drawn as the Cold War ended was that NATO’s rationale had withered away, that its future was uncertain and that the organisation had to go through profound changes if it were to survive. The relevance of the military means at disposal for the kinds of conflicts, civil wars and ‘brush fires’ likely to dominate Europe in the future was questioned.2 In 1994, an analyst stated that ‘NATO is dead. The corpse is twitching, but there is no life in it.’3 However, state leaders and governments in the Alliance embarked on what is often referred to as ‘the transformation process’ of NATO. This process has several dimensions and aspects. A list would include the issue of enlargement; the out-of-area question, including NATO’s role in crisis management and peacekeeping; the relationship with Russia; the transatlantic relationship; and downscaling and reform of NATO’s military command structure as well as the national contributions to NATO’s total force structure in times of crisis and war. From 1993, former Warsaw Treaty Organisation (WTO) members and former neutral states approached NATO for a relationship with and membership in the world’s potentially most powerful military alliance. With the apparent success of the Implementation Force (IFOR) and Stabilisation Force

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(SFOR) operations in Bosnia from 1995 onwards, NATO’s attractiveness was reinforced and the pessimism of the early 1990s was put to shame. The strategic concept, 1991 In November 1991 NATO adopted a new strategic concept which replaced the almost 25-year-old Military Committee (MC) 14/3. The radical changes that took place in the former Warsaw Pact countries made it paramount to develop a more timely strategy. Internally there had been ‘a widespread sense of need for a fundamental review of NATO’s basic strategy in order to revalidate it or revise it if necessary’.4 But there had also been resistance against starting a process that might have grave consequences for Alliance solidarity. The new strategic concept was probably developed too early for radical change to take place, and, as observed, changes ‘occurred too rapidly for NATO officials to absorb their meaning, much less prescribe a definitive policy for dealing with them’.5 There was grave disagreement within the Alliance throughout the drafting process. As noted by one observer, there had been no more divisive subject than the out-ofarea question throughout NATO’s history and the problem was likely to become bigger with the changes that were occurring in the late 1980s.6 Only once, during the Cyprus crisis in the 1960s, had there been serious discussion on whether NATO should be a peacekeeper.7 With the end of the Cold War and the wars in the Balkans, this issue again appeared on the agenda. There was a clear rift between the United States (US) and the United Kingdom (UK), on the one hand, and the other Europeans, on the other, on the out-of-area role of NATO. Among those who advocated a NATO out-of-area role was the British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, stating already in 1990 that there was to be ‘no place in the future for an inward-looking NATO’.8 A US and UK proposal to include a sentence suggesting that NATO infrastructure could be made available to members contributing forces to United Nations (UN) peacekeeping operations outside the NATO area was left out of the final version. The Supreme Allied Commander Europe (SACEUR) argued at the time of the signing of the new Concept that the new reaction forces ensured capabilities for crisis management and peacekeeping.9 However, with reference to peacekeeping, the Concept merely stated that ‘Allies could […] be called upon to contribute to global stability and peace by providing forces for United Nations missions.’10 Individual NATO members in numerous peacekeeping missions had actually provided such support during the Cold War and as late as during the Gulf War, and thus the new Strategic Concept did not reflect any new decision or course in this respect. The Gulf War is instructive with regards to the emerging Article 5 problem of the Alliance, as there were two weeks of debate in the North Atlantic Council (NAC) on whether an Iraqi retaliatory attack was to be covered by Article 5 as requested by Turkey. Some members argued that Article 5 was geared specifically against the Soviet Union and that it did not encompass cases of

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‘provoked attack’. In the end, consensus on deployment of Allied Command Europe Mobile Force (AMF)/Air to Turkey was obtained.11 Article 5 of the Washington Treaty stipulates that an attack on one Ally is an attack on all, but it does not follow that solidarity is automatic, as each member is free to decide on the appropriate measure to be taken. Thus, sovereignty is preserved. Moreover, Article 5 presupposes external aggression against members of the Alliance. However, it does not refer explicitly to territorial defence, although this has been the most common interpretation of it. Article 6 is normally seen as describing the geographical boundaries of the commitment expressed in Article 5. Article 12 states that the Treaty can be revised ten years after it had been signed ‘or at any time thereafter’ so that the allies could ‘consult together for the purpose of reviewing the Treaty, having regard for the factors then affecting peace and security’.12 NATO’s Secretary-General Manfred Wörner argued that the shift in Allied strategy represented ‘the most radical’ change in thinking since 1949 prior to the signing of the Strategic Concept.13 Wörner had argued publicly that the Treaty did not have to be amended in order to allow NATO to adopt an out-of-area role.14 NATO bureaucrats publicly expressed frustration over the lack of commitment to the out-of-area role by NATO governments.15 A senior NATO official stated that ‘if the Alliance is to survive as an effective collective military organisation […] the Allies will have to be prepared to consider the use of their forces in the interest of maintaining freedom and democracy, at least throughout Europe’.16 The main concern expressed in the 1991 Strategic Concept was still the Soviet Union and the other former WTO countries. Despite the declaration that ‘the political division of Europe […] was overcome’ and further that ‘the monolithic, massive and potentially immediate threat which was the principal concern of the Alliance in its first forty years has disappeared’.17 There was no longer any ‘threat of a simultaneous full-scale attack on all of NATO’s European fronts’ and such a scenario was no longer to be the focus for Alliance strategy. The new focus of the Alliance was the unpredictability and instability of the new security environment. The strategy acknowledged that […] risks to Allied security are less likely to result from calculated aggression against the territory of the Allies, but rather from the adverse consequences of instabilities that may arise from the serious economic, social and political difficulties, including ethnic rivalries and territorial disputes, which are faced by many countries in Central and Eastern Europe. Such disputes and conflicts would not directly threaten the security of Alliance members, but could lead to a crisis that could spill over into NATO countries. The security understanding within NATO thus acknowledged the linkage between the security of NATO and stability within neighbouring regions and states. Instability in the new and fragile democracies in Central and Eastern

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Europe could threaten the security of individual Alliance members as well as European stability and security. However, this view was not adopted in the security understanding underpinning Article 5 of the North Atlantic Treaty unless it manifested itself in concrete and overt ‘aggression’. The Concept continued to stress the capabilities of the armed forces in the Soviet Union. The problem was, as expressed in the Concept, that major war, although unlikely, could not be ruled out. The conclusion of this first section was, first, that the fundamental purpose of the Alliance was of enduring validity, thus no change was required, and second, that the Alliance was to adopt a’broad approach to security’. Thus, ‘the spectrum of aggression’, the term used in MC 14/3,18 was replaced with the new perspectives of spectrum of risks, crises and conflicts. However, the process in which the rationale of the Alliance was to be divided into Article 5 and non-Article 5 components had been initiated. The most predominant feature of the new strategic concept was the emphasis on NATO’s political role and on dialogue. NATO’s political role and the relationship between the Alliance and former WTO states, as it later developed through the North Atlantic Cooperation Council (NACC) and Partnership for Peace (PfP), are certainly signs of a new NATO. The political aspects of the new strategy were given more attention than the military aspects of defence. Thus, ‘dialogue’, a central component of MC 14/ 3, was supplemented with ‘cooperation’ in formalised institutions (NACC and PfP) and later integration with former enemies through ‘enlargement’. Even though there are clear signs of political changes in the 1991 Strategic Concept, it did not articulate any lasting convincing new role for the Alliance’s military apparatus, as it avoided the emerging out-of-area question. To the contrary, it can be argued that the continued relevance of dialogue and the focus on limited, regional conflict were two elements of continuity with MC 14/3. The point made about radical change was, to an extent, only rhetoric. The Concept distinguished between peace, crisis and war and gave the Alliance a ‘crisis management role’, defined by close political control over military means. Its main focus was the security of the Alliance members, measured most of all in territorial terms. To ‘defend frontiers and to stop an aggressor’s advance as far forward as possible’ was to continue to be the main role of the military forces of Alliance members.19 Thus the Concept stressed the continued relevance of forward border defence, territorial security and the existing force structure of the Alliance. In spite of the above-mentioned acknowledgement that calculated aggression against the Alliance was unlikely, the strategy prescribed in the Concept was predominantly one of classical deterrence and defence against classical, albeit geographically and politically limited, aggression in which there is an enemy that can be defined as aggressor. The scenario of limited conflict gave room for downscaling of command-and-force structure. In the future, crisis management would mean that NATO would reinforce regions or member countries exposed to a threat.

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The label of ‘crisis management’ was of course not new to NATO. Military reinforcement plans and deterrent operations in a classical interstate warfare scenario had been central to NATO’s Cold War crisis management of deterrence. This is the original aspect of the concept of ‘crisis management’ devised for situations like the Cuban missile crisis. Arguably the meaning of the crisis- management role of NATO in the 1991 Strategic Concept was firmly within this traditional framework of Article 5.20 Instability in former communist states could lead to resurgence of hostile regimes and aggression against parts of NATO territory, which could then be deterred by deploying reinforcements to the exposed region. This is the scenario that the Strategic Concept was intended for. If things went wrong, the Soviet Union could return to Communism and a hostile posture, trying to regain control over the former empire and possibly expand beyond it. Thus, NATO would be a guarantee against potential threats that could occur if the process of change in the Eastern bloc went wrong. The other aspect, the non-Article 5 version of NATO’s crisis management role, developed over time and was to encompass conflicts that break out beyond the territory of the Allies themselves and when the aggression at hand is not directed against the Allies. Against the background of the situation in the Balkans, the Defence Planning Committee (DPC) decided in 1993 that the concept of ‘crisis management’ should refer both to Article 5 and non-Article 5 scenarios and this concept became the political linkage to the peacekeeping, later expanded to the peace support operations (PSO) role of NATO.21 Crisis management was a political framework for NATO’s role in out-of-area operations, for instance in interventions and PSO. This form of crisis management differed from the intellectual underpinnings of the crisis management mode developed for the Cold War, as it was a framework for the actual use of military power for the purpose of terminating conflicts involving states and non-state actors outside NATO territory. This role was thus different from deterrence, since any strategy would have to recognise that NATO intervention would affect the relationship between the belligerents on the ground. This form of ‘crisis management’ was therefore more complex than Cold War deterrence. Crisis management thus got an ambiguous and dual meaning; it came to establish a framework for both mobilisation and reinforcements, in order to provide deterrence, and, if necessary, military campaigns in defence of NATO territory. The insistence that the references made to ‘crisis management’ in the 1991 Concept was the framework for NATO’s PSO role remained so strong within NATO headquarters (HQ) that even after 1999, as the ‘crisis’ in Bosnia had been eased significantly and a new Strategic Concept was in place, NATO officers still referred to its ongoing SFOR operation as a ‘crisis management operation’.22 The conflicts in the Balkans came to challenge the traditional concept of defence in three ways. First of all, such scenarios fall beyond the traditional interpretation of ‘self defence’ and Article 5 of the North Atlantic Treaty. As pointed out above, the main focus of NATO was territorial security, presupposing aggression directed against the Alliance. Without any

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reconsideration of Article 5 against the new strategic environment and against the declared new role of NATO, such conflicts did not fit into a classification of defence against aggression. Internal conflicts cannot be ‘managed’ militarily without actually going there. ‘Ethnic cleansing’ cannot be stopped without moving into the politically controversial realm of ‘out-of-area’ deployments of military power. Second, the new conflicts challenged the solidarity assumed to underpin Article 5. Whether these crises threatened the security of Alliance members is a matter of interpretation influenced by geostrategy, the nature of allied interests and the nature of the conflict. However, the problems arising from civil wars, with flows of refugees and immigrants, free areas for organised crime and even terrorism, the economic consequences and not to mention the moral problems such conflict raise, are indeed a security problem, perhaps not for individual states but arguably for European security as a whole.23 Third, the complex operational environment of the new conflicts clearly differed from the assumed environment of classical defence. In these conflicts NATO had no enemy: there were only parties, and NATO’s strategic actions would affect the relationship between these. While threats to intervene could deter one party, it could in fact encourage others to take advantage of NATO’s action. Furthermore, the task of terminating conflict and providing peace and stability was complex, with humanitarian, economic, political and military elements. NATO possesses only military means and was thus dependent on cooperation with other international institutions and the non-governmental organisation (NGO) sector. On the other hand, the nature of military capabilities required for PSO undertaken outside the framework of Article 5, was not that different from those required for handling regional Article 5 challenges. PSO would have many things in common with limited conflict under Article 5. The Chairman of the Military Committee (MC) pointed out three differences between the two. First, non-Article 5 operations would be voluntary to members. Second, non-members would most probably be integrated into such operations and third, PSO would require ‘additional logistic, engineering and communications support’.24 Of the three, the first was political, the latter two were by and large operational. In terms of NATO force structure, the two tasks were not that different. Militarily, the difference in requirements for NATO’s two roles was played down. Defence of NATO was gradually thought of as regional defence. Both PSO and regional Article 5 scenarios would require deployable troops so that NATO could reinforce threatened regions and, politically, both scenarios would test NATO cohesion. With reference to the PSO debate, it has been commented that the real problem was not the amount of firepower available, but rather political doubts about interventions.25 There are several reasons why there was no consensus on a peacekeeping role for NATO in the Concept. First of all, the question was undoubtedly linked to the disputes on the ‘out-of-area’ issue of the Cold War shaped by unease among Allies about being pulled into undesired conflicts.26

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Second, there were different perceptions on the emerging division of labour across the Atlantic. France, with some support, blocked an out-of-area decision, seeing this as something that should be done primarily by Europeans outside the NATO framework or, more precisely, without the Americans.27 As one US congressional report from 1991 stated: ‘French participation complicates the search for allied consensus in the review while at the same time increasing the potential importance of the outcome’. In the coming years, France became more ready to accept closer ties with NATO. This shift in policy was motivated out of a desire to forward French interests in the adaptation process and by an increased interest in NATO, largely caused by the IFOR operation in Bosnia.28 Other members, such as Germany, Norway and Turkey, were among those bent on preserving NATO as a guarantee against a potential threat from Russia. These members had to balance their policies between the desires to keep the ‘old’ NATO intact and the need for not challenging the US. After the Western European Union (WEU) adopted the so-called ‘Petersberg tasks’, a distinction was often made between peacekeeping and defence. The WEU, and later the European Union (EU), could do peacekeeping, while defence was to remain the responsibility of NATO.29 Third, an out-of-area strategy could have caused damage to NATO’s relations with the Soviet Union, later Russia. Although, with the benefit of hindsight, it may seem that NATO was too conservative in the early 1990s with respect to interventions outside NATO territory, there were also plausible reasons for displaying some degree of reluctance. NATO leaders had to be careful not to leave the impression that a shift in strategy implicitly meant a more ‘offensive’ NATO. The potential offensive-defensive dilemma was attempted to be circumscribed as ‘not action, but reaction’ by NATO’s top military commander. But few NATO leaders, except those in the US and the UK, would express anything that could indicate NATO operations beyond the frontiers of member states in the Strategic Concept.30 A too-explicit out-of-area strategy could have been misinterpreted by non-members and could have created an image of NATO as an alliance with aggressive ambitions. This could have confirmed the existing image within former Communist countries. In the fragile situation in Eastern Europe and in the former Soviet Union, this could have given powerful ammunition to reactionary forces. Fourth, it can be questioned whether such a strategy would have enjoyed domestic support in NATO countries. Indeed, there were many reasons explaining the disagreement on the ‘out-of-area’ issue. However, with no enemy at hand and instability in the Balkans, NATO could not resist this challenge for long. The new strategic concept gave the so-called reaction forces an important function in crisis management. The new strategic concept divided NATO’s force structure into Reaction, Main Defence and Augmentation forces, while the old MC 48/3 made references to ‘Immediate Reaction and Reinforcement Forces’ and ‘Mobilisation and Force Expansion’ capability.31 The discussion on and

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attention to these reaction forces had actually been under way for some time before the signing of the Strategic Concept. The concern for rapid reaction capability was raised by the military and stemmed originally not from a reduced Soviet threat, but rather from an increased Soviet military build-up and presence and thus an assumed threat to NATO’s flanks in the late 1980s.32 In order to cope with this potential Soviet threat in the flanks, a concept for reaction forces was developed by the military leadership of NATO. The idea was that such reaction forces could be deployed to support and reinforce local mobilisation forces. The military force structure was adopted by the MC and later by the NAC approximately six and four months before the new strategic concept. Thus, the strategy review was conducted ‘upside down’ by first determining the force structure, then developing a strategy and finally ‘searching for a new threat which fit both’.33 As a result, NATO lived through the 1990s with a Strategic Concept somewhat inappropriate for the new strategic situation. The concept referred to the Soviet Union, a state that ceased to exist less than two months after the NATO strategy had been adopted. The Alliance engaged in PSO in Bosnia without the Strategic Concept making any reference to this role, and finally, a month or so before the Concept was replaced in 1999, NATO went to war over Kosovo without a UN mandate. The statement of the 1991 strategy that NATO ‘is purely defensive in purpose; none of its weapons will ever be used except in self-defence’ was thus made somewhat dubious and NATO’s role in peacekeeping had been transformed into fighting a war outside the NATO area. NATO could have claimed that the campaign in Kosovo indeed was defence, in accordance with the new security logic of the Alliance. But this claim was never made. When going outof-area, the Alliance did so without deciding as an Alliance what defence and war was in the new security environment, being torn between the realities of the past, differing interpretations of the present and the uncertainty of the future. Incremental steps towards peacekeeping With these shortcomings of the Strategic Concept, the necessary changes had to be carried out gradually during the regular meetings of representatives of NATO governments. In May 1992, the NAC stated that the Alliance ‘would be prepared to consider ways in which resources and expertise within the Alliance might, if it so decided, be made available for CSCE [Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe] peacekeeping activities’.34 This was the first mentioning of anything related to a NATO role in peacekeeping in a publicly available NATO document. Just a week later NATO Foreign Ministers warned of ‘unbridled nationalism and attempts to resolve disputes by violence’ in the former Yugoslavia and in the Caucasus. They went on expressing support for the decision to declare the CSCE a regional organisation, and stated that NATO was ‘prepared to support, on a case-by-case basis in accordance with our own procedures, peacekeeping activities under the responsibility of the CSCE,

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including by making available Alliance resources and expertise’.35 This formulation is generally regarded as the beginning of NATO’s role in PSO. The decision to support Organisation for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE) operations, while leaving possible support for UN equivalents open, had a serious implication. Under the UN Charter, regional organisations are not allowed to initiate any kind of enforcement actions without a UN Security Council resolution. Thus, Alliance support for peacekeeping activities under the OSCE umbrella meant that NATO restricted its future to essentially nonenforcement operations.36 This could hardly be a relevant and sufficient rationale for the world’s most capable and potentially powerful military alliance. In December 1992, the NAC issued a new statement saying that NATO was prepared ‘to support, on a case-by-case basis and in accordance with our own procedures, peacekeeping operations under the authority of the UN Security Council, which has the primary responsibility for international peace and security’ and further that NATO was prepared to assist ‘the implementation of UN Security Council resolutions’ if requested to do so by the UN.37 Only weeks after the Oslo meeting, NATO launched ‘Operation Sharp Monitor’ in support of UN Security Council Resolutions 713 and 757, monitoring the embargo against Serbia and Montenegro. These were NATO’s first out-of-area experiences in which the newly established Standing Naval Forces Mediterranean (STANAVFORMED) played the key role. NATO also supplied airborne warning and control systems (AWACS) and air power as well as a HQ for the United Nations Protection Force (UNPROFOR) in Bosnia. Between 1992 and 1995 NATO became the coercive arm of the international community’s responses to the wars in the Balkans, in particular to the war in Bosnia. This incremental way of reforming the Alliance primarily through specific responses to distinct crises was to become the way ahead for NATO in the 1990s. Peacekeeping was an ‘ad hoc’ activity. Even on specific, military issues, as for instance ways to utilise NATO air assets in Bosnia, policy was driven by events. Within a year from the Brussels communiqué, NATO moved from monitoring and then enforcing the ‘no-fly zone’ over the former Yugoslavia, via ‘close air support’ in defence of UNPROFOR personnel on the ground, to the more offensive or strategic ‘air strikes’ as coercive measures.38 Planning was undertaken for a number of potential scenarios depending on developments in Bosnia. In 1995 NATO devoted most attention to planning for a possible NATO support for extraction of UN forces, OPPLAN 40–104.39 By the end of 1995 NATO had conducted an air campaign, ‘Deliberate Force’, against the Bosnian Serbs parallel to the Croatian-Bosnian ground offensive ‘Operation Storm’, and taken responsibility for the subsequent Chapter VII UN mandated Implementation Force (IFOR), later labelled Stabilisation Force (SFOR), resulting from the Dayton Agreement. Bombing of Bosnian Serbs started in part out of anger over the shelling of a Sarajevo market place, without any clear vision of an end state, contrary to standard military logic. The objective was

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[…] to reduce the threat to the Sarajevo Safe Area and to deter further attacks there or on any other Safe Area. We hope that this operation will also demonstrate to the Bosnian Serbs the futility of further military actions and convince all parties of the determination of the Alliance to implement its decisions. We call upon all parties to exercise restraint. No one should seek military benefit from our action.40 According to Holbrook, there was wide disagreement between political leaders and diplomats and outright opposition to bombing from military commanders out of concern for the safety of their personnel. The lack of coordination between diplomatic and military means was frustrating.41 That this short and limited air campaign, coupled with the Croatian offensive that benefitted from NATO bombing, contrary to the stated objective of the NAC, would result in a comprehensive peace agreement and a deployment of 60,000 NATO soldiers was far from clear. Nor had an official political objective been announced as the bombing started. Also, when IFOR took over responsibility, NATO declared only limited intentions: ‘NATO will not be imposing a settlement, but will take the necessary action to ensure compliance.’42 The original intention was to finish the Bosnia mission in 12 months. However, NATO troops could enter Bosnia and carry out their mission unopposed. For the military it was important to demonstrate the difference between UNPROFOR and IFOR: in seven days, 20 Serb and 20 Bosnian positions were closed and destroyed and 322 illegal checkpoints shut down.43 IFOR implemented its mandate unchallenged, while showing restraint and sometimes shying away from using force when faced with problems. The problem of prescribing a strategy repeated itself with the crisis in Kosovo during 1998. Initially, NATO avoided any statements that could be interpreted as support to the KLA. NAC condemned ‘terrorist acts’ and rejected ‘all use of violence, either by state security forces to suppress political dissent or by terrorist groups to seek political change’.44 NATO had built its strategy on outof-area issues on the concept of PSO, which was supposed to be defined by impartiality. According to one NATO official, the Kosovo crisis was handled in NATO under the heading of ‘conflict prevention’, a sub-task of PSO, as late as October 1998. Within NATO HQ, a small core of the International Military Staff (IMS) had carried out contingency planning for 15–20 scenarios in the summer of 1998.45 Planning for the use of military power had also been conducted since June 1998, both within NATO HQ and by Supreme Headquarters Allied Powers Europe (SHAPE), and unilaterally by the US military. One plan intended to hit the Serbs hard right from the beginning; the other, which in the end came to form the basis for ‘Allied Force’ (CONOPLAN 10601), was more gradual. Both of these plans relied on air power alone. A third and secret plan for a massive ground invasion (Plan ‘B-minus’) by some 300,000 troops was also developed.46 NATO first threatened to use air power in October 1998 in order to force the Serb leadership to sign a peace deal and to allow the unarmed OSCE observers to

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enter Kosovo and monitor compliance. Then, in March 1999, operation NATO launched ‘Allied Force’ without a specific UN Resolution explicitly sanctioning the use of force. This in reality settled the most sensitive issue in the new Strategic Concept under development regarding the requirement for a UN mandate for NATO ‘out-of-area’ actions. On two occasions NATO stated publicly the objectives of the campaign, demanding a stop to disproportionate use of force by Serb forces, by and large based on the Rambouillet agreement, without addressing the issue of the status of Kosovo. On both occasions NATO claimed that it was not waging a war against Yugoslavia or against the Yugoslav people. The political objective was ‘a peaceful, multi-ethnic and democratic Kosovo in which all people can live in security and enjoy universal human rights and freedoms on equal basis’.47 ‘Not really a war’ The point about NATO not being involved in a war was an important one, since it was repeated so often. War may be a politically unacceptable concept and may cause so much controversy that this alone could explain why it was avoided. Vaclav Havel argued that by fighting this war NATO had given ‘human rights precedence over the rights of states’; it was a humanitarian and ethical war.48 Thus war was given a positive spin. One may interpret NATO statements as a way of signalling limited intentions. On the other hand, ‘Allied Force’ did not fit into the concept of PSO either, as NATO documents defined PSO as impartial actions authorised by the UN. So, if it was not war and not PSO, NATO had to come up with a new concept, something that the Alliance did not do other than calling it ‘the air campaign’. However, there are other reasons why this was not regarded as a proper war. In the aftermath of NATO’s air campaign over Kosovo, the principal military commander of the campaign labelled the operation variously as ‘not really a war’, ‘modern war’, ‘limited war’ and ‘coercive diplomacy’. According to General Clark, the air operation over Kosovo violated all known principles of war, but it was a modern war because it was so politically controlled.49 Also, it was stressed that military means supported political objectives. The latter point was used in a way that supported the first: the preeminence of the political aspects of the campaign was per se an explanation why this was not a war. The degree by which policy controlled military means made it into something different from war. Because the operation did not meet the ‘normal’ conditions attributed to war, it became something else. However, it is difficult to see that this aspect alone justifies the argument that the campaign constituted something different than war. As it has been commonly held wisdom that war is a servant of policy for quite a while, NATO statements made during the campaign are more confusing than clarifying. On the other hand, it would be simplistic to call NATO’s crisis behaviour ‘aggression’. NATO was reactive and aimed at a settlement and came to involve territorial control over Kosovo by the Kosovo Force (KFOR), but the

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aim was not territorial or other gains. This does not mean that there were no interests involved. NATO’s credibility was at stake and this was also an internal struggle about the roles, priorities, procedures and principles of the Alliance. Crisis management was thus an arena for a power struggle between members, in addition to being a struggle between NATO and Slobodan Milosevic. As argued by Adam Roberts, NATO did not act out of altruism or concern for humanity alone, but this was an important reason why NATO acted at all.50 NATO policy with regards to out-of-area issues and PSO was non-existent prior to the involvement in the Yugoslav conflict and policy was mainly driven by a particular crisis as a response to the need of ‘doing something’. Whereas this may seem highly reasonable, it also meant that NATO lacked the overall political framework and guidance for how to deal with these tasks and how to adapt its structures in order to meet these challenges. In 1993, policy documents referred to ‘defence’ and ‘peacekeeping’; in 1994, to ‘defence’ and ‘new roles’; and in 1995 the NAC formally divided NATO’s roles into ‘Article 5’ and ‘nonArticle 5’ operations.51 However, both Bosnia and Kosovo revealed weaknesses both with regards to the political—military decision-making machinery and in the military capability of the Europeans, as well as domestic doubts and outright opposition to bombing in some member states. The strategy of relying on air power alone, let alone doing so publicly, was also much debated as it was a strategy developed against military advice and general wisdom. On the other hand, it should be pointed out that there was no clear and unified military recommendation. Perceptions differed between army and air officers. However, the way in which air power was used was seen to run contrary to military advice. The sense of the critique of the Alliance crisis management strategy can be felt by reviewing book titles and titles of articles: it was described as ‘a perfect failure’, ‘an ugly war’ and ‘an empty victory’. NATO’s ground commander claimed publicly that NATO’s decision-making machinery was still stuck in the Cold War and not up to the job.52 The force, later to be known as KFOR, was sent to Macedonia without a mandate, mission funding or command arrangements in place. Former MC Chairman General Naumann described NATO’s crisis management procedures as flawed and stressed the need to improve ‘procedures between the alliance’s military and political branches’.53 The MC of NATO had been sidelined during the Kosovo campaign.54 In the words of a British officer, the military doctrines of NATO were out of step with the political reality of the military Alliance.55 The major lesson learned in the US was that ‘war by committee’ complicated decision-making to a degree that it was eventually impossible to rely on NATO again. Internally, a number of steps were taken to improve NATO’s procedures after Kosovo; peacekeeping documents and rules of engagement (ROEs) were updated and finally approved, the operational planning system revised, the catalogue of military scenarios updated, as well as the precautionary system together with new procedures for crisis response planning.

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The Kosovo conflict provided an important input to the process of developing a new Strategic Concept, the second in eight years. The main controversy within the Alliance, as the Washington summit came closer, was what role the ‘new’ conflict management and peace support operations should have in the adaptation of the internal structures of the Alliance and what formula the Concept should include on the relationship between NATO and the UN on authorising out-ofarea missions. There was no longer any severe resistance within the Alliance against engaging in PSO and even occasional out-of-area operations. The main rift was between those members who felt discomfort with using force and those who were ready to do so, and the question of the need for UN authorisation. Second, there was disagreement on what priority these ‘new’ tasks should take and to what extent they should determine the force structure of the members.56 The distinction between ‘Article 5’ and ‘non-Article 5’ operations in military terms was not that dramatic and, given that NATO should primarily play a role in more robust PSO, there was not necessarily any contradiction between warfighting and PSO capability at the outset. However, General Clark voiced some concern. The military competence of the armed forces in NATO countries should not be lost due to ‘fiscal starvation’ and ‘the pursuit of the current preoccupation with peacekeeping. For however relevant and important these skills are today, they are no more than subsets of the fundamental war-fighting skills on which NATO’s pledge of collective defence ultimately must rest.’57 Arguably, those who supported NATO’s role in PSO did so more out of concern for the ‘out-ofarea issue’ than for a particular support for the softer strategy of PSO. Strategic Concept 1999 As the 1991 Concept was surpassed by events soon after its approval, major NATO decisions were taken gradually. After 1996, the discrepancy between NATO’s formal strategy and the realities of what the Alliance was doing became palpable. Whereas suggestions had been made that the Concept needed revision, all did not welcome this. Eventually, at the Madrid Summit in 1997, it was decided to update the Concept. The first draft was ready in September 1998, but the disagreements within the Alliance about the final text were not over until ‘the morning of the [Washington] summit’.58 The new Strategic Concept is not a revolutionary document.59 Large parts are identical to the preceding Concept or reflect statements and decisions made in the years between 1991 and 1999. These have simply been incorporated into the document. In part, this renewal is a matter of carefully chosen words. For instance, ‘guidelines for defence’ has been transformed into ‘guidelines for the Alliance’s forces’; ‘preserving peace’ is now ‘protecting peace’; and while the old concept stated that the mission of NATO forces was to defend NATO countries’ frontiers, the first sentence in the new text under this section is: ‘The Allies will maintain the necessary military capabilities to accomplish the full range of Alliance missions.’60 One of the core functions of the 1991 Concept, to

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preserve the strategic balance in Europe’, is left out in the latest version. With the WTO and the former Soviet Union out of business the task was not sensible, as the mere existence of NATO is a source of strategic imbalance both regionally and globally.61 Several passages in the new Strategic Concept underline that NATO is to continue to take a more all-encompassing view on security: ‘The Alliance does not seek […]benefits for its members alone, but is committed to the creation of conditions conducive to increased partnership, cooperation and dialogue with others who share its broad political objectives’. NATO is determined ‘to shape its security environment and to enhance the peace and stability of the [not in the] Euro-Atlantic area.’62 The Concept maintained the distinction between Article 5 and non-Article 5. However, the new tasks of ‘crisis management’ and ‘crisis response operations’ (CRO) are given a high profile in the document. Crisis management and partnership with non-members are tasks included among NATO’s ‘fundamental security tasks’, albeit at the bottom of the list. Crisis management and CRO are referred to 25 times; PSO is mentioned twice and peacekeeping only once. The term ‘crisis response operations’ first appeared in December 1998 after the Foreign Ministers’ meeting of the NAC, as the Kosovo crisis emerged.63 It can be argued that the function of the CRO formula is to be a political framework for NATO operations that give more flexibility than the concept of PSO did. The term ‘crisis response operations’ gives greater flexibility as a framework for military actions which are compatible neither with traditional Article 5 operations, nor the principles of PSO which have in the past been regarded a label for UN- or OSCE-sanctioned military operations. ‘Operation Allied Force’ might be an example of such CROs. It is also possible that CROs will primarily be carried out with Allies only, while PSO remain open to partners because, as the Concept states, partners will be valuable in PSO. With the security logic within the Alliance based on concepts like ‘shared security’ and ‘indivisible security’, it could be argued that the concept of defence should be redrawn. As Gow has pointed out, this has not happened.64 The war over Kosovo could have been included as an Article 5 case of defence, if all members had accepted the consequences that flow from NATO’s security logic of stability and human security. Therefore, it can be argued that there is a degree of discrepancy between the security logic of the Alliance and the concept of defence, related to Article 5. NATO ‘s out-of-area involvement has been based on the idea of preventing non-Article 5 crises developing into Article 5 crises. This may be sound strategy, but the logic of dividing NATO’s role in this way is arguably less sound. Rather than strengthening the Article 5 role of the Alliance, making it relevant to the new challenges, NATO formalised its strategy into one element covered by mutual solidarity, with the other element being optional. Furthermore, this could strengthen the impression that there is little linkage between the two. However, within an Alliance based on consensus, this compromise was the limit of what was achievable and thus NATO had to develop a Strategic Concept as flexible as possible.

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With regard to the out-of-area issue, the new Concept gives greater flexibility. The Concept refers to areas ‘in and around the Euro-Atlantic area’. Also, instead of stating that one of NATO’s tasks is to deter and defend the territory of any member state, the new concept leaves ‘territory’ out and refers to Article 6 of the Washington Treaty instead. This article also includes defence of ‘forces, vessels, or aircraft’ of any of the members in any area of Europe. Furthermore, the Concept expressed concern over the possibility of ‘the disruption of the flow of vital resources’ and ‘terrorism’ and ‘organised crime’ as its predecessor did. In the US, in particular, the desire to develop NATO into a framework for transatlantic strategy for the Middle East region has been strong. ‘Oil’ is of course the key word of strategic importance of this region in particular. European members did not welcome US Secretary of State Madeleine Albright’s comment that NATO should develop into ‘a force for peace from the Middle East to Central Africa’.65 However, no clear geographical limitation was given to NATO’s future role in the Concept. The Concept stresses the need for capabilities for all missions and roles. The Concept also recognises that ‘some non-Article 5 crisis response operations may be as demanding as some collective defence missions’ and that the military structures must be developed to meet the entire spectrum of challenges. The forces must be prepared for the full range of missions, ‘sometimes at short notice, distant from their home stations, including beyond the Allies’ territory’.66 The Alliance force posture should be developed to reflect NATO’s commitment to both collective defence and CROs, and interoperability, readiness, deployability, doctrines and technology are factors given specific attention. Requirements more specific for the PSO experience of NATO, infrastructure, logistics and, most importantly, force rotation are also given weight.67 Also, it refers to the possibility of developing ‘a balance of roles and responsibilities among the Allies’.68 This may indicate a more integrated approach in which all Allies do not necessarily have to maintain all conventional capabilities. What impact such military integration will have on the nature of the Alliance over time remains to be seen. It could indeed transform the nature of the Alliance into a more integrated institution at the expense of national sovereignty and the principle of consensus. In 1999 it was still unclear how the Alliance would define Article 5 in the future. Technological developments, such as long-range missiles and weapons of mass destruction, could come to overshadow threats and risks measured in territorial terms. Another challenge is keeping control with illegal weapons trafficking, including smuggling of biological, chemical and nuclear material. The Strategic Concept acknowledged that proliferation of nuclear, biological and chemical (NBC) weapons is a threat to the security of the Alliance, and further that the Alliance will develop ‘the capability to address appropriately and effectively the risks associated with the proliferation of NBC-weapons’.69 NATO is still working to develop appropriate structures in order to deal with these threats. In 1999, it remained unclear how NATO would deal with aggressors

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possessing new technologies and strategies directed towards the Alliance. The scope of this book ends in 1999, but it should be mentioned that, as 11 September 2001 showed, challengers may not be state actors, but might be nonstate actors such as terrorist groups, operating from remote bases, seeking political or economic power and/or change through blackmail. The events of 11 September changed the content of Article 5 and added a new dimension to the defence thinking within the Alliance; and illustrated that Allies may be forced to intervene in another state because the state is either unwilling or incapable of controlling such non-state groups: in this case, terrorists. The intervention may take place far beyond Alliance territory in order to defend not only interests, but also their political integrity and the security of their populations. Whereas internal conflict in the Balkans was a non-Article 5 issue, Afghanistan exemplified that a ‘weak state’ could indeed be a true Article 5 problem. Command and force structure NATO as such does not have any forces in peacetime.70 NATO’s military asset is first of all an in-place command structure, its planning capability and the ability to develop force goals and the authority to request members to develop their national military forces in a special direction, coherent with NATO’s overall strategy and military concepts. National forces are put into NATO’s foreseen ‘order of battle’, but remain under national command and control until national governments decide to transfer this authority to NATO. Force planning in NATO has traditionally been a compromise of national policies and structures. Thus, NATO’s total needs have been subordinate to national needs. Heuser has commented that ‘as national forces, Belgian, Danish, Norwegian or Portuguese units are barely relevant. As standardized units of European armed forces they would collectively matter.’71 This is very much the core of NATO’s capabilities problem and remained so also during the 1990s. The changes in NATO’s command structure and force posture have followed three interrelated paths in the 1990s. The first has been reductions, the second multinationality and the third transformation. They became interrelated, as multinationality was very much a consequence of reductions, which again was necessary to achieve transformation. Multinationality was a way of preserving structures that would be hard to maintain from a purely national perspective. Reductions were necessary in order to finance modernisation programmes. Transformation was in part initiated by the military side due to the realisation that NATO was not sufficiently capable of deploying a command-and-control apparatus to Bosnia.72 However, up to 1997 ‘NATO’s transformation’ consisted mainly of changes in the command structure, and only from 1997, formalised through the Defence Capabilities Initiative (DCI) in 1999, did NATO start to deal seriously with its force structure. As the territorial understanding of defence had been maintained, there was no convincing argument for transformation.

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A central feature of the ‘new’ NATO and the so-called ‘transformation process’ was a command structure reduced by two-thirds and the focus on Combined Joint Task Forces (C JTF). As the Cold War ended, reductions in the command structure and force posture were logical. However, this process was time consuming and only in 1999 was consensus reached on a command structure reduction of two-thirds from 65 to 20 HQs.73 Cuts were also carried out in the force structure. According to NATO’s own figures of 1997, major combat land units had been cut by 35 per cent, major naval combat vessels had been cut by 32 per cent, and of the air forces, combat squadrons had been cut by 41 per cent. The proportion of forces on readiness below 30 days increased. However, the new missions required new kinds of troops, not simply fewer of the old ones. During most of the Cold War, the bulk of NATO conventional forces operated on a 2–30 days declared readiness basis.74 If traditional defence of NATO territory had been the only task of the Alliance, there would, in the 1990s, be no reason for maintaining almost any forces on readiness below 60 days.75 Thus, the ambiguous concept of ‘crisis management’ was to become the only rationale for so-called rapid reaction units during the 1990s. However, most of these military units were set up to fight on domestic or, at best, neighbouring soil. As one analyst commented in the late 1980s, NATO’s ‘military commands [were] not configured —either in command structure or military forces—for operations beyond the areas within which they now act’.76 Several years into the 1990s, after the US force reductions in Europe, 80 per cent of NATO forces still had local border defence as their primary mission.77 The Europeans together, while spending 69 per cent of what the US does on defence and while having some 2–2.5 million troops, were seemingly not able to deploy a force for a medium-size contingent. The transport capacity of the Europeans was less than 10 per cent of what the US possesses.78 The Bosnia and Kosovo experiences showed that PSO did not necessarily mean that one could simply take the existing Article 5 structures and use them in operations outside NATO territory: Bosnia shows that specific assets and training regimes are required. Ad hoc policies will not suffice if PSO operations become a regular feature. The Europeans face the task of configuring a portion of their military equipment (e.g. C4ISR systems), training them and supporting them.79 As late as in 1995, however, the NATO’s Enlargement Study stated that the ‘current force structures are based primarily on the requirements for collective defence’ but opened up for the possibility that this was likely to change soon.80 Even though NATO had nothing more than a vague policy for PSO in the early 1990s, such tasks were included in the force planning process in a limited form from 1994 and more substantially and explicitly from 1996. Officially NATO claimed that members were restructuring their forces ‘for smaller scale operations’ with ‘reduced emphasis on armoured warfare, smaller force

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structures […] increased proportion of professional forces, or the complete elimination of conscription in favour of all regular forces’.81 The increased emphasis on multinational forces within corps and divisional level was an important feature of the adaptation of NATO structures. Whereas there seems to be a general acceptance by allied governments that this is a sound development, there is limited acceptance for transferring authority on peacetime issues to NATO. These new NATO structures are in peacetime hampered by insufficient command-and-control procedures, so that commanders of multinational formations are not allowed to instruct or direct the training schedules of their formations.82 Standardisation in NATO has always been controversial and ambitions were never fully met.83 With the increased focus on multinationality, standardisation —not least in training and procedures— becomes even more important and requires a high degree of commitment between the participating nations. True multinational integration would require political changes that few European states have been ready to make and funding that few would provide. Because force planning has been carried out with a primacy on national concerns there is an imbalance in the total European force package. This is the primary problem of European defence: a political problem which needs political solutions. The alternative model, to focus on European defence needs as a whole, would increase interdependence and reduce national control. In short, it would challenge the very concept of sovereignty. With the continued emphasis on main defence forces and mobilisation units in the 1991 Concept, the bulk of NATO’s force structure was largely irrelevant to the emerging crises the Alliance was to deal with. Two initiatives that could alleviate these problems were the creation of the Allied Command Europe Rapid Reaction Corps (ARRC) and the Combined Joint Task Force (CJTF). The main body of the land reaction forces, set up from 1991, was to be the ARRC. This corps is in peacetime nothing more than a HQ with a nucleus of staff officers for planning and contingency purposes, which in an actual operation is intended to be capable of commanding up to four out of the ten divisions assigned a rapid reaction role.84 However, the authority of the Commander of the ARRC on peacetime issues such as training, structure and capabilities of these divisions is indeed limited. Important aspects of such a unit’s preparations are thus firmly under national control. The ARRC HQ became the number one peacekeeping tool of NATO in the 1990s but was designed primarily for warfighting purposes within Article 5 scenarios. The CJTF concept, initiated in 1993, was officially launched during the NATO Summit in January 1994. It grew out of the need for establishing ‘separable but not separate’ military structures with the WEU, the need for a structure that would enable the Alliance to launch contingency operations and for including non-NATO members in NATO-led operations with the PfP programme, but most importantly, the initiative was driven by the lack of HQs capable of conducting NATO-led operations in Bosnia. It was presented as ‘the solution’ to

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NATO’s challenge of forming a response ‘to the new realities of international security’.85 Initially, the primary role of the C JTFs was to conduct non-Article 5 operations, i.e. operations other than those in defence of traditional NATO territory.86 However, given that the role of reaction forces in crisis-management function within NATO territory also demands the same deployable capability, there is not necessarily any military contradiction between Article 5 and nonArticle 5 operations in this respect. The Allies have later accepted that the C JTFs should be flexible to meet all scenarios from warfighting to peacekeeping and equip NATO with a tool for ‘power projection’ for a broad range of purposes.87 By 1997 a directive for implementation of the CJTF concept was issued (MC 389) and a series of trials and exercises followed. The implementation directive included a small option of a CJTF of 3– 4,000 and a bigger option up to 40–50,000 troops. The CJTF became an essential component of the institutional hallmark of the so-called NATO transformation. The main principles for CJTFs were outlined by the IMS and SHAPE already in 1994 but the process of obtaining political consensus on the details and the implementation of the new command structure took some five years. Thus, the IFOR/SFOR operations, in principle and practice NATO’s first CJTF experience, were not to be named as such, due to political hesitancy regarding the political issues connected with it. In the spring of 1999, full implementation of the CJTF concept still remained to be finalised.88 The problem was that the forces to be under command of this new and flexible command structure did not follow the new focus on deployable HQs like the ARRC and, later on in the process, the CJTF. This meant that the defence policy of individual members, of course with exceptions,89 had not kept up with NATO’s adaptation. Up to the announcement of DCI 1999, this issue was not seriously dealt with in NATO. After Kosovo, the then retired Chairman of the MC stated: ‘Kosovo taught [us] that NATO’s force structure is in contrast to NATO’s integrated command structure no longer flexible enough to react quickly and decisively to unforeseen events.’90 NATO’s strength has been the inplace command and control apparatus, but in the 1990s it also became NATO’s weakness: the transformation process focused on HQs and too little on the troops they were supposed to command. Thus, the focus on the Allied force structure only began after Kosovo with the DCI initiative and Secretary General Robertson’s three priorities ‘capabilities, capabilities, capabilities.’91 DCI aimed at bringing the too large and partially outdated force structure of European NATO members more up to date. The US had pressed for such a modernisation programme and, in 1997, had proposed and pressed for’ force modernisation’ within the DPC. The 1996 DPC meeting had included a survey of individual members’ defence plans for the coming five years. It was divided into five areas: mobility and deployability; effective engagement; sustainability; survivability; and interoperable communications.92 The need for modernisation was reinforced by the American military dominance in the Kosovo crisis. NATO

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had, in 1995, accepted internal conflicts as a serious threat likely to shape the future. The ‘NATO Land Operations 2020’ study, completed by 1999, had used two scenarios for illuminating future conflicts: the first was a high-intensity war similar to the Gulf War, and the second was an asymmetric conflict in which nonstate actors were challenging a state or an intervention force.93 The rationale for the DCI was the new threats: ‘Today the most likely threats to Alliance security come from internal conflict in countries on Europe’s fringes, such as in the former Yugoslavia, or from proliferation of weapons of mass destruction.’94 Increasingly, intervention was seen as defence. Ten years after the decision of the London declaration to develop ‘new force plans consistent with the revolutionary changes in Europe’, NATO had some way to go before catching up with events.95 Again, the problem seemed to be political rather than military. The desire to maintain full, ‘national’ political control with military forces hampered the coordination and integration of both HQs and their preassigned sub-units. One analysis of NATO’s land formations concluded that: ‘what the Alliance has created in this wave of multinational enthusiasm is a number of bi-/multinational headquarters which are too strongly oriented towards main defence’ of which ‘some […] include subordinate units with different missions from their parent corps’.96 Doctrinal developments There are two reasons the issue of doctrine became important in the 1990s. First, doctrines came to supplement and even replace operational planning for specific scenarios. As the strategic environment changed, there was a greater need for conceptual and general thinking and approaches instead of a focus on concrete plans for concrete scenarios. Doctrine could form the basis for teaching and training. Secondly, the development of common NATO doctrines reflected greater emphasis on multinationality in force structure, which required, more than ever, a common language and understanding across national borders in order to enhance combat effectiveness. Doctrine, it was felt, could provide this. NATO doctrines have a somewhat vague status within the Alliance. Most doctrinal publications are ‘unclassified’ but still are not public documents. However, they are available in libraries of military colleges and national commands in the countries examined in this analysis. Information and insights into NATO’s doctrinal process have been obtained through visits to SHAPE and interviews with officers involved in doctrinal processes. The doctrinal work in NATO has been conducted by a dedicated group of officers (Allied Joint Doctrine Working Party).97 Doctrines are normally developed and approved by the Military Standardisation Agency within the IMS before being ratified by members. Without ratification, the documents have no real status. Throughout the 1990s NATO’s doctrine library has been expanded and updated on numerous occasions.

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The primary focus of NATO doctrines as they developed was the clear-cut war: traditional war. ‘Manoeuvre warfare’ and ‘operational art’ have gradually been implemented. From the early 1980s NATO military concepts were heavily influenced by the US ‘Air—Land Battle’ doctrine within the NATO framework of ‘forward defence’, formally adopted in 1984. A central purpose of this concept was to add depth to the Central European battlefield, ‘the pivotal arena of any East—West confrontation’,98 in order to avoid as far as possible using Germany as a theatre of operations. While this was politically sensitive during the Cold War, as it could be interpreted as too offensive, the concept was gradually to form the basis for NATO’s doctrinal thinking in the 1990s. The victory of the Coalition in the Gulf War in 1991 may have served to validate manoeuvre warfare doctrine as the most appropriate warfighting doctrine and inspired the doctrinal focus in NATO. In 1995 ‘manoeuvre warfare’ was formally adopted as the basis for NATO’s tactical doctrine, ATP-35(B), ratified in 1996.99 Later, this tactical doctrine was complemented by AJP-01, ‘Allied Joint Operations Doctrine’ for the operational level. The collection of doctrines was structured around standard operational and tactical doctrines with emphasis on traditional wars focusing on standard military principles, operational art and the logic of manoeuvre warfare, whereas smaller sections or even draft doctrines are devoted to PSO, operations other than war (OOTW) and CRO as additional publications. Later, NATO also developed a specific civil-military cooperation (CIMIC) doctrine.100However, some of the logic of NATO’s experience in PSO has spilled over onto the standard doctrines over time. Thus NATO’s operational doctrines have come to include issues like guidelines on CIMIC, ROEs and politico-military control over military operations. However, it can be argued that the doctrines do not deal with the dilemmas that result from increased political influence over military operations in NATO’s crisis management role. As crisis management became synonymous with PSO, NATO attempted to create its own PSO doctrine and was thus caught in the debate on the authority to issue mandates and on peacekeeping principles. PSO doctrine Up to 1999, NATO did not manage to develop a common doctrine for PSO with political approval. There have been at least five drafts, but it proved impossible to achieve consensus on a common PSO doctrine. To illustrate the challenge of developing common doctrines it should be mentioned that to the fourth draft of NATO’s PSO doctrine, AJP-3.4.1, members presented over 500 comments and amendments. This illustrates both the general problem of achieving consensus within the Alliance and the process of changing traditional peacekeeping to the wider concept of PSO. Nor was there a politically approved set of standardised ROEs until after the Kosovo conflict.101 However, NATO has developed several documents on PSO, in particular within the NACC/PfP framework. In fact the process within NACC has moved faster than the process within NATO.

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However, the status of the document resulting from the Athens meeting and the subsequent process is unclear and is not as committing, as NATO documents supposedly are. Politically, peacekeeping was seen as an activity appropriate for cooperation with the countries in Eastern Europe, the new ‘Partners’, and the main thrust of the work in this field was handed over to the NACC Ad Hoc Group on Cooperation in Peacekeeping, established in February 1993.102 The Athens Report of June 1993, developed by this group, was the first publicly available NATO document on PSO. The title makes specific reference to ‘peacekeeping’, but it also states that ‘there is no single, generally accepted definition of peacekeeping’ and further that ‘there is a need to develop a common understanding of peacekeeping, proceeding from the definitions and concepts of peacekeeping contained in the relevant UN and CSCE documents, including the UN Secretary-General’s “Agenda for Peace” The document recognised that the (then) CSCE only has authority to mandate Chapter VI peacekeeping operations similar to traditional UN peacekeeping operations, while ‘operations based on recent extension of the concept of peacekeeping, based on Chapter VII of the Charter, have been carried out under the authority of the UN Security Council’.103 The document recognised that Chapter VI operations did require consent of both parties and that exceptions from this rule were ‘possible only if an operation has been based on Chapter VII of the Charter by the UN Security Council’.104 The Athens Report divided the various forms of peacekeeping operations into conflict prevention, peacemaking, peacekeeping, peace enforcement and peace building. This division does not fully corresponded with the 1992 version of ‘Agenda for Peace’, which did not treat peace enforcement as a distinct category, although it made reference to these kinds of operations and units. Also, whereas the UN has focused on ‘preventive diplomacy’, NATO refers to ‘conflict prevention’. The Athens report was followed by additional reports and ‘lessons-learned pamphlets’. This doctrinal track provided some of the content for the PfP process. The first proper NATO document outlining the alternative roles and functions of NATO in PSO was the MC 327, ‘Military Planning Document for NATO Support to Peacekeeping’. The process of developing this document started in June 1992, shortly after the Oslo meeting when NATO ministers took the first decision about NATO supporting peacekeeping activities under the (then) CSCE.105 The Secretary General who tasked the International Staff to start working on such a document took the initiative. Due to the political dispute between members on what the formulation in the Oslo statement actually meant and on what role NATO should play in PSO, the process of developing overall framework documents was delayed. The MC 327 ‘NATO Military Planning for Peace Support Operations’ was finalised only in August 1993, but since there was no political framework and coherent political support for NATO to get involved in PSO, except on an ad hoc basis, the document was never approved politically. However, there are several documents developed on the basis of the MC 327. The already mentioned draft doctrine is one of them, and also, in late 1995,

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SHAPE drafted several functional planning guides (FPGs) for PSO. Work on ‘NATO Doctrine for Peace Support Operations’ continued, but as late as 1999, this document still only had status as a draft without political approval. A version of the doctrine fairly identical to the approved UK doctrine from 1997 was finally rejected in the NAC in 1998 as it was vetoed by the UK’s own representative, because it defined PSO as operations authorised by the UN Security Council.106 Such a concept would clearly limit the freedom of action of NATO. The MC 327/1 is an updated version of the 1993 original document and it was finalised early in 1998. It was decided, however, that this document could not be released for Partners and, thus, SACEUR and the Supreme Allied Commander Atlantic (SACLANT) have developed a separate document, named ‘Bi-MNC Directive for NATO Doctrine for Peace Support Operations’, issued in October 1998, as a framework document. The purpose of this directive is to ensure that the principles established in MC 327/1 ‘are translated into appropriate planning and functional doctrine in NATO military commands’.107 The document was originally intended to be replaced once the new strategic concept of 1999 had been finalised. This document is very close to a doctrine and it outlines the principal views on NATO’s role in PSO. First, the NATO-developed concept of PSO, which according to the directive’s definition are ‘impartial operations’ in support of a UN/OSCE mandate, encompasses ‘peacekeeping, peace enforcement, as well as conflict prevention, peacemaking, peace building and humanitarian operations’.108 Thus PSO is an umbrella concept for the various forms of measures used to prevent and terminate conflict and maintain peace. The document emphasises that the hallmark of any PSO is a UN/OSCE mandate. However, the directive does not contribute sufficiently to make any clearer the conceptual morass surrounding the realm of peacekeeping since the early 1990s. For instance, sanctions and embargoes are coercive means normally referred to under Chapter VII of the UN Charter. In the directive, these measures are not included under the umbrella of peace enforcement, but are listed under conflict prevention, which is defined in the document as ‘generally’ a Chapter VI measure, and under peacemaking, which has no reference to Chapter VI or VII. A further sign of confusion is that under the peace enforcement measures, there are no specific military tasks listed at all. Likewise, conflict prevention is presented as a measure under Chapter VI, while the military means exemplified in these sections are those of military deterrence and defence.109 Defence and deterrence against aggression do not require a specific UN mandate at all, as long as the host nation being exposed to aggression gives consent or requests the deployment. According to one analyst, an early version of the draft NATO doctrine for PSO used the Korean War and the Gulf War as examples of peace enforcement. It is difficult to disagree with the analyst’s conclusion: ‘One can only wonder, then, what constitutes “war” in the lexicon of peace operations.’110 However, since PSO are defined as impartial operations, these wars do not fit the concept.

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Second, the directive indicates that NATO should reserve for itself the more demanding and robust operations. NATO troops are ‘less likely’ to take on observer and peacekeeping missions, because ‘it is unlikely that a NATO agreed mandate would accept forces under command operating either without weapons or appropriate ROE’.111 Under the section on peace enforcement, it is stated that: NATO has the unique capability to deploy, direct and command and control operations mounted to take peace enforcement action against those responsible for threats to peace and security, or who carry out acts of aggression. As such, this is the most likely task for a NATO Force in support of the UN. Thus, peacekeeping is seen as a mode of operation not appropriate for NATO’s characteristics and capabilities. Third, in the NATO directive, the term operations (PSO), normally activities related to military campaigns and activities in the field, is used as a framework for political means (for instance, ‘peace making’, which is a diplomatic process according to the definition). This is more than semantics, as it relates to the relationship between political processes and diplomacy and military force. In reality, this is a contradiction of Clausewitz’s thesis of war as a political means. Peace enforcement is presented as a mode of operations not subordinate to, but parallel to, and autonomous from, peace making. The more robust an operation gets the more diplomacy is replaced by force, i.e. ‘peace enforcement’ replaces ‘peace making’ when the latter has failed. Even though attention is paid to the need for close links between military and political objectives and, further, to the need for using minimum force necessary, the way the concepts are used and placed in relation to one another indicates that military force is seen to replace diplomacy, not reinforce it. The more robust operations are, the more military autonomy increases. The document leaves an impression that the degree of political control over military means is something special to PSO as opposed to what should be the ideal situation in ‘proper’ war. This impression is strengthened by passages such as, for instance, ‘as PSO are authorised by a political mandate, the overall authority will be political’, and ‘Peace Enforcement differs from war in that military victory is not the ultimate measure of success’.112 After the Washington Summit, the doctrinal library of NATO was again revised and the distinction between doctrines for war and OOTW maintained. In the various draft doctrines the distinction between the Article 5 and the nonArticle 5 functions of NATO was also reflected in the doctrinal library of the Alliance. This is manifested in different forms of military operations. Article 5 operations are associated with traditional war, while non-Article 5 CRO is associated with OOTW and PSO and related activities. There was also a distinction between NATO-agreed OOTW, by and large limited to PSO and humanitarian intervention, and other kinds of OOTW, among them

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counterinsurgency and counterterrorism. It can be questioned whether this doctrinal distinction is relevant. Article 5 is of political significance, as it addresses Allied solidarity, not different forms of military operations. NATO doctrines formalised a military distinction between war and Article 5 on the one hand, and CRO and OOTW and non-Article 5 on the other. Consequently, NATO doctrines excluded PSO from the realm of proper defence.113 Conclusion One general observation resulting from this chapter is that NATO’s behaviour is not strategic, but driven by immediate crises. Change in strategy is incremental and reactive. Only after action are new elements incorporated into strategy. Consequently the Strategic Concepts are of limited value and significance with reference to what NATO will actually do, as NATO is likely to be pushed by events rather than adapt politically and militarily based on strategic assessments. NATO responded politically by taking on peacekeeping, later PSO, as a new task. Initially, this was seen as a task linked to and undertaken in order to support other institutions: the UN or the OSCE. In the end, NATO took on a more independent role. The decisions by NATO to engage in missions in the Balkans have had an important political function in forcing the Alliance to take some of the necessary steps in the direction of adapting strategy, doctrines and force structure more appropriate to the new security environment. Without the PSO experience in the Balkans, one can only speculate on whether the Alliance would have been prepared to face the potential challenges ahead, which most likely will be located outside Alliance territory and be blurred and complex situations rather than clear-cut cases of aggression against Alliance territory. The PSO experience has been a catalyst and a vehicle for the out-of-area issue and the issue of developing the right capabilities for the new missions. Even though much remains to be done, most of all politically, but also militarily, the PSO experience has forced the Alliance as a whole to recognise and bring out in the open what was obvious to some of the members and certainly to many outside analysts: that the military tools appropriate for regular warfighting and territorial defence are far from fully adequate for other kinds of military scenarios. On the other hand, the distinction between limited regional crisis or war, in which an outside aggressor threatens a NATO member, and limited conflict outside NATO, is exaggerated. They are both dependent on flexible forces to reinforce the exposed region. Thus, both scenarios pulled in the same direction at the expense of traditional defence forces. The PSO experience has, it can be argued, strengthened NATO’s capacity to deal with regional and localised Article 5 scenarios. The traditional concept of defence has been maintained throughout the 1990s. Even though NATO has taken on new roles, these have been taken on outside the concept of defence and Article 5. Politically, this means that they are not covered by the same degree of mutual commitment as was assumed but simultaneously

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doubted during the Cold War. While a new security understanding has been acknowledged and can be found in policy statements and the central documents of the Alliance, the concept of defence has not been redefined. However, it can be misleading to attribute this to poor understanding of the new strategic environment alone. As pointed out, there are political reasons for making the distinction, shaped by the principle of consensus and issues like transatlantic relations and division of labour. It is more accurate to argue that those who opposed an expansion of the concept of defence did so because they were unwilling to accept the consequences flowing from such an expansion of Article 5 commitments, in terms of defence spending, restructuring and political controversy. For various reasons, NATO has established and maintained a distinction between Article 5 and non-Article 5 tasks and between war and OOTW and tasks at the political and military levels respectively. This distinction matters, as unity within the Alliance rests with what credibility members will attribute to Article 5. Thus NATO has clearly defined what is regarded as proper war and proper defence, and what is not. These distinctions also have implications for doctrine within NATO. Doctrine developments in NATO have followed two paths. First, doctrinal thinking for major war has been influenced by manoeuvre warfare. Second, NATO has struggled to produce a doctrine for PSO. But, without sufficient political guidance on the new interpretation of the crisis management role of the Alliance, NATO doctrine makers struggled with the task of developing robust peacekeeping concepts more appropriate to the logic of NATO, but without invoking the concept of war. In the latter case, it can be argued they were hardly successful. When NATO came round to managing the crisis in Kosovo, it went to war against another state, although reluctantly. What is lacking in NATO’s decision-making structure, procedures and doctrinal library is a concept for the politically controlled war in which diplomacy is backed up, not necessarily replaced, by force, which is more appropriate for the kind of ‘crisis management’ NATO itself has declared as a central part of its rationale ever since 1991. However, no matter how well NATO doctrines, structures and procedures are dealt with, they cannot substitute the most important capability of all: political will. Notes 1 Atlantic News, 6 September 1991; ‘Friendly Blues fight Gold in the Red corner’, The Guardian, 11 September 1991; ‘700 000 “die” in keyboard war game’, The Daily Telegraph, 12 September 1991; ‘New NATO unit goes into battle without an enemy’, The Times, 11 September 1991. 2 Philip H.Gordon, ‘Introduction: NATO’s Transformation’, NATO’s Transformation: The Changing Shape of the Atlantic Alliance (Boston: Rowman & Littlefield, 1997), p. 1; Jonathan Clarke, ‘Replacing NATO', Foreign Policy, 93

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3 4

5

6

7 8

9 10 11

12 13

14 15 16 17 18

19 20 21

(Winter 1993–4), pp. 20–40; Richard K.Betts ‘NATO’s Mid-Life Crisis’, Foreign Affairs, 68:2 (1989), pp. 37–52; Lawrence Freedman and Beatrice Heuser, ‘NATO in Transformation: Toward a Pan-European Security Mechanism’, in Beverly Crawford and Peter Schulze (eds), European Dilemmas After Maastricht (California: University of California, 1993), pp. 245, 256. ‘Alive but ailing’, Financial Times, 12 January 1994. Klaus Wittmann, ‘Challenges of Conventional Arms Control’, Adelphi Paper no. 239 (London: International Institute for Strategic Studies [IISS], 1989), p. 4; de Wijk, NATO on the Brink, pp. 13–15. Richard L.Kugler, NATO’s Military Strategy for the Post-Cold War Era: Issues and Options (Santa Monica, CA: RAND, 1992), p. 8; ‘Secret memo reveals deep divisions on NATO role’, Financial Times, 8 February 1991. Robert E.Hunter, ‘NATO’s Future: The Out of Area Problem’, in Stanley R.Sloan (ed.), NATO in the 1990s (London: Brassey’s, 1989), pp. 325–33; Christopher Coker, The Future of the Atlantic Alliance (London: Macmillan for RUSI, 1984), p. 95. Philip Windsor, ‘NATO and the Cyprus Crisis’, Adelphi Paper no. 14 (London: IISS, November 1964), pp. 12–16. ’Defining a new role for NATO after the thaw’, Jane’s Defence Weekly, 22 September 1990, p. 515; ‘NATO—historic summit: Intellectual challenge’, Atlantic News, 27 November 1991. See Paul Cornish, Partnership in Crisis: The US, Europe and the Fall and Rise of NATO (London: Chatham House Papers, RIIA; 1997), p. 57. NATO, ‘The Alliance Strategic Concept’, 7–8 November 1991, NATO Handbook (Brussels: NATO Information and Press, 1995), para. 42. Jonathan T.Howe, ‘NATO and the Gulf Crisis’, Survival, 33:3 (1991), pp. 246–59; Lieutenant Colonel Jeffrey McClausland, ‘The Gulf Conflict: A Military Analysis’, Adelphi Paper no. 282, (London: Brassey’s for the IISS 1993), pp. 19–20; and de Wijk, NATO on the Brink, p. 140. ‘The North Atlantic Treaty’, Washington, DC, 4 April 1949, NATO Handbook (Brussels: NATO Office of Information and Press, 2001), pp. 527–30. Michael Mecham, ‘NATO’s New Strategy Stresses Mobility for “Crisis” Management’, Aviation Space and Technology, 3:6 (1991); Atlantic News, 30 May 1991. See, for instance, interview with Manfred Wörner, Jane’s Defence Weekly, 11 July 1992, p. 32. ‘Out-of-area issue seen to threaten NATO', Financial Times, 21 February 1992; ‘Nato Chief urges new role for troops’, The Guardian, 10 January 1992. J.M.Legge, ‘NATO’s New Strategic Concept’, RUSI Journal, June (1992), p. 13. NATO, ‘The Alliance Strategic Concept’, 1991, paras 1–14. North Atlantic Military Committee, ‘Overall Strategic Concept for the Defence of the North Atlantic Treaty Area—MC 14//3’, 22 September 1967, in Gregory W.Pedlow (ed.), NATO Strategy Documents 1949–1969 (Brussels: NATO, October 1997), para. 10a. NATO, The Alliance Strategic Concept’, 1991, paras 31–5. Yost, NATO Transformed, pp. 189–91; Alexander L.George (ed.), Avoiding War: Problems of Crisis Management (Oxford: Westview Press, 1991), Chs 2, 3. De Wijk, NATO on the Brink, pp. 62–3.

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22 Visit to NATO HQ in October 2001. A number of NATO officials used the term in various presentations. 23 See Alessandro Politi, ‘European Security: The New Transnational Risks’, Chaillot Papers, no. 29 (Paris: WEU Institute for Security Studies, 1997). 24 Field Marshall Richard Vincent, ‘The Brussels Summit: A Military Perspective’, NATO Review, February (1994), p. 9. 25 De Wijk, NATO on the Brink, pp. 101–4; Clarke, ‘Replacing NATO’, pp. 24–5. 26 See Frode Liland, ‘Explaining NATO’s Non-Policy on Out-Of-Area Issues During the Cold War’, in Gustav Schmidt (ed.), A History of NATO: The First Fifty Years, vol. 1 (Houndmills: Palgrave, 2001), pp. 173–89. 27 France’s Nine Points at the Meeting of the Atlantic Alliance in Rome (7 November 1991)’, Embassy of France, London, UK, 13 November 1991, obtained from IISS Press Files, and ‘France is miffed at NATO plan for Rapid Force’, International Herald Tribune, 5 June 1991;‘The NATO Strategy Review: Negotiating the Future of the Atlantic Alliance’, CRS Report for Congress (Washington, DC: 30 April 1991), p. 1. 28 See Andre Menon, From Independence to Cooperation: France, NATO and European Security’, International Affairs, 71:1 (1995), pp. 19–34 on French policy developments up to 1995, and Paul Cornish, ‘European Security: The End of Architecture and New NATO’, International Affairs, 72:4 (1996), pp. 751–69. 29 Philip H.Gordon, ‘The Western European Union and NATO’s “Europeanisation”’, in Gordon (ed.), NATO’s Transformation, pp. 257–70. 30 ‘Galvin on RRF’, Atlantic News, 7 June 1991. 31 NATO, ‘The Alliance Strategic Concept’, 1991, para.48; NATO Military Committee, ‘Measures to Implement the Strategic Concept from the Defence of the NATO Area’, MC 48/3, 6 May 1969, in Pedlow (ed.), NATO Strategy, paras 15–16. 32 ‘The shift in emphasis towards mobile crisis-response units reflects the changed assessment of the Soviet threat’, The Independent, 7 March 1991; de Wijk, NATO on the Brink, p. 15; Colin McInnes, The British Army and NATO’s Rapid Reaction Corps (London: Brassey’s for Centre for Defence Studies, March 1993), pp. 2–8. 33 McInnes, The British Army, pp. 6–7; Edward Foster, ‘NATO’s Military in the Age of Crisis Management’, RUSI News Brief, 1995, p. 2; Otfried Nassauer and Daniel Plesch, ‘NATO Strategy Review: Out of Step with Events’, Armed Forces Journal International, October (1991), p. 52. 34 NATO, ‘Ministerial Communiqué’, Brussels, 27 May 1992, NATO Communiqués 1991–1995 (Brussels: NATO Office of Information and Press, 1995), para. 7 35 NATO, ‘Final Communiqué, Ministerial Meeting’, Oslo, 4 June 1992, NATO Communiqués 1991–1995, paras 4, 11. 36 See Mats Berdal, ‘From Operation “Maritime Monitor” to “Allied Force” in Schmidt (ed.), A History of NATO, vol. 1, pp. 59–60. 37 NATO, ‘Final Communiqué’, Ministerial Meeting, Brussels, 17 December 1992, NATO Communiqués 1991–1995, paras 4–5. 38 Gregory L.Schulte, ‘Former Yugoslavia and the New NATO’, Survival, 39:1 (1997), pp. 20–6; Dick A.Leurdijk, The United Nations and NATO in Former Yugoslavia (The Hague: Netherlands Atlantic Commission, 1994), Ch. 4. 39 Tim Ripley, Operation Deliberate Force: The UN and NATO Campaign in Bosnia 1995 (Lancaster: CDISS, 1999), pp. 48–9.

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40 ‘Statement by the Secretary General of NATO Concerning Air Operations’, Brussels, 30 August 1995, NATO Communiqués 1995 (Brussels: NATO Office of Information and Press, 1995), p. 49. 41 Richard Holbrooke, To End a War (New York: Random House, 1998), pp. 70–227, in particular pp. 91–3, 118, 132, 146. 42 ‘Statement on Bosnia-Herzegovina’, Ministerial Meeting of the North Atlantic Council, 5 December 1995; Janvier Solana, ‘NATO’s Role in Bosnia: Charting a New Course for the Alliance’, NATO Review, March (1996), pp. 3–5. 43 Admiral Leighton Smith, ‘The Pillars of Peace in Bosnia’, NATO Review, July (1996), pp. 11–16. 44 NATO Press Release (98)29, ‘Council Statement on the Situation in Kosovo’, 5 March 1998; NATO Press Release (98)51, ‘Council Statement on the Situation in Kosovo’, 30 April 1998. 45 Interview conducted by the author at NATO HQ, Brussels, 11 March 1999 and 2 October 2002. 46 Benjamin S.Lambeth, ‘Operation Allied Force: A Strategic Appraisal’, in John Andreas Olsen (ed.), A Second Aerospace Century (Trondheim: The Royal Norwegian Air Force Academy, 2001), pp. 102, 106. 47 ‘Press Statement’ by the NATO Secretary General, Brussels, 23 March 1999. See also ‘Statements’, 24 March and ‘Press statement’, 25 March 1995, NATO Communiqués and Statements 1999 (Brussels: NATO Office of Information and Press, 2000), pp. 165–8; Statement issued at the Extraordinary Ministerial Meeting of the NAC, ‘The Situation in and around Kosovo’, 12 April 1999, NATO Communiqués 1999, pp. 9–10. For a more thorough review on various positions and objectives, see Daalder and O’Hanlon, Winning Ugly, pp. 94–108. 48 Vaclav Havel, ‘Address to the Senate and House of Commons of the Parliament of Canada’, in William Joseph Buckley (ed.), Kosovo: Contending Voices on Balkan Interventions (Cambridge: Eerdmans Publishing, 2000), p. 245. 49 Michael Ignatieff, Virtual War: Kosovo and Beyond (New York: Metropolitan Books, 2000), p. 3; Wesley Clark, Fighting Modern War (New York: Public Affairs, 2001), pp. xxiii, 418, 423. 50 Adam Roberts, ‘NATO’s “Humanitarian War” over Kosovo’, Survival, 41:3 (1999), pp. 102–23; 108–9. 51 Defence Planning Committee and Nuclear Planning Group ‘Final Communiqué’, Brussels, 15 December 1994, and Ministerial Meeting of the North Atlantic Council, ‘Final Communiqué’, Brussels, 5 December 1995, NATO Communiqués 1991–1995 (Brussels: NATO Office of Information and Press, 1996), pp. 255, 314, Ministerial Meeting of the Atlantic Council, ‘Final Communiqué’, Berlin, 3 June 1996, NATO Communiqués 1996 (Brussels: Office of Information and Press, NATO, 1997), p. 7. 52 See Michael Mandelbaum, ‘A Perfect Failure: NATO’s War Against Yugoslavia’, Foreign Affairs, 78:5 (1999), pp. 2–8; Ted Galen Carpenter (ed.), NATO’s Empty Victory (Washington, DC: Cato Institute, 2000); Daalder and O’Hanlon, Winning Ugly; Lieutenant General Mike Jackson, ‘KFOR: The Inside Story’, RUSI Journal, February (2000), pp. 13–18. 53 ‘Inflexible NATO must improve its procedures’, Jane’s Defence Weekly, 10 November 1999, p. 3. 54 Presentation by a NATO officer, Oslo, 1999.

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55 Vice Admiral Paul Haddacks (UK Military Representative to NATO), House of Commons, 14th Report, Lessons of Kosovo, vol. I (London, October 2000), p. xxxii. 56 Interview conducted by the author at NATO HQ, Brussels, 8 March 1999. See also ‘NATO’s New Strategic Concept; Cohesion and Dissent’, Strategic Comments, 5:1 (January, 1999). 57 General Wesley K.Clark, SACEUR, The Allistar Buchan Memorial Lecture (London: IISS 1998). 58 NAC, ‘Madrid Declaration on Euro-Atlantic Security and Cooperation’, Madrid, 8 July 1997 (Brussels: NATO Office of Information and Press, 1998), pp. 31–40, para. 19; Richard Hatfield, ‘NATO’s New Strategic Concept’, RUSI Journal, December (1999), p. 1. 59 The analysis below is based on the text of The Alliance’s -Strategic Concept, NATO Press Release NAC-S (99) 65,24 April 1999, available online at http:// www.nato.int/ docu/pr/1999/p99–065.html. See also Paul Cornish, ‘A Strategic Concept for the Twenty-First Century’, Defence Analysis, 15:3 (1999), pp. 248– 60. 60 Based on comparison of the 1991 and 1999 Strategic Concepts. See in particular section IV in both. NATO. 61 De Wijk, NATO on the Brink, p. 37; Michael Mandelbaum, The Dawn of Peace in Europe (New York: The Twentieth Century Fund Press, 1996), pp. 15–19. 62 ‘Strategic Concept’, 1999, paras 6, 11–12. 63 NATO Press Release, NAC, Ministerial Communiqué, M-NAC-2 (98) 140, Brussels, 8 December 1998, para. 5. 64 Gow, ‘A Revolution’, pp. 293–306; Yost, NATO Transformed, p. 262–4. 65 Phillip H.Gordon, ‘The Transatlantic Allies and the Changing Middle East’, Adelphi Paper no. 322 (London: Oxford University Press for the IISS, 1998); Ronald D.Asmus, Robert D.Blackwill and F.Stephen Larrabee, ‘Can NATO Survive’, The Washington Quarterly, 19:2 (1996), pp. 79–101; IISS, Strategic Survey 1998/99 (London: Oxford University Press for the IISS, 1999), p. 34. 66 ‘Strategic Concept’, 1999, paras 49, 52. 67 The same was expressed in the 1998 Ministerial Guidance. See Ministerial Meeting, Final Communiqué, 17 December 1998, paras 4–5. 68 ‘Strategic Concept’, 1999, para. 43. 69 Ibid., para. 53 (h). 70 Except Early Warning Facilities, AWACS, HQ and standing naval forces. 71 Beatrice Heuser, Transatlantic Relations: Sharing Ideals and Costs (London: Pinter for RIIA, 1996), p. 73. 72 IISS, Strategic Survey 1997/98 (London: Oxford University Press for the IISS, 1998), p. 40. 73 IISS, Military Balance 1997–98 (Oxford: Oxford University Press for IISS, 1998), pp. 41–4. The number and locations of the new command structure were agreed upon in December 1997. See Meeting of NAC in Defence Ministers Session, Brussels, Final Communiqué, 2 December 1997, Press Release M-NAC-D-2(97) 149, para. 17. Also interviews conducted by the author at NATO HQ, March 1999. The final agreement was reached in March 1999.

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74 NATO, ‘The Transformation of NATO’s Defence Posture’ NATO Fact Sheet no. 22, NATO HQ, Brussels, July 1997; Interview conducted by the author at NATO HQ, Brussels, March 1999. 75 Interview conducted by the author at NATO HQ, Brussels, March 1999. 76 Robert E.Hunter, ‘NATO’s Future: The Out-of-Area Problem’, in Sloan (ed.) NATO in the 1990s, p. 318. 77 Richard Kugler and Tony Vanderbeek, ‘Where is NATO’s Defense Posture Headed’, Strategic Forum no. 133 (US National Defense University, 1998), p. 4. 78 Michael O’Hanlon, ‘Transforming NATO: The Role of European Forces’, Survival, 39:3 (1997), pp. 5–15. Including reservists and paramilitary troops, NATO Europe has a total of over 6 million troops. See Military Balance 1998/99 (Oxford: Oxford University Press for the IISS, 1998), p. 295. See also David S.Yost, ‘The NATO Capabilities Gap and the European Union’, Survival, 32:3 (2000–1), pp. 97–128. 79 Kugler and Vanderbeek, ‘Where is NATO’s Defense’, p. 3. 80 NATO, Study on NATO Enlargement, Brussels NATO HQ, September 1995, p. 20. 81 Interview conducted by the author at NATO HQ, Brussels, March 1999; NATO Fact Sheet no. 22, p. 4 for quote. 82 Young, Multinational Land Formations and NATO, pp. 18; 43; 53. 83 Major General I.S.Baxter, ‘Sustainability: A Concept Which May Come of Age’, in Brian Holden Reid and Michael Dewar (eds), Military Strategy in A Changing Europe (London: Brassey’s, 1991), p. 229; Jon Whitford and Thomas-Durrell Young, ‘Command Authorities and Multinationality in NATO: The Response of the Central Region’s Armies’, in Young (ed.) Command in NATO, pp. 55–62. 84 See Allied Command Europe Rapid Reaction Corps, Information Sheet, 10 August 1999, available online at http://www.arrcmedia.com/arrcstd.htm. 85 For a description of the CJTF concept see Barry, ‘Combined Joint Task Forces’, pp. 203–19; Anthony Cragg, ‘The Combined Joint Task Force Concept: A Key Component of the Alliance’s Adaptation’, NATO Review, July (1996), pp. 7–10; 8. 86 NATO, Declaration of the Heads of States and Governments Participating in the Meeting of the North Atlantic Council, Brussels, 10–11 January 1994, Office of Information and Press, NATO, Brussels 1994, para. 4–9. 87 IISS, Military Balance 1997–98, pp. 41–4. See also Javier Solana, ‘Only Winners in New Security Architecture’, World Today, April 1997, pp. 103, 105; Press Communiqué M-NAC D-2(98) 152, Meeting of the North Atlantic Council in Defense Ministers’ Session, para. 15. 88 Cornish, Partnership in Crisis, pp. 62–76; NATO, The Combined Joint Task Force Concept, NATO Basic Fact Sheet, April 1999; Lieutenant General Mario da Silva, ‘Implementing the Combined Joint Task Force Concept’, NATO Review, Winter (1998), pp. 6–19. 89 Several European states had initiated or announced modernisation programmes and given up conscription. IISS, ‘Volunteers versus Conscripts’, Strategic Comments, 4: 10 (December 1998). 90 ‘“Inflexible” NATO must improve its procedures’, Jane’s Defence Weekly, 10 November 1999, p. 3. 91 Speech by NATO Secretary General, Lord Robertson, NATO in the 21st Century, London, 20 July 2000, available online at http://www.nato.int/docn/speech/2000/ s000720a.htm.

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92 DPC, Ministerial Meeting of the Defence Planning Committee and the Nuclear Planning Group, Brussels, 12 June 1997, para. 7; Cornish, Partnership in Crisis, p. 74; NATO, ‘NATO’s Defence Capabilities Initiative’, NATO Fact Sheet (Brussels: NATO, April 2000). 93 SHAPE, ‘NATO LO 2020, Land Operations in the Year 2020’ (NATO: Brussels, March 1999), available online at http://www.rta.nato.int. 94 NATO, ‘NATO’s Defence Capabilities Initiative’ NATO Fact Sheet (Brussels: NATO, 2000). 95 London Declaration, para.20. 96 Young, Multinational Land Formations, p. 2. 97 L.R.Møller, ‘Værnfelles doktrinudvikling i Danmark’, Militœrt Tidsskrift, 3:1997, pp. 269–79; Colin McInnes, NATO’s Changing Strategic Agenda (London: Unwin Hyman, 1990), pp. 116–18. 98 Steven L.Rearden, ‘NATO’s Strategy: Past, Present and Future’, in Papacosma and Heiss (eds), NATO in the Post-Cold War Era, pp. 76–7. For an introduction to manoeuvre warfare, see Richard D.Hooker, Jr (ed.) Maneuver Warfare: An Anthology (Novato: Presidio press, 1993). For quote see McInnes, NATO’s Changing, p. 32 99 Peter Kuhnel, ‘Doktrinudvikling i hæren’ Militœrt Tidsskrift, 1 (1998), pp. 6–7. 100 ‘NATO develops CIMIC doctrine’, Jane’s Defence Weekly, 30 August 2000. 101 Interview conducted by the author at NATO HQ, Brussels, March 1999 and oral statement made by a NATO officer, Oslo, May 1999, 102 De Wijk, NATO on the Brink, p. 68. 103 NATO, ‘Report to Ministers by NACC Ad Hoc Group on Cooperation in Peacekeeping’, Athens, 11 June 1993, part 1, section 1. 104 Ibid., part 3, section a. 105 De Wijk, NATO on the Brink, pp. 59–73. 106 Interview conducted by the author at NATO HQ, Brussels, March 1999 and with a British officer, Oslo, October 2002. 107 SHAPE/SACLANT, ‘Bi-MNC Directive for NATO Doctrine for Peace Support Operations’, 16 October 1998, p. 3. 108 Ibid., pp. 8–14. 109 Ibid., p. 11. 110 Barry, ‘Combined Joint Task Forces’, p. 218, footnote 6. 111 SHAPE/SACLANT, ‘Bi-MNC Directive’, pp. 8–9. 112 Ibid., pp. 10,15. 113 NATO had severe problems in developing a common doctrine for PSO and only in 2001 was a common doctrine adopted. Interview conducted by the author at NATO HQ, Brussels, October 2002.

5 BRITAIN From ‘Options for Change’ to Strategic Defence Review

After almost 50 years of steady decline through the loss of most of the former Empire, Britain emerged on the post-Cold War stage as a leading ‘peace supporter’ and military interventionist. Analysts regarded Britain as the role model for other European armed forces.1 The Chief of the General Staff claimed, in 1998, that British forces had ‘developed particular experience and expertise’ in peace support operations (PSO), and that it was Britain’s ‘responsibility to contribute to the effectiveness’ of such operations.2 During the air war against Serbia in 1999, Britain was the most eager proponent for including a ground operation in the campaign. As NATO initiated contingency planning for operational alternatives in both a ‘permissive’ and a ‘semi-permissive’ environment, Britain offered, on a national basis, a total of 19,000 ground troops. Later, the Ministry of Defence (MoD) claimed to have been prepared to offer up to 54,000 Army personnel (including 14,000 reserves) for a ground war.3 When the Kosovo Force (KFOR) eventually entered Kosovo, Britain provided four out of the total nine battalion groups and the leadership of the entire ground operation. A few days later the number of battalions increased by two, one of them British. Of the European North Atlantic Treaty Organisation (NATO) members, Britain was the most militarily capable and sufficiently politically motivated to use her troops in an unfamiliar environment, on foreign soil, with the ultimate justification: ‘it was the right thing to do’.4 However, throughout the 1990s, a sense of deep crisis reigned within the military apparatus, and the apparent success of the British defence restructuring, not to mention the operational performance of British troops in various PSO, was by no means self-evident. Britain undertook two major Defence Reviews during the 1990s and, as with the Nott review in 1981, each of them was followed by conflict: the Gulf War and the Kosovo War, respectively. Thus, British defence policy has been tested against the realities of war on three occasions over the last two decades of the twentieth century. Britain, structure and PSO Contrary to most European states, Britain rejected the concept of conscription and a mass army in the late 1950s. The total Armed Forces personnel figure was

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over 306,000 plus 340,000 reserves, with an Army counting 153,000 (plus the Territorial Army [TA]). Compared to the total population of around 58 millions, and to the defence spending to other European states such as France and Germany, the size of the British Army was rather limited. The first reaction to the end of the Cold War was cuts, and the Options-for-Change process foresaw a modernised structure reduced to a total of 255,000 active personnel with a personnel ceiling of 120,000 troops for the Army.5 By the end of the decade defence spending was down to 2.6 per cent of gross domestic product, while the personnel figures were down to 212,000 active troops for the British forces as a whole, with an Army of 113,500 reinforced by a total of 191,000 reserves.6 Reductions in the British military presence in Germany were significant, but the core of two divisions remained as the backbone of NATO’s Allied Command Europe Rapid Reaction Corps (ARRC). In 1995 it was decided that the Army was to be organised in two operational divisions while the three others were to be retained as regenerative divisions in case of a major international threat.7 The rest of the decade was spent on rearranging what was left of the Army. The withdrawal from Hong Kong and from Northern Ireland eased some of the pressure as resources were made available for other tasks. Iraq invaded Kuwait only weeks after the Options process had been announced, and Britain deployed, somewhat reluctantly, one armoured division and a total of 45,000 troops to the Gulf. The war cost the lives of 19 soldiers, out of which 9 were killed in a ‘blue-on-blue’ incident. The British contribution was the largest after that the United States (US), and the relevance of the British structure when compared to other European states, notably France, was proven.8 Britain had supported the UN operation in Cyprus since 1964, and participated in low-key and observer missions, but played no substantial part in peacekeeping during the Cold War. This gradually changed from 1989 onwards. Britain sent staff officers and observers to the United Nations Transitional Authority in Cambodia (UNTAC) and a signals squadron to Namibia, operations financed by the Foreign and Commonwealth Office (FCO) budget.9 With the conflict in the Balkans, the British contribution increased significantly. In 1993, an armoured infantry battalion with support elements, amounting to 2,300 troops, was deployed to Bosnia to protect humanitarian aid delivery. However, even this rather limited contribution was problematic for Britain. The battalions were ad hoc and formed by units belonging to different regiments, in part due to manpower shortages. The deployment took several weeks and the promise of 24month intervals between deployments was not fulfilled. However, the increased effort in peacekeeping in the Balkans was in part made possible by a 50 per cent cut in the British contribution to Cyprus and a complete withdrawal from the Middle East Force and Observers (MFO) in the Sinai.10 The British contribution to the United Nations Protection Force to the former Yugoslavia (UNPROFOR) steadily increased and Bosnia came to constitute the biggest British deployment and movement of troops since the Gulf War; by the end of 1995 almost half of the Army was on operational duties abroad, and 18 soldiers were killed during

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the UNPROFOR years. When NATO took over in 1995, Britain sent some 11, 500 troops to the Implementation Force in Bosnia (IFOR), reducing the contribution to some 5,300 in the Stabilisation Force in Bosnia (SFOR) a year later.11 In Kosovo, Britain deployed 10,500 troops and five battalions in June 1999, plus support units and detachments from the other services. However, negotiations with NATO on reducing the British contribution started as the troops entered Kosovo. The figure was reduced to 6,400 by September, expected to fall to 5,000 by the end of the year. It was estimated that 28 per cent of the British Army were on operations, a rate that rose to 41 per cent with those units on alert for Kosovo.12 Political and military culture Key words in describing Britain’s political culture in the context of foreign and security policy are ‘status quo’, ‘pragmatism’, ‘freedom of manoeuvre’ and ‘incrementalism’, as ‘the need to express a strategic vision of Britain’s security environment’ generally has tended to cause some unease in policy-making circles.13 A world view centred on balance-of-power thinking, maintaining stability as a means for security, maximising freedom of action while avoiding commitments, and an essentially non-ideological, almost cynical approach to international affairs, are generally seen to be predominant features of Britain’s approach to the world.14 For instance, there has been a general scepticism in Britain of having to rely on UN mandates, as in the Gulf War.15 While international law is regarded favourably in general, British pragmatism focusing on maximising freedom of action would very much reject a policy of relying on overly strict interpretations of international law. In the first 40 years of the twentieth century, the British Armed Forces faced competing demands, pulled between defending the Empire or committing to Europe, and it took two world wars before British policy makers concluded that British security could and should not be perceived in isolation from the rest of Europe.16 After the Second World War, Britain’s priorities were with NATO and with the relationship with the US. The ‘special relationship’ with the US was established in the immediate aftermath of the Second World War, in order to ‘regain the intimacy with the US that had existed’ during the War.17 It involved intelligence sharing and, from 1948, cooperation on nuclear strategy issues as well as sharing of air bases throughout the world. In the late 1950s, nuclear weapons development cooperation, which had of course existed during the Second World War but was suspended by the McMahon Act of 1946, was resumed. This resulted in technology transfer and missile sales to Britain, creating a technological dependence coupled with operational independence, both of which have remained with us until this day. The relationship with the US gave Britain a strategic advantage so that she could continue to ‘punch above her weight’ and maintain a high profile in international affairs. Britain’s international role was in part dependent on good relations with the US, although British governments saw

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this more as ‘inter-dependence’.18 Politically, the ‘special relationship’ had its ups and downs in the 1960s and 1970s, but the Thatcher government reinvigorated it, even though the 1980s were not problem-free.19As pointed out by Baylis, balancing between the US and Europe was one of Britain’s defence dilemmas but in general ‘the main thrust of British policy has been to act as a bridge between the US and Europe’.20 Britain saw its role as keeping NATO together. During the Cold War, Britain was concerned more with collective defence rather than collective security guarantees in the UN Charter, and played a limited role in various UN peacekeeping operations—Cyprus being the exception, where Britain contributed substantially. NATO was the symbol and practical means of hard military defence, while the UN was linked to the concept of security, a concept which included the aim of maintaining British great-power status. The distinction between ‘security’ and ‘defence’ has had a particular meaning in British strategic thinking.21 While security involved a broad approach, including political, diplomatic and economic means, defence was connected to the use of military force, a task reserved for NATO. Due to geographic circumstances, ‘defence’ in Britain has a much wider meaning, normally referring to defence of interests more than territory.22 As has been commented, ‘multilateralism in security matters is explicitly assumed in the UK’.23 A predominant feature of British strategy has been that of cooperation with others in coalitions and alliances, sometimes ‘paying others to do her land fighting for her’ and in general rejecting a continental commitment until forced to accept one. Britain’s historical baggage encompasses the period of building, maintaining and managing the process of decline of a vast empire, with resulting ‘minor’ and ‘small wars’ in which the soldiers were tasked with ‘endless frontier wars and the costly and thankless task of trying to enforce justice between settlers and natives’.24 In the post-1945 period, Britain gradually withdrew from the Empire, and between 1964 and 1968, the Empire was formally abandoned.25 In this period, the British counterinsurgency (COIN) tradition was maintained in Africa and Asia, and the task of keeping the peace in Northern Ireland also provided the British military with the grim opportunity of more or less constantly having to carry out live military operations, albeit of a different kind if compared to traditional warfighting.26 Britain managed rather well in these campaigns, as the defeats experienced by France and the US were avoided. However, the British campaigns were a part of the withdrawal from the Empire, and, as in Malaya, Britain could offer national self-rule to the people in exchange for a commitment to combat communist insurgents. The other historical path is the key role played by Britain in the major European wars. This encompasses the changing alliances in the wars against Revolutionary France, 1789–1815, and against a militarised and Nazified Germany in the twentieth century. However, since the Second World War, France was regarded the undisputed European rival, whereas Germany was a country that could hardly be trusted.27

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Britain has been able to recover from initial blows and defeats quite remarkably, and has been on the winning side in the end, much also due to geostrategy. With the introduction of air power and later missile technology, British security and defence could no longer be viewed in isolation from continental security: ‘The development of modern warfare has made this country more vulnerable. We are now a part of the continent. While in the past we always had breathing space [… now] we must have trained reserves who can take their part right away without waiting for six months of training.’28 The British military and the officer class in particular have, in the past, been criticised for ignorance, conservatism and anti-intellectualism.29 Within the Army, the regiment has been the cornerstone of identity and loyalty for soldiers and officers. In the British Army’s culture, the peacetime structure constituted by the regimental system has been seen as a major obstacle to efficiency, and joint doctrine above the tactical level was for long non-existent.30 Traditionally, the Armed Services have comprised three distinct organisations with their own culture, tradition and identity. Thus, both in terms of policy—being a conservative, status-quo-oriented power—and in terms of military culture, Britain’s orientation could be assumed not to favour change. However, Britain’s strategy had relied on deployments abroad, within and outside NATO territory. In the 1980s, Britain displayed increased interest in out-of-area operations, and the British Army also put an effort into catching up with US military innovation in the direction of manoeuvre warfare. The latter had led to a greater focus on operational art, i.e. operations at the corps and army group level, and more thought given to the intellectual aspects of doctrines.31Britain’s starting point as the Cold War ended was thus rather accommodative to the new strategic environment. Options for ‘gradual’ Change In the first half of 1990, the first Defence Review since 1981 and the fifth since the Second World War, labelled Options for Change, was announced. A year later, the annual defence White Paper sought to prescribe Britain’s future defence.32 It promised to ‘produce forces which, while smaller, are well equipped, properly trained and housed, and well motivated’.33 The main theme of the Options review was thus cuts and reductions. The Options for Change review aimed at reducing the overall Army structure to just below 120,000 troops. The motive of the Conservative government for launching this Defence Review was generally seen as financial and the main feature of the resulting policy was cutbacks in numbers. A year after the process had been launched the suggested reductions went even beyond the level prescribed in the initial review, to fewer than 120,000 troops, ‘the lowest level in modern times’, as the Independent reminded its readers.34 The critique of the outcome of the Option process was harsh, throughout the British security and defence elite. The review was heavily criticised for being an

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‘inadequate response to the fundamentally transformed international environment’.35 The House of Commons pointed out with some sarcasm that ‘the recognition of the need to adopt a strategy is not in itself a strategy’.36 The ‘leaner but meaner’ thinking was met with scepticism, and with direct opposition from the military leadership, perhaps because previous promises to compensate for cuts by quality had not materialised and because the focus was very much on ‘leaner’ throughout the process.37 The former Chief of the General Staff, General Bagnall, warned publicly against cuts in defence, saying that cuts would undermine Britain’s place on the UN Security Council.38 Whereas the reductions could be seen as both inevitable and sensible as a consequence of the end of the Cold War, the problem of the Options process was that it did not single out a new convincing role for the British forces. There was nothing in this policy that pointed in the direction of a more active role, either in peacekeeping or in interventions. It did not change the structure—it only reduced it. NATO and the ARRC However, the review included the important political decision to take on the leadership and to make substantial contributions to NATO’s newly formed ARRC.39 This corps was to be formed on the basis of the British Army of the Rhine (BAOR). With the decision to take a leading role within the ARRC, Britain committed one division and one airmobile brigade as well as leadership, staff and support functions to NATO. This effectively secured a politically central position within NATO as well as military competence on the ‘grand’ level in ‘high intensity warfare’. As the Chief of the General Staff later pointed out: ‘On this basis our role as the framework nation for the ARRC is vital, as it keeps us at the operational level.’40 The ARRC was thus a guarantee against going small: it provided a rationale for maintaining the corps level within the British Army. The ARRC also provided a framework for building and maintaining a national intervention capacity. It is, however, important to stress again that the ARRC was constructed with the traditional scenario of Article 5 in mind. The ARRC was very much an instrument of defence, not intervention. In the Options review, the ARRC was listed under ‘Defence of the European Mainland’ and it was designed in order to demonstrate Alliance solidarity by supplementing main defence forces.41 However, as pointed out by McInnes, due to NATO’s shortage of deployable formations, the ARRC ‘was a means by which NATO could be seen to be adapting to meet security challenges of the new Europe, thus ensuring a continued perception of NATO’s relevance and importance’. And Britain was to provide leadership to this crucial corps. In 1993, the MoD stated that NATO reaction forces were ‘the most likely to be involved in the non-Article 5 missions’. In 1994, the MoD reported that ‘the dominant theme during the HQ’s first full year of existence [was] contingency planning in case of deployment of HQ ARRC to the former Yugoslavia as a part of the implementation by NATO

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of a peace plan’. By April 1995 the ARRC was ‘fully operational’, having exercised with eight out of its total of ten assigned divisions, and it was thus ready to either support UNPROFOR’s withdrawal or replace it.42 At the end of the decade, leading officers saw the British role in the ARRC as decisive for preserving British influence in NATO and even reflected on what could have happened if the status as lead nation had not been secured: the ARRC could have been under German command.43 The possibility of the ARRC becoming involved in operations outside NATO territory had in Britain been discussed right from its origin, but its suitability for peacekeeping had simultaneously been questioned from its birth in 1991.44 However, it was the business of peacekeeping, albeit in a more robust version, that concerned the ARRC staff during the first years of its existence and which also gave this prestigious NATO unit the first live operational experience in postDayton Bosnia in 1996. Additionally, the division and airmobile brigade, ‘earmarked’ to the ARRC by Britain, have ever since the early 1990s been seen also as a national asset for possible independent or nationally conducted interventions outside NATO territory.45 The two other major roles of the Army were the defence of the United Kingdom (UK) proper, overseas commitments and contributing one infantry battalion to NATO’s Allied Command Europe Mobile Force (AMF). With a shrinking structure and greater pressure to participate in operations, there was no room for earmarking NATO resources as some kind of reserve never to be used except in an increasingly unlikely major war involving NATO. New objectives, old priorities The Armed Forces, in the process of being reduced, were given ‘a wider world role’ in the annual defence report of 1992.46 At least this was the perception. Up to 1992, defence policy had centred around three roles for the Armed Forces: provision of nuclear forces; defence of the UK; and contribution to the defence of the European mainland.47 The 1992 Defence White Paper transformed roles that had been maintained since 1975 into three new roles formulated as objectives: 1 To ensure the protection and security of the UK and the dependent territories, even when there is no major external threat; 2 To insure against any major external threat to the UK and her Allies; 3 To contribute to promoting the UK’s wider security interests through the maintenance of international peace and stability.48 Objective one stated ‘protection’, and not defence, and referred to symbolic presence in Britain as well as in the dependent territories as a means of demonstrating sovereignty. Objective two was linked to the eventualities of the future, while objectives one and three were linked more to the present. The

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emphasis was on British ‘interests’ and international ‘stability’, not ‘security’, and this was to become the pretext for UK involvement in peacekeeping. In the initial phase there were different perspectives between the MoD and the Foreign and Commonwealth Office (FCO) on the peacekeeping issue. It was the Foreign Secretary, Douglas Hurd, who gave the military the first signal of getting ready for peacekeeping missions as a matter of policy;49 the MoD was more cautious. Hurd confirmed that the military was exploring the implications of such participation and expressed support for the development in NATO in which the ‘projection of stability’ was now presented as a ‘major task’ for the Alliance. The British representative to NATO wrote that peacekeeping was the most important aspect of the new NATO and that Britain pushed very hard for this to be included as a NATO task at the Oslo meeting.50 The Defence Secretary, Malcolm Rifkind, stressed the limited assets Britain had for peacekeeping and argued for short-term commitments only. It was also stressed that the troops sent to Bosnia were there for a humanitarian purpose, not intervention, nor peacekeeping.51 Rifkind expressed concern over potential unrest in Russia causing a European crisis, and insisted on maintaining the ability to expand the Armed Forces in times of crisis that could develop into a major confrontation along the old dividing lines of Europe. In 1993, Russia still occupied a central position in British defence thinking. The new tasks presenting themselves to NATO were potentially detracting resources from the old NATO, mainly focused on a troubled Russia. The MoD had been and to a certain extent still was ‘fixated on the Soviet Union’.52 The prospect of Russia reversing the positive trends dominating since the mid 1980s and threatening Western security was probably the reason why there was no radical change in terms of defence policy goals in the Defence Review processes. This fear, it can be argued, significantly shaped British defence thinking until the last half of the decade. There was also scepticism over a NATO role in peacekeeping, due to concerns about the negative impact from NATO’s imperialist image in various parts of the world.53 However, as late as 1997 Michael Portillo, then Defence Secretary, expressed scepticism towards the idea that NATO should get too preoccupied in peacekeeping: ‘NATO must not be seduced into seeing itself as some sort of peace keeping institution, some sort of alternative to or extension of the United Nations.’54 Thus, while Britain was pushing hard within NATO for the Alliance to take on an out-of-area role in PSO, this was a matter of discussion within domestic politics. Gradually, the distinction between tasks in Europe and ‘out-of-area’ was played down. The main distinction between NATO defence and other operations was the degree of choice. Defence role three was optional, while defence role one was one of the government’s ‘inescapable national obligations’, the MoD stated in 1993. Various types of conflict were outlined within each defence role, ranging from ‘the Northern Ireland scenario’, including other forms of unrest and terrorism, an attack on NATO or one NATO ally, or a serious conflict not including attack upon a NATO member but that affected European security or

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British interests. ‘The old distinction between “in” and “out-of-area” is no longer relevant for defence planning.’55 In spite of the changing objectives and the additional tasks placed on the military, among them a greater role in the Balkans, the government resisted pressure to alter the basics of Options for Change and revision of the structure. Thus, the priorities were very much set. The three defence roles were divided into 11 policy areas with 46 military tasks. The purpose of this exercise was to identify tasks and troop requirement to solve each individual task, in order to prioritise and devise a ‘multiple task’ system. In short, this meant that each unit was assigned multiple roles, as it would be highly inefficient to create individual units for each task. It was defence roles one and two that determined force structure, as defence role three only provided a rationale for one additional infantry battalion.56 Thus there were to be no earmarked UN or peacekeeping units and peacekeeping was to be done with a structure designed for other tasks. Drawing on the experience from the former Yugoslavia, previous assumptions about the requirements for ‘light’ troops in ‘low-intensity scenarios’ were rejected. The point was that role three tasks were to be carried out by a structure designed primarily for role one and two. The number of requests for British participation increased, and so did the costs.57 With the conflict in the Balkans, the British contribution increased significantly; and with the existing priorities, contribution was a strain. In 1993, an armoured infantry battalion with support elements, amounting to 2,300 troops, was deployed to Bosnia to protect humanitarian aid delivery, and later increases in troop strength were largely justified on the grounds of offering protection to the troops already deployed.58 However, even this rather limited contribution was problematic for Britain. Due to manpower shortages, units belonging to different regiments formed the battalion. The deployment took several weeks and the promise of 24-month intervals between deployments was not fulfilled. So, with a total contribution of 3,600 out of a total Armed Forces of 275,000, the British Army was suffering from overstretch. However, Britain managed to muddle through with its peace-keeping contribution steadily rising. As pointed out above, by 1995, Britain had deployed some 4,000 troops under UN command with an additional 3,500 in support of UN Security Council Resolutions, including a brigade deployed as part of the Rapid Reaction Force (RRP) to Bosnia, in support of UNPROFOR.59 The problem of adapting the structure remained unsolved. In 1994, a House of Commons report stated that ‘the Armed Forces are still to some extent organised, manned and equipped for classic static or pre-arranged Cold War missions, and for operating with Cold War allies’.60 And according to the media, a major tankbattle-oriented war still constituted ‘the pinnacle of the army’s and the Ministry of Defence’s ambition’, and mastering the skills of ‘high-intensity warfare [was] the entry ticket to the big boys’ club’.61

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Peacekeeping policy Hurd explained British participation in peacekeeping by stating that ‘we help people because they are hungry and because if they are not fed they will die. But it is also true that countries racked by famine or civil war will be unsafe neighbours in the world village.’ Hurd also stated that ‘it is the British national interest that justifies or does not justify our becoming involved in what amounts to a considerable number of tragedies and disasters.’62Later Portillo ‘foresaw’ a greater demand for interventions to demonstrate the British national purpose or the will of the international community and to protect the interests of the British people. He also stated that ‘Britain is ready to commit its armed forces to supporting peace and fighting aggression anywhere in the world […], ready to match words with actions […] because Britain is a civilised nation.’ Simultaneously, he referred to 50 potential crises in the world and to 35 states outside NATO equipped and trained as a modern, tank-based military.63 This was thus a rationale for maintaining modern forces. The motives for participation in the UN peacekeeping event in Bosnia were also influenced by the responsibility resulting from the permanent seat in the Security Council, and a means to secure that seat as the UN was seen to become a more effective tool in this period. Also, by taking the lead in NATO PSO, Britain secured its central position and contributed to the continued relevance of NATO. In Parliament, the idea of Britain becoming more involved in peacekeeping has in general been received favourably, although the concept of peacekeeping has been stretched quite far.64 There were concerns during the Bosnian crisis in 1994– 5, and the British troop level in IFOR was criticised: either the IFOR mission ‘is too large or the Army too small’.65However, these were exceptions. The criticism of the size of the contribution to IFOR did reflect some of the problems of using a structure designed for defence role one for defence role three purposes, but the support for British participation remained strong. There was limited support for peacekeeping per se; rather, peacekeeping was seen in the context of intervention. The Defence Committee noted the need ‘for ship-launched, long-range bombardment’ and ‘naval gunfire support’, and developments in Somalia illustrated ‘the level of force conceivable in the new peacekeeping scenario’. The main motive was to preserve British influence in world affairs, as a failure to participate in peacekeeping could be a danger to the position of the UK. However, this new task was not to be carried out at the expense of ‘the main defence forces’. It set out three practical criteria for British participation: there had to be a requirement of particular British skills and strengths; the UK was to be seen as an active participant in a number of operations; and there would have to be a’serious chance of a successful outcome’. It was also suggested that existing training programmes be examined. The committee criticised the practice of having to rely on several weeks of predeployment training and acknowledged the need for doctrine and rethinking of

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strategy and tactics in operations characterised by ‘the absence of a clearly defined enemy and in the pursuit of imprecise objectives’.66 The first annual defence paper that dealt more seriously with peacekeeping was the one presented in 1995. This report set out to explain Britain’s security and defence policy. Defence policy could no longer be seen in isolation from foreign and economic policy in the pursuit of security goals. The multilateral framework remained important and there was a greater tendency for British interests to coincide with collective values: a section was devoted to the issue of’ standards, values and norms for behaviour’ in Europe. The new conflicts were the result of ‘nationalism, extremism and ethnocentrism’ coupled with social and economic instability.67 Peacekeeping was now more visible and a significant number of pages were devoted to the issue. The report outlined seven types of mission for the Armed Forces, including ‘new’ NATO or Western European Union (WEU) missions as well as operations undertaken by the UN. The report presented the new UK peacekeeping doctrine (‘Wider Peacekeeping’) in two pages as an example of UK efforts to support the UN. Wider Peacekeeping was seen as ‘intrinsically no different from traditional peacekeeping’ except from the degree of difficulty involved. Wider Peacekeeping required more troops with better protection and higher capability. Again the setting up and training of units ‘specifically for peacekeeping’ was rejected ‘as a matter of policy’, as defence planning had to accommodate the needs of all defence roles and tasks with regards to equipment, command and control, training and in particular sustainability, endurance and deployability. This was recognition of the fact that the new missions, among them peacekeeping, did have specific needs and could not be solved efficiently solely by assigning the task to role one and two forces. Eight criteria and considerations for when to intervene were spelled out: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

National interest seriously under threat; Interests of organisations of which Britain is a member under threat; Military means appropriate for the problem at hand; Clear and achievable objectives; Reasonable hope of resolution of conflict; Precise and finite mandate; Other UK commitments; Security and safety of UK personnel.68

This increased focus on role three tasks was developed against a series of assumptions about the strategic environment. These assumptions were that there was no danger of a strategic attack on either NATO or the UK, a very low risk of an attack on a NATO member, requiring Britain to deploy ‘Article 5 troops’, and very low risk of a threat to any of the dependent territories. In short, one may argue that peacekeeping was seen as something the military could do, in the absence of more pressing tasks. Furthermore, reservations against long-term commitments were explicit.

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By 1995, the British Army had severe problems in recruiting sufficient numbers, a problem affecting the infantry the most, causing the opposition to accuse the government of mismanagement of the services.69 The 1996 Statement on Defence announced no further cuts in the structure, even though troops were being pulled out of Northern Ireland. Instead, any spare troops were to be made available for peacekeeping and operations that were ‘neither peace nor war, but something in between’. With the absence of a direct threat to Britain, the forces were to be used to advance British interests and let Britain play an active role in world affairs. In 1996 the MoD presented the following list of tasks for the British Armed Forces; they were to: • Respond through NATO were a strategic threat to our interests or those of our NATO Allies to arise in the future; • maintain permanently committed forces, including our ability to provide military Aid to the Civil power in Northern Ireland and sustain overseas commitments; • demonstrably sustain the ability to undertake operations in support of our purely national interests; • provide effective contribution to coalition in the context of a regional conflict; and • contribute troops to UN or OSCE [Organisation for Security and Cooperation in Europe] or humanitarian operations, and carry out crisis management tasks.70 Crisis management was listed separately, but it was not elaborated what it was, or how or if it was linked to peacekeeping or NATO defence. Thus, what crisis management actually was remained unclear. Also, it referred to interests of NATO, rather than simply territorial defence. The annual defence estimates from 1992 and up to 1998 maintained the priorities set by the objectives and roles outlined in 1992 in combination with the multiple-task system described above. In short, British policy was being stretched between the most likely kind of tasks and tasks that were already undertaken, on the one hand, and the eventuality of a major war in the future, on the other. In 1994, the annual White Paper on Defence stated that ‘there is now a closer congruence between the forces we might need to support potential NATO operations and the forces which might be required for operations conducted in support of solely British or UN objectives’.71 Thus, the increased reliance on the use of force and robust forces in PSO was used to defend the existing structure designed for war. In 1997 a former Chief of Defence was quoted in the press saying he doubted that Britain was able to launch a campaign similar to the Falklands War: ‘We still have a little of everything we’ve always had.’72 Thus, seemingly, the crisis within the Armed Forces had still not come under control and this critique echoed calls for change that had been heard several years earlier.

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The Strategic Defence Review In 1998, the new British Labour government presented Britain’s second Defence Review in less than a decade, fulfilling its promise of the election campaign.73 The process of the Strategic Defence Review (SDR) was to be ‘foreign policy led’ and included an independent panel of defence experts and open seminars on defence issues. The point that the process, and presumably also the outcome, was to be foreign policy led, was an important one. Britain did not have a tradition of officially letting foreign policy set the basic aims, assumptions and calculations on which to build a defence policy. The last time an annual Defence White Paper had described the Armed Forces as an instrument of foreign policy was in 1966. The Defence Reviews in the early 1990s had been severely criticised for being driven by the Treasury. In this perspective, ‘foreign policy led’ simply meant ‘not Treasury led’, as the main motive of the Review was not to save money, a promise given early in the process, even though there was pressure on doing just that.74 A foreign-policy-led defence policy also implied a promise of change. In 1926, the Chiefs of Staff had reminded the Foreign Office that: The size of the forces of the Crown maintained by Great Britain is governed by various conditions peculiar to each service, and is not arrived at by any calculations of the requirements of foreign policy, nor is it possible that they ever should be so calculated. Thus, though the Expeditionary Force, together with a limited number of Air Force Squadrons, constitute the only military instrument available for immediate use in Europe or elsewhere outside Imperial territory in support of foreign policy, they are so available only when the requirements of Imperial Defence so permit.75 The dilemma some 70 years later was the opposite: should commitments in PSO outside Western Europe or outside NATO take priority over true defence of NATO and Britain proper? This probably goes to the core of the meaning of a foreign-policy-led defence policy: when it comes to true defence, there is no perceived degree of choice, as true defence circles around perceived inescapable commitments. Foreign policy, on the other hand, is about making choices between competing priorities, each of which is more or less optional—at least in the short run. This confuses the forces that drive strategy, however: perceptions of threats and resources to cope with them together shape the perceived room to manoeuvre in foreign policy and, as a consequence, in defence policy and strategy as well. It is of course not so that, for instance, during the Cold War, defence policy was not foreign policy led; rather it was the danger of imminent war with its severe consequences that narrowed the perceived opportunities and alternatives in foreign policy. Without any imminent threats, the room for manoeuvre widened and made choices necessary, choices that in the long run could impact on defence ability should the strategic environment shift radically.

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The Secretary of State for Defence, George Robertson, was quoted in the press as having said that war was no longer a priority. Speculation started over whether the new Armed Forces were to be a ‘peacekeeping militia’ or ‘a militarised police force’ only, a solution reportedly being favoured by the FCO. A peacekeeping force option would mean more infantry and fewer tanks. The Army slogan that ‘you can peacekeep if you have trained for war, but you can’t fight a war if you have trained only to peacekeep’ was cited in the press, and later also repeated by Robertson.76 The military came to continue to insist on being a warfighting army in the years to come: ‘the young people joining the Army’ had to accept that it was an organisation ‘geared to warfighting’; and, it was important not to become ‘too focused on the “softer”’ end of the spectrum. ‘Go first, go fast, go home’, the Chief of the Defence Staff urged.77 Another point about foreign-policy-led defence is that it would have made sense to issue a review on the exact foreign policy goals before the SDR was launched. This was not done, and in spite of promises of ‘ethical foreign policy’, support for democracy and human rights and the promise of taking the lead in international affairs, the precise content of British foreign policy and how defence was to serve Britain or the wider international community was lacking. This was also one of the main objections to the SDR from the House of Commons.78 However, the foreign policy goals presented in the SDR bore strong resemblance to those listed in, for instance, the 1996 Defence Estimates. The SDR distinguished between security interests inside and outside Europe. The list included European security, the ability to respond to crisis, NATO membership, the European Union (EU) and OSCE, the Middle East oil supplies, Northern Africa, Iraq and a general commitment to combat ‘poverty, inequality and human suffering in poorer countries’ as security concerns. These were all listed under the heading of ‘Security Priorities for the Future’. Under ‘Interests and Goals’, the paper stressed the relationship with Europe as well as with the US, British dependency on international trade and general ‘international responsibilities’ and overall dependency on ‘international stability, freedom and economic development’.79It has been noted that foreign-policy-led defence also meant that Britain’s role in world affairs was explained more in terms of commitments than hitherto usual for British policy.80 But these ‘commitments’ were so broad and general that they could in fact be used in a number of ways. Thus, freedom to manoeuvre was secured. However, the outlook of British defence policy at the end of the 1990s was much more that of a country with a mission than it was at the beginning of the 1990s. As mentioned, the SDR promised radicalism: a radical approach aiming at ‘fundamental reshaping of our forces’.81 However, before the process had really started, several limitations to the promised or expected radicalism had set forth: spending was to be maintained approximately at the present level, there was to be continued cooperation with the US and European Allies, British security was still to depend upon collective defence by NATO, Britain should retain its ability to fight ‘high-intensity’ wars and its armoured capability and maintain a nuclear

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capability.82 Thus, the SDR was very much about how to organise the existing capabilities to ease the problem of overstretch. It was more a case of ‘providing a rationale to help explain why what was already being done was being done and how it might be done better’ ,83 The timing of the SDR coincided with the initiation of NATO’s work on a new strategic concept, and MoD officials saw this as an opportunity to set an example and influence the evolution of that new NATO strategic concept.84 The MoD objectives presented were ‘to ensure the security and defence of the UK and Overseas Territories including against terrorism’ and ‘to support the Government’s foreign policy objectives’.85 Thus, for the first time since 1966, Britain officially had a foreign-policy-led defence policy. The interventionist line was taken further, as it was being argued that in an era of ethnic conflicts and instability in Europe one should be ‘prepared to go to the crisis rather than have the crisis coming to us’.86 The situation in the Balkans, the SDR insisted, threatened British security, whereas a crisis in Africa threatened British security indirectly. Balkans was, it can be argued, thus a part of defence. As there was no probable and substantial threat to Britain or any of her Allies in the foreseeable future, defined as the period up to 2015, interventions and regional conflicts were to be the scenarios determining force structure and shaping defence in the coming years. Outlining British interests and her role in Europe as well as globally in terms of stability, prosperity, economic development and freedom, the British government was ready to take on the responsibility to act as ‘a force of good in the world’. The subsequent annual defence White Paper stated that ‘the responsibility of defence is to make the world a safer place for us all’.87 The SDR outlined eight tasks, simultaneously rejecting the previous method of approach of outlining defence roles and numerous military tasks. This system did not ‘give sufficient prominence to the range of different operations covered by Role Three’. The review also criticised the artificial distinction between highand low-intensity capabilities. These eight tasks were to a certain extent overlapping: peace-time security; security of overseas territories; defence diplomacy; support to wider British interests; peace support and humanitarian operations; regional conflicts outside NATO; regional conflicts inside the NATO area; and finally, a strategic attack on NATO.88 The Gulf War was used to exemplify out-of-area missions. Consequently, the list distinguished between geographical boundaries as well as between different forms of conflicts. The Review expected growing calls for peace support, humanitarian operations and ‘more calls on our Armed Forces to become involved in averting, managing or countering these new security challenges’. The scale of effort determining the size of the force structure was that Britain should be able to respond to one fullscale operation similar to the Gulf War, or respond to a smaller contingency while simultaneously being able to handle a second minor crisis such as Bosnia under the condition that both did not involve substantial warfighting and that both of them did not last longer than six months.89 Thus home defence or territorial defence of Allies were very much put into the background. The

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difficulties and complexities of interventions were seen as even more demanding than preparing for a single worst-case conflict. The Review emphasised even more than hitherto the need for joint and rapid reaction forces as well as the need for integrating reserve forces more closely with the regular forces, more capable and usable at short notice. Britain was to maintain two deployable divisions, the size of the regular infantry was to be maintained, while one airborne brigade was to be converted into a mechanised brigade, increasing the size of each tank regiment by cutting one. A new air assault brigade was being set up, combining two parachute battalions and attack helicopters.90 With regard to land forces, a new training and readiness cycle was devised. Building on a structure of six deployable brigades, each brigade would spend one year training and preparing for deployments, one year at high readiness as a part of the Joint Rapid Reaction Forces, then a year deployed to operations and/or recovering from PSO. In fact, both the focus on ‘jointness’ and ‘reaction capability’ and the new cycle of training and rotating between tasks can be traced back to decisions taken and attempts to reorganise the structure made from 1993– 4 and onwards.91 Although the decision to form the ARRC within NATO had been taken several years earlier, reaction capability was still perceived as a weak spot in Britain. A new joint rapid reaction force of approximately 20,000 troops was formed, including Royal Marines, the airmobile brigade, special units (Special Air Service [SAS], Special Boat Service [SBS]) and helicopters. The initiative in forming such a unit had been with the military side, and included a new national command structure, ending the tradition of ad hoc arrangements every time Britain went to war. The decision to establish the ‘Permanent Joint HQ’ (PJHQ), a politico-military ‘war cabinet’, had been influenced by experience in the Gulf War.92 Also, already in 1993, the MoD had signalled that both doctrine and training had to be reviewed.93 The Joint Staff College and the Joint Doctrine and Concepts Centre were specifically tasked with contributing to the development of doctrines for international PSO.94 In terms of numbers, the Army was to increase by some 3,300 personnel, notably within the field of engineers, signals and logistics. Simultaneously the SDR proposed to withdraw 2,500 troops and 186 tanks from Germany to alleviate the problem of overstretch.95 Besides that, there were no major cuts proposed in the regular Army, only minor cuts in the number of high-ranking officers, of which there were too many. The TA, however, was being cut to 40, 000, something which caused some furore.96 The proposal to make changes in the legal regulations concerning the use of the TA in tasks other than ‘home defence’, in particular for peacekeeping operations, also goes back to the early 1990s.97 The SDR suggested the establishment of ‘High Readiness Reserves’ to reinforce the Regular Forces on demand. As it was pointed out, ‘for the first time, a UK government has made a commitment to mobilise reserve components in situations short of full war.’ However, the Gulf War had made army officials conclude that there were in fact problems in involving reserves, due to political

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hesitation about using them and due to the need for substantial pre-deployment training.98 The Review was in general appreciated among commentators as well as by the military. As the SDR did not suggest new substantial cuts, the Services welcomed the Review quite positively. The news about the creation of a new airbased assault brigade caused some anger within the military, as it involved the question of which service was to have the leading role and of mergers of units with long traditions.99 However, this was a minor issue. The Times called the Review more sensible than radical. An early analysis of the SDR described the changes as ‘evolutionary rather than revolutionary, representing managerial adjustments to the existing defence programme rather than a radically different approach’.100 In many respects, this seems to be an accurate description. Even though it may seem radical to build the rationale for the military on interventions and not on defence, the SDR conclusions on rapid reaction capability, training cycles, on the new role of the TA, on jointness and new command arrangements were themes in British defence policy going several years back. Additionally, the insistence on maintaining a warfighting capability, based on tanks, ensured continuity for the British army. The SDR was very much about arranging, structuring and organising what was already there in ways which would enhance the ability to deploy, support and maintain military presence within and outside the NATO area. The British government saw the SDR as a model for NATO’s new strategic concept.101 Before the revision of the strategic concept, Britain established objectives for the revision. Britain wanted NATO to be ‘a dynamic, forward-looking, relevant organisation which continues to make this vital contribution to peace and security’ and ‘remains an effective and flexible military instrument for dealing with threats and challenges to our security’. It was stated that NATO should plan to undertake operations of defence as well as the new missions of peace support and crisis management and that the forces were to be ‘deployable over extended distances’ at appropriate readiness with the necessary sustainability.102 British diplomats did much of the drafting of the new concept and advocated ‘re-tasking and re-categorisation’ of NATO’s strategic agenda.103 Kosovo British contingency planning for Kosovo started in the spring of 1998, and the first PJHQ involvement in such planning was in April 1998. This was in order to ‘be ahead of NATO detailed planning because nations need to be ready to respond with their own thought process’.104 The motives for Britain were, according to Blair, ‘a new doctrine of the international community’ as well as the ‘subtle blend of mutual self interest and moral purpose’ in defending common values.105To explain intervention in Kosovo as a matter of selfish national interest alone was not sufficient. This may be only natural, as many of the issues

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and risks confronting the security and defence sector are of a transnational character to which no single state can or will claim particular ownership. The Cold War was for all NATO countries a multinational, and not a national, problem. Also, the new strategic environment demanded multinational response. However, within military circles, it had been argued that the problem of PSO and crisis management was precisely the absence of a national interest.106 This suggests a different interpretation of the strategic environment within the military. As pointed out above, Britain contributed substantially to NATO’s operations in Kosovo, and towards the end of the air campaign Britain signalled a will to employ ground forces. When explaining the use of force in the Kosovo conflict Tony Blair said that the war was necessary in order to implement justice for the Kosovar population, ‘our fellow human beings’. Two years earlier, Blair had stressed the national interest as a central criterion for British participation in such operations. It was argued by the MoD that this was not a war, and the Foreign Minister articulated the objectives of the air campaign in military terms: […] so to weaken the Yugoslav army and increase the cost to the Yugoslavia army that it cannot maintain its present operations in Kosovo. If that has the consequence of bringing home to Belgrade that it will have to negotiate a settlement to a crisis it cannot resolve by military force, then that is, of course welcome.107 Blair argued that moral grounds were as important as strategic considerations for NATO’s decision to use force. Britain stood firm with NATO’s policy on ruling out ground troops, but in early April 1999 the tone changed; ‘all options were kept under review’, Blair stated on 10 April. Later, the MoD claimed to have been prepared to offer up to 54,000 Army personnel (including 14,000 reserves) for a ground war.108 When NATO’s demands were met, Blair apparently felt ‘no sense of triumph’.109 Whereas the issue of NATO acting without a UN mandate caused some debate and criticism, the public supported the government’s position: 69 per cent supported the bombing a few days after it had started.110 Britain’s policy by and large remained in line with NATO’s policy. This was not a war—the air campaign was conducted on humanitarian grounds— but the objectives stated did not provide a solution to the root causes of the conflict: the political status of Kosovo. Doctrine As mentioned, Britain has traditionally not given too much weight to doctrinal work. One senior officer described this lack of doctrine and doctrinal thinking as a serious and special problem of the British military and warned against going back to ‘thinking small’ due to cuts in size.111 During the 1990s, the business of ‘thinking’ became an important part of the British Armed Forces, making Britain

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a leading actor in the work on doctrines, in particular on PSO. In 1993, the Army set up a new body, the Inspector General of Doctrine and Training, and a Headquarters of Doctrine and Training at Upavon.112 This new body was to focus on both high-intensity warfare as well as ‘operations short of war’ and ‘peace support operations’. However, Britain had adopted manoeuvre warfare as the operational philosophy. This was regarded as a fundamental shift for the British Army, which started with the aforementioned attempts by General Bagnall to reform NATO’s operational planning in the 1980s.113 Arguably, the predominant doctrinal focus was on manoeuvre in the 1990s. A 1995 version of British doctrine on command adopted the distinction between war and operations other than war (OOTW), the latter embracing peacekeeping, wider peacekeeping, peace enforcement, COIN and limited intervention.114It stressed the inherent political nature of these kinds of operations and the necessity of applying minimum force and handling media attention. It defined war as ‘the cessation or suspension of normal political and diplomatic activity between the warring parties and open hostility. War may be subdivided into general war and regional conflict’ It adopted ‘Wider Peacekeeping’ definitions on PSO, peace-keeping and wider peacekeeping. It also stressed the relevance and validity of manoeuvre warfare to OOTW, focusing on breaking the opponent’s will rather than military capability. That manoeuvre warfare is relevant for all kinds of wars was adopted as the official doctrinal view. The British Army has kept its counter-insurgency doctrines alive, the last update from the mid 1990s arguing that manoeuvre warfare is applicable throughout the ‘seamless doctrinal approach’ of the Army. So is the principle of selectivity when it comes to the use of force: ‘as in warfighting, force is applied selectively […;] destruction is a means, not an end’.115 The ‘Joint Doctrine and Concepts Centre’ was set up at Shrivenham following the SDR. This was a manifestation of the jointness of modern military operations and consequently of the necessity of joint thinking. By 1999, the British Forces had developed a hierarchy of doctrines, with a strategic or politico-military doctrine at the top and a joint operations doctrine for all services and doctrines within each service down to the level of tactics and techniques.116 However, even though such a hierarchy of doctrines seems tidy, the complex process of creating doctrines, adjusting them and keeping them up to date across the services makes a degree of confusion almost inevitable. The maritime doctrine was updated twice in a four-year period (1995 and 1999). Each service has developed its own doctrine, which makes the true status of the joint doctrine somewhat unclear.117 There is a significant degree of overlap between the various doctrines within this hierarchy. Each service seems to develop a view on basic questions such as the nature of war and peace, principles of war, levels of command and so on. With such a system, it is not likely that all services will ever have a coherent, truly joint doctrine and conceptual understanding. On the other hand, if doctrine is regarded as not only a product, but more importantly, as a process, this may be less significant.

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The 1997 defence doctrine was seen by observers as the Conservative government’s response to calls for a new Defence Review.118 It was the first of its kind, representing a politico-military doctrine at the strategic level. It divided conflict into six categories: general war, limited conflict, regional conflict, civil war, insurgency and terrorism, all seen as forms of war and armed conflict. ‘War’ was defined as ‘the most extreme manifestation of armed conflict, characterised by intense, extensive and sustained combat, usually between states’.119 Also, the doctrine outlined four circumstances in which British forces may be used: protecting the security of the UK; protecting the security of Dependent Territories; Treaty obligations (NATO); and promoting and defending British interests worldwide.120 Finally, the doctrine outlined forms of military operations, distinguishing between combat operations (high-intensity warfare, armed intervention, counterinsurgency and counterterrorist operations) and deterrence; support to diplomacy; peace-keeping and peace enforcement; military home defence; military aid to civil authorities; non combatant evacuation operations; and humanitarian aid. It also explored various limitations on the exercise of military force, which included practical, ethical and political aspects, and the doctrine formalised the view that if interventions take place outside the perimeter of vital national security interests, collateral damage and civilian casualties are less likely to be tolerated.121 The doctrine used the concepts of peace enforcement and enforcement randomly, referring to IFOR in Bosnia as an example of peace enforcement; i.e. an impartial but robust way of deterring or preventing outbreak of hostilities. This analysis ignores the way in which IFOR arrived, i.e. by the means of an air campaign and a ground war which can hardly be judged as impartial. The doctrine elaborated on crisis management as decision-making in the face of a crisis, stressing the balance between aims, limitations of interests and the use of force as well as the need for ‘overt decisions or preparations that must support any diplomatic initiative to defuse the crisis.’ An annex was devoted to crisis management: ‘the process of preventing, containing or resolving crisis’ and, if necessary, an ‘orderly transition to war’.122 However, this section did not elaborate on the content of crisis management, or principles for effective crisis management, but described the decision-making machinery and levels of responsibility. The doctrine insisted that Britain should maintain a capacity to regenerate force for general war after appropriate warning time.123 A new version of the operational doctrine was finalised in 1998. This doctrine recognised that multinational operations are increasingly the norm, and also that the nature of armed conflict and war has become increasingly blurred. ‘Future military activity should no longer be regarded simply in the context of peace or war but against the background of a “continuum of conflict” in which states and/ or non-state groups are permanently in conflict with one another.124 The doctrine recognised that it is hard to categorise conflicts, as the borders between them fluctuate. Therefore, the concepts of intensity and limitation were elaborated on. In this doctrine, PSO are defined first of all by the view that the undertaker

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defines himself at peace—PSO are regarded as a peacetime activity, even though the concept includes peace enforcement. Secondly, PSO are regarded to be those operations that are authorised by a political body other than the British State alone (UN or OSCE). PSO encompass peacekeeping, peace enforcement, conflict prevention and humanitarian aid, leaving peacemaking out because it is seen more as a political activity.125 The doctrine assumes that operations in general most likely will be undertaken without a national mobilisation for war as a part of a multinational force authorised by an international institution, but distinguishes between combined operations (NATO only) and multinational operations, which are coalitions of the willing. This appears to be an attempt to focus more on the likely scenarios and on the nature of current operations rather than focusing primarily on the ‘worst case’ of all-out war for national survival. Furthermore, the doctrine is less concerned with drawing a sharp line between war and OOTW, or ‘other uses of military force’, ranging from peace enforcement to ceremonial duties.126Whereas PSO are lumped together with non-combat, peacetime activities, the doctrine as a whole reflects many of the trends that shaped strategy in the 1990s. It encompasses sections on the law of armed conflict, on rules of engagement and on multinational command and civil-military cooperation. This, it can be argued, represents a shift from away from ‘national wars of survival’ to a focus on what the Armed Forces were actually doing. It underlines the utility of manoeuvre warfare for all kinds of operations with the focus on influencing the opponents’ will, rather than achieving defeat through attrition and destruction alone: ‘wars are ultimately won or lost in the hearts and minds of men and women’.127 The doctrine warns against the concept of ‘unconditional surrender’ and destruction as an end in itself, and reminds of the need for thinking beyond winning a war militarily. On the other hand, it can be argued that the doctrine is conservative in its insistence on standard military principles, on the universal application of manoeuvre warfare and on the concept of operational art, and because of its predominant focus on traditional campaigns. The concept of crisis management is not given any significant attention, as it does not deal with the challenges that flow from combining force and diplomacy. Having had no peacekeeping doctrine during its limited contribution in the Cold War, Britain took a leading role in doctrinal work in the early 1990s. The doctrinal developments have been elaborated on in Chapter 3. The Wider Peacekeeping doctrine, replacing the standard peacekeeping manual from 1988, was very much discussed, criticised and praised.128 This doctrine, which stretched traditional peacekeeping to its outer limits, was criticised for being Bosnia-specific. The British troops brought with them the emerging view of wider peacekeeping, and, as pointed out in Chapter 3, British forces adopted a robust way of solving their mission. In many respects this was a contrast to standard peacekeeping procedures, and British forces stretched their mandate to its limits to solve the mission. British battalions were frequently engaged in firefights to get their convoys through and analysts regarded this more as COIN

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than as peacekeeping. Determined not to commit the same failures as the US was perceived to have committed in Somalia by crossing the Mogadishu line, the British drew a clear distinction between peace enforcement and peacekeeping, and General Sir Michael Rose, British Commander of UNPROFOR in Bosnia, was quoted in the press numerous times saying that’ You cannot fight a war from white painted tanks’ and ‘hitting a tank is self defence, hitting infrastructure is war’.129 The new doctrine explained the difference between old peacekeeping and Bosnian peacekeeping. The work on PSO doctrines gave Britain a leading role within NATO as well as being, as mentioned above, highly welcomed in the UN. British officers in NATO contributed significantly to drafting NATO’s initial peace-support documents. British doctrine emphasised the importance of doctrine beyond tactical and operational practice, as national doctrine is a means used to influence NATO doctrines.130 In 1998, the Armed Forces published its revised PSO doctrine, contradicting many of the views contained in its predecessor Wider Peacekeeping. In part, this was a response to some of the criticism of the Wider Peacekeeping doctrine, but it also represented the alternative view held by members of the writing team responsible for Wider Peacekeeping. The new PSO doctrine was initially intended to be an Army doctrine, and the revision started in 1996. The result two years later was a joint doctrine, a kind of an annex to the doctrine for the operational level. It introduced peace enforcement as an impartial, but forceful, mode of operation to be applied if consent was weak or lacking. A third alternative between war and peacekeeping was thus suggested. The second draft of Joint Warfare Publication (JWP) 3–01 Peace Support Operations had stated that peace enforcement was understood as ‘similar to counter-insurgency but in a United Nations rather than a colonial context’.131 Arguably, it was not a third alternative, but an adjustment of the concept of war to the ‘new’ conflicts: internal wars. During this process, the conceptual model was presented in NATO and thus internationalised prior to its presentation. As pointed out earlier, the doctrine was rejected politically in NATO because it defined PSO as operations authorised in the UN. In spite of this, the conceptual model was also used in the defence doctrine of 1997.132 This concept was inspired by imperial operations and COIN operations of the past and was endorsed by British commanders in Bosnia and Kosovo. However, the starting point for the authors of this doctrine was very much the mistakes of UNPROFOR: the aim was to come up with a concept General Rose would have used, if he had had the means and resources available in the midst of the Bosnian war, not after it. The emphasis on, attention given to and outcome of the British Armed forces’ work on doctrines on PSO suggest that the British have in fact taken these new tasks quite seriously. It is easy to point out weaknesses and inconsistencies, as done above, but one should remember that the 1990s were a period of flux. The continuous work of the British on doctrine has probably been

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a substantial contribution to the practice of peacekeeping and shows the importance of creative thinking within military institutions. Doctrinal thinkers and defence planners have also tried to look into the future. Future doctrines will have to be sensitive to the increasing ‘civilianisation’ of conflict, to the urbanisation of the land environment, the resentment between rich and poor states and peoples, the impact of globalisation, struggle for national resources and finite resources for defence. In British terminology, defence thinking has moved from deterrence to power projection.133 The Army project labelled ‘British Army 2000’, with a focus on the first decade of the new millennium, focuses on two forms of war within scenarios quite similar to those of the ‘NATO LO 2020’ study. The first is the scenario of a new Gulf War: a short, high-intensity war. The second is the messier scenario, with a dash of terrorism, a dash of urban warfare and a dash of a guerrilla opponent. They reflect the increased attention devoted to asymmetric strategies during this decade.134 The two scenarios are not mutually exclusive. War or enforcement in the context of internal conflict may turn out something like this and such a scenario may represent what had happened if the ground forces of IFOR/SFOR or KFOR had had to fight.135 Later, the war in Afghanistan from 2001 was a manifestation of the messier scenario. The rationale for this policy was that any operation might escalate to enforcement and warfighting. Within the Army, it has been widely accepted that training for high-intensity war is the appropriate focus and that suggestions indicating a lower training standard for units earmarked for PSO should be resisted. Two weeks of predeployment training was seen to be sufficient. There was indeed something quite secondary to the British approach to PSO. On the other hand, this view may be more valid in Britain than in other countries, due to the tradition of COIN and the experience gained in Northern Ireland over the years. But it is also an argument used by the military in order to minimise changes in training procedures and force structuring, not least equipment. Statements like ‘you can only peace keep if you are trained for war’ are easily turned into simplified slogans. The complexity of many of the socalled OOTW reduces their credibility. British doctrine maintains a distinction between war and the use of force in support of diplomacy.136 Thus the concept of ‘proper war’ is still very much a concept in isolation from politics and diplomacy. The combination of diplomacy and force is still thought of as something apart from proper war and as a distinct and special case, rather than the norm. This typology suggests that ‘high-intensity war’ is a label reserved for the cases in which the military enjoys a great deal of autonomy from the realm of politics, in situations in which ‘the use of military force is likely to be the prime means of resolving the conflict’.137 Even though crisis management has been explained in general terms, the doctrines do not reflect a more thorough discussion on how military means can be exploited effectively to support diplomacy. Principles and concepts are primarily geared towards either manoeuvre war or PSO. However, by the end of

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the decade, the Higher Command and Staff College included crisis management and PSO in its syllabus. Peacekeeping was not taught in the Military Academy at Sandhurst until 1994. From 1998, the training season was divided into two: war in the autumn term and OOTW in the spring: ‘Term Two concentrated on conventional war; Term Three focuses on all aspects of ‘Operations Other than War’ from counter-insurgency to peace-keeping.’138 Conclusion In terms of policy response to the new strategic environment, British defence policy can easily be described as evolutionary. The tradition of incrementalism, ‘wait and see’ and ‘no commitments’ is highly alive. The 1992 SDR incorporated ‘wider security interests’ into defence policy and this encompassed peacekeeping, later wider peacekeeping and PSO. British involvement in PSO and interventions was not rooted in a firm strategic vision, but developed gradually as response to immediate needs. Britain entered the PSO arena with hesitation and PSO are still regarded very much as a second-rate activity and something to be carried out as an optional case. But NATO PSO are seemingly more popular within the MoD and the Armed Forces than UN peacekeeping. Both Article 5 and war-fighting took priority over the new tasks when it came to force planning. Later, the distinction between Article 5 and non-Article 5 was played down for force planning purposes. While defence policy in rhetoric and in terms of force structure placed emphasis on demonstration of sovereignty in overseas territories and traditional NATO defence, it was PSO which came to shape British defence by the end of the decade. The SDR altered the officially stated priorities and rearranged the structures, but did not abandon any of the Army capabilities. Most of the themes touched upon in the SDR are results of ideas and projects which started long before the process of the SDR. Whereas the concept of territorial defence historically has had a limited role in shaping the British defence thinking, this was taken even further by the end of the decade. In Britain, the issue is more to preserve a national intervention capability, rather than a national defence capability. The resistance against letting the UN Security Council dominate decisionmaking in the Gulf War, rejecting its own doctrine for PSO in NATO due to its formal definition putting UN rather than NATO in charge, and the caution with which the UK entered the enlargement issue, are all evidence of this objective of maximising freedom of action. Rather than focusing on policy and commitments, Britain has focused on structures, processes, doctrines and capabilities. These are examples of projects that increase freedom of actions rather than express policy commitments and in which Britain can exercise influence and enhance her profile, in particular within NATO. Probably the most important policy choice made by Britain was the decision to take a leading role within NATO’s ARRC. The idea of offering resources to multilateral organisations and frameworks provided a new rationale for structures hard to

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justify from national considerations. This role ensures continued competence on the ‘grand’ level, at the centre of decision-making, and is seen to enhance Britain’s influence in a relevant NATO. The reductions in the structure of the Army terminated in 1994, in part as a response to peacekeeping needs. The rest of the decade was spent on rearranging what was left of the Army. Due to recruitment problems, the manpower limits have never been met, and the Army seems to be continuously at around 5,000 short of its manpower objectives. The offer made in 1999 to deploy 54,000 troops, including 12,000 reserves, for a forced entry into Kosovo seems to be the absolute maximum, and perhaps beyond that, of what the British Army could manage. To the Falklands the Army sent two brigades, to the Gulf a full division. Such a contribution would thus have been the biggest challenge for the Army in the 1990s. Out of a total Army of 100,000, maintaining a PSO force of 8–9,000 over several years seems to be the maximum of what Britain could do with the structure. Nevertheless, it may be argued that in spite of the problems of overstretch, PSO has served the military well. Bosnia and Kosovo have given the Armed Forces the opportunity to work closely with Allies and with ‘high-tech’ equipment, something which is quite different from patrolling the streets in Northern Ireland. Even though the SDR made an important contribution to solving the problem of overstretch within the Armed Forces, it was not radical and will not alter the fact that the British Army is small. The military ambitions expressed in the SDR appear to be at the maximum for the British military; even the deployment of one full division can prove to be a serious test for the Army. The SDR did not end the practice of multiple earmarking. All units assigned by Britain to NATO have, at least on paper, roles within other organisations as well, as they constitute the basis for purely national interventions. Conceptually, British policy papers and doctrines have attempted to categorise the defence missions and roles by using several criteria. The distinctions used are overlapping and in part political (distinctions between conflict inside and outside NATO and conflicts involving wider British interests) and in part operational (as the distinction between war and PSO). The SDR distinguished between direct and indirect security interests. The concept of crisis management has played little role in policy papers as well as in doctrines and its meaning remains unclear. Whereas the multilateral approach to defence beyond the selfish national interest is a sign of continuity, the moral dimensions of British defence policy are more pronounced and more visible than before. With Kosovo and the Blair doctrine, intervention came close to being presented as a moral duty. This does not mean that the national interest has disappeared or is no longer relevant in policy making. It plays a strong role. However, it can be that in a system which is more and more interdependent, defence policy objectives have to take into consideration that many problems are simply too big for a single state to manage and has impacted on the national interests in other ways than before. Nevertheless, British policy makers are attempting to maintain a major role in

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global affairs. PSO involvement is one means available to defend this status and role as well as the relevance of NATO. Doctrine became an important aspect of British military developments. The British Army has adopted the manoeuvre warfare philosophy and claims that it is valid throughout the spectrum of conflict and simultaneously maintains that war fighting is the number one ambition. Britain also took on a leading role within doctrinal work on PSO. However, doctrines and training maintained the distinction between OOTW and war and the use of force in support of diplomacy. The predominant view is that PSO detract from the warfighting capability of the military, and the training priorities were changed only late in the decade. ‘War’, in its more traditional sense, remained the core of what the British military was preparing for by 1999. The Army has maintained and developed its COIN doctrine and has been able to draw on a rich history of COIN campaigning. In this respect, Britain had an advantage over many other states when it came to developing doctrines for the new strategic environment. Also, coalitions seem to be the most likely way forward, something which is reflected in UK military doctrines as well. The British military has constantly tried to catch up with events and adjust the course, along with policy, but insisted that a major war, modelled on the Gulf War, should determine structure and training requirements of the Army. Even though the training priorities put PSO at the lower end, the British work on doctrines has been given priority. The doctrines bear signs of a changing view on war. But, PSO, including peace enforcement, are still placed in the special case category. The pattern of doctrinal work in Britain seems to be to take experience from ongoing operations, and create a doctrine out of it, not to create a concept and then try it out in the field. Notes 1 Daalder and O’Hanlon, Winning Ugly, pp. 217–18. 2 General Roger Wheeler, ‘Armies in an Era of Change’, Military Technology, 11 (1998), P. 11. 3 ‘Cook Stresses Allied Solidarity on Kosovo’, edited transcript of interview given to BBC Television, Friday 21 May 1999, and ‘Cook and Albright Reaffirm Alliance Unity’, edited transcript of interview given to CNN, 20 May 1999, available online at http://www.fco.gov.uk/news; ‘Defence Secretary’s Statement on Kosovo’, statement by the Secretary of State for Defence, George Robertson, to the House of Commons, London, 26 May 1999, available online at http://www.fcoi.gov.uk/ news; MoD, Kosovo: Lessons From the Crisis (London: The Stationary Office, June 2000), p. 46; Lieutenant General Michael Jackson, lecture at the Royal United Services Institute for Defence and Security Studies (RUSI), London, 23 November 1999.

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4 See ‘Blair Confirms Launch of NATO Air Strikes’, edited transcript of press conference, Berlin, 24 March 1999, available online at http://www.fco.gov.uk/ news. 5 Philip A.G.Sabin, ‘British Strategic Priorities in the 1990s’, Adelphi Paper no. 254 (London: Brassey’s for the IISS, 1990), pp. 5–7. 6 See IISS, The Military Balance 1999–2000 (London: Oxford University Press for the IISS, 1999), p. 75. 7 ‘Army reforms puts fighting units under one general’, The Daily Telegraph, 31 March 1995. 8 For an overview of ‘OP GRANDBY’, see MoD, Statement on the Defence Estimates 1991 (London: HMSO, 1991), pp. 7–28. See also Peter de la Billiere, Storm Command: A Personal Account of the Gulf War (London: Harper Collins, 1992), pp. 17; 108. 9 MoD, The United Kingdom’s Role in UN Peacekeeping Operations (London: HMSO, 1995). 10 House of Commons, Defence Committee (HoC), Statement on Defence Estimates 1994, 6th Report, (London, HMSO, 1994), pp. xxii–xxxiv; HoC, ‘Minutes of the Evidence’, 22 September 1992, United Kingdom Peacekeeping and Intervention Forces, 4th Report, 9 June 1993 (London, HMSO, 1993;, pp. 11–12; MoD, Statement on the Defence Estimates 1993 (London: HMSO, 1993), pp. 45–7; HoC, United Kingdom Peacekeeping, pp. xxii–xxiv. 11 ‘Bosnia crisis: Biggest troop movement since Gulf War’, The Daily Telegraph, 29 May 1995; ‘Bosnia mission will mean half of the Army is abroad’, The Times, 13 November 1995; HoC, Peace Support Operations in Bosnia and Herzegovina, 1st Report, 3 December 1997 (London: The Stationary Office, 1997), p. viii; Michael Portillo, ‘Bosnia: Implementing the Peace Agreement’, RUSI Journal, February (1996), pp. 27–30. 12 MoD, Kosovo: An Account of the Crisis (London: DGCC, MoD, 1999), p. 21; General Roger Wheeler, ‘The British Army After the SDR: Peacemakers Know that Britain Will Deliver’, RUSI Journal, April/May (1999), p.4. The UK intervention in Sierra Leone in May 2000, undertaken in part in support of the ongoing UN peacekeeping mission, was the largest unilateral overseas military operation since the Falkland War. However, it took place outside the NATO context and outside the period covered by this book and will therefore not be discussed any further. For an overview of the intervention, see Paul Williams, ‘Fighting for Freetown: British Military Intervention in Sierra Leone’, Contemporary Security Policy, 22:3 (2001), pp. 140–68. 13 Michael Clarke, ‘Britain’, in Michael Brenner (ed.), NATO and Collective Security (London: Macmillan, 1998), pp. 2–3; Franklyn A.Johnson, Defence by Ministry: The British Ministry of Defence 1944–1974 (London: Gerald Duckworth, 1980), pp. 10, 21, 178. 14 Beatrice Heuser, Nuclear Mentalities: Strategies in Britain, France and the FRG (London: Macmillan, 1998), pp. 22–8; Joseph Frankel, British Foreign Policy 1945– 73 (London: Oxford University Press, 1975), in particular pp. 3, 112, 138– 50. 15 Trevor Taylor, ‘A British Perspective’, in Michael Brenner (ed.), Multilateralism and Western Strategy (London: Macmillan, 1995), p.86.

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16 Michael Howard, The Continental Commitment (London: The Ashfield Press, 1989), p. 146. 17 Beatrice Heuser, Nuclear Strategies and Forces for Europe, 1949–2000 (London: Macmillan, 1997), p. 63. For an overview of aspects of US-UK relations, see W.M.Roger Louis and Hedley Bull (eds), The Special Relationship: AngloAmerican Relations Since 1945 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1986). 18 John Baylis, Anglo-American Defence Relations 1939–1980: The Special Relationship, 2nd edn (London: Macmillan, 1984), p. 209. 19 Wyn Rees, ‘The Anglo-American Security Relationship’, in Croft (ed.), British Security Policy, pp. 143–78. 20 Baylis, British Defence Policy, pp. 44, 37–50. 21 Stuart Croft, ‘Intervention: When, How and Why’, in Michael Clark and Philip Sabin (eds), British Defence Choices for the Twenty-First Century (Brassey’s for CDS, London, 1993), p. 34; Clarke, ‘Britain’, pp. 25–6. 22 David Chanter, ‘The United Kingdom’, in Jolyon Howorth and Anand Menon (eds), The European Union and National Defence Policy (London: Routledge, 1997), pp. 103–20. 23 Taylor, ‘A British Perspective’, p. 77; Heuser, Nuclear Mentalities, pp. 36–41. 24 David French, The British Way in Warfare 1688–2000 (London: Unwin Hyman, 1990), pp. 228–34; Bond, ‘Introduction’, p. 6. 25 Dockrill, British Defence, pp. 82–98. 26 Mockaitis, British Counterinsurgency. 27 Heuser, Nuclear Mentalities, pp. 41–3. 28 C.J.Barlett, ‘The Military Instrument in British Foreign Policy’, in John Baylis (ed.), British Defence Policy in a Changing World (London: Croom Helm, 1977), p. 30. 29 See, for instance, Brian Holden Reid, Studies in Military Thought: Debates with Fuller & Liddell Hart (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1998), Ch. 1. 30 Brian Holden Reid, ‘Introduction’, in B.H.Reid and Major General J.J.G.Mackenzie (eds), The British Army and the Operational Level of War (London: Tri-Service Press, 1989), p. 10; Johnson, Defence by Ministry, pp. 192–3. 31 Colin McInnes, ‘Conventional Forces’, in Stuart Croft (ed.), British Security Policy (London: Harper Collins Academic, 1991), pp. 29–46. The ‘Options for Change’ review was officially not one review but a process including several proposals and studies initiated in February 1990 followed by government suggestions to alter the structure of the Armed Forces in July 1990. ‘The British Army for the 1990s’ followed in 1991, the ‘Front Line First: Defence Cost Study’ in 1994. 32 For an overview of the structure see Michael Clarke and Philip Sabin, ‘Introduction’, in Clarke and Sabin, British Defence Choices, pp. xvii–xx. 33 MoD, Statement 1991, p. 6. 34 ‘Treasury calling the shots on MoD cuts’, The Independent, 13 June 1991; Sabin, ‘British Strategic Priorities’, p. 11; Colin McInnes, The Future of the British Army’, Defense Analysis, 9:2 (1993), pp. 122–4; ‘Cuts leave UK with smallest Army since 1830’, The Independent, 24 July l991. 35 See Croft, ‘Intervention’, p. 33. 36 HoC, Statement on Defence Estimates 1991, 11th Report (London: HMSO, 1991), p. viii.

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37 General Sir Michael Farndale, ‘The British Army: Implications of Change’, Brassey’s Defence Yearbook 1992 (London: Brassey’s for RUSI, 1992), p. 45; Lawrence Freedman, ‘Major’, The Politics of British Defence 1979–98 (London: Macmillan, 1999), p. 15; ‘Army chiefs say troop cuts are unworkable’, The Times, 10 July 1991; ‘King gives Army chiefs ultimatum’, The Independent, 12 June 1991; General A.J.G.Pollard, ‘The Army: Is Less Enough’, RUSI Journal, Autumn (1991), pp. 19–23. 38 ‘We must not lower our defences’, The Independent, 5 March 1991. 39 ‘UK unveils army for the 1990s’, Jane’s Defence Weekly, 3 August 1991, p. 182; McInnes, ‘The British Army’, p. 5. 40 Wheeler, ‘The British Army After the SDR’, p. 7. 41 MoD Factsheet, ‘Britain’s Defence for the 90s’, HoC, Statement 1991, pp. 70–2; MoD, Statement 1991, pp. 31, 47. 42 McInnes, The British Army, p. 8; MoD, Statement 1993, p. 37; MoD, Statement on the Defence Estimates 1994 (London: HMSO, 1994), p. 45; MoD, Statement on the Defence Estimates 1995 (London: HMSO, 1995), p. 48. 43 See ret. General Rodric Cordy-Simpson and General Michael Rose in ‘Minutes of Evidence’, 3 February 1999, HoC, The Future of NATO: The Washington Summit (London: The Stationary Office, 1999), p. 49. 44 ‘British defence review weighs up the option for lighter forces’, The Financial Times, 3 July 1993. 45 MoD, Statement 1991, p. 47. 46 ‘White paper sets out Britain’s post-Cold War defence strategy’, Financial Times, 8 July 1992, and ‘Rifkind underlines Britain’s role as global peacekeeper’, The Times, 8 July 1992. 47 MoD, Statement l991, pp. 40–1. 48 MoD, Statement on the Defence Estimates 1992 (London: HMSO, 1992), p. 6. 49 Secretary of State for FCA Douglas Hurd, ‘Foreign Policy and International Security’, RUSI Journal, December (1992), pp. 1–4. 50 Sir John Weston, ‘The Challenges to NATO: A British View’, NATO Review, October (1992), p. 12. 51 Malcolm Rifkind, ‘Peacekeeping or Peacemaking’, RUSI Journal, April (1993), pp. 1–6. 52 Freedman, The Politics, p. 16. 53 ‘Speech by Foreign Secretary, Mr Douglas Hurd, to the Royal College of Defence Studies’, London, 8 December 1993, Arms Control & Disarmament Quarterly, January (1994), pp. 35–42; Taylor, ‘A British Perspective’, pp. 79, 87. Britain was also sceptical towards NATO enlargement. 54 Michael Portillo, ‘Conservative Party Defence Policy’, RUSI Journal, June (1997), p. 31. 55 MoD, Statement 1993, pp. 7, 9–10. 56 Ibid., pp. 20–46. 57 Foreign and Commonwealth Office, Background brief, ‘Britain and UN Peacekeeping’, June 1994; Barney White-Spunner, ‘The Thin Blue Line: Britain’s Contribution to United Nations’, Brassey’s Defence Yearbook 1995 (London: Brassey’s for RUSI, 1995), p. 35.

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58 MoD, Statement 1993, pp. 49–50; MoD, ‘Statement by the Secretary of State for Defence on the Deployment of Forces to the Adriatic’, News Release, 14 January 1993. 59 HoC, United Kingdom Peacekeeping, p. xxiv; MoD, Statement 1995, p. 48. 60 HoC, Statement 1994, p. xxii. 61 ‘On the look-out for a fight’, The Financial Times, 4 November 1994. 62 Hurd, ‘Foreign Policy’, p. 2; quote from HoC, United Kingdom Peacekeeping, p. xxiii 63 ‘Portillo unveils plans for rapid reaction force’, The Daily Telegraph, 17 October, 1995; ‘Portillo promises Britain will fight global aggressors’, The Times, 3 January 1997. 64 HoC, United Kingdom Peacekeeping; HoC, British Forces in Bosnia, 5th Report, (London: HMSO, 1996); HoC, PSO in Bosnia Herzegovina. 65 HoC, British Forces in Bosnia, p. xxiil. 66 HoC, United Kingdom Peacekeeping, pp. xvii, xxii–xxiii, xxvi, xxvii, xl. 67 MoD, Statement 1995, pp. 9–12, 23. 68 Ibid., pp. 23–9. 69 ‘Army too small to allow soldiers time at home bases’, The Times, 2 August 1995; ‘Gurkhas on alert to bolster Paras’ depleted infantry’, The Independent, 14 October 1995; ‘Send us your sons, army recruiters tell mothers’, The Times, 2 November 1995; ‘Army is safe for further cutbacks’, The Independent, 4 May 1995. 70 MoD, Statement on the Defence Estimates 1996 (London: 1996), pp. 19–20. 71 MoD, Statement 1994, p. 24. 72 ‘How Blair can save billions on defence’, The Independent, 10 February 1997. 73 ‘Labour offers defence framework’, The Financial Times, 11 October 1995. 74 Barlett, ‘The Military Instrument’, p. 47; ‘Armed forces unlikely to face further cuts’, The Times, 19 September 1997; ‘Defence and trade must bail out crisis-hit NHS’, The Times, 13 October 1997. See also Ken Aldred et al., The Strategic Defence Review: How Strategic? How Much of a Review? (London: published by Brassey’s for the CDS, July 1998), p. 5. The SDR coincided with the Comprehensive Spending Review and the MoD was under pressure to contribute to the overall cuts in the budget of around £2 bn. 75 Howard, The Continental, p. 94. 76 ‘War no longer a priority, says Robertson’, The Times, 14 May 1997; ‘Robertson review will give forces a sense of direction’, The Times, 29 May 1997; ‘Tank battle erupts in Whitehall’, The Times, 13 July 1997; Field Marshal Sir Peter Inge, ‘The Roles of the British Armed Forces’, RUSI Journal, February (1996), pp. 1–5; General Sir Charles Guthrie, ‘The British Army at the turn of the Century’, RUSI Journal, June (1996), pp. 5–6. 77 ‘Army must keep true to its aim’, The Times, 18 February 1999; General Sir Charles Guthrie, ‘The UK’s armed forces: warfighters or peacekeepers?’, Jane’s Defence Weekly, 3 January 2001. 78 HoC, The Strategic Defence Review, vol. I, 8th Report (London, The Stationary Office, 1998), p. xxix. 79 MoD, The Strategic Defence Review (SDR), (London: The Stationary Office, 1998), pp. 7, 10–12.

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80 Freedman, The Politics of British Defence, pp. 97–8, 101; The International Centre for Security Analysis, Coalitions and the Future of UK Security Policy, Whitehall Paper Series no. 50 (London: RUSI, 2000), p. 1. 81 MoD, The SDR, pp. 1–2. 82 ‘War no longer priority, says Robertson’, The Times, 14 May 1997; ‘Robertson will give the forces a sense of direction’, The Times, 29 May 1997. 83 Freedman, The Politics of British Defence, p. 97. 84 HoC, The Strategic Defence Review, p. lviii. 85 MoD, The Strategic Defence Review: Supporting Essays (London: The Stationary Office, 1998), p. iii. 86 MoD, The SDR, pp. 2–7. 87 Ibid., p. 7; MoD, Defence White Paper 1999 (London: The Stationary Office, 1999), p. 3. 88 MoD, The SDR: Supporting Essays, pp. 6–4–6–13; MoD, The SDR, pp. 13–15. 89 MoD, The SDR, pp. 13, 23; quote in MoD, The SDR: Supporting Essays (London: HMSO, 1998), pp. 2–3. 90 MoD, Defence White Paper 1999, pp. 23–30. 91 See ‘Minutes of Evidence’, 7 February 1996, HoC, Statement on Defence Estimates, 7th Report (London: HMSO, 1996), p. 15. 92 ‘Rifkind poised to set up rapid action strike force’, Daily Telegraph, 30 June 1994; ‘Creation of a permanent HQ will put Inge in overall command’, The Times, 15 July 1994; MoD, Statement 1992, p. 70. 93 Secretary of State for Defence, 20 January 1993, HoC, United Kingdom Peacekeeping, p. xxvi. The changes in HQ structures were introduced in 1996. See MoD, Statement 1996, pp. 20–1; HoC, ‘Minutes of Evidence 7 February 1996’, HoC, Statement 1996, p. 15. 94 MoD, The SDR, p. 15. 95 MoD, The SDR, p. 28; MoD, The SDR: Supporting Essays, pp. 6–9. 96 ‘Army seeking Pounds 50m in golden handshakes for surplus officers’, The Times, 27 July 1997. Around 300 senior officers had to go, including 20 brigadiers and 40 colonels; ‘Senior TA officers threaten to quit over manpower cuts’, The Times, 6 November 1998; ‘Soldiers face court martial for gossip about TA’, The Times, 11 November 1998; ‘A Cut too far?’, Jane’s Defence Weekly, 24 June 1998, pp. 20–1. 97 ‘Early call-up for reserves planned’, Jane’s Defence Weekly, 28 March 1992; MoD, Statement 1996, p. 80. 98 ‘High-intensity capability is safeguarded’, Jane’s Defence Weekly, 15 July 1998; ‘After the fighting, the retrenchment’, The Financial Times, 18 March 1991. 99 ‘Top brass plan elite force of air cavalry’, The Sunday Times, 16 November 1997; ‘Army wants air cavalry to head updated force’, The Times, 23 February 1998. 100 ‘Robertson’s blueprint is more sensible than radical’, The Times, 9 July 1998; Aldred et al., The Strategic Defence Review, pp. 10–11. 101 HoC, The Future of NATO, p. xv. 102 ‘Memorandum submitted by the Ministry of Defence on the future of NATO’, HoC, The Future of NATO, pp. 89–92, 89. 103 Interview with John Goulden, Ambassador to NATO, ‘From Partnership for Peace to Full Enlargement, RUSI Journal, February/March (1999), pp. 25–7. 104 HoC, Lessons of Kosovo, p. xvi.

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105 Speech by Prime Minister Tony Blair, ‘Doctrine of the International Community’, Chicago, 22 April 1999. 106 Field Marshal, Sir Peter Inge, ‘The Roles and Challenges of the British Armed Forces’, RUSI Journal February (1996), p. 2. 107 UK Foreign Secretary, quoted in House of Commons, Foreign Affairs Committee, Kosovo, 4th Report, vol. 1, 23 May 2000 (London: HMSO, 2000), p. xxix. 108 ‘Will they send in the troops or won’t they?’, The Sunday Times, 11 April 1999; MoD, Kosovo: Lessons, p. 46. 109 ‘Do not rejoice yet, says Blair’, The Times, 11 June 1999. 110 ‘Public backs NATO airstrikes’, The Sunday Times, 28 March 1999. 111 Lieutenant General Sir Garry Johnson, ‘On Winning: An Option for Change Without Decay’, RUSI Journal, Autumn (1991), pp. 10–13. 112 ‘Army’s new “brain” focuses on future’, The Independent, 8 September 1993. 113 John Kiszely, ‘The British Army and Approaches to Warfare since 1945’, in Brian Holden Reid (ed.), Military Power: Land Warfare in Theory and Practice (London: Frank Cass, 1997), pp. 179–206. 114 General Chief of Staff, Army Doctrine Publication, Command, vol. 2, April 1995, Ch. 7, pp. 7–1. 115 G.Bulloch, ‘The Application’, pp. 165–77, 167. 116 MoD, Defence White Paper 1999, p. 20; for an overview of UK doctrines, see ‘Official Publications’, 1998, 2nd ed., issued by the Directorate General of Development and Doctrine, Army Code No. 71632, available on CD-ROM. 117 Philip A.Sabin, ‘Air Power in Joint Warfare’, in Stuart Peach (ed.), Perspectives on Air Power (London: The Stationary Office, 1998), pp. 239–65. 118 ‘MoD spells out forces’ role in the new world order’, The Independent, 19 February 1997; ‘Defence strategy looks overseas’, The Times, 19 February 1997. 119 MoD, British Defence Doctrine JWP 0–01 (London: 1997), pp. 2–13–2–14; ‘Glossary’, p. 9. 120 Ibid., pp. 6–2–6–4. 121 Ibid., pp. 2–3–2–6; 6–4–6–14. 122 Ibid., pp. 3–3–3–4; Ch. 7, p. A–1. 123 Ibid., pp. 6–10. 124 Chief of Joint Operations, PJHQ, United Kingdom Doctrine for Joint and Multinational Operations: Joint Warfare Publication 0–10 (interim edition), 1998, pp. v; 1–5. 125 This is actually a difference if compared to NATO definitions of PSO and from the British PSO doctrine issued the same year. 126 Ibid., pp. 1–3. 127 Ibid., pp. 2–1–2–2. 128 See Ch. 3 in this book for an analysis of the Wider Peacekeeping doctrine. See also Michael Pugh, From Mission Cringe to Mission Creep? Implications of New Peace Support Doctrines, Forsvarsstudier 2:1997 (Oslo: IFS, 1997), pp. 13–14; Rod Thornton, ‘The Role of Peace Support Operations Doctrine in the British Army’, International Peacekeeping, 7:2, Summer (2000), pp. 41–62. For a critique of Wider Peacekeeping, see Richard Connaughton, ‘Wider Peacekeeping: How Wide of the Mark’, BAR, no. 111, December (1995), pp. 55–64. 129 Michael Rose, Fighting For Peace (London: The Harvill Press,1998), pp. 241–3.

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130 See, for instance, the Foreword in JWP 3–50: ‘national doctrines is a way of influencing NATO doctrines’. Interview with a British officer. 131 Alice Hills, Doctrine, Criminality and Future British Army Operations: A HalfCompleted Understanding, Occasional Papers no. 39 (SCSI: April 2000), p. 19. 132 Interview with a British officer. 133 See Lieutenant Colonel S.F.Boyd, Directorate of Land Warfare, ‘The Future Army: Where Next After the SDR?’, British Army Review, 120, December (1998), pp. 43– 52, and ‘Force 2020 (+)’ in British Army Review, 122, Autumn (1999), pp. 10–25. 134 Nicholas J.Newman, Asymmetric Threats to British Military Intervention Operations (London: RUSI, 2000). 135 Andrew Duncan,‘The British Army: Approaching the Millenium’, Brassey’s Defence Yearbook (London: Brassey’s, 1997), pp. 29–31. 136 MoD, British Defence Doctrine, p. 6–6. 137 See, for instance, British Defence Doctrine, p. 6–2. 138 Pugh, From Mission, pp. 13–14; JSCSC, ‘Higher Command and Staff Course’, available online at http://www.jscc.org/courses/hcsc/hscs8.htm; Royal Military Academy Sandhurst, ‘Courses’, available online at http://www.atra.mod.uk/rmas/ courses/term3htm. Interview with a British officer.

6 CANADA Protection of sovereignty, peacekeeping or combat capacity?

Canada has since 1956 defined itself very much as a peacekeeping nation. Having contributed troops to all UN peacekeeping operations and being the first state to set up a ‘UN Standby Force’ for peacekeeping, Canada has indeed been regarded as the number one proponent of multilateral peacekeeping. By 1992, the Canadian contribution to peacekeeping operations since 1956 totalled 80,000 Canadian soldiers and seven force commanders in some 30 missions, with around 80 killed in action. By the year 2000, Canada had participated in 72 United Nations (UN) and non-UN peace support operations, leaving only nine since 1956 to take place without Canadian participation.1The 1990s stretched Canada’s peacekeeping ambitions to its limits and Canada faced competition from new actors. In 1992, Canada ranked as the sixth largest peacekeeping contributor. In 1994 Canada deployed approximately four times as many peacekeepers as it did two years previously, but only ranked eighth. By the end of the decade, most Canadian troops where deployed to the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation (NATO) peace support operations (PSO) in Bosnia and, for a limited period, in Kosovo, while the contribution to UN operations had become limited. However, Canadian defence policy had shifted away from NATO, and Sokolosky concluded that Canada had replaced ‘a strategy of commitment’ with ‘a strategy of choice’.2 By the end of the decade, it was probably right to argue that Canada was more interested in the political side of NATO than in the military. The 1994 Defence Review rejected the idea of making the Canadian forces predominantly a peacekeeping institution and prioritised ‘combat capable forces’. The 1998 Army doctrines did not devote much space to the complexities of the evolution of PSO. However, Canadian officers were in doubt over their own institution’s capability in terms of readiness, quality and training doctrine to an extent which made them conclude that Canadian forces were unable to mount even a two-brigade force for warfighting operations.3 Canada, the military structure and PSO Even during the Cold War, the size of the Canadian Forces (CF) was limited, compared to the size of the population (26.5 million in 1991; 29.5 million in 1999) and to the size of Canadian territory. In particular, the professional

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Army organised in four territorial commands was small. Therefore, when the Cold War ended, there was not that much to cut. The notion of ‘leaner and meaner’ could only have limited relevance for the CF, as they were already pretty lean. In the last half of the decade, Canada ranked as number 133 out of 185 countries when it came to defence spending, then as low as 1.3 per cent of gross domestic product (GDP).4 The total personnel figure for the CF moved from some 90,000 active personnel and an additional 54,600 reserves in 1990/1, down to some 60,600 with an additional 43,300 reserves in 1999. The Army was reduced from 23,500 active plus 18,800 reserves to 20,900 and 20,100 reserves.5 One infantry brigade was removed and this has left Canada with three mechanised brigade-size formations. Officially, the CF have been ‘joint’, with only one service since 1968, but the process of ‘unification’ in the late 1960s did not extend to operational matters. Each service maintained a separate chain of command. Only in the 1990s did joint come to mean joint in operational matters.6 The joint Task Forces Headquarters (HQ), decided upon in 1995, was not yet operational in 1999. As illustrated by NATO’s operations in the Balkans, this structure is hardly capable of maintaining foreign land-based peacekeeping deployments of about 2,500 over time. CF are now based in Canada proper, as the troop contributions to NATO were terminated in the early 1990s. Throughout the history of Canadian peacekeeping, such operations have been problematic because the CF were primarily designed for the defence of Canada or NATO.7 These problems were underlined and reinforced during the 1990s. The expanded scope and nature of peacekeeping in the 1990s accentuated these problems. The Balkans alone came to absorb two infantry battalions plus command-and-support arrangements, one in Croatia and one in Bosnia. However, with NATO taking over military peace support responsibilities in the Balkans, Canada shifted away from prioritising the UN over NATO in peacekeeping. In 1997 only 250 troops were assigned to UN peacekeeping while 1,350 troops participated in the NATO-led Stabilisation Force in Bosnia (SFOR). Also, NATO absorbed the most modern equipment, while UN operations were given the leftovers. The incident of the misconduct of Canadian troops in Somalia, and the fate of the Canadian Force Commander in Rwanda, made peacekeeping more controversial and the status of the CF declined. In 1998, CF were deployed to a total of 45 countries. Canada participated in the 1999 air campaign over Kosovo with a total of six fighter aircraft. In the subsequent ground force, Kosovo Force (KFOR), Canada contributed some 1,450 troops the first six months, but in November 1999 it was decided that this contribution was to be reduced to 100, and SFOR in Bosnia was reestablished and maintained as the Canadian priority.8 Political and military culture War has not been fought on Canadian soil since 1815, but Canadian troops have participated in both World Wars and fought alongside with the troops of the

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United Kingdom (UK) in both ‘small’ and ‘major’ wars. However, one important characteristic of Canada is the unmilitaristic spirit of its population. The military is almost an ‘invisible institution’ in Canadian society. Military power is not a popular concept within the Canadian public and the logic of force seems somewhat remote from the Canadian self-image and perception of the world. As noted, ‘Canada has always been reluctant to grasp the sword despite her ability with it.’ Thus, as the military has suffered from lack of funding in relatively secure times, Canadian soldiers have entered wars as ‘enthusiastic amateurs’.9 The 1987 White Paper on defence noted that the ‘attitudes of the public towards defence have doubtless been affected by concern about, or even distaste for, some of the unpleasant realities of international security’.10 Canadian defence policy has revolved around three themes since the end of the Second World War. First, in the Canadian defence vocabulary, ‘defence’ was during the Cold War mostly seen within the framework of North America Air Defence (NORAD) and other bilateral defence agreements with the United States (US). ‘Defence’ was a task to be undertaken together with others and the defence of Canada was to be undertaken in concert with the US. Defence of Europe was of course a NATO issue. Second, the purely national ambition attached to national security was restricted to more symbolic and less definable roles of ‘sovereignty protection’, i.e. surveillance, presence, civil emergency and search and rescue.11 The underlying logic of this is linked to the ambivalent relationship with the US. The conviction has been that if Canada did not provide for her own security, the US would do it for her. Being sovereign was thus a threshold level reducing dependency on the US, although this independence appears somewhat fictitious. Also, Canadian forces have a role in internal security functions, both in the military and non-military sphere. Third, multilateralism and peacekeeping were seen during the Cold War as components of ‘defence’ and fitted into Canadian strategy. This self-image goes back to the ideas and convictions of Canadian statesman Lester B.Pearson, who Canadians claim was the inventor of peacekeeping: ‘To rely on “sovereignty” for protection out of our interests is more or less meaningless, certainly insufficient in the conditions of today.’ He described himself as an internationalist and nationalist and claimed that he never had a problem with reconciling the two.12 Multilateralism has also been a way to deal with the second theme referred to above, the possibility of being subjugated to American dominance and thus an alternative to bilateral ties with, or unilateral guarantees offered by, the US. In 1949 Canada insisted on Article 2 of the North Atlantic Treaty being included in the Treaty.13 For Canada, NATO was more than a defence alliance. It was also a political community of shared interests and values. The very visible element of multilateralism and peacekeeping in Canadian security thinking has three interlinked explanations. First, from a Canadian perspective, minor and remote conflicts had the potential to become major wars between the two blocs of the Cold War and

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would unavoidably pull Canada into conflict and war alongside the US and NATO. Peacekeeping was an alternative to this and a way of defending Canada from the danger of being dragged into a war. Second, peacekeeping was a way to make one’s voice heard in international affairs in spite of the ‘medium-size’ character of Canada. Third, peacekeeping fitted into the strong non-military culture of Canada. Peacekeeping was a positive role for the CF, which was popular with the public and fitted into the self-image of most Canadians. Also, it is often argued that the values of Canada make Canadian troops particularly suited for the task of peacekeeping, and support for peacekeeping has been strong. Peacekeeping and multilateralism have been important parts of a selfimage followed almost by instinct, and Canadian foreign policy has been ‘an extension abroad of national policies’.14 As Canada had facilitated the birth of peacekeeping, the support for such operations remained strong: ‘Peacekeeping came to be seen as the true role for Canada as a middle power’.15 Peacekeeping can be seen as a way of building an appealing rationale for maintaining military capability: a military concept that could be sold to the Canadian public and which was uncontroversial in a divided society. Canada was the first state to set up military units for multilateral operations, and since 1971 annual defence estimates have included peacekeeping as an essential task. For Canada, peacekeeping was defence, and participation was policy. The Army battalions rotated between national tasks and training, readiness for deployment and participation in peacekeeping operations, since the 1960s when it was decided to maintain a brigade size force ready for peacekeeping or operations up to a Korean-size operation. Simultaneously, the argument within the Department of National Defence (DND) has been that the best peacekeeping troops have been those trained for combat operations: ‘Our past successes have not been due to a specialization in the requirements of peacekeeping, but due to the general purpose and nature of our forces.’16 Even though the commitment to peacekeeping was strong, there were indeed limits to Canadian commitment. It has been argued that peacekeeping was never properly included in defence planning, but rather developed as incremental responses on each occasion when a UN operation was set up, and that the military leadership disliked the duty.17 Since the force structure was developed primarily for other tasks, peacekeeping complicated defence planning, and caused overstretch problems for the Army even during the Cold War. Within military circles, peacekeeping was considered to be something ‘apart of the military drama’ and the Army adopted a ‘dual hat’ approach as no units were earmarked for peacekeeping.18 In 1961, the Army view was that peacekeeping ‘detracts from the Army’s ability to fulfil its wartime tasks’.19 And finally, there were competing demands between the NATO and UN profile of Canadian foreign and defence policies. While the Department of External Affairs normally placed the UN at the top of the agenda, NATO remained the predominant focus within the DND.20 As stated by the Army doctrine, up to 1993 ‘service in NATO remained the cornerstone of Canadian army training and operational capacity’.21

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Throughout the history of Canadian peacekeeping, such operations have been problematic because the CF were primarily designed for defence of Canada or NATO. Thus, peacekeeping operations were not unproblematic during the Cold War. Canadian operations in Egypt and in the Congo in the late 1950s and early 1960s highlighted serious deficiencies in Canada’s approach to United Nations peace operations: Canada’s military forces were not structured, trained or equipped to carry out protracted peace operations in the UN context.22 These problems were underlined and reinforced during the 1990s. The cadre organisation of the small Canadian Army reflected the view that the troops would not be deployed on a significant scale unless in times of national mobilisation, i.e. in the case of a major war involving significant Canadian interests that could justify mobilisation. Historians have pointed to the British influence on the CF’s way of thinking and on their organisation, based on the regimental structure, resulting from participation in Britain’s wars. In the Second World War, soldiers looked to Churchill rather than Mackenzie King for leadership and inspiration. As Canada fought the World War without being attacked, the soldiers ‘fought well but without hatred or any burning desire for revenge’.23The Canadian way of war has been to join in alongside others when deemed necessary. The end of the Cold War: the 1994 White Paper Towards the end of the Cold War, the Canadian government embarked upon strengthening defence. The 1987 Defence Review attempted to catch up with the perceived demands resulting from the worsening climate of the Cold War in the early 1980s. In this respect, it was much too late. In a period of détente between the two blocs, Canada, at least in rhetoric, embarked upon an ambitious modernisation programme within the Cold War logic as the Cold War was about to end. Canadian strategy consisted of three components: first, defence and collective security; second, arms control and disarmament; and third, peaceful resolution of disputes.24 Between 1989 and 1991 the modernisation announced in 1987 was replaced by cuts in defence spending as the defence budget in real terms was reduced by inflation and great economic problems. In 1991, the overall ambition for the government was to reduce the budgetary deficit and thus reductions in the CF manpower were inevitable. Already in 1991, Canadian defence spending was down to 2.0 per cent of GDP, compared to the 3.2 per cent average of NATO.25 In the following years, Canadian defence policy was framed by the economic recession, the desire to cash in the Peace Dividend after the Cold War and, finally, increasing demands for peacekeeping troops. As pointed out by

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Granatstein, for the CF ‘the peacekeeping industry was the only growth sector in their small and declining economy’.26 In 1992, Canada initiated what can be called the military withdrawal from NATO. It has been argued that this was due to shifts in the political views on NATO and on transatlantic burden-sharing.27 However, the withdrawal was actually recommended by the Chief of the Defence Staff (CDS) for two reasons. First of all, since cuts in structure were inevitable and since the high-intensity scenario in Europe was regarded as unlikely, there was little point in committing a brigade to Germany for the defence of NATO. Secondly, training conditions in Germany worsened once the Cold War ended due to environmental restrictions, while the UK, Germany and other NATO countries sent troops to Canada for training. The views of the CDS created some furore within the Department of Foreign Affairs and International Trade (DFAIT), and a ‘light presence’ option of around 1,000 troops was considered but opposed by the military leadership since it made little military sense to preserve such a presence.28 Thus it can be argued that military training requirements took priority over foreign policy objectives. The Defence Estimates of 1992 formally declared the Cold War as over. Reorganisation of the Armed Forces was announced as well as closure of some of the Canadian bases in Germany within a year, while a more general commitment to NATO was maintained ‘consistent with current needs’. There was no clear elaboration on what exactly those needs were. Later it was decided to close all bases in Germany by 1994 and to terminate the commitment to the AMF earmarked for Northern Norway.29 Arguably, the major decision concerning Canada’s security policy preempted the coming Defence Review announced in 1993. By 1993, the Senate concluded that the CF were stretched to their limits by having 5,000 troops dispersed in 15 missions, and that a revision of policy and redefinition of Canadian interests were called for.30 Also, the new peacekeeping exposed troops to more risks and was more controversial within Canada; in Bosnia, Canadian battalions became involved in regular fighting and offensive operations in the Medack pocket. The guidance document for the Defence Review stated that the objective of the government was ‘an effective, realistic and affordable policy that will enable Canada to meet its defence requirements at home while making meaningful contributions abroad to international peace and security’.31 In other words, the review put national defence requirements and economic constraints at the centre. The document also spelled out doubts over peacekeeping as an effective tool for the new conflicts and a’first in, first out’ strategy was vaguely suggested, to avoid neverending commitments as experienced in Cyprus. Changes were gradually implemented prior to the conclusion of the Defence Review and the major decisions concerning NATO were already taken. The Defence Estimates of 1994, issued before the White Paper, signalled some of the changes. The overall objective of defence policy was ‘to protect Canada,

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contribute to world peace and project Canadian interests abroad’. This was also translated into new sub-objectives: • To defend Canada by protecting Canada’s national territory and jurisdictional areas, helping civil authorities protect and sustain national interest, and assisting in national emergencies; • To participate in international humanitarian, peacekeeping, monitoring, verification, peace-restoring and other security-enhancing activities; • To cooperate with the United States in protecting North America and promoting Arctic and Western Hemispheric security; and • To contribute to current and evolving defence arrangements in Europe.32 The 1994 Defence White Paper was to become the key document guiding defence policy for the rest of the decade. It did not contribute any new objectives or policy changes but rather explained decisions already taken, and reflected both continuity and change. One of the announced outcomes of the review was the reduction in structure. The personnel figures for the CF were to be gradually reduced from 88,800 active and 21,100 primary reserves in 1989 down to 60,000 active and 23,000 reserves by 1999. The aim was to strengthen the Army’s field force by cutting headquarters and logistics.33 One infantry brigade was removed, leaving Canada with three mechanised brigade-size formations. The review signalled commitment to modernisation of equipment, in particular the APCs (armoured personnel carriers) and in areas of protection, mobility and firepower. However, in 1999 it was signalled that the Leopard 1 tank was to be upgraded, not replaced.34 For the Air Force it was decided to acquire precision ammunitions for a limited number of the CF 18 fleet, while cutting the number of aircraft from 72 to around 50. The Navy changed the focus of submarines from combat roles to surveillance due to the cost-effectiveness of such vessels, planned to procure vessels for coastal defence, and retained one frigate for international roles. Among the new aspects were the threat assessments. The White Paper discussed briefly the new security challenges and concerns. These were outlined as global population growth, environmental risks and competition for resources, as well as internal instability in many states resulting in civil wars fuelled by ethnic hatred, failed states, refugees and displaced peoples as well as proliferation of weapons of mass destruction. As regional conflicts were more likely to be contained in the new strategic environment, Canadian involvement in peacekeeping was explained in terms of consequences of conflict in general and ‘damage to important principles’.35 Within the DND, there was still significant concern over Eastern and Central Europe and in particular Russia. However, with the fluidity of the international environment strategic planners could only conclude that ‘war in the Balkans, a resurgence of ethnic antagonisms, militant nationalism and religious fundamentalisms, the spread of advanced nuclear and conventional weapons and technology, and the collapse of weak states into

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armed anarchy demonstrate that the world remains a dangerous place’.36 The main focus of the threat assessment was on threats that constituted a challenge for a broader community of states. The threat assessment did not provide a rationale for a purely national defence focus, but rather underpinned the existing Canadian policy of multilateralism. However, the Defence Review, at least in rhetoric, put national security at the centre and its opening statement was that first priority of defence was ‘to protect the country and its citizens from challenges to their security’ and that ‘a nation not worth defending is a nation not worth preserving’.37 Furthermore, it was stressed that defence of the nation should never become the responsibility of others. The paper distinguished between three roles of the defence policy: The first was the national role, but with an ambition which can best be described as protection and demonstration of sovereignty or as the ability to exercise some degree of independence from the US. These national tasks were not so much related to military defence in the traditional sense of the concept—they referred more to symbolic presence and the monitoring of Canadian territory, waters and air space; search and rescue; counterterrorism; and domestic humanitarian or emergency operations when faced with natural disasters, i.e. to demonstrate that Canadians are ‘masters in their own home’.38 The purely national aspects of defence thus included tasks with a rather low military profile and had less to do with the use of force and the capability to fight even a limited war in defence of the nation, than it had with symbolism and non-military related tasks. As pointed out by Gray, ever since 1969, ‘Canadians have been told, on the highest authority, that the first priority among the duties of the Canadian Armed Forces is to be surveillance of our territory and coastlines, i.e. the protection of our sovereignty.’ Thus ‘sovereignty protection’ by ‘effective occupation’ are established concepts in Canadian strategic vocabulary.39 However, these national concerns played little role in shaping the CF, but were emphasised out of the traditional conviction that if Canada did not look after her own security, the US would do it for her. This would thus reduce Canadian ‘sovereignty’. The second role was defence of North America in cooperation with the US. Beyond that, a peacekeeping posture for the CF was rejected and Canada’s ambition was to preserve ‘combat capable forces’ able to fight ‘alongside the best, against the best’, a key premise in the policy adopted.40 In practice this meant forces interoperable with those of the US. ‘Defence’ was thus an ambition beyond national capability and something which had to be undertaken alongside the US. The US is geostrategically, economically and politically Canada’s most important ally. In this sense, ‘defence of the nation’ is to a great extent ‘the responsibility of others’, contrary to the political rhetoric in the review, as the US provides most of the funding and manpower for the Basic Security Plan and North American Air Defence (NORAD) structures. As argued during the Cold War, Canada’s strategic resources and the size of Canadian territory have made dependency on others, when it comes to defence, a necessity: ‘Either this country is too big for us or we are too small for this country.’41

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NATO NATO was placed under the third set of tasks, under the international security heading, together with the UN. This was a major change as it assigned a new role for NATO under the heading of ‘contribution to international security’. It can be argued that NATO was now moved outside the proper defence realm of defence policy. This reflected a change in the perception of the new strategic environment as well as of the role NATO should play in it. The aim was to reform NATO and to make it a more efficient organisation with less bureaucracy, ready to contribute more to UN operations. But it was also argued that NATO should ‘resist the temptation to intrude on the provision of political and strategic direction for the mission; that responsibility must rest with the Security Council’. Canada consequently saw NATO as a military servant of the UN. Canada was to be ready to participate in ‘multilateral operations anywhere in the world under UN auspices or in defence of a NATO member state.’42 One problem of such a wide commitment is the credibility of Canada as a NATO member. The policy stated that Canadian resources committed elsewhere would ‘redeploy’ if needed in defence of a NATO ally. This was probably a response to the Chief of the Defence Staff who had pointed out that CF could carry out peacekeeping and commitments to NATO simultaneously.43 Canada’s military withdrawal from NATO did not necessarily mean that Canada saw little relevance in the institution and the capabilities the Alliance represented. With regard to Canada’s NATO policy in the 1990s, it was argued in favour of reform within NATO and of a new security agenda more appropriate for the new strategic environment, and Canada would base its contribution on ‘cooperative security’.44 It was suggested that Canada should participate in the new Allied Command Europe Rapid Reaction Corps (ARRC), but this was never seriously considered in Ottawa. The commitment of troops to Central Europe had been a controversial issue during the Cold War, and this, together with the aim of cutting defence costs, explains why Canada pulled back the European forces so quickly.45 In addition, the newly formed ARRC did not conform to Canadian views on what the new NATO needed. The ARRC was far too big, and Canada saw the AMF as more appropriate for smaller contingencies.46 The decision to withdraw from Europe was taken without consulting with Allies and was regretted by other members as well as by the Secretary General of NATO.47 However, the Canadian government aimed at preserving and changing, and not least at politicising NATO to make it more relevant to the new environment. The Canadian government, to make NATO a more appropriate tool for both Article 5 and non-Article 5 missions, promoted a change in command structure and strategic concept and doctrine. Programmes and institutional changes like the North Atlantic Cooperation Council (NACC)/European— Atlantic Partnership Council (EAPC), Partnership for Peace (PfP) and NATO enlargement were strongly supported. Initiatives like these fitted into the Canadian image of what NATO was about already at the birth of the

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organisation. Article 2 of the North Atlantic Treaty has been labelled the Canadian article and Canada also originally wanted NATO to be about more than defence, hence in Canada collective security and collective defence are used interchangeably. Also, Canada argued in favour of a downscale in NATO’s military bureaucracy and budget. As late as 1998, the Canadian Minister of Defence was arguing that NATO had to move away from a defence policy whose primary focus was to contain Russia.48 In other words, from a Canadian perspective, NATO was still struggling with the threats of the past as late as 1998, rather than looking at the future. At the NATO Summit in 1997, Canada, together with France, aimed at including five new members. In 1999 the objective was to change NATO’s first use nuclear policy as well as to include ‘out-of-area’ PSO in the new Strategic Concept and to change NATO’s military posture into smaller and more flexible forces.49 In spite of years of efforts to transform the Alliance, this did not satisfy Canadian ambitions. After Dayton, Canada hesitated before making a contribution of troops. During the debate in the Senate, various proposals included from 50 to 3,000 troops. When Canada made official its contribution of 1,000 troops, it did so as the last member of NATO, and the limited number was interpreted in the Canadian press as a limited commitment to NATO, putting Canadian interests within the Alliance at risk.50 The main focus of the Canadian government in the debate on the revised Strategic Concept of 1999 was to reduce the role for NATO’s nuclear strategy, denouncing the first use of nuclear weapons. While this did not succeed, Canada managed to insert a paragraph on the human security agenda into the strategic concept. Canada supported strongly the out-of-area role of the Alliance, but not worldwide, as the US pressed for: ‘Clearly it’s got to be in the [NATO] region or abutting region.’51 Combat capable forces An important message of the 1994 Defence Review was that Canada was to maintain ‘combat capable’ forces. In the process, it had been suggested in various circles that Canada should specialise in peacekeeping. A ‘think tank’ group suggested that Canada should withdraw from NATO and restructure the CF to form a core of a UN stand-by force, dubbed a ‘constabulary force’, which also could provide for ‘sovereignty protection’ and stability operations, dropping heavy armour and slashing fighter aircraft by two-thirds.52 This structure could deploy limited contributions to multinational operations. As multinational operations were the only realistic option, there was limited need for maintaining all capabilities. Later, the Foreign Policy Review of 1995 also argued that peacekeeping should constitute the primary role of the Canadian forces, but the government responded that combat capability was necessary.53This developed into a new theme in the Canadian defence debate in the 1990s. The need for combat capable forces was explained very much within the framework of collective security and the changing nature of peacekeeping, and one concluded

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that if Canada was to maintain an important role in collective security, ‘combat capability’ was needed.54In order to maximize freedom of action, a multipurpose combat force was the only ‘prudent’ solution underpinning Canadian interests. Furthermore, such combat capable forces were needed in NATO and were to constitute the basis for a regeneration of defence forces if they were ever to be needed. What does the concept of combat capable forces mean? The question deserves attention because it was central in the White Paper. It may be understood as a way of avoiding the use of the concepts of ‘war’ and ‘warfare’. As ‘war’ has become a less popular concept, it is not surprising that policy documents attempt to avoid it altogether. In fact, ever since the Second World War, the concept of war has not been used in Canada. Even during the Korean War, legal bodies, civilian and military, avoided or circumscribed ‘war’ and replaced it with ‘time of war’, ‘state of war’ ‘condition of war’, ‘presence of the enemy’, ‘actual combat’, ‘serving in a combat zone’ and ‘limited or incomplete war’.55 The concept of ‘war’ played little role in formulating defence policy in the review and the concept was hardly mentioned. It can be argued that combat capability signals a lower ambition than warfighting. Wars are undertaken by states; combat capability is something you need in order to go to war. Combat capability is thus a component of war, just as the Canadian political ambition is to, if necessary, contribute to coalitions or multi-national warfare. The term ‘combat capability’ thus acknowledges that a purely national war is an ambition beyond Canadian resources and will, from a purely national perspective and in a purely national context. Thus it may be argued that the term ‘combat capable forces’ explains or conceptualises defence policy in terms of tactics; there is no commitment or higher political purpose. The emphasis on combat capability reflects the debate on whether Canada should go for a peacekeeping posture in its defence policy. The focus on combat capability can thus be seen as a manifestation of a policy in the opposite direction, and represents an argument which is very difficult to oppose. After all, it is hard to argue that soldiers exist for other reasons than undertaking combat. The Chief of the Defence Staff had argued that this means a blue sea navy, a combined arms army (i.e. brigades were necessary) and an air force capable of supporting the Navy and the Army as well as providing air defences and surveillance. He also argued that the good esteem of Canadian peacekeeping was owing to a general professionalism that could only be obtained by focusing on ‘the ability to function in the most demanding of military roles, war’.56 Thus, from a military viewpoint this was a question of structure in order to preserve military professionalism. This view can be traced back throughout the history of Canadian peacekeeping.57 However, with the changes taking place in peacekeeping in this period, it would be inaccurate to say that a peacekeeping posture would mean developing a force structure excluding combat capability. But peacekeeping posture in 1994 was seen as a much lower ambition than combat capability and somewhat misleadingly put at the opposite ends of the

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defence spectrum. This reflected a degree of disappointment and fear of further cuts within the military: peacekeeping was a threat to the institution. As the peacekeeping veteran General Lewis Mackenzie later argued in a newspaper article: ‘The more our leaders emphasize this secondary duty for the military (secondary to protecting our country) the easier it is to justify spending less money on essential equipment, training and personnel based on the erroneous, but in reality accepted premise that peacekeeping units can get by with cheaper versions (and much less) of just about everything.’58 Within the DND, an alternative structure to the ‘combat capable’ one was never considered. Modern CF, based on modern arms and technology, became a prerequisite for modern peacekeeping and interventions: ‘it is useful to dispel the myth that technologies developed for high-intensity warfare and those targeting low-intensity conflict are mutually exclusive’. The air campaigns in Bosnia and Kosovo, in which precision munitions were critical to achievements, were cited as examples. The same argument was made by the Minister of Defence in order to support the decision to maintain ‘combat capable forces’ for peacekeeping and peace enforcement, which in his mind were ‘conventional military operations’ of the post-Cold War era.59 The outcome of the review was received quite favourably. One analyst concluded that the suggested solutions were indeed the best possible ones, given the fiscal constraints of the budget resulting from the downslide of the Canadian economy.60 Thus it was seen as a realistic defence policy. These roles remained the foundation for Canadian defence policy throughout the rest of the 1990s. The subsequent defence planning documents made no changes in the objectives and priorities. NATO’s role and task was seen more in terms of collective security than in terms of collective defence as a mechanism for dealing with instability in Central Europe. Peacekeeping policy As noted by one analyst, with the Cold War gone, peacekeeping was a ‘less obvious part of our national defence strategy than it was during the Cold War’. The response to the changing environment was that CF ‘will continue to train to meet [their] assigned roles and missions, yet remaining flexible and ready to react to new ones’.61 These doubts, in combination with other challenges, came to impact on Canadian peacekeeping policy in the 1990s, even though there was a strong belief in peacekeeping as the right strategy to solve the new ‘conflicts’ at the outset of the decade. When the United Nations Protection Force (to the former Yugoslavia) (UNPROFOR) was launched, the Canadian Minister of Defence stated that ‘peacekeeping is the best means of finding a solution to this conflict’.62 The 1994 Defence Paper implied a great degree of continuity when it came to peacekeeping. The support for the primacy of multilateral efforts, of the UN as the primary institution and of the Canadian contribution to such operations, and

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the rejection of the idea of a specialisation of troops for peacekeeping, all carried continuity. However, it also signalled an expanded role for CF in peacekeeping. The policy hitherto of a ceiling of 2,000 personnel for peacekeeping or multinational operations was amended. Contrary to previous defence papers, this one also assigned the task of peacekeeping to air and maritime forces, with reference to embargo operations in the Gulf and logistics operations in Somalia. Several initiatives were taken in order to modify and improve the defence structure. The command structure at and below the operational level was to be modified and a Joint HQ formed. Second, the ‘Total Force’ initiative, aiming at integration between active and reservists, was upheld. The government insisted that, when modified, the ‘mobilization framework’ and ‘total force concept’ would be appropriate. Mobilisation was thus no longer justified exclusively in cases of major wars, but increasingly as a function of all Canadian operational requirements abroad, and a system of gradual mobilisation was initiated. Third, rapid reaction capability initiatives were launched, and the Army’s field force was increased by 3,000 personnel in order to enhance such capability. The overall objectives for the CF in terms of forces deployable abroad in either UN or NATO framework were: • • • •

a joint task force HQ; a naval task group of up to four combat vessels and a support ship; three separate battle groups or one brigade group; an infantry battalion group and a wing of fighter aircraft with support elements; • one squadron of tactical transport aircraft. If deployed simultaneously, this would amount to 10,000 personnel, whereas it was foreseen that a level of 4,000 could be sustained indefinitely as a UN force. As of January 1996 a battalion-size unit was declared operational for NATO’s AMF (L), based in Canada, and by 1999 Canada also committed a similar unit to the UN Standing High Readiness Brigade (SHIRBRIG) force pool. In addition to this, two ships were to serve in NATO’s standing maritime forces, plus personnel to airborne warning and control systems (AWACS) and to NATO HQ. These were all so-called ‘peacetime commitments’. In the case of an Article 5 contingency, Canada would mobilise additional forces for the defence of Alliance territory.’63 In theory, tasking the other services expanded the pool for peacekeeping, and it confirmed the commitment to peacekeeping. Indeed, the Canadian contribution increased from 1992. The total number of troops for peacekeeping in 1992 was 4, 500 and included a battalion in Somalia and supporting elements in Rwanda.64 Later, the Balkans alone came to absorb two infantry battalions plus commandand-support arrangements: one in Croatia and one in Bosnia. For Canada, the UN was the primary peacekeeping institution, and the ‘Agenda for Peace’ report, signalling an expanded agenda for the UN, with more robust

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peacekeeping and a more interventionist UN, was welcomed in Canada. According to the Foreign Secretary it ‘light[ed] a path for the future’.65 The White Paper also discussed the different forms of peacekeeping. It distinguished between preventive deployment; peacekeeping and observer missions (i.e. classical peacekeeping); enforcement operations (‘enforcing the will of the international community’), which included embargoes and sanctions; delivery of aid; denial of air space (‘no-fly zones’); protection of civilians in designated areas (‘safe areas’); and ‘the provision of deterrence and defence for a UN or NATO member state against armed attack’; post-conflict peacebuilding and measures to enhance stability and build confidence.66 Peacekeeping, enforcement and defence of NATO were increasingly seen as one interrelated task, militarily and politically. In the Canadian vocabulary, peacekeeping is used very much as an all-embracing concept covering all kinds of military activities abroad. However, even though the ambition to maintain a leading role in peacekeeping shaped the CF in the 1994 process, there were already problems and challenges that shaped the peacekeeping policy of Canada, and would do so even more in the years to come. The 1994 White Paper presented key principles guiding decisions on Canadian peacekeeping contribution: • There should be a clear and enforceable mandate; • There should be an identifiable and commonly accepted reporting authority; • The national composition of the force must be appropriate to the mission, and there must be an effective process of consultation among mission partners; • In missions that involve both military and civilian resources, there must be a recognised focus of authority, a clear and efficient division of responsibilities, and agreed operating procedures; • With the exception of enforcement actions and operations to defend NATO member states, in missions that involve Canadian forces personnel, Canada’s participation should be accepted by all parties to the conflict. In addition: • The size, training and equipment of the force should be appropriate to the purpose at hand, and remain so over the life of the mission; • There should be a defined concept of operations, an effective command-andcontrol structure, and clear rules of engagements (ROEs).67 Canadian principles thus exclude considerations on national security and national interests. These principles were not entirely new, compared to earlier versions, but came to be applied more strictly concerning decisions regarding peacekeeping contributions in the years to come. Various proposals were made which in effect would limit Canadian military commitments to peacekeeping, such as role specialisation, more focus on civilian aspects of peacekeeping and

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deployment for limited time frames.68 The Prime Minister talked about ‘review [ing] Canada’s “boy scout”’ role in Bosnia. Thus, peacekeeping as a strategy was in doubt and the government signalled a limited commitment to UN operations from 1992; it was argued that Canada could not be the global emergency office; a global ‘911’. The same conclusion was drawn in the Senate, which was increasingly critical of the ambitious Canadian policy and supported a more nationally oriented defence policy. Furthermore, there was a sense that Canada bore the main human and financial costs of the UN’s peacekeeping.69 In practice Canada came to put more emphasis on NATO than on the UN in terms of troop contributions. In 1997 only 250 troops were assigned to UN peacekeeping while 1,350 troops participated in the NATO-led SFOR, being reinforced by six CF 18s with precision munitions sent to monitor Balkan air space. However, contributions to NATO peacekeeping were far from selfevident. There was a concern that the operation in Bosnia would turn into a neverending commitment, there were grave doubts in the Canadian government about whether Canada should contribute troops to NATO’s Implementation Force (IFOR) operation in Bosnia, and there was the short-lived commitment of troops to KFOR.70 The new peacekeeping policy can be explained by three developments. First of all, the restructuring and downsizing of the CF as well as cuts in the budget coincided with the expanded need for peacekeepers. This, along with organisational defects, caused an overstretch to CF. For instance, when Canada sent troops to UNPROFOR in 1992, the level of readiness made it necessary to scramble troops from various units to put a battalion on the ground within the short notice given.71 Also, the second contingent had to be reinforced, and over 50 per cent of this battalion group were augmentations and reservists. The contingent returning from Cyprus in February 1992 was notified in August of deployment to Bosnia in November of the same year. As a consequence of the cadre system and the problems it involved, the Army units became more and more dependent upon being augmented with reserves when deployed. When asked to send troops to Somalia, the Airborne Regiment was deployed in spite of doubts about its operational readiness.72 In 1993, the Chief of Defence Staff, General de Chastelain, stated that ‘the Army is now at the maximum limit of its expeditionary capability of formed units’. The same conclusion was drawn in the Senate.73 Also, the danger posed by the situation for the peacekeepers in the Balkans caused public support for Canadian participation to erode: in a poll taken January 1994 a majority of 57 per cent supported a withdrawal. Second, significant frustration over lack of reform within the UN and over the UN’s inability to mount effective peacekeeping operations contributed to the doubts of the Canadian government. The experience from Bosnia and Rwanda, to which Canada contributed both troops and force commanders, highlighted the problems of using the UN in this new role. Canada had argued in favour of UN reforms. When these demands were not met, Canada came to rely on NATO and became reluctant to entrust the UN with command over Canadian soldiers. Also,

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mismanagement of UN operations endangered the lives of Canadian soldiers and in 1993– 4 Canada opposed the US pressure to employ air power in Bosnia due to the risks it would involve to Canadian soldiers on the ground, and threats were made to withdraw the Canadian contingent.74 Third, the malaise caused by the Somalia incident in 1992, which exploded in 1995, and the numerous scandals surrounding CF in this period probably had an impact on Canadian decision makers as well. In Somalia in 1993, Canadian soldiers of the elite Airborne Regiment tortured and killed a Somali civilian who had attempted to steal from the campus. There were rumours of additional incidents, cases of mistreatment and even killings. Several videos of soldiers making racist comments and exhibiting improper behaviour were leaked to the media, and in 1995 an official inquiry was launched. The Commission stated that, given Canada’s vast experience in peacekeeping, a high standard of training was expected, but ‘amazingly, this was not the case’.75 Canadian soldiers were found guilty of misconduct on three grounds: torture, murder and violations of the ROE. The impact of the incident came to affect the Canadian Forces as a whole. The outcome was numerous reports and soul-searching reforms of ethics, practice of the law of armed conflict, code of conduct, command procedures and operational matters such as ROEs and training. The Commission placed the responsibility on the Chief of the Defence Staff. The Commission’s report is, in fact, the most extensive deliberation of Canadian peacekeeping policy ever. It questions the policy, training philosophy and chain of command and leadership style of the CF, and 160 recommendations were made.76 As a result, the Airborne Regiment was disbanded, the training system was revamped by setting up the CF ‘PSO Training Centre’ and stricter rules for enforcing prescribed discipline and steps to establishing proper ethics within the CF were taken. The Canadian misconduct in Somalia demonstrates the expectations held by society to the military that, even though military operations are violent, certain values and principles apply. Military institutions will have to develop values that do not conflict too strongly with the values of society. It should be pointed out that these incidents not only violate civilian values but also values normally pertaining to the military as well. It may be inaccurate or even misleading to ascribe such events to a ‘warrior culture’; instead, it was a result of a lack of proper military culture. The damage caused by the Somalia incident was severe, and in the following years, scandals of sexual harassment, mistreatment of soldiers, financial misconduct of soldiers and bad leadership came to dominate the media picture and divert time and energy from defence policy making.77 However, even though there was doubt over peacekeeping and more selectiveness applied to Canadian contributions, there was still a desire to contribute to multilateralism and to the UN. This resulted in a number of initiatives. First of all, Canada established training institutions for peacekeeping, the Lester B.Pearson International Peacekeeping Training Centre, in addition to the above-mentioned Peace Support Training Centre. The former is a training

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centre set up in 1995 to which Canada invites other countries to send officers for various courses funded by the DFAIT. The latter was set up in 1996 and has a primary responsibility for CF pre-deployment training under DND. Secondly, Canada took initiatives to improve UN capability. The Rapid Reaction Study of 1995, and the establishment of the UN’s Standing High Readiness Brigade (SHIBRIG), in which Canada became an active participant, are two examples.78 A problem with the 1994 White Paper was that it was not led by a review of Canada’s foreign policy. A foreign policy review was carried out only one year later by the Senate, and even made references to the Defence Review, in some aspects contradicting it. Thus the strategic process within Canada turned the normal relationship between foreign and defence policy upside down. While critics had long called for developing a Canadian security policy that would bridge defence and foreign policy, this issue remained unsolved.79 In 1995, Collenette argued that maintaining military capability is a way of making one’s voice heard in international affairs’ and that ‘multilateralism is not a choice but a necessity.’80 On this basis, focusing only on national border defence or solely on peacekeeping were not options. Later, the Minister of Foreign Affairs stated that Canada ‘has no choice given its characteristics and history but to get involved, for its own survival could depend on this commitment’.81 However, the objective of multilateralism was not clear and the bridge between defence and foreign policy was lacking. While the rationale for peacekeeping as a means of defence was diminishing, the NATO operations in Bosnia and later Kosovo came to fit in with the newly formulated agenda within the department of Foreign Affairs adopted from the mid 1990s. The ‘human security agenda’, borrowed from a 1994 UN Report, became a rationale for maintaining Canadian engagements and for participation within NATO operations. Thus it was attempted to close the foreign policy gap. Canada to a great extent focused on the issue of how to integrate civilian and military functions in peace building and how to create conditions for lasting peace.82 In fact there was a strong link between ‘human security’ and ‘new peacekeeping’, and the latter was seen as a means to forwarding the former.83 While the IFOR operation in Bosnia was not all that popular, the peace building profile of SFOR better suited this concept.84 In practice, neither the DND nor the CF spent much time on civil-military cooperation (CIMIC), and, by the end of the decade, this was still a very problematic issue, in part due to lack of training of officers in CIMIC as well as conceptual confusion about its role.85 Canadian participation in NATO’s operations in Kosovo was explained by the concept of ‘human security’. On the foreign affairs home page, Kosovo was described as ‘the latest in a series of human security crises’, and some weeks into the campaign it was stated that ‘NATO is engaged in Kosovo to restore human security to the Kosovars.’86 On the mandate issue, Canada initially saw a UN mandate as desirable, but when no agreement on an explicit resolution was possible, a UN mandate was ‘a luxury’, according to the Minister of National Defence. This was, however, a matter of controversy which in the end caused the

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Foreign Minister to denounce the UN Security Council as ‘useless’ due to its failure to act in Kosovo because of the veto system.87 The DFAIT made it a virtue that there were no strategic interests for Canada or NATO in Kosovo. Disinterested intervention based on the security of others was held up as an ideal. Critics argued that this was exactly the problem: that Canadian interests were not guiding the issue of when and where to intervene.88 Within the DND, the concept of ‘human security’ was regarded with suspicion because the military component within the concept was unclear and diminishing.89 It was unclear what role there was for the military component in human security, and even after Kosovo the DND stated, ‘it is still not clear precisely what the role is’. Furthermore, the DND stated, ‘the allies will view Canada’s human security agenda skeptically if we don’t commit more resources to aid and other envelopes on which the human security policy depends’. It was also noted that while human security would mean more operations and thus more ‘battle experience’ for the CF, the integration with civilian actors would mean less control for the military over mission success and less control over decision making: ‘The overall mission may fail even if the military aspect succeeds.’ When Axworthy left the post as Foreign Minister, the concept of human security left the DND.90 The problem of overstretch and neverending missions found its solution in 1998–9 when the DND came up with the ‘early in, early out’ formula. In short, Canadian contributions to peacekeeping were to be made on the basis of an exit strategy with stabilisation as the objective. Once a stable situation had been reached, Canadian troops would be withdrawn and the mission left ‘to other less experienced nations’. The best way to utilise Canadian expertise was to apply it in the initial stage.91 In this way, neverending commitments and overstretch were to be avoided. Doctrine The first doctrinal document to deal with ‘situations short of war’ was developed in the early 1960s with a primary focus on peacekeeping and the internal security roles of the CF. The Mobile Command developed and adopted ‘CFP 165: Conduct of Land Operations’ of 1965 in order to establish a unified ‘field theory’ of Canadian land operations. For the first time, Canadian doctrine included ‘peacekeeping, internal security, and counterguerrilla’ operations. Inspiration was found in part by the operations in Cyprus and in Congo. Both were presented as expanded versions of peacekeeping. Canadian doctrine stressed that behind any peacekeeping force presence, there should be a credible capability to display military force. Peacekeeping has traditionally has been viewed as a peaceful mechanism only allowing for the use of force in strict selfdefence. The Canadian military, however, stressed that on the tactical level, there had at least to be some degree of uncertainty in the minds of the parties on the ability of the peacekeepers to resort to force in order to enhance their credibility.

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Within the Canadian Army, peacekeeping has conceptually been linked with counterinsurgency and other forms of low-intensity operations and has taken on a wider meaning than just interpositional peacekeeping such as United Nations Emergency Force (UNEF) I.92 As noted above, peacekeeping did not receive much attention or priority, as the focus of the CF lay within NATO and warfighting, and within the military the two tasks were seen as incompatible. Canadian doctrine for and practice of peacekeeping were for the first 40 years informal, transferring experience in the field from contingent to contingent, often with minimal training of outgoing contingents. As each operation tended to be unique, every contingent had to adapt in the field. Observers were sent to missions with minimal information about their new job.93 Doctrine within the Army has since 1996 been the responsibility of the Directorate of Army Doctrine, a part of the Land Force Doctrine and Training System commanded by a two-star General located with the Land Force Command and Staff College. After almost a decade of debate, the CF moved from attrition to manoeuvre warfare in the mid 1990s, and consequently most doctrinal work was related to this shift in warfighting philosophy. A formal doctrine for peacekeeping was issued in 1995. This ‘peacekeeping doctrine’ did not reflect much of the doctrinal debate and appeared to be a mixture of the 1994 Canadian White Paper and the UN’s Agenda for Peace. No reference is made to evolving NATO documents on PSO, and the doctrine states explicitly that ‘Canada’s preference […] is to conduct peacekeeping operations under the auspices of the UN.’ The doctrine distinguished between ‘operations other than war’ (OOTW) and ‘warfighting’, and introduced the term PSO, although not in the title and not properly defined.94 Peace enforcement covered all operations under Chapter VII of the UN Charter, including ‘the use of armed forces to create secure conditions for the delivery of aid’ as well as ‘deterrence and defence for a UN or NATO member’ under attack.95 Humanitarian operations were operations undertaken to support humanitarian or disaster relief operations. The fundamentals of the Canadian peacekeeping doctrine are summed up in the following points: • • • • •

freedom of action and movement; negotiations as the primary instrument; use of force as a last resort; impartiality; mutual respect.96

These are classical peacekeeping principles, and the doctrine does not elaborate on their applicability in expanded versions of peacekeeping operations, but they were regarded as valid in all but peace-restoring operations. Thus, the problem of the Canadian doctrine is that it is conceptually unclear and that it does not deal with the problems of applying peacekeeping principles to ‘new conflicts’ like civil

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wars. Nor does it deal with the problems of, or opportunities for, using force in these kinds of operations. When the Army issued new doctrines in the late 1990s, manoeuvre warfare was formally adopted as the warfighting philosophy. PSO and peacekeeping did not receive much attention, nor did ‘crisis management’, a concept absent in the Canadian doctrine hierarchy. It did not elaborate on the complexities and problems of crisis management, peacekeeping/PSO and the doctrinal debate which had emerged within the UN as well as NATO.97 The doctrine distinguished between combat and non-combat operations with a primary focus on combat operations, i.e. traditional warfighting. ‘OOTW’ covered the spectrum from assistance to civil authorities at home to peace enforcement operations abroad, while warfighting ‘for the army […] is the implementation of national strategy aimed at imposing will on an enemy and achieving national policy objectives through decisive military means’.98 The operational-level doctrine states that the rationale of the army is to ‘defend the nation and when called upon, to fight and win the nations wars’.99 Only 2 out of 140 pages in total are devoted to PSO, and the doctrinal debate on ‘middle ground operation’ is not reflected in the doctrine at all. The doctrine acknowledges that the frequent use of CF in non-combat operations cannot be ignored, but maintains that ‘well-trained, properly equipped and well-led combat capable forces are flexible enough to adapt to the requirements of non-combat operations’. OOTW may include combat at the tactical level similar to operations of war, but ‘the application of force at the operational and strategic levels must be pursued in the context of the overall political settlement desired’.100 OOTW are concluded by negotiation, while end states are achieved by coercion in warfighting. The doctrine outlines various forms of OOTW: domestic operations, service assistance and evacuation of Canadian citizens from areas of conflict, peace support operations defined as impartial operations encompassing peacekeeping, peace building, peacemaking and conflict prevention, peace enforcement and armed conflict as well as humanitarian assistance. It stresses the need for consent and impartial conduct but distinguishes between strategic and tactical levels. Impartiality separates PSO from the concept of ‘armed conflict’. Also PSO are used in situations that ‘do not strategically threaten our nation’.101 However, peace enforcement is placed as a distinct category between armed conflict and humanitarian operations, but the definition does not mention impartiality at all. It is defined as a conflict termination activity, coercive in nature, and undertaken under Chapter VII of the UN Charter when consent is absent or uncertain. Hence, the doctrine leaves some doubt as to whether peace enforcement is a part of PSO or of the concept of armed conflict, i.e. war. These analytical distinctions are somewhat awkward as the Canadian concept of peace enforcement included cases like Korea and the Gulf War, i.e. multilateral wars, not only national wars. In the Canadian case, wars are indeed multilateral, both historically and most likely in the future. The concept of war,

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as outlined above, puts a strong emphasis on war as a national project, somewhat out of touch with reality. Further, the doctrine distinguishes between OOTW and war by how wars are ended: by coercion or by negotiations. The problem with this is of course that one rarely knows at the beginning of a war how it will end. Although the doctrines stress the linkage between the political setting and the military means to be used, they do not discuss this or deal with the problems that arise from it. The focus is still on traditional military principles and operational art. While the doctrine maintains a dividing line between war and OOTW, this line is blurred and the Canadian view on war bears sign of change. Thus, while it appears that PSO did not receive much attention in doctrine-making circles, the Canadian view of war draws heavily on the PSO experience. First of all, doctrines discuss the concept of winning and victory, and play down the traditional concept of ‘military victory’: ‘Rather than a pure military victory, it may often be defined in terms such as reconciliation, acceptance of the status quo, or agreement to a peace plan.’ Furthermore, it states that ‘physical destruction of the enemy, by itself, is not therefore a wholly reliable means of achieving success. Honourable retreat and fairness can also contribute to victory.’102 Second, the following views on military planning acknowledge the blurred and complex reality of politics: Military planning in a crisis will be an iterative process with political and diplomatic activity occurring in parallel. Even in purely national operations the ideal contents of a strategic directive are unlikely to be available at an early stage. In some cases it must be acknowledged that contingency planning and some preparations may begin without a politically approved mission, but formal military planning should not begin without a clear mission.103 This formulation may be a direct response to the findings of the Army Lessons Learned Centre one year earlier when evaluating military aspects of crisis management: A common observation by senior HQs is that there is an apparent lack of understanding of the Joint Operational Planning Process [JOPP] by the senior leadership and staffs of the CF […This] resulted in lack of direction and guidance for subordinate commands, incomplete orders, poor and untimely dissemination of information and lack of JOPP outputs expected by subordinate HQs and units. […] Central direction, even in the absence of clear political direction, is critical to the JOPP, concurrent and parallel planning, and even battle procedures at the lowest levels. It must be issued in a timely fashion even if predicated on a number of assumptions and caveats.104

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Also, the view is presented that restrictions will always be placed upon commanders, not only in peacekeeping but probably in warfighting as well: ‘The optimum use of force from the military perspective may not be feasible from the political or diplomatic perspective’ and ‘commanders and staffs must anticipate crises, plan for them and act in parallel with political, diplomatic, and relevant non-governmental activity’. A relevant question is whether there is such a thing as a military ‘optimum use of force’ if it does not correspond to the political framework.105 A section on guidelines on the use of force is included and a separate doctrine on this topic has been developed. In the early 1990s there was no focus on ROEs in training for war; after the mid 1990s, this changed. However, ROE is a problematic topic for Armies and, in the late 1990s, the Army was still struggling with ROE implementation and training.106 Third, CIMIC is included in the warfighting part and not only under the OOTW heading: ‘For all operations, CIMIC may be critical to the achievement of military objectives.’ Also, ‘Canadian army commanders must be prepared to fight wars and conduct joint and multinational operations other than war while working with a variety of government, non-government, private volunteer and international agencies.’ Thus Canadian doctrine acknowledges that wars may not be undertaken apart from civilian life or without interference from civilians. On the other hand, while the most likely scenario is that of Canada participating in a combined, coalition or multinational campaign, the doctrine maintains a distinct Canadian doctrine, Canadian view of war and conflict and Canadian principles of war. Multinational campaigns are put in the section of ‘specific operations’. The doctrine deals with the particular challenges of multinational operations and how the role of command changes as a result of culture and different national policies.107 Multinational operations are thus viewed as a special case and not the norm. The political dividing line is that war is a national, defensive undertaking, while the concept of PSO reflects most of all the need for UN authorisation for Canadian troops to engage abroad. Militarily, there is no sharp dividing line between the Canadian view of war and the view of military operations other than war. The doctrine states that many of the features that apply to OOTW are applicable to warfighting scenarios as well, as outlined above. This, it can be argued, reflects signs of a changing view on war and warfare. The view on war outlined above can be seen as a result of influence caused by involvement in PSO in the 1990s. The only operational experience for Canadian troops has been that of PSO. Canadian doctrine assumes that the recent experiences in PSO are relevant to future war. However, putting combat capability as a top priority gives focus to traditional military principles and functions. Manoeuvre warfare doctrine is regarded as valid throughout the spectrum of conflict and the main focus has been on how to apply manoeuvre warfare and mission command to these other kinds of military operations. Their applicability has not been seriously questioned. The conflict between traditional military principles and the nature of the ‘new wars’ is not dealt with in any depth.108

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That training for war is sufficient has been the official CF conviction and view throughout Canada’s peacekeeping history. There were some signs of this changing during the 1990s. Following the ‘Somalia incident’, the CF set up a new training centre for PSO in 1996. The launch of the Centre actually preempted the publication of the Somalia inquiry, but responded to the critique. While it originally only consisted of five officers and also utilised reserves, it soon expanded and was by 1999 manned by 36 officers, responsible for all training of observers and staff officers and for assisting units training for deployment. Observers are provided with a 19-day course, staff officers are given a one-week course. Units to be deployed spend three months on warfighting training and then three months on mission-specific PSO-related training assisted by teams from the PSO Training Centre.109 The training system is thus rather extensive, and while the underlying ‘warfighting first’ doctrine has been preserved, it has in practice been watered down. Extensive training is now provided. Traditional combat training has been supplemented with training in language, cultural awareness and negotiation techniques and as mission-specific training. This can of course be an improvement and solve some of the practical training issues. On the other hand, it might be that this way of training units for such operations, by outsourcing these task to ‘specialists’ and ‘special institutions’, is a way of keeping PSO out of the military domain, creating and sustaining the image of PSO as different from and inconsistent with ‘real’ military training. Thus it serves to formalise the view that PSO detract resources from the Army’s warfighting capability. In this respect it may reinforce the problems of maintaining full-spectrum capability rather than alleviate them. Several lessons-learned reports are critical of CF training and overall preparedness for this kind of operations. One report noted ‘the disparity between the subjects that were directed to be taught and the amount of expertise and resources that a unit had at its disposal’ and the ‘intensity, practicality and realism of the related training’ was also questioned. Too little time was spent on urban tactics, crowd control and on handling of ROE. In fact, as a matter of policy, Canadian units are not to be trained in crowd control or anti riot techniques as these are considered police tasks and not mandated to the military.110 Furthermore, the size of the area of operations in PSO required a decentralisation of command down to company and platoon levels, contrary to the prescriptions of standard training. The ‘Doctrine for FIBUA’ (fighting in built up areas) is out of date and does not reflect our current missions: ‘Grenading and entering using spec fire through walls, ceilings and floors is not a flexible enough tactic for use with current ROEs’.111 In an article from the early 1990s, a Canadian officer also argued in favour of revising warfighting doctrine and principles because they were inappropriate and incompatible with peacekeeping.112 But, even after the doctrinal review of 1998, urban tactics were not given any more attention than hitherto and thoughts on urban tactics were

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only to be found in scattered comments in the drill manuals of the various arms.113 While PSO training has developed and is now rather extensive, there is indeed limited focus on these kinds of operations in regular military education. Even after an overhaul of the courses within the Staff College in 1996–7, the training continued to focus on high-intensity wars and battles in Central Europe using a tank-based, fully mobilised division of 34,000 troops, probably one of the world’s biggest divisions, with all conceivable assets and capabilities, as the exercise tool. One day was spent on peacekeeping. Only in 1998–9 did the Army initiate a more radical reform program, focusing more on smaller and lighter forces in smaller wars and contingencies with ‘complex [i.e. mountainous] terrain’ replacing the steppes of Central Europe.114 Two reasons can explain this reform. First of all, the Army thinking and training was completely out of step with any realistic scale of effort and standard of equipment, and depended on mobilisation of Canadian society as a whole for war. Second, it was out of step with any likely conflict involving Canada in the near future. Thus, only in 1999 did radical reform of the Army start to be influenced by the LO 2020 in NATO and American reform. Its outcome is thus beyond the timeframe of this book. As a part of this reform, the Army accepted non-state warfare as one out of two scenarios for the future.115 Armed non-state groups and paramilitary forces applying asymmetric means, the complexities of future battlefields, the technologisation and digitisation of warfare, integration of civil and military components in strategy, psychological operations, compression of command levels as well as the need for precise ROE sensitivity for casualties and the utility of non-lethal weapons are all referred to in the reform documents. The conclusion is that flexibility and ability to manage change quickly will be decisive for the future Army: ‘For this reason, Canada’s army is committed to developing an institutional culture that is not only forward looking and responsive to change, but will enable it to be a leader of change.’116 Many of the features of peacekeeping and peace support operations, which were initially thought of within this context, were now presented in the context of future war. A study based on interviews with officers and soldiers returning from service in UNPROFOR seem to confirm some of the problems with CF training doctrine up to 1994. Soldiers and officers criticised training and preparations and even argued that ‘it’s totally against everything you’ve learned as a soldier’ and that situations like that are ‘more complicated than war’.117 Statements like this should not be taken to mean that every problem can be solved by improved training, but it is a sign of a discrepancy between training given and existing expectations about war. The comparison between the level of difficulty in war and peacekeeping made is actually a comparison between the experience from a peacekeeping operation and training for war, not experience from actual war. Canada has not participated in a war since Korea. This suggests that military thinking, doctrine and training should reflect a greater degree of realism than hitherto.

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Conclusion Canadian defence policy changed from the end of the Cold War and up to 1994 with the Defence Review. Let alone reductions in funding and manpower, existing policy was questioned and reformulated but without taking the necessary steps to solve the fundamental problems of the mismatch between foreign and defence policy ambitions and the rather limited resources available for underpinning these ambitions. The result is somewhat confusing. There is a problem of priorities in Canadian defence policy. Canada has formally withdrawn militarily from Europe and NATO, but most of its troops rotate in and out of Europe serving under NATO command. Canada is a strong supporter of the UN and has a tradition for putting the UN at the centre but since 1995 Canada has not committed significant numbers of troops to UN operations. Canada is a strong supporter for peacekeeping as well as peace building, but maintains a focus on combat capable forces, and within the military peacekeeping is by far a popular task. Canada is a strong defender of international law, and conceptualised its foreign and defence policy orientation through human security, but its troops have displayed a poor understanding of the laws of armed conflict, for instance in Somalia. Canada fears US dominance and favours independence from the US, but its defence doctrine puts interoperability with the US first. These paradoxes shape Canadian defence policy. As illustrated by NATO’s operations in the Balkans, this CF structure is hardly capable of maintaining foreign land-based peacekeeping deployments of about 1, 500 over time. When it comes to the Army, it is hard to see that political decisions taken in 1994, which included a greater ambition of contributing troops to multinational PSO, have been underpinned by improvements in force structure that enable the CF to fulfil these political ambitions. Conceptually, defence policy has distinguished between national tasks, tasks to be undertaken together with the US and tasks undertaken with NATO or coalitions. The defence debate in Canada was in this period trapped between the concepts of ‘combat capability’ and ‘peacekeeping’ and the latter was seen as a threat to the former. As it was impossible, first, to argue against combat capability within the military, and second, to argue against peacekeeping in greater society, reform was lacking. Within the Army and in particular among retired but still influential officers, combat capable forces meant training with fully mobilised divisions and corps, out of step with reality and most likely with future conflicts and capabilities of the Canadian Army. In fact, the Army continued to focus on a major war in Central Europe in its officer training, and thus did exactly what the political masters criticised NATO for doing. Also, Canadian defence policy placed defence of NATO and PSO in the same box. The distinction between the two was played down. The concept encapsulating the Canadian approach to the new conflicts was ‘human security’, a concept that was not too popular within the DND and the CF, in part due to its unclear message.

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In terms of doctrine, it seems paradoxical that while Canadian political leaders criticised NATO for being stuck in the Cold War, the Army in its training maintained a focus on high-intensity warfare in Central Europe with mobilised divisions as the core of their activities. Manoeuvre warfare became the basis for doctrinal developments in the latter half of the 1990s. Doctrine for peacekeeping was almost neglected. However, by the end of the 1999, there were changes in the military thinking, and reforms were under way. Notes 1 Alex Morrison, ‘Canada and Peacekeeping’, in David B.Dewitt and David LeytonBrown (eds), Canada’s International Security Policy (Scarborough: Prentice Hall, 1995), p. 213; Department of National Defence (DND), ‘Past Canadian Commitments to Peace Support Operations’, December 2000, available online at http://www.dnd.ca.admpol/org/dg_is/d_pk; Jocelyn Coulon, Soldiers of Diplomacy: The United Nations, Peacekeeping, and the New World Order (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1998), p. 165. 2 Joel J.Sokolosky, Canada Getting It Right This Time: The 1994 Defence White Paper (Carlisle Barracks: SSI, US Army War College, April 1995), p. 29; David G.Haglund, ‘The NATO of its Dreams? Canada and the Cooperative Security Alliance’, in Charles-Phillipe David and Jaques Lévesque (eds), The Future of NATO: Enlargement, Russia and European Security (Montreal: McGill’s Queen University Press, 1999), p. 138. 3 DND, Canada’s Army: We stand on Guard for Thee (Ottawa, 1998); Directorate of Army Training, ‘Redefining Army Training’, The Army Doctrine and Training Bulletin, 3:1 (2000), pp. 12–16; Major Dan Drew, ‘Combat Readiness and Canada’s Army’, The Army Doctrine and Training Bulletin, 2:4 (1999), pp. 40–7. 4 Joel J.Sokolosky, ‘Over There with Uncle Sam’, in David G.Haglund (ed.), What NATO for Canada?, Centre for International Relations, Martello Papers no. 23, 2000, p. 27; Haglund, Dreaming of a New NATO? Canada and the Cooperative Security Alliance (Ebenhausen: Stiftung Wissenschaft und Politiek, SWP AP 2061, March 1998), p. 11. 5 International Institute for Strategic Studies (IISS), The Military Balance 1990– 1991, (Oxford: Oxford University Press for IISS, 1998), pp. 60–1; IISS, The Military Balance 1999–2000, (Oxford: Oxford University Press for IISS, 1998), pp. 49–50. 6 Jeremy R.Stocker, ‘Canadian Jointery’, Joint Forces Quarterly, Winter (1995–6), pp. 116–18. 7 Sean M.Maloney, ‘“Global Mobile”: Flexible Response, Peacekeeping and the Origins of Forces Mobile Command, 1958–1964’, The Army Doctrine and Training Bulletin, 3:3 (2000), pp. 20–34; Maloney, ‘“Global Mobile II”; The Development of Forces Mobile Command, 1965–1972’, The Army Doctrine and Training Bulletin, 4:2 (2001), pp. 7–23. 8 Directorate of Peacekeeping Policy, ‘Current Canadian Force Contributions to UN Peace Support Operations’, January 2000.

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9 R.H.Roy, ‘The Canadian Military Tradition’, in H.Massay (ed.), The Canadian Military: A Profile (Canada: Copp Clarke Publishers, 1972), pp. 40–7; David A. Charters and James Leblanc, ‘Peacekeeping and Internal Security: The Canadian Army in Low-Intensity Operations’, in David A.Charters and Maurice Tugwell (eds), Armies in Low Intensity Conflict: A Comparative Analysis (London: Brassey’s, 1989), p. 19; Brian Cuthbertson, Canadian Military Independence in the Age of the Superpowers (Toronto: Fitzhenry and Whiteside, 1977), p. 1. 10 DND, Challenge and Commitment: A Defence Policy for Canada (Ottawa, 1987), p. 80; J.S.Finan and S.B.Flemming, ‘Public Attitudes Towards Defence and Security in Canada’, in D.B.Dewitt and D.Leyton-Brown (eds), Canada’s International Security Policy, p. 291. 11 Colin S.Gray, Canadian Defence Priorities: A Question of Relevance (Toronto: Clarke, Irwin and Co, 1972), pp. 136–57 for a discussion of the concept of ‘sovereignty protection’; see Joel J.Sokolosky, ‘Domestic Disturbances and the Military: The Canadian Experience’, Parameters, Spring (1993), pp. 93–101 for a discussion of the internal role of the Canadian Forces. 12 John A.Munro and Alex I.Inglis (eds), Lester Pearson: Memoirs, vol. II, 1948– 1957: The International Years (London: Victor Gollancz, 1974), pp. 32, 53. 13 Don Cook, Forging an Alliance: NATO 1945 to 1950 (London: Martin Secker & Warburg, 1989), pp. 165–74, 220; see also Morrison, ‘Canada and Peacekeeping’, pp. 199–226. 14 Quote from 1970 Foreign Policy White Paper, in Keith Krause, W.Andy Knight and David Dewitt, ‘Canada, The United Nations and the Reform of International Institutions’, in Chadwick F.Alger, Gene M.Lyons and John E.Trent (eds), The United Nations System: The Policies of Member States (New York: United Nations University Press, 1995), p. 133. 15 Cuthbertson, Canadian Military Independence, p. 215. 16 Morrison, ‘Canada and Peacekeeping’, pp. 206–14, in particular 214; Cuthbertson, Canadian Military, p. 219. 17 Charters and Leblanc, ‘Peacekeeping and Internal Security’, p. 141; J.L.Granatstein, Canada’s Army: Waging War and Keeping the Peace (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2002), pp. 392–7. 18 Colonel David Harris, ‘Challenges in the Military Futures’, Canadian Defence Quartely, December (1993), pp. 17–22, in particular 18. 19 Maloney, ‘Global Mobile’, p. 24. 20 Dewitt and Leyton-Brown (eds), Canada’s International Security Policy, pp. 10– 11. 21 DND, Canada’s Army, p. 23. 22 Maloney, ‘Global Mobile’, p. 20. 23 R.H.Roy, The Canadian Military Tradition’, pp. 45–6. 24 DND, Challenge and Commitment, pp. 3, 16. 25 DND, 1991–92 Defence Estimates, Part III (Ottawa, 1991), p. 25. 26 Granatstein, Canada’s Army, p. 391. 27 Haglund, ‘Dreaming of a New NATO?’, p. 11. 28 Interview conducted by the author, September 2002. 29 DND, 1991–92 Defence Estimates, pp. 22–5, and 1992–93 Defence Estimates (Ottawa, 1992), p. 9, 44; DND, 1993–94 Defence Estimates (Ottawa, 1993), p. 16.

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30 ‘Canada reconsiders peacekeeping role’, Jane’s Defence Weekly, 6 March 1993; ‘MPs and public differ on peace force’, The Guardian, 27 January 1994. 31 D.Collenette, Minister of National Defence, ‘Foreword’, ‘Review of Canadian Defence Policy: Guidance Document’, February 1994. 32 DND, 1994–95 Defence Estimates (Ottawa, 1994), p. 15. 33 DND, ‘1994 Defence White Paper’, in Douglas L.Bland (ed.) Canada’s National Defence: Defence Policy, vol. I (Ontario: Queens University Press, 1997), pp. 352– 8. 34 DND, ‘1999 Defence Planning Documents’, Ch. 3, p. 6. 35 DND, ‘1994 Defence White Paper’, pp. 299–303. 36 DND, Directorate of Strategic Analysis, Project Report no. 658, Regional Overviews (Ottawa: DND, October, 1993), pp. ii, 30. 37 DND ‘1994 Defence White Paper’, pp. 294–5, in particular 295. 38 Ibid., pp. 313–18. 39 Gray, Canadian Defence Priorities, pp. 126–7. 40 DND ‘1994 Defence White Paper’, pp. 309–27. 41 Nils Ørvik, ‘Doctrines and National Security: A Canadian Defence Doctrine?’, in Nils Ørvik (ed.), Canada and NATO, National Security Studies, 3:82 (Kingston, Ontario: Queens University, 1982), p. 103. 42 DND ‘1994 Defence White Paper’, pp. 329–43, in particular 333. 43 Dean Oliver, ‘Foreign Affairs and National Defence’, in David Leyton (ed.) Canadian Annual Review of Politics and Public Affairs 1994 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2001), pp. 103–4. 44 Ambassador to NATO, James K.Bartleman, ‘Unfinished Revolution: New Political Direction at NATO’, Canadian Defence Quarterly, February (1992), p. 10. 45 David T.Lightburn, ‘Canada and NATO: The Other Transatlantic Partner’, Canadian Defence Quarterly, April (1992), p. 36; Paul Buteux, ‘NATO and the Evolution of Canadian Defence and Foreign Policy’, in D.B.Dewitt and D.LeytonBrown (eds), Canada’s International Security Policy, pp. 155–7. 46 Interviews conducted by the author at the National Defence HQ, Ottawa, September, 2002. 47 Dean Oliver, ‘External Affairs and Defence’, in David Leyton (ed.), Canadian Annual Review of Politics and Public Affairs 1992 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1998), pp. 122–3. 48 Art Eggleton, Conference speech on Canadian Defence and the RMA, 30 November 1998, available online at http://www.dnd.ca/archive/speeches. See also John Richardson, ‘Canada’s Continuous Role in NATO’, in Robert Wolfe (ed.), Transatlantic Identity? (Kingston: School of Policy Studies, 1997), pp. 124–5; André P. Donneur and Martin Burgeois, ‘Canada and the Enlargement of NATO’, pp. 119– 37; David G.Haglund, ‘The NATO of its Dreams?’, pp. 138–53. 49 ‘NATO: In search of an enemy’, Ottawa Citizen, 9 January 1999. 50 DFAIT, ‘Canadian International Relations Chronicle’, October—December 1995, available online at http://www.dafit-maeci.gc.ca. 51 DFAIT, ‘Canadian International Relations Chronicle’, October—December 1998; ‘Annan at odds with NATO partners’, Ottawa Citizen, 9 December 1998; ‘Canada challenges NATO’s stand on nuclear weapons’, The Globe and Mail, 20 April 1999; ‘Canada wins, loses at NATO summit’, Montreal Gazette, 26 April 1999.

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52 See Charles M.Goodfrey, ‘New and Old Thoughts About Peacekeeping’, Canadian Defence Quarterly, December (1994), pp. 19–23 and ‘Study advises pulling out of NATO’, Jane’s Defence Weekly, 26 March 1994. 53 Summary of The Canadian Foreign Policy Review, 8 February 1995, provided by the Canadian High Commission, London, pp. 12–14. 54 DND, ‘1994 Defence White Paper’, pp. 309–12. 55 Dorothy Schaffer, War and the Military Courts (New York: Exposition Press, 1981), pp. 3–4. 56 General A.J.G.D.de Chastelain, ‘Wing-Walking Revisited: Canadian Defence Policy After the Cold War’, Canadian Defence Quarterly, June (1992), pp. 7–13. 57 See, for instance, Lieutenant General G.G.Simmonds, ‘Commentary and Observations’, in H.Massay (ed.), The Canadian Military, p. 268. 58 Lewis MacKenzie, ‘A crucial job, but not one for a superpower’, The Washington Post, 14 January 2001. 59 DND, Directorate of Strategic Analysis, Project Report 9917 Strategic Overview 1999 (Ottawa: DND, September 1999), pp. xxi–xxii; Minister Art Eggleton, ‘Canada must continue to have combat capability’, Toronto Star, 6 May 1998. 60 Sokolosky, Canada: Getting It Right This Time; ‘Canada hits balance between budget and forces’ needs’, Jane’s Defence Weekly, 17 December 1994. 61 H.P.Klepak, ‘Changing Realities and Perceptions of Military Threat’, in D.B.Dewitt and D.Leyton-Brown (eds), Canada’s International Security Policy, pp. 52, 68. 62 Dean Oliver, ‘External Affairs’, p. 96. 63 DND, ‘1994 Defence White Paper’, pp. 337, 340, 352–4; DND, 1999 Defence Planning Document, Ch. 3, p. 3. 64 See Keith Krause, W.Andy Knight and David Dewitt, ‘Canada, the United Nations and the Reform of International Institutions’, in Alger et al. (eds), The United Nations, p. 150. 65 Morrison, ‘Canada and Peacekeeping’, p. 221. 66 DND, ‘1994 Defence White Paper’, pp. 334–7. 67 DND, ‘1994 Defence White Paper’, pp. 331–2. 68 Albert Legault, Canada and Peacekeeping: The Three Major Debates (The Canadian Peacekeeping Press, 1999), p. 70; Oliver, ‘Foreign affairs’, p. 83. 69 ‘Troops to stay in Bosnia’, Toronto Star, 1 May 1999; ‘Canada reconsiders peacekeeping role’, Jane’s Defence Weekly, 6 March 1993; Oliver, ‘Foreign Affairs’, (1992), pp. 94–5 and Legault, Canada and Peacekeeping, pp. 76–7. 70 ‘Canadian CF-18s off to Bosnia’, The Gazette, 14 August 1997; Legault, Canada and Peacekeeping, pp. 85–97. 71 David M.Hewitt, From Ottawa to Sarajevo: Canadian Peacekeepers in the Balkans (Kingston: Centre for International Relations, 1998), pp. 29–30, 55. 72 D.Morton, A Military History of Canada: From Champlain to Kosovo (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1999), pp. 279–80. 73 Quoted in Vice Admiral Robert E.George and Major René Gervais, ‘Canada’s Military Contribution to the Alliance’, Canadian Defence Quarterly, March (1993), p. 25; ‘Canada reconsiders peacekeeping role’, Jane’s Defence Weekly, 6 March 1993; ‘MPs and public differ on peace force’, The Guardian, 27 January 1994.

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74 Dean Oliver, ‘Foreign affairs and national defence’, in David Leyton-Brown (ed.) Canadian Annual Review of Politics and Public Affairs 1993 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1999), pp. 91, 108. 75 Dishonoured Legacy: The Lessons of the Somalia Affair, vol 2 (Ottawa: Public Works and Government Services, 1997), p. 558; Coulon, Soldiers of Diplomacy, pp. 94–8. 76 See Dishonoured Legacy, vol. 5, pp. 1,469–99. 77 Granatstein, The Canadian Army, pp. 406–12; Morton, A Military History, pp. 285– 90. 78 DFAIT, Towards a Rapid Reaction Capability for the United Nations, (Government of Canada, September 1995). 79 The Canadian Foreign Policy Review (Ottawa: February 1995); R.B.Byers, ‘Canadian Security and Defence: The Legacy and Challenges’, A delphi Paper no. 214 (London: Brassey’s for the IISS, 1986), pp. 13–14; Colonel David L.Bashow, ‘Reconciling the Irreconcilable? Canada’s Foreign and Defence Policy Linkage’, Canadian Military Journal, Spring (2000), pp. 17–25. 80 David Collenette, ‘Canada’s International relations’, Canadian Defence Quarterly, December (1995), pp. 25–27, in particular p. 25, and ‘Canadian Defence Policy: Down the Road without a Map’, Military Technology, February (1995), pp. 38–40. 81 Foreign Minister Lloyd Axworthy, quoted in Donneur and Burgeois, ‘Canada and the Enlargement of NATO’, p. 133. 82 Gregory Wirick and Robert Miller, ‘Conflict in an Era of Radical Change’, in Gregory Wirick and Robert Miller (eds), Canada and Missions for Peace (Ottawa: International Development Research Centre, 1998), pp. 1–20. 83 Report of the Standing Senate Committee on Foreign Affairs, The New NATO and the Evolution of Peacekeeping: Implications for Canada (Ottawa, April 2000), Ch. VI. 84 Haglund, What NATO for Canada?, p. 18; Lloyd Axworthy, speech in the House of Commons, 29 February 1996. 85 Interview conducted by the author at the National Defence HQ, Ottawa, September 2002. 86 See Minister of National Defence, Art Eggleton, speech in the House of Commons Debate on Kosovo, 7 October 1998; Minister of Foreign Affairs, speech at the Organisation for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE) meeting, Austria, 22 October 1998; DFAIT, ‘Crisis in Kosovo’ and Axworthy, ‘Kosovo and the Humans Security Agenda’, 7 April 1999 available online at http://www.dfait-maeci.gc.ca/ foreign/kosovo. 87 Minister of National Defence, Art Eggleton, ‘Speaking Notes: Canadian Lessons from the Kosovo Crisis’, 30 September 1999, available online at http:// www.dnd.ca/eng/archive/speeches/30SepHarvard_s_e.htm; ‘Security Council useless: Axworthy’, Ottawa Citizen, 29 March 1999; ‘Canada’s part in bombing violates 50-year tradition’, The Globe and Mail, 30 March 1999. 88 See Paul Heinbecker, Assistant Deputy Minister, DFAIT, ‘Human Security: The Hard Edge’, Canadian Military Journal, Spring (2000), pp. 11–16 and Bashow, ‘Reconciling the Irreconcilable’, pp. 17–26. 89 Fen Osler Hampson and Dean F.Oliver, ‘Pulpit Diplomacy’, International Journal, Summer (1998), pp. 379–406; Joel Jockel and Joel Sokolosky, ‘Lloyd Axworthy’s Legacy’, International Journal, Winter (2000/1), pp. 1–18.

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90 DND, Directorate of Strategic Analysis, Project Report 9917: Strategic Overview 1999 (Ottawa: DND, September 1999), pp. 100–2; Interview conducted by the author at the National Defence HQ, Ottawa, September, 2002. 91 Interview conducted by the author at the National Defence HQ, Ottawa, September 2002. 92 Maloney, ‘Global Mobile’, pp. 23–5; ‘Global Mobile II’, pp. 12–13. 93 Interview conducted by the author, Kingston, September 2002. 94 DND, Operations Land and Tactical Air, vol. 3, Peacekeeping Operations, BGL-301–003/FP–001, pp. i; 1–1–2–1–1–4. 95 DND, Peacekeeping Operations, p. 1–3–2. 96 Sean M.Maloney, ‘Insights into Canadian Peacekeeping Doctrine’, Military Review, March-April (1996), pp. 15–19. 97 The Army doctrine consists of several manuals: DND, Canada’s Army is a kind of strategic doctrine for the Army. For an overview of Canadian doctrine hierarchy by 1998, see DAT, ‘The Army Doctrine Hierarchy’, The Army Doctrine and Training Bulletin, 1:1 (1998), pp. 7–11. 98 See DND, Canada’s Army, pp. 72–5, in particular p. 74. 99 See DND, CHODS, Conduct of Land Operations—Operational Level Doctrine for the Canadian Army, B-GL–300–001/FP–000, vol. 1 (DND, 1998), p. ii. The doctrine’s bibliography lists ‘Agenda for Peace’ from 1992 but no NATO documents or other publications that deals with the debate on middle ground operations. 100 DND, CHODS, Conduct of Land Operations, pp. 4, 15–16. 101 Ibid., pp. 136–8, 137 for quote. 102 Ibid., pp. 5–6, 12. 103 Ibid., p. 35. 104 ALLC, ‘Analysis Report-Op Assurance’, 7 June 1997, pp. 1–2. 105 DND, CHODS, Conduct of Land Operations, pp. 36, 71–2. 106 See ALLC, ‘Rules of Engagement Training’, Dispatches, 7:1 (2000), for an overview of training issues regarding ROE. 107 DND, CHODS, Conduct of Land Operations, pp. 73, 102–14, 139. 108 ALLC, ‘Manoeverist Approach to Operations and Mission Command’, Dispatches, 5:1 (1998). 109 Briefing notes, ‘Canadian Forces Pre-Deployment Training’, Colonel Moyers, 18 September 2002. See also ‘Canada’s Centre of Excellence for Peace Support Operations Training’, The Army Doctrine and Training Bulletin, 2:4 (1999) and ‘Peace Support operations training: Skills for peace’, Jane’s Defence Weekly, 27 June 2002. 110 Major Wayne Eyre, ‘Civil Disorder and the Canadian Soldiers Over Seas’, The Army Doctrine and Training Bulletin, 4:2 (2001), pp. 24–9. 111 ALLC, ‘Initial Analysis Report—Common Issues For Operating in the Former Yugoslavia’, 3450–2 (ALLC), 7 May 1996, paras j, q, r and y; ALLC, ‘Analysis 9901: Common Observations and Issues OP Palladium Rotations Zero to Four’, 3450–2 (ALLC), May 1997, para. 2.5. Both documents available online at http:// www.army.dnd.ca/allc/analysis. 112 Colonel David Harris, ‘Challenge in Military Futures’, Canadian Defence Quarterly, December (1993),p. 21. 113 Roch Legault, ‘The Urban Battlefield and the Army: Changes and Doctrines’, Canadian Military Journal, Autumn (2000), p. 42.

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114 Interviews conducted by the author, Kingston, September 1992. 115 DLSC, The Future Security Environment, August 1999 and the subsequent DLSC, Future Army Capabilities, January 2001. 116 DND, Canada’s Army, pp. 108–26, in particular p. 121; DLSC, ‘Future Army Capability Requirements’, The Army Doctrine and Training Bulletin, 4:2 (2001), pp. 4–6. 117 James D.Smith, Canada in Croatia: Peacekeeping and UN Reform—The View From the Ground (UK: SCSI, 1995), pp. 21–2, 42.

7 DENMARK1 International or national defence?

On 25 May 1999, six political parties, representing 80 per cent of the seats in the Danish Parliament, signed the Defence Agreement for the period 2000–4. For the third time in the last decade, Danish representatives had agreed to put more emphasis on international as opposed to national defence. On five occasions in 1999, the Danish Parliament supported Danish deployments in various peace support operations (PSO)-related missions.2 Although Denmark had supported peacekeeping since 1956, and held a high profile in the United Nations (UN), the use of force had in cases like Korea and the Gulf War traditionally been more controversial. At the end of the decade, Petersen argued that Danish foreign policy had been militarised and Americanised, and that it had been strongly influenced by activism in the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation (NATO).3 The Kosovo air and subsequent ground campaigns were quite extraordinary, given that it was Denmark’s first real war since 1864; a war without a UN mandate. The decision to participate in NATO’s operation was a result of policy adaptations and adjustments made gradually during a ten-year period. Thus, although quite extraordinary considering Denmark’s Cold War policy, the 1999 decision regarding Kosovo passed Parliament without much resistance. These policy changes were adopted as a result of a broad political consensus. In the 1990s, PSO became an integrated task of Danish defence policy, which became increasingly internationalised. Developments in Denmark should be judged against the rejection of the 1992 referendum on the Maastricht Treaty. There was an ‘earthquake’ in Danish security policy as the Maastricht Treaty was rejected in a referendum by a close margin after Parliament had recommended the Treaty to the voters. Although developments in the European Union (EU) are not part of this book, this cannot be ignored. The Danish ‘no’ meant that Denmark opted out as a full member of the Western European Union (WEU) and NATO became the arena in which Denmark would have to oppose the possibility of being marginalised in the realm of security and defence policy in Europe.4

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The Danish military structure and PSO Denmark is populated by some 5.1 million people located in the north of the European mainland. The Danish Armed Forces consist of Army, Navy, Air Force and a National (Home) Guard. Conscription is the main method of recruitment and service of approximately one year has been mandatory for the male population. During the Cold War, the annual intake of recruits was around 11,000. The Danish Army was organised in two geographical commands, with one division and a total of five mechanised brigades and three infantry brigades. The Danish Army had 332 tanks, 52 light tanks and 530 APCs.5 As the Cold War ended, the structure of the Armed Forces was debated, but only in 1992 was it decided to reduce the mobilisation Army from 72,000 to 60,000 troops.6 Further cuts down to 58,000 were decided upon in 1995.7 In 1999, another round of cuts followed the work of the Defence Commission and the Army was reduced to 46,000 troops. Defence spending was reduced from 1.9 per cent to 1.6 per cent of the gross domestic product.8 By then only 15 per cent of the male population completed the duty of conscription and selection was made on the basis of a lottery.9 The reductions were accompanied by cuts in the training and logistical organisation, in the duration of conscription service, as well as by a modernisation programme mainly devoted to the Danish International Brigade (DIB), a unit of high readiness earmarked for NATO’s Allied Command Europe Rapid Reaction Corps (ARRC) and for PSO abroad. From 1995, priority was given to the DIB in terms of procurement and, by 1999, five out of eight investment programmes were directed towards the DIB. The Army’s main components were thus the DIB, integrated with the ARRC, and the Danish Division made up from mobilisation units, integrated with the GermanPolish-Danish Corps, established in 1998. In the same period, the Navy was reduced and modernised by acquiring 16 new multipurpose STANDARD-FLEX 300 vessels. The Air Force downscaled from 106 combat aircraft to 60 F-16 fighter planes by scrapping the old Draken model.10 With the emerging crisis and conflict in the Balkans, the Danish contribution to peacekeeping changed. Croatia and Bosnia became the priority, and the Danish battalion in Cyprus was withdrawn. While the Danish battalion in Croatia was deployed there as a traditional peacekeeping unit; the units sent to Bosnia operated under different and more robust principles. By the end of 1992, some 1100 personnel had deployed to Croatia and Bosnia. In 1993, Denmark sent a tank company to Bosnia, and from 1994 Denmark contributed a corvette to the naval embargo operation in the Adriatic.11 By 1995, the Danish contribution to the Balkans had increased to some 1,250 troops and also involved a small contribution to the UN operation in Macedonia. With NATO’s involvement in PSO, Denmark continued its presence in Bosnia within the Nordic-Polish Brigade as part of NATO’s Implementation Force in Bosnia (IFOR). From October 1998, Denmark participated in the air operations over Kosovo with four F-16s. The number increased to eight in April 1999. Simultaneously, Denmark

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sent a reconnaissance company to the Albania Force (AFOR), and later that year an infantry battalion was sent to Kosovo, and the contribution to the Stabilisation Force in Bosnia (SFOR) was reduced. Thus, in August 1999 Denmark was involved in 13 PSO with 2,300 troops, the highest figure ever, scattered around the globe, with the main effort with NATO in the Balkans.12 Political and military culture Denmark’s security policy orientation has been influenced by the small-state perspective and shaped very much by the geostrategic environment in which it has to operate. Historically, having powerful neighbours like Germany in the south, Russian empires to the east and Great Britain to the west, Denmark has had to operate her security policy within the limitations this imposes. For small states, foreign and security policy are often a function of what is defined by other and more powerful ones. As pointed out by a former Danish Foreign Minister: It is a widely held view in this country that the foreign policy of Denmark is determined by the Danish Government and Parliament. This, however, is correct only insofar as the formal decisions through which this policy is given expression appear as a decision of these organs. In reality, Danish foreign policy is determined by factors on which the Danish Government has little influence. The main task of Danish foreign policy therefore is to keep the government informed about these factors and their interplay and in this connection to form an opinion on the right moment in which to exploit the prevailing situation to further Denmark’s interests. Decisive among the factors whose interplay determines Danish foreign policy are the actual power relations in the world around us, especially the power balance between the Great Powers near us.13 This view illustrates the small-state perspective on international relations, with maintenance of international norms and institutions and rejection of the use of military force for other purposes than strict self-defence as central features. Denmark’s foreign and security policy is first of all determined by external actors and factors.14 The second trend in Denmark’s foreign and security policy tradition is that of activism. The moral responsibility to make a difference for the better is also a way to secure own interests.15 This was a central idea for Danish foreign policy makers in the interwar period and remained so after the Second World War.16 Activism after 1945 first of all relates to the role of Denmark in the UN. Denmark has a tradition of being a major contributor to foreign aid, compared to the size of its population. Denmark has played an active role in peacekeeping, in disarmament efforts, in foreign aid and in human-rights issues. As argued by Faurby, Danish defence thinking was shaped by the collapses in the wars with Germany in 1864 and 1940.17 This caused a general lack of belief in military defence in parts of the Danish population and security policy elite.

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Simultaneously, these events demonstrated Denmark’s dependency on Germany. This view contributed to Danish initiatives in forming alliances after 1945, first with Nordic partners and, when that effort failed, with Western states in NATO. Its defence policy suffered under a general lack of interest by the political community and by a certain degree of pessimism: the conviction that fighting was futile. There is a tradition in the Danish political elite of seeing defence as symbolic; national defence was something to have rather than something to use; to defend was to demonstrate resistance rather than to achieve results.18 Since 1961, Denmark has hosted the tri-service NATO Baltic Approaches (BALTAP) Headquarters (HQ), with a geographic responsibility for both Denmark and northern Germany. Denmark thus chose to integrate with the former enemy. Defence of Denmark has since been seen as defence of NATO. However, Danish policy gradually came to depart from NATO’s formal strategy due to the need to balance support for NATO’s decisions on the one hand with self-imposed restraints defined by domestic politics on the other. This applied, for instance, to the rejection of foreign bases on Danish territory and of the nuclear strategy of the Alliance. Denmark appreciated the dialogue aspects of the Harmel report (built on a Danish– Norwegian draft) more than the ‘harder’ aspects of NATO’s strategy. It can be argued that the ‘softer’ aspects of foreign policy pursued within the UN took priority over the harder aspects of security and defence policy during this part of the Cold War.19 Denmark pursued a ‘muddy foreign policy’ in which reservations about NATO decisions were to satisfy the opposition forces within domestic politics. The Danish position shifted from that of a loyal to a more independent ally. This gave Denmark ‘little international influence and increased international vulnerability’.20 Domestically, Denmark’s political culture has been described as pragmatic and consensus oriented, in particular within foreign and security policy. The polarisation of the 1980s was thus an exception from the general trend in Denmark. The basis for negotiations about defence has been broad, and to a great extent non-political expert commissions have developed reports as a basis for negotiations in Parliament. From 1973 onwards defence policy decisionmaking has involved the defence agreement system, in which agreements for four-year periods have been made by the political parties in Parliament, concerning structure, procurement and spending.21 The Danish military culture has been influenced by the strong support of conscription. Thus, the major activity of the military organisation has been the training of conscripts to provide manpower for mobilisation units. The Danish army was basically a training organisation and the officers were the trainers. NATO exercises were the annual operational highlight. Peacekeeping was the closest soldiers came to ‘real’ operations. Conscription has been seen as an expression of the will of the Danish people to defend itself. From 1973, Denmark supplemented the structure with professional soldiers and Danish conscripts ‘started being paid what are probably the highest salaries in the world’. According to a Danish officer this ‘undermined the possibility of reaching a

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satisfactory training level in the Army’s combat units’.22 The officer corps turned into managers and ‘the study of war was for years at best a peripheral experience’ for Danish officers.23 Inspired by the surprise attack of 1940 and the subsequent absence of resistance on the part of the Danish Forces, the Royal Resolution of 6 March 1952 (the Advance Order) made it the duty of the armed forces to provide military resistance to an attack on Danish territory or on Danish units outside Denmark, without awaiting orders, even in cases where a formal declaration of war had not been made by the government. An attack was to be considered as an order to mobilise.24 The Resolution was a means to rectify procedures which collapsed in 1940. War was seen as an abrupt reflex battle, rather than a politically controlled use of force.25 Within the strategic setting of the Cold War there was not much room for the intellectual aspects of using military force in pursuit of political goals. War was indeed existential and absolute. Previous versions of the Army’s field regulations illustrate this: Only the attack in its decisive form can cause the complete defeat of the enemy. Only by means of attack can one force one’s will upon the enemy and preserve the initiative, which is a precondition for a victorious outcome. If the enemy is defeated one should pursue him courageously and ruthlessly with the aim of transforming his defeat to complete dissolution.26 The aim of the attack is to annihilate the enemy.27 However, the real ambitions of defence policy, as developed from 1945 and up to the end of the Cold War, were more cautious, limited to symbolic presence and securing Allied support and the feasibility of Allied reinforcements. From 1945 to 1973, Denmark gradually adopted a ‘bridgehead defence’, in which the primary aim was to secure Allied reinforcements.28 Cold War postludium The third Defence Commission since 1945 was established after the change of government in June 1988.29 The main thrust of the threat assessments was linked to developments in the Soviet Union and in Eastern Europe, and was divided into ‘worst’- and ‘best’-case scenarios. The worst case was described as ‘a return to the Brezhnev period’ of rearmament and a breakdown in the ongoing arms control processes, or political fragmentation of the Eastern block and ‘local and national antagonism’ which could threaten European security. Symptomatically for the security thinking that focused on stability, the possibility of a break up of the Warsaw Treaty Organisation (WTO) was perceived as a threat. The military had warned against cuts in the structure on the grounds that it was too early to make conclusions about the requirements of Danish defence.30 Decisions were

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thus postponed. One important contribution from the Commission was the proposal for new and more visible objectives for defence policy, which included the promotion of ‘a peaceful international development’ later, to be adopted with few amendments.31 In the annual statement of the Defence Minister of 1990–2, changes in NATO and the strategic concept of the Alliance were given significant space and attention. Particularly, attention was given to the new crisis management role and reinforcements plans of the Alliance, as well as to the new conceptual basis for the use of military forces and to the concept of multinationality and NATO’s potential role in peacekeeping. A central element was the new reinforcement plans and the new force structure in NATO, developed to enable the Alliance to ‘transmit the optimum political signals in crisis management’.32 The concept of crisis management was, however, not discussed or elaborated on. Multinationality was highlighted as a key concept for the Alliance in order to ‘maintain a credible, integrated defence on a lower level’.33 The 1992 Defence Agreement: starting point of internationalisation The 1992 Defence Agreement, adopted after the ‘no’ to the Maastricht Treaty, can be seen as a starting point for the internationalisation of Danish defence.34 Cuts were made in the structure, both as a consequence of the Conventional Forces Europe (CFE) Treaty and as a logical step resulting from the end of the Cold War. It was decided to lower state of readiness by shortening the training periods for conscripts by one month and to cut the personnel ceiling from 72,000 to 60,000. This decision reflected the assumption that the danger of an attack on Denmark had ‘almost disappeared’ and that increased warning time in the event of such an attack could be assumed. Attention was given to new threats such as those of ethnic, religious and nationalistic character, which could endanger international stability.35 Thus, Danish defence was to be restructured in order to enhance the ability to participate in UN, Organisation for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE) and NATO operations within the framework of ‘international crisis management’. So far, the Danish contribution to immediate reaction forces (IRF[L]) —the AMF (L)—had been limited to a reconnaissance unit of 40 troops. Now the Danish contribution to crisis management was to consist of units from all three services. A ‘Danish International Unit’ was thus in the making, in order to participate in UN or OSCE ‘peacekeeping, peace enforcement, humanitarian and other such operations’ and to contribute a brigade primarily for the rapid reaction forces of NATO. This brigade was to be a part of 1st UK Division and was to be Denmark’s commitment to the ARRC. It was to be operational by 1995 in accordance with NATO’s ambitions. The idea to set up such an ‘international’ unit had circulated for a couple of years within the defence unions, which had forwarded a proposal in 1990. The Social Democratic Party had supported this proposal. When the

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Social Democratic Party took over government from January 1993, with Hans Hækkerup as Minister of Defence, the DIB became a very visible project.36 The idea had been rejected in a previous defence report.37 In the first half of 1992, there was no request from NATO for a brigade, and such a commitment was also regarded as too extensive and expensive, something which would ‘influence decisively on other Danish contributions as well as on the total structure and size of the Danish forces’. With regard to a brigade-sized commitment, the report concluded that: ‘It can be argued that such a commitment is hardly likely.’38However, the report recognised the importance of being able to contribute forces to all of NATO’s force categories from all services, as well as to UN or potential OSCE or EU operations. The requirements for military units in ‘peace making’ would be combat capability, and would be similar to the requirements for NATO’s forces. Double-hatting was thus seen as logical; the same requirements applied to various tasks, roles and institutional frameworks. In peace-making operations, a core of NATO Allies (‘some or all’) could take the lead and form the core of a peace-making force.39 In late 1992, a new report concerning the creation of the international unit was initiated as a consequence of the defence agreement. In the final report, the idea was promoted that bodies like the UN and the OSCE as well as potentially the North Atlantic Cooperation Council (NACC) in NATO would perform their role as providing political legitimacy, while NATO could take on the role as ‘entrepreneur’ on behalf of the international community. Thus, NATO’s role in what was now referred to in the Danish vocabulary as ‘peace support operations’ was intended to cover both peacekeeping, humanitarian, preventive deployments and peacemaking operations.’ The unit would thus be set up to participate in PSO and humanitarian operations as well as in those of ‘proper defence.’ This was regarded as a sign of ‘the decisive change in Danish defence policy in the direction of more active participation in crisis management and prevention of conflict’.40The objective was to set up an international unit in which the Army contribution would be the DIB of some 4,500 troops, of which approximately 1, 500 could be deployed for PSO. The important aspect of the Danish decision was the ambition of being able to deploy the unit as a whole simultaneously, although this was perhaps the less likely scenario.41 This secured a Danish role in NATO’s ARRC. Second, the Danish brigade was thus to be a combat and not simply a peacekeeping brigade based mainly on light infantry units. It was organised and equipped, in principle, as any other Danish brigade, except for reinforcements in logistics and air defences due to its potential independent role in areas far from home. The DIB was organised to be able to deploy in both ‘soft’ and ‘hard’ versions. For a traditional peacekeeping mission, a ‘soft’ version based around a light infantry battalion would be sufficient. For more robust operations, mechanised battalions and tanks as well as artillery support were included. Danish officers stated already early in 1994 that it was intended that the Brigade could ‘be deployed in a NATO

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context in Europe, in the Middle East and in North Africa’. However, for Article 5 purposes, it was intended to deploy only north of the Alps.42 The decision on the DIB was welcomed domestically. The MoD later argued that Danish officers and soldiers were placing Denmark on the global map due to their special ‘expertise in peace supporting efforts’. According to the Chief of the Army’s Operational Command, ‘no other defence policy decision in modern times had been given more public attention than the decision to set up this Brigade’ and it this signalled ‘an historic, new role for the Armed Forces’. While the new role was important, there were certainly other positive aspects of the DIB. It was to ‘drive the Army’s modernisation programme’.43 However, there were also words of caution: the focus on the DIB should not allow ‘us to forget our primary task: defence of Denmark and adjacent areas’. It is a widely held understanding within the Army that the internationalisation has saved its structure. While there is some concern over lack of funds for investment and procurement in modern technology for the rest of the Army, internationalisation has been supported.44 The hope was that the standards set by the DIB would eventually set the standards for the Army as a whole. To establish a Brigade like this was indeed a major challenge for a small country with a tradition of relying on conscription and mobilisation. These challenges were in part linked to the multitude of DIB missions: producing battalions for peacekeeping and thus having parts of the Brigade deployed constantly. Consequently there would be limited opportunity for training of the Brigade as a whole. Also lack of training opportunities and liaison with the British 1st Division limited interoperability. According to one analyst, it resulted in neither Danish nor British officers having full confidence in the DIB’s ability to perform its operational tasks as a brigade in the ARRC.45In the Danish interpretation of NATO’s readiness system, there was a distinction between Article 5 and non-Article 5 conflicts: in an Article 5 situation, you fight with what you have.46 This was used to explain the somewhat delayed deployment of the DIB to Kosovo in 1999, as extra time was needed on mission-specific training and the need for extra equipment, such as additional armour. Recruitment was another challenge. Denmark established a system based on volunteers among conscripts, who would sign up for a period of three years in which they would be available for deployment, but not employed as soldiers. Only 20 per cent of the Brigade were regulars, mostly officers and noncommissioned officers. The soldiers, the 80 per cent remaining, were to be civilians unless they were needed for deployment or short periods of refresher training.47 The initial contracts opened up for two deployments within a threeyear period. Problems arose when it was decided to deploy parts of the Brigade: the soldiers would not go. Although formally a breach of contract on the part of the soldiers, this was a difficult issue in a state in which military service abroad has traditionally been voluntary; the government would not like to be seen ordering unwilling soldiers to a potentially risky operation. A number of legal trials followed.48 Already in 1995 it was decided not to plan to use a second

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deployment of personnel within the three-year contract period.49 For a high readiness unit of this kind, professional soldiers would perhaps be the logical solution. However, as pointed out by Jakobsen, there is a strong belief in the conscripted Danish soldiers, both in the military and in greater society. Such an argument is often supported by underlining the high level of education in Danish society, the utility of democratic values, and the human skills as well as the character of Danish youth.50A defence report stated that: Conscription, as laid out by the Constitution, is a natural democratic consequence of the broad and general commitment to the defence by the people. Conscription enables Denmark to maintain a flexible military force within an acceptable economic level, a force that can be constantly matched to changing international circumstances. Additionally, conscription is seen to strengthen the relationship between the people and the military.51 This linkage between ‘defence’ and ‘people’ is highly relevant when the security of the people is at stake. However, in the new security environment, as elaborated by Danish policy makers and experts, without any direct threat to Danish territory, it is perhaps of less relevance to the security concerns of the state. Defence laws The decision to set up the DIB in 1992 was followed by amendments in the defence laws. ‘The law on objectives, tasks and organisation of the Defence Forces’ was adopted in December 1993. The objectives of defence policy expressed in this law were based on the recommendations given four years earlier by the aforementioned Defence Commission. However, a few changes had been made. The objectives of defence policy were stated as follows: Military defence is to contribute to the promotion of peace and security. The defence forces are essential means of security policy and are to: • prevent conflict and war; • preserve Danish sovereignty and secure the continued existence and integrity of the country; and • promote a peaceful international development with respect for human rights.52 The rationale for the international role of Denmark was made with explicit reference to peace and human rights, and no reference to Danish interests. This was the first time defence policy objectives had incorporated the international role of the military.53 It was thus a major leap and to a certain extent a break with the past.

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Of paramount importance was the opportunity provided by the new law to order officers to service abroad. So far, this had been voluntary, but the 1993 law made such service mandatory for all military personnel in principle. However, in practice conscripts were exempted and the recruitment of soldiers was based on conscripts signing up for a period of service after their mandatory service was completed. The laws underlined that defence of Denmark was not limited to activities on Danish soil. However, a UN or Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE) mandate was required for participation in ‘conflict preventive, peacekeeping, peace making, humanitarian and other similar operations’.54 The Defence Laws referred to crisis management, but in a section linked to the Article 5 role of NATO and ‘defence of Denmark proper’.55 The distinction between ‘proper defence’ and international tasks was explicit and corresponded with the original ‘crisis management’ role of NATO, explained in the previous chapter. The report on Danish defence of 1992 had concluded that there was very limited likelihood of an invasion of Denmark. In 1993, the Danish Commission for Security and Disarmament concluded that ‘for the first time since the 1920s there seems to be no threat against our area’.56 The view was also reflected in the defence laws: ‘there is no direct military threat to basic Danish security policy values, defined as the existence of the nation, its integrity and sovereignty.’57 Therefore it was possible to pursue actively the wider security agenda of Danish security policy without endangering national security. This did not mean that the basic security needs of Denmark were given less priority: ‘The accomplishment of other missions must not prevent the Defence Forces from effective and timely defence of national existence, sovereignty and integrity.’58 But the Defence Forces were to equip, train and prepare for a wide range of tasks and operations. The law referred to international military engagement as something apart from ‘the proper defence of NATO’.59 National or international defence? The internationalisation of Danish defence was seen as logical due to the end of the Cold War and also to developments in NATO. In 1993, the Ministry of Defence (MoD) stated that the ability of Danish defence to prevent war was to be judged within the context of a greater European crisis, in which participation in conflict-preventive and conflict-solving operations related to the expanded objectives of Danish security policy. This was exemplified by tasks such as the maintenance of human rights, development of democratic governance and sustainable social, economic and ecological development.60 However, one paragraph further down it was stated that ‘the main task’ of Danish defence was, and would always be, […] to execute wartime tasks related to defence of territory and the realm in cooperation with NATO allies, as well as training organisation of

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forces. Other tasks shall not prevent the armed forces from—in a timely and effective manner—securing the existence, integrity and sovereignty of the nation. This exemplifies the polarisation between ‘national and ‘international’ defence, which came to be a returning topic in defence estimates for the rest of the 1990s. The internationalisation took place against the background of threat assessments concluding that there was no threat to Denmark in geostrategic terms. The Cold War was over. However, even though considered unlikely, Germany ‘could attempt to reconstitute herself as a hegemon in Europe’. Nevertheless, in the Danish perception, Germany’s relative strength had increased and integration in NATO was a means to prevent renationalisation of defence in Europe.61 In 1994, a military view was that NATO’s Article 5 role was still relevant due to three scenarios representing different threat perceptions. First, there was the danger of a regional conflict of interest in Europe. Second, a setback in the so far positive developments in Russia could cause a return to a Cold War-like situation between East and West. And third, there was the danger of a potential future confrontation between European culture and Muslim fundamentalism.62 The ethnic conflicts in the Balkans were thus again excluded from proper defence. The Security and Disarmament Commission of 1993 pointed out that NATO could be seen as undergoing an identity crisis, and also that NATO was taking on a collective security role and that the task of maintaining order was the likely future main task of the Alliance. But it also pointed to the broader perspectives of the decisions taken in NATO concerning the PSO role of the Alliance: The possibility of NATO contributing to UN-sanctioned peacekeeping and peace support operations is for the US [United States] part of a wider aim than just contributing to the stability of Europe. NATO is also, in principle, to be able to operate outside Europe.63 For the rest of the decade, Danish defence policy developed in the direction of internationalisation; more emphasis was placed on international tasks and the most modern equipment was given to the DIB. Finally, NATO came to absorb most of Danish PSO resources.64 In the MoD’s annual statement of 1995, the defence agreement was welcomed because it meant that ‘the international engagement could develop further’.65A modernisation programme concerning the tank fleet, replacing the 70 remaining Centurion with 50 Leopard 1A5, was initiated. The equipment of the DIB was upgraded. The Army was cut once again, this time down to 58,000 troops. Not only was priority given to the DIB, but technological modernisation was also explained as a function of the international role of the Armed Forces: precision munitions and the update of the F-16 fighter aircraft were necessary in order to increase effectiveness in international tasks. However, simultaneously a new Defence Commission was announced. It was initiated in order to analyse the balance between defence of the realm and the international

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effort in the context of the need for and costs of further technological modernisation. Internationalisation was also supported by the Minister of Foreign Affairs (MFA), which increasingly adopted a broad security framework, focusing more on internal unrest in other states and respect for human rights at the expense of the principles of sovereignty and non-intervention.66 The UN’s ‘Agenda for Peace’ document was mentioned in favourable terms.67 A security policy document developed by the MFA in 1996 played down the need for territorial defence, but pointed to the risk potential of instability caused by internal conflicts in Europe. Preventing and limiting such conflicts were thus of high priority to the Danish government. The opening statement of the paper was the objective of Danish security policy: The ultimate goal of Danish security policy is Denmark’s development and survival in the long term as an independent democratic nation with economic welfare and a high degree of political and economic cooperation with surrounding countries. To achieve this goal, Denmark will have to contribute to the construction of an international framework which will permit peaceful and stable development.68 The paper stressed the need for changes in NATO. It set out two areas of particular importance. First, that the new NATO had to be able to handle the new risks and develop […] the ability to intervene in more limited conflicts whenever the member countries are in favour of military intervention. That calls for, among other skills, a well-developed capacity for humanitarian action, crisis management and peace keeping.69 No reference was made to the need for a UN mandate. The combined joint task forces (CJTF) project in NATO was seen as the most important practical effort to meet this challenge of ‘a more flexible and mobile structure’. The government referred to the unique capabilities of the Alliance for taking on such missions. According to the MFA, NATO’s new role was that of a ‘fire brigade’ in Europe whose task was to promote changes in former WTO countries through the spread of‘democracy, human rights, democratic control over the armed forces and peaceful resolution of conflict’.70 Second, the report stressed NATO’s role in promoting stability in the East through enlargement, Partnership for Peace (PfP) and relations with Russia and the Ukraine. It was important that the difference between members and non-members active within PfP be ‘paper thin’, to quote the MFA.71 Stability in the Baltic region has traditionally been a prerequisite for Danish security. Denmark was no longer a frontline state, but suddenly had a ‘buffer,’ consisting of Poland and the three Baltic States. Denmark thus focused very much on providing support to the Baltic States in order to maintain stability

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in this region. This programme was announced by the MoD in 1992. It started with a focus on the UN’s Baltic Peacekeeping Battalion (BALTBAT), but developed more and more in the direction of a general defence assistance programme as an element in the efforts of bringing the Baltic states into NATO.72 Internationalisation took another step when Denmark entered an agreement with Germany and Poland in September 1998 to form a trilateral corps consisting of one division from each country within the NATO framework (Multinational Corps Northeast) which replaced the Danish–German LANDJUT Corps. This decision grew out of a peacekeeping initiative in 1994.73 The Corps was to consist of 70,000 troops, 700 tanks, 420 artillery pieces and 650 armoured personnel carriers. The Danish contribution was the Danish Division. The Corps was to have three tasks. The first was to contribute to ‘collective defence’ in the northern part of continental Europe. It would thus be a part of NATO’s instruments for ‘crisis management and defence’. The corps as a whole was to be a part of NATO’s main defence forces. The second role was to ‘contribute to deployment of troops in peace support operations’. However, PSO deployment was limited to the HQ, not troops, as a Land Component Command within the CJTF concept of NATO. The third role was to contribute in humanitarian and civilian emergency efforts. The main body of this corps was based on conscription, and thus the relevance for non-Article 5 operations far away was limited. Although this was presented in the press as a step away from national defence, this step is indeed limited.74Again, a distinction was made between Article 5 and non-Article 5 missions. The 1997 Defence Commission The overall conclusion from the 1997 Defence Commission, presented in November 1998, was that the international effort should be strengthened and that territorial defence could be moved down in priority. However, the report did not recommend too much emphasis on PSO. As a part of this process, conscription was debated, but maintained.75 The Commission based its recommendations on three scenarios for a period of 10–15 years. 1 The first scenario was a world of unipolarity with the US as the only superpower. Threats in this scenario were ‘state-sponsored terrorism’, ‘rogue states’ and local conflicts. Over time, China could emerge as a challenger to the US, but this was considered unlikely within this period. 2 The second scenario envisaged a world of multipolarity, with the EU and possibly Japan, and, at a later stage, China and Russia as competing centres of power in a predominantly economic and technological rivalry. European integration would become more important at the expense of NATO. The EU

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would adopt a common European defence, most likely geared towards Russia. 3 A return to the Cold War was no longer a relevant scenario, not even as an unlikely worst case. Rather, the third scenario was that of a multipolar Europe, characterised by renationalisation of defence and rivalry over hegemony in Europe: a return to Europe as it was before the Cold War. Scenario 1 was considered most likely, with possibly also a development in the direction of Scenario 2. Scenario 3 could not be ruled out in the longer term, but should not form the basis for defence planning. The report divided security into ‘direct’ and ‘indirect’ and argued that within the foreseeable development there would be no threat to Danish direct security: ‘our evaluation is that within the coming 10-year period, there is no, and there will not occur, any conventional threat to Denmark’.76 Consequently, Denmark’s effort within indirect security, or interests, should be strengthened at the cost of national and territorial defence. However, the Commission did not reject the possibility of a major shift taking place and it also stated that if Denmark put too much emphasis on international tasks such as peacekeeping, a regeneration of defence could take more than ten years. The recommendation was thus not given without a warning against developing a PSO profile of the armed forces.77 Thus the Commission was explicit about the ‘proper’ tasks of the military, but without discussing ‘proper wartime tasks’ more in depth. It merely stated the obvious: ‘Our Defence shall be able to fight’; combat skills were seen as a ‘precondition for the international engagement both related to PSO and various cooperation activities’. Thus, in Danish logic, direct defence was a precondition for indirect defence, and fighting capability a basis for PSO. In this way, options for change were severely reduced. The ‘combat first’ doctrine was thus politically approved. ‘War’, defined in terms of ‘fighting’, ‘combat’ and ‘wartime tasks’, was linked to ‘national defence’ or ‘direct security’ within Article 5 of NATO, while PSO was the linkage to international engagement. In practice it can be argued that this amounts to a geographical doctrine: national and international operations as two different forms of warfare. Again, crisis management was associated with ‘defence’ and ‘Article 5’, while PSO was referred to outside the ‘crisis management’ context. In the MFA, on the other hand, ‘crisis management’ was a label for international military engagement abroad and for peacekeeping in general.78 Whether the rationale for Danish defence was national defence or defence of order or values in a wider perspective was thus not quite settled. Writing in 1997, the Minister of Defence, commenting on the Defence Agreement of 1995, stated: ‘The Defence Agreement also supports contribution to and participation in international peace support operations. This has become an important element in the daily routine of armed forces’. Then he went on to say that ‘we can attach less importance to the preparation of the direct defence of Danish territory and

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neigh-bouring areas. More emphasis can be placed on participation in international operations and neighbouring areas.’ Finally, he concluded: The capacity to defend the territory and neighbouring areas in cooperation with NATO allies, including training and build up of forces, remains the primary task of the Danish Armed Forces, but is also the foundation—and a prerequisite—for qualified contribution to peace support operations and for international cooperation.79 He also changed Clausewitz’s thesis into ‘defence as an instrument of foreign policy’ and stated that defence ‘was no longer aimed at a threat against national territory, but an instrument of cooperation’. Primacy was now given to supporting and strengthening institutions and norms of international relations in the recognition of the point that ‘defence of Denmark does not start at the southern Danish border’.80 Kosovo: humanitarian intervention Prior to the Washington summit of 1999, the Danish objectives with regard to the new Strategic Concept were, according to the Minister of Defence, to make ‘outreach’ more visible and concrete and to ensure that the role and rationale of the Alliance in PSO ‘should be presented clearly’. The Minister continued by stating: ‘The legal basis for the operations should be stated in a permissive way to allow the Alliance to cater for the very different situations that we can expect in the future.’81 This was an element in paving the way for the more autonomous role of the Alliance. While the idea early on in the 1990s had been that NATO could be an entrepreneur acting on behalf of the UN or CSCE, NATO was now to decide for itself whether or not to intervene ‘out-of-area’. In 1998, the Danish government secured support for providing a transport aircraft to the UK/US Coalition enforcing the no-fly zone in Iraq. Denmark also supported the decision to launch operation ‘Desert Fox’. The decision to use force to pressure Milosevic into a deal with regard to Kosovo in the autumn of 1998 was also supported by Denmark. These two occasions served to demonstrate how dangerous it could be for the relevance of NATO to be completely dependent upon mandates from others with regard to using military force out of area.82 When intervention came back on the agenda in the winter/spring of 1999, the Danish position was already clear. As events unfolded in Kosovo, Denmark came to support military intervention based on the idea of humanitarian intervention.83 Both the principle of sovereignty and the principle of the necessity of a UN mandate in the 1993 Defence Laws had to give way for the NATO intervention. The Minister of Defence argued that Kosovo illustrated the need for a ‘flexible’ approach to the issue of a UN mandate as a prerequisite for NATO interventions. According to the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Kosovo was ‘a humanitarian crisis not seen in

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Europe since the 1940s’ and he argued that Kosovo illustrated the complex security challenges of the new era. Intervention was justified on the grounds of Serbia’s contempt for universal values. Furthermore, for the first time ‘we saw military efforts directly aimed at assisting civilian and humanitarian tasks’.84As pointed out by Jakobsen, Denmark’s policy-making remained supportive and reactive and never questioned or departed from NATO’s strategy. According to the government, NATO’s intervention ‘never aimed solely at military victory, but was conducted in order to support political solutions’.85 However, to intervene without a UN mandate violated the Danish tradition and challenged the selfimage of Danish foreign policy. This issue became the subject of a lively public debate and the MFA as soon as January 1999 requested a thinktank to explore the concept of humanitarian intervention. The report was finalised in December the same year and concluded that humanitarian intervention without authorisation from the UN Security Council could be accepted as an exception, not as a rule. In 2001, the defence laws were amended and the insistence on a UN or OSCE mandate left out.86 During the Kosovo crisis, Denmark participated from October 1998 with four F-16s, a number that increased to eight in April 1999. From April 1999, Denmark supplied a reconnaissance company to AFOR, and later that year a Danish battalion was deployed to the Kosovo Force (KFOR). Simultaneously, the presence in SFOR was reduced by one mechanised infantry company. The deployment to Kosovo was somewhat delayed as it took eight weeks for the battalion to establish a presence in Kosovo, as a part of the French-led MNBNorth. This delay was caused in part by the need for predeployment training. As pointed out above, the formal readiness target of the ARRC (seven to fourteen days) was not met; this level of readiness only applied in Article 5 scenarios, not in PSO.87 Kosovo was followed by a new defence agreement. The process of internationalisation continued in the direction of the last ten years: ‘a gradual change from emphasis on territorial defence to rapid intervention forces’. According to the Minister of Defence it formed the basis for ‘a strong defence, with a timely structure and a strong international profile’. ‘The Danish Armed Forces have thus become smaller, but better.’88 But again the Minister of Defence underlined the need for a strong and credible national defence capacity within NATO. The 1999 Defence Agreement once again included a decision to merge, close and move parts of the infrastructure and training organisation as well as to close units in the mobilisation organisation.89 The Army was reduced to 46,000 and the annual intake of conscripts again reduced. Peacekeeping policy Denmark has participated in peacekeeping since 1956. The Danish Contribution to United Nations Emergency Force (UNEF) I was a company within the framework of a Nordic battalion. In 1964, Denmark set up a UN reaction force

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and established a decision-making process in which the government was granted the authority over non-coercive peacekeeping operations without having to consult parliament. For operations involving use of force, approval in parliament was necessary. However, the policy was to participate only in operations where consent from the parties had been obtained. Financing of such operations was arranged outside the normal defence budget and in part provided by the MFA.90 Participation in UN peacekeeping was traditionally an expression of support to the institution of the UN and of foreign policy or even development aid, rather than security policy, as the latter rested within NATO. As the Cold War ended, the UN operation in Cyprus constituted the biggest Danish contribution. Peacekeeping was a task solved by ad hoc solutions outside the normal defence structure. In 1964, the parliament decided to establish a UN unit with the responsibility of recruiting and setting up Danish peacekeeping units in cooperation with her Nordic neighbours for a combined UN reaction force for peacekeeping, consisting of 4,000 personnel. The national contributions were to operate independently if necessary. The Danish contribution was to consist of an infantry battalion, an MP platoon, a medical company and a signals platoon, 950 altogether.91 It became Danish policy to rely on units recruited and organised for this particular purpose. Only five days of the year-long conscription service were devoted to information about and training of peacekeeping skills. Service was voluntary and manpower was drawn from all of the Army and gathered for the specific rotation, time and mission.92 Thus, Danish peacekeeping was organised ad-hoc, outside the normal Army structure and this continued until the establishment of the DIB when the UN Unit was closed down and its tasks transferred to other parts of the Army. Only in 1993 did the Danish defence laws come to mention specifically the objective for Danish defence forces contributing to international military operations. During the Cold War, peacekeeping service was considered a bad career move for Danish officers.93Peacekeeping in Cyprus was regarded as ‘holiday duty’ and this view on traditional peacekeeping persisted throughout the 1990s. When Denmark was to send a small peacekeeping contingent to Namibia in 1988, deployment went parallel to a WINTEX Exercise and thus logistic services and support from the defence HQ was extremely hard to get. In the words of a Danish peacekeeper, the defence command found it hard ‘to come to grips with the fact that operations now were more important than exercises’.94 This exemplifies the competing demands within the defence establishment: participation in live operations abroad or preparations for potential crisis and war in the future through exercises. With the emerging crisis and conflict in the Balkans, the Danish contribution changed. Croatia and Bosnia became the priority, and the Danish battalion in Cyprus was withdrawn. While the Danish battalion in Croatia was deployed there as a traditional peacekeeping unit, the units sent to Bosnia operated under different and more robust principles. The tank squadron was deployed as a part of a Nordic battalion in 1993 in order to make Tuzla a ‘safe area’. The Danish contingent commander

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after a recce tour in Bosnia had concluded and reported home: ‘The Danish personnel are deployed into a war. It is not a peacekeeping operation. It is not a warlike situation. It is war.’95But tanks did not fit into the UN concept of peacekeeping, and the idea had met with resistance when first introduced. However, the Chief of Defence managed to persuade the Prime Minister and Minister of Defence about the benefits of a robust approach to the mission in Bosnia, and in the end the Danish government insisted on deploying tanks. The Danish tank squadron soon earned a reputation for an active approach to their mission. This culminated in late April 1994, when the squadron engaged Bosnian Serb artillery positions as a response to the shelling of a UN observer post. Seventy-two grenades were fired and officially seven Serbs were killed. However, unconfirmed reports indicate casualty figures up to 150. It was the greatest Danish tank battle ever.96 For the battalion in Croatia, the situation was different. Following a period of Bosnian Serb army harassment, 1995 led to further hardship. The battalion had deliberately been deployed on the axis of an eventual Croatian offensive. As a consequence of the Croat ‘Operation Storm’, a Danish sergeant was killed. A month later, two more soldiers were killed and 14 others wounded when the offensive continued into Bosnia.97 The date 18 September came to have a special meaning in the debate on Danish participation in PSO. The losses occurred after a long period of harassment and denial of supplies and freedom of movement.98 The principle of impartiality dictated that even though there were clear signs of Croatian preparations for war, this information could not be passed on to civilians in the Serb area. Danish soldiers thus became hostages in a morally difficult situation and helpless observers when the Croats attacked. Following the Dayton agreement, Denmark decided to contribute one mechanised infantry battalion including a Leopard tank company to IFOR and SFOR as well as staff and support elements to the Nordic-Polish Brigade. The Nordic-Polish Brigade in IFOR/SFOR in Bosnia, formed after a Danish initiative, was regarded as ‘a model for future co-operation as it includes NATO countries, neutral countries, a former Warsaw Pact country, and countries that were formerly a part of the Soviet Union’.99 The decision to participate in IFOR was a natural continuation of the participation in the United Nations Protection Force (UNPROFOR), and was supported by an overwhelming majority in parliament. While Denmark was active in NATO’s transformation in the 1990s, initiatives were also taken within the UN framework. Denmark contributed troops to the UN Standing High Readiness Brigade (SHIRBRIG) system, but the offer was limited to a HQ company and staff officers, a total of 185 personnel.100 The Danish (SHIRBRIG) initiative was taken in 1995 and was aimed at improving the UN’s capacity for mounting and commanding peacekeeping operations mandated under Chapter VI of the UN treaty. The aim was to form a brigadelevel HQ with rapid reaction capacity (Multinational UN Standby Forces High Readiness). It came to involve 12 countries, including countries outside Europe. The objective was to give the UN a rapid reaction HQ able to deploy within 15 to

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30 days by 1999. In September 1997, Kofi Annan declared the SHIRBRIG permanent staff open, with its HQ located outside Copenhagen.101 Denmark has also been active in promoting training for peacekeeping. The initiatives with regards to the Baltics have been mentioned earlier, but Danish initiatives and support are not limited to Europe. African and Asian countries have also received Danish support. In 1995, Denmark was designated lead nation in North Atlantic Cooperation Council (NACC)/PfP on peacekeeping training.102 It may be argued that Denmark’s UN peacekeeping pursues a policy of visibility. The nature of the contributions made suggests that in UN peacekeeping, the main ambition of the Danish contributions is to be visible and plant the Danish flag. Denmark has sent small groups of observers and staff officers, sometimes only one or two, to a number of missions in the UN context. Danish reports on the internationalisation of the Armed Forces from 1992 stress the following objectives of Danish participation in peacekeeping and related efforts: • • • • • •

To maintain a military presence in areas of Danish interests; To demonstrate Alliance solidarity; To limit potential desires for renationalisation of defence; To maintain a NATO HQ on Danish soil; To forward Danish interests and influence; To promote interoperability.103

It should be noted that these objectives do not refer to humanitarian goals, or to the aim of promoting peace specifically. The focus is rather on potential Danish benefits and interests. Arguably, the inclusion of the aim of ‘preventing renationalisation of defence’ exemplifies an underlying fear of conflict within, rather than outside, NATO’s borders. Multinational military integration is thus seen as a strategy for preventing future conflict between Europeans within Europe, not only for dealing with present and peripheral conflicts. The 1997 Defence Review outlined a set of six considerations regarding Danish participation in PSO: 1 Military units with the capability of peace enforcement which are also able to carry out peacekeeping tasks, while the opposite is not possible; 2 The importance of developing an exit strategy prior to deployment as a precondition for success—also, aspects of interoperability were regarded as of high importance; 3 The importance of rapid reaction capability; 4 The importance of legitimacy secured primarily by a UN Security Council mandate;

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5 Troop contributions of other states—participation from Nordic, EU or NATO countries would increase the chance of Danish participation and contributions; 6 Popular support and the priority over defence-related tasks as to peacekeeping. Danish peacekeeping units were also to be able to contribute in ‘the ultimate task of Danish defence forces: defence in a NATO framework. It is training and organisation to perform this mission that form the basis for organisational, structural and training-wise adjustments and supplements that are needed to participate in peace support operations in a multinational framework.104 Consequently, Danish force structure was to continue to be a function of ‘proper defence’ tasks relating to Article 5. Danish policy placed importance on robustness, and participation was to be highly dependent upon other like-minded states. Writing in 1998, the Foreign Ministry stated that although ‘peacekeeping and crisis management has (sic!) a purely humanitarian aspect’ and the linkage between Danish participation and Danish security was not obvious, such participation ‘helps reinforce structures that provide us with a high degree of security and that might be critical for Denmark in other situations’.105 As pointed out by Wæver, the underlying thinking of a strategy based on ‘indirect security’ can be based on altruism as well as hardcore national security interests.106 There is a significant degree of ‘self interest’ explaining the active approach to peacekeeping, in particular peacekeeping within a NATO context; it was also a way of preserving NATO. Denmark supported efforts to make UN peacekeeping more effective and peacekeeping more robust. In 1998, Hækkerup presented the Danish view in the UN’s General Assembly. He praised peacekeeping as a flexible (as opposed to ‘narrowly defined’) concept allowing for the ‘creative art of the possible’. He argued in favour of ‘robustness’: ‘Impartiality does not mean to be passive. Impartiality means fair and robust […] A peacekeeping force must therefore be credible, and its soldiers capable and robust.’107 One important point has to be made about the Danish decision-making system. As noted above, the Advance Order explicitly referred to the right and duty of Danish military units to defend themselves when attacked without any reference to whether they were based abroad or on national territory. This means, at least in theory, that Danish peacekeepers by their constitution are obliged to use force when fired upon without regard to their mandate or the overall situation in which such an incident takes place. This also means that because every peacekeeping mission involving armed personnel can be seen as a potential combat operation, participation requires a vote in Parliament. In the 1990s, the practice of seeking approval in Parliament for all peacekeeping missions developed. Also, in the case of Croatia, the Danish government in 1994 referred to the Constitution when underlining the right of Danish soldiers and units to defend themselves.108 The Danish parliament supported this, and in

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theory, the Danish contingent was given wide authority to use force in order to defend its mandate. However, the effect of this policy was not significant, due to the structure and capability of the UN mission as well as the lightly armed Danish battalion. The focus of Danish contribution shifted from the UN to NATO in the 1990s and from ‘soft’ peacekeeping to the harder NATO version. This took place without much controversy and with broad political and popular support. Doctrine During the Cold War, there was limited, if any, focus on formal doctrines and doctrinal work in the Danish Armed Forces. This had two reasons. First of all, the clear-cut security threat, and military thinking derived from that threat, made it possible to plan and exercise all aspects of a potential confrontation with the WTO forces. According to a Danish officer, every commander knew his role and task. Everything was planned for: even the enemy’s course of action was anticipated in detail. Thus, the detailed level of planning left little need for doctrines; at least this was the general opinion.109 The services had doctrinal documents during the Cold War for the tactical level within the services. In the Army this was known as ‘Field Regulations’. They form the one document outlining in broad terms the Danish Army’s view on its role and on the conduct of operations. In 1994, a new version of the ‘Field Regulations no. 1’ was published. It carried signs of a changing concept of war, a move away from the idea of absolute war referred to above. The purpose of the attack, as presented in the doctrine, was no longer annihilation, but to impose one’s will upon the enemy by breaking his will to fight. Annihilation, though, was maintained as a means to serve that end. The section on the use of nuclear weapons by own forces was excluded.110 As the Danish approach to doctrinal work was very much influenced by the revision of NATO doctrine ATP 35 (B), the focus of the doctrine was thus ‘war’. The ATP 35 (B) was very much a ‘manoeuvre warfare’ doctrine focusing on mobile counterconcentration operations. NATO doctrine distinguished between offensive and defensive operations, and only the first were considered to be decisive.111 The Danish view differed as both were considered to be decisive and the Danish doctrine maintained that the ‘delaying battle’ was a distinct category of operations. However, the Danish doctrine adopted the ‘manoeuvre approach’. From 1996 a doctrinal debate emerged within the Armed Forces. The starting point of this debate was the ratification of NATO’s tactical doctrine, ATP 35 (B). The Defence Academy argued in favour of developing a national operational- and tactical-level doctrine for teaching and educational purposes.112 However, it was not obvious that Denmark needed a national doctrine, and a doctrinal debate emerged.113 First of all, it was argued that since Denmark alone was not aiming at conducting campaigns at the operational level, there was little

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sense in developing a national doctrine above the tactical level. As operations in and around Denmark were to be conducted by the integrated NATO HQ of BALTAP, the operational level was beyond Danish ambition and NATO doctrines would thus be sufficient. Since multinationality was to be the norm, a national doctrine would be counterproductive. Others felt the need for national doctrine in order to develop a basis for Danish contribution in doctrinal work in NATO. It should be noted that opinions differed between the services as to what the concept of doctrine should be. In particular, the Army was criticised for ‘preparing for the wars of the past’ and being stuck in the Cold War. In 1998, the Danish Division was still geared towards roles as a part of NATO’s Main Defence forces in ‘counterconcentration operations’ 300 km east- and southwards.114 The mobilisation plans, which also included the move into defensive positions, were maintained up to 1999, when they were formally abolished.115 As one critic argued, this meant that the Army throughout the 1990s was basing its doctrine on a battle along the now non-existent inner German border.116 While few argued in favour of ‘nationalising defence’, there were different perceptions of how the new NATO would influence Danish military thinking. However, in the Staff College, the training and education offered from 1993 onwards was geared more towards crisis management in the Caucasus, in the Balkans and in the Baltic Sea than it was towards ‘the primary responsibility of Danish officers’, i.e. preparing for a national, defensive war. Not all Danish officers welcomed the new focus on international roles. Others saw the new focus as logical in the context of the post-Cold War strategic context.117 PSO and the balance between PSO and warfighting capacity were not that much of an issue in this debate. The argument to give PSO a higher priority, since this was now the normal way of operations and since a great war was now only a remote possibility in a ten-year perspective and beyond, was not a predominant issue in the Danish debate, at least in military circles, because the warfighting first doctrine was so widely accepted.118 Yet Denmark and her Nordic neighbours represented the ‘stronghold of traditional peacekeeping characterized by the principles of consent, impartiality and non-use of force’.119 During the Cold War, Denmark had together with her Nordic neighbours developed tactical handbooks for peacekeeping, strictly defined. A Danish officer argued in 1992 that the days of ‘buffer zone’ peacekeeping were over and also questioned whether Europeans understood the complexities of peacekeeping and whether it was possible to transform combat soldiers into peacekeepers.120 It was argued that peacekeeping and peace enforcement covered the entire spectrum of conflict from buffer zone tasks to the Gulf War within the two main categories of peacekeeping and peace enforcement. It was also argued that the Army’s successful contribution to the operations in the former Yugoslavia had taken place in spite of, and not because of, the Army’s doctrines.121 The traditional model of peacekeeping was applied to a greater extent for the battalions deployed to Croatia from 1992 and up to 1995. In Bosnia the Danish

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tanks ‘laid the basis for a new UN doctrine’.122The central idea of this doctrine was to uphold the principle of freedom of movement by the use of force if necessary. Force was to be used reactively to uphold this principle. Thus, this was an expanded interpretation of the self-defence principle. The dramatic experience of a peacekeeping mission going wrong in Croatia coupled with the positive achievement of the Leopard Company in Bosnia came to influence the informal PSO doctrine of the Danish army. The response came to be a strong belief in robustness; i.e. that every Danish peacekeeping unit should be trained and equipped for combat and the rejection of the ‘flagwaving tactics’ of traditional UN peacekeeping. So the experience in the Balkans came to affect the peacekeeping philosophy, with emphasis on ‘robustness’. After this experience, leading officers came to argue in favour of a ‘warfighting first’ doctrine and rejected the need for special doctrines for PSO, under the slogan ‘Never again 18 September’.123 The argument was that ‘solders exist to fight’ and that other tasks should not lead anybody to divert attention from this fundamental role. Training not relevant for war was to be ‘minimised’. The ‘warfighting first’ doctrine influenced the training doctrine also for the DIB. Eight to twelve months of general training is followed by five weeks of PSO training, and then two more weeks of missionspecific training prior to deployment.124 The belief in ‘robust tactics’ as the solution to the problems of peacekeeping underestimates the strategic differences in which UNPROFOR and IFOR/SFOR respectively operated. The problems of the UN in Croatia were essentially of a strategic nature concerning the conditions under which the belligerent parties would accept a UN presence. The resulting structure and operational mode was linked to the condition of consent. The‘warfighting-first’ doctrine reduced this to a training and equipment issue. In many ways, the events of 1995 led to the final rejection of classical peacekeeping within the Danish Army. Instead, all Danish units should be trained for combat. This view was based on two arguments. First, the difficulty of predicting the nature of possible threats that could arise in a mission. Warfighting training and structure would ensure sufficient flexibility. Second, a credible unit meant the capacity to deter militarily the parties from using force. The 1994 draft of ‘Field Regulations no. 1’ had included a small section on PSO, but, as shown earlier, there was no consensus on the issue of NATO and PSO at the political level. Thus, the part on PSO was no more than a draft defining various operations under the PSO umbrella, building on NATO document MC 327/1. It made a distinction between concepts relating to the political context and concepts relating only to military operations. Of the latter, there were four categories: conflict preventive operations, peacekeeping operations, peace enforcement operations, and humanitarian operations. One chapter devoted special attention to peace enforcement and separated this category into two: limited intervention and proper intervention, i.e. the scale and purpose of the operation separating the two.125 Proper intervention was in effect synonymous with war and to be conducted as normal combat operations. For

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other PSO, the doctrine outlined 13 principles. However, consent of the parties was not one of those. Thus, PSO was a wide concept and defined foremost by international authorisation and multinational participation. A peacekeeping handbook was developed in 1994 and revised in 1997. An English version was approved in April 1999. Whereas these handbooks are not formally called a doctrine, their content is equivalent to one. Danish doctrine has maintained the conceptual model from 1994, mentioned above. Jakobsen suggests that the peacekeeping doctrine of Denmark moved in the direction of British doctrine. Whereas the Danish and British doctrines may share the view that force may play a greater role in PSO than before, there are also significant differences in conceptual approach. First, Danish doctrine distinguishes between strategic and operational categorisation of operations. Second, while the standard principle guiding the use of force has been ‘minimum use of force’, the Danish doctrine uses ‘conditioned use of force’. There is a significant difference between the two: given the right condition, there is no limit to the use of force applied. And third, while impartiality is a guiding principle for all PSO, the Danish handbook contains no explicit reference to impartiality in the definition of PSO, contrary to NATO definitions. PSO are categorised as UN/OSCE, or NATO operations in support of peace.126 Danish doctrine developed parallel to NATO doctrine. By the end of the 1990s topics like civil—military cooperation (CIMIC), media handling and rules of engagement (ROE) were included in the general doctrine of the armed forces, not only in the PSO sections. However, the attention devoted to these topics is very limited. The overall approach is more focused towards traditional warfare. The concept of war has been changed into a more complex one: A condition where two or more parties are engaged in armed battle. The purpose is to engage the opponent and force upon him our will. War is characterised by the cessation or suspension of normal political and diplomatic relations between the parties. However, there can often be room for negotiations unless the aim is unconditional surrender. The line between crisis and war fluctuates. Furthermore, a distinction is drawn between ‘war’ and ‘military operations other than war’ by the degree of political control over military forces and political involvement in military affairs, and force is to ‘enable an end to hostilities by political, diplomatic and other non-violent means’ whereas operations of war are ‘fumdamentally characterised by the use of force to achieve the political aim’.127 Consequently, in war, politics will step into the background and military means will take over. The expectation is thus military autonomy in war. The belief in robustness is also reflected in the training and education within the Officers and Staff Academies. In the Officers College, PSO training has been included since 1995–6 in the form of 2–5 week courses that focus on the

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particularities of PSO: mandates, CIMIC, ROE, tactical missions and so on. The majority of the training and tactical exercises are carried out within scenarios and contexts of corps operations in defence of Danish soil or areas within Denmark’s vicinity. These are dubbed ‘Article 5’ operations and occupy a central position in the training. One scenario includes the role of the DIB within the ARRC as a part of the first UK Division. The focus is on manoeuvre warfare doctrine. It is stressed that textbook solutions are being avoided. The objective is to advance understanding and flexibility in mindset in order to be able to handle the unknown. However, the warfighting exercises are carried out without focus on PSO particularities, as mentioned above. ‘New conflicts’ such as civil wars and counterinsurgency are left out of the syllabus.128 The argument supporting this priority revolves around three lines. First, there is a need for using Danish scenarios for the purpose of tactical level exercises. All military officers have gone through tactical exercises that are actually dependent on using the terrain for both planning purposes and live exercises. Second, the point is being made that the education has to reflect the Army structure, which will be the initial challenge for the students when finishing their exams. Third, there is the argument that when preparing officers for highintensity, symmetric, manoeuvre warfare operations, they will be able to handle any other operation on a lower-intensity scale with a minimum of missionspecific predeployment training. It is stressed that in order to be able to do peacekeeping, soldiers and officers need the confidence of being able to carry out combat tasks, should they be necessary. The ‘warfighting first’ training doctrine is thus being kept very much alive within the Officer Academy. The sharp distinction between the skills needed in proper war and in PSO is upheld. As pointed out above, the Staff College has since 1993 used scenarios from Northern Europe, the Caucasus, Southeast Asia and North Africa in the context of imagined UN or NATO peacekeeping or peace support or regular warfare in training staff officers for future tasks. Political restrictions and guidelines are included in these scenarios. This change in focus was a reflection of the international development and the national political priorities that placed Danish defence and defence of Denmark in a broader political perspective. The training also devotes significant time to the ‘diplomatic’ aspects of the officer role. This new educational profile was regarded as an overall success, but it was also met with resistance and criticism from officers who felt that the core tasks of Danish defence were ignored.129 Conclusion Denmark has responded to the new strategic environment by adopting new lawsand establishing the DIB for NATO and PSO purposes as well as by integratingher defences with her neighbours and being active in the realm of defencediplomacy. Initiatives have also been taken within the UN. The international profileof Danish Armed Forces is thus high. An important decision

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regarding Danishinternational contributions was to base this on a standard brigade. This has tworeasons. The first is developments in NATO’s strategy, with increased emphasison deployability, due to the new concept of reinforcements within the Alliance inan Article 5 scenario. Secondly, there were the increased demands for peacekeepingtroops in the 1990s. Crisis management has been the overall label under which defence policy, doctrines and structure developed. However, the traditional Danish concept of crisis management is linked to territorial, national and Article 5 defence, more than it is a political framework for out-of-area operations. It should not be underestimated that setting up a Brigade after the Danish model is a significant burden on the part of a small country. None of Denmark’s Scandinavian neighbours have even made a serious attempt to follow this path. However, the primary issue in Danish defence policy making throughout the 1990s has been national versus international defence. On every possible occasion, priority has been given to the international aspects of Danish defence, while it simultaneously has been underlined that the primary responsibility is that of national defence. Threat assessment has moved from focusing on a resurgent Russia, via conflict between states on NATO’s periphery, to instability caused by domestic unrest and violent conflict within the same states. Gradually defence against these new threats moved away from defence of borders to active, military intervention in the quarrels and disputes of others within the PSO framework. When Kosovo appeared on the conflict scene in 1998–9, the question of a UN mandate was hardly an issue. Intervention had become a humanitarian duty overriding international law. This development has taken place under the conviction that there is no direct threat to Danish territory. For Denmark, the realm of PSO has served three purposes. First of all it provided an acceptable framework for military aid and cooperation under the policy of outreach. Traditional defence cooperation could be problematic with regard to the relations with Russia as well as going beyond the Danish will to make commitments to defence. The 1993 BALTBAT project and cooperation with Poland started with the ambition of UN peacekeeping. This shows that there is a thin line between peacekeeping and general defence cooperation. Second, PSO and human rights have provided a framework for using military force for other purposes than territorial defence in order to advance Danish security interests. Third, it has provided a rationale for modernising the Danish military. The latter could have been stated as a function of NATO’s Article 5 reinforcement plans, as they originally were. Arguably, in order to keep NATO relevant, the PSO framework was chosen. The distinction between Article 5 and non-Article 5 roles of NATO is very much present in Danish policy. There is the distinction between ‘direct’ and ‘indirect’ security. The formal readiness requirements for the DIB are understood to only apply under Article 5: the multinational corps can deploy its HQ out of area for PSO, while the corps as a whole is reserved for Article 5. Also, there

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were different geographical scenarios and ambitions for the deployment of the DIB in Article 5 and non-Article 5 operations. Arguably, this distinction is made necessary because conscription has been maintained and mobilisation is reserved as a measure of last resort only to be invoked when war is forced upon NATO or Denmark. Officially, the Danish forces rely on NATO doctrine. However, doctrinal documents have been developed within the Army. The Danish military incorporated manoeuvre warfare in the mid 1990s. Separate handbooks have also been issued. While the advancement of human rights has been adopted as a political objective of defence, little attention has been given to ‘humanitarian intervention’. Also, peace enforcement was initially regarded as synonymous with war. However, the special features of peace enforcement and the expectation raised by concepts like humanitarian intervention have not been given specific attention in the doctrinal work. While the doctrines and training bear signs of change, they are at the same time conservative. The role of military force in crisis management has not been elaborated on doctrinally; rather the emphasis has been on manoeuvre warfare. The Armed Forces have accepted their new role as an instrument of foreign policy, and have contributed constructively in the process of making defence policy. However, the focus remains on traditional warfighting. This is due to the conviction that this doctrine provides the best way to prepare for any mission that may arise. It is also due to the collapse of traditional peacekeeping as experienced in Croatia. It is hard to identify any step taken to improve the skills of PSO or operations of a counterinsurgency nature besides mission-specific predeployment training. Danish doctrines have kept up with developments in NATO. The tension between ‘national’ and ‘international’ defence is very much present in the Danish defence debate. The issue was far from settled by the end of the period examined here. Policy statements have repeatedly stressed the fundamental responsibility of national defence while simultaneously stressing that there is no threat against Denmark for the next ten years. Thus, a significant proportion is devoted to defence as a guarantee against the potential great war of the future. The result is a compromise, which may be regarded as successful. However, it also illustrates some of NATO’s European capability problems: the bulk of NATO’s forces are developed and designed primarily for territorial defence under Article 5. This severely limits the Alliance’s capability for deploying troops in out-of-area contingencies. Notes 1 All translations from original documents in Danish are the responsibility of the author.

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2 MoD, Årlig Redegørelse 1999 (Copenhagen: MoD, 2000), pp. 11, 21; MoD, Forsvarsforlig 2000–2004 (Copenhagen: MoD, 1999). 3 Peter Viggo Jakobsen, ‘Denmark at War: Turning Point or Business as Usual?’, in Bertil Heurlin and Hans Mouritzen (eds), Danish Foreign Policy Yearbook 2000 (Copenhagen: DUPI, 2000), pp. 61–85. 4 Nikolaj Petersen, ‘Denmark and the European Community, 1985–93’, in Carsten Due-Nielsen and Nikolaj Petersen (eds), Adaptation and Activism: The Foreign Policy of Denmark 1967–1993 (Copenhagen: DUPI/DJØF Publishing, 1995), pp. 189–224. 5 International Institute for Strategic Studies (IISS), The Military Balance 1990–1991 (London: Brassey’s for the IISS, 1990), pp. 61–2. 6 MoD, ‘Aftale om forsvarets ordning 1993–1994’ (13 November 1992), p. 8. 7 MoD, ‘Aftale om forsvarets ordning 1995–1999’ (8 December 1995), p. 2. 8 MoD, Forsvarsforlig 2000–2004, p. 2; ‘Defence Expenditure of NATO Members: Current Prices’ (Appendix), in Heurlin and Mouritzen (eds), Danish Foreign Policy Yearbook 2000. 9 ‘Verneplikt ved oddtrekning’, Stavanger Aftenblad, 10 September 1999. 10 MoD, Aftale of Forsvarets Ordning 1989–91 (14 March 1989), p. 3 and MoD, Aftale om Forsvarets ordning 1993–1994 (13 November 1992), p. 7; MoD, Et Forsvar for Fremtiden: På Vej mod 2000 (April 1996); MoD, Årlig Redegørelse 1999, p. 19; MoD, Forsvarsforlig 2000–2004, p. 4. 11 MoD, Årlig Redegørelse, 1991–1992 (February 1993), pp. 25–6; MoD, Årlig Redegørelse 1995 (April 1996), p. 18. 12 MoD, Årlig Redegørelse 1995, p. 18; MoD, Årlig Redegørelse 1999, pp. 21–31; Flemming Madsen, Forsvaret i Samfundet (Copenhagen: MoD, 2000), p. 7. 13 Former Danish Foreign Minister (1913–20 and 1940–43) Erik Scavenius quoted in Carsten Due-Nielsen and Nikolaj Petersen, ‘Denmark’s Foreign Policy Since 1967: An Introduction’, in Due-Nielsen and Petersen (eds), Adaptation and Activism, p. 12. 14 For an analysis of the policy of Denmark before the Second World War, see Hans Mouritzen, Towards a General Theory of Adaptive Politics (Aldershot: Avebury, 1988), pp. 83–160. 15 Due-Nielsen and Petersen, ‘Denmark’s Foreign Policy’, pp. 12–13. 16 DUPI, FN, Verden og Danmark, (Copenhagen: DUPI, 1999), p. 32–45. 17 Ib Faurby, ‘Danish Alliance Policy 1967–1963’, in Due-Nielsen and Petersen (eds), Adaptation and Activism, p. 57. 18 Michael H.Clemmensen, Værnkulturene og Forsvarspolitikken (Århus: Politica, 1986), p. 10. 19 See Poul Villaume, ‘Denmark and NATO through 50 Years’, in Bertil Heurlin and Hans Mouritzen (eds), Danish Foreign Policy Yearbook 1999 (Copenhagen: DUPI, 1999), pp. 29–62; 39; Due-Nielsen and Petersen, ‘Denmark’s Foreign Policy Since 1967’, p. 11. For an overview of Danish UN policy see DUPI, FN, Verden og Danmark. See also, Commission of Security and Disarmament (SNU), Dansk og Europeisk Sikkerhed (Copenhagen: DUPI, reprinted 1997), pp. 26–36. 20 Due-Nielsen and Petersen, ‘Denmark’s Foreign Policy since 1967’, p. 33. For an overview of Danish NATO policy up to 1987, see Nikolaj Petersen, ‘Denmark and NATO 1949–1987’, Forsvarsstudier, 2:1987 (Oslo: FHFS, 1987).

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21 Christian Thune and Nikolaj Petersen, ‘Denmark’, in William J.Taylor Jr and Paul M.Cole (eds), Nordic Defence: Comparative Decision Making (Lexington, MA: Lexington Books, 1985), p. 14. 22 Thune and Petersen, ‘Denmark’, p. 15; Clemmensen, ‘The Politics of Danish Defence’, p. 106. 23 Clemmensen, Vœrnskulturene, p. 27 24 Kgl Forholdsordre, 6th March 1952. 25 Clemmensen, Vœrnskulturene, pp. 32–3. 26 Hærkommandoen, Feltreglement no. 1 (B) (Copenhagen: 1952, approved in May 1943), pp. 14; 78. 27 Hærkommandoen, Feltreglement nr 1 (Copenhagen, 1963), p. 601. 28 Michael H.Clemmensen, ‘Udviklingen av Danmarks forsvarsdoktrin 1945 til 1969’ (Stockholm: Militaerhistorisk Tidsskrift, 1987), pp. 7–81, 71. 29 Denmark has had Defence Commissions in 1946, 1969, 1988 and 1997. 30 Beretning fra Forsvarskommissionen af 1988, Forsvaret i 90’erne, 20 December 1989, p. 23. See also Clive Archer, ‘New Threat Perceptions: Danish and Norwegian Official Views’, European Security 3:4 (1994), pp. 593–616; Ole Wæver, ‘Danmarks Sikkerhedspolitiske Situation år 2000’, Militœrt Tidsskrift, 4: 1991, pp. 126–7 and footnote 22. 31 Forsvaret i 90’erne, p. 29 32 MoD, Årlig Redegørelse 1991–1992, pp. 16–22, p. 18 for quote. 33 MoD, Årlig Redegørelse 1990 (October 1991), p. 20. 34 Clemmensen, ‘The Politics of Danish Defence’, pp. 124–8. 35 MOD, Aftale om forsvarets ordning 1991–1994, 13 November 1992, pp. 1–16 and Appendix 1. 36 Clemmensen, ‘The Politics of Danish Defence’, p. 127; Hans Hækkerup, På Skansen (Denmark: Lindhardt and Ringhof, 2002), p. 164. 37 MoD, ‘Rapport fra det af Forsvarsministeren den 11 april 1991 det nedsatte Udvalg vedrørende forsvarets udvikling m.v.: Rapport om Forsvarets Fremtidige Struktur og Størrelse’, 2 March 1992, p. 19. 38 MoD (RAG), ‘Muligheter for og omfang af Danske styrkeindsættelser i internationale operationer’, RAG R-3/1992, February 1992, p. 25. 39 MoD, ‘Muligheter for og omfang af Danske styrkeindsættelser’, p. 37. Peace making is the equivalent of the Danish word ‘fredsskapende’ and equals peace enforcement. Later, Danish doctrine adopted the term ‘fredspåtvingende’ for peace enforcement. 40 MoD, Styringsgruppe vedrørende den internationale enhet, ‘Rapport om Opstilling mv. af den Internationale Enhed’, 8 July 1993, pp. 33–4, 37, 60. 41 The MFA presented the costs related to deploying the Brigade in full for a 6-month period. See MFA, Danmarks Internationale Indsats (Copenhagen: MFA, June 1993), pp. 129–130. 42 Major O.Christiansen, Army Operational Command, ‘DIB-Opgaver, organisation, opstilling og utdannelse’, Hœrnyt, 2 (1994), p. 10; MoD, ‘Muligheter for og omfang af Danske styrkeindsættelser’, p. 38. 43 MOD, Forsvarsministerens Årlig Redegørelse 1998, Ch. 4, p. 1; Major General O.L. Kandborg, ‘DIB-En milepæl i hærens historie’, Hœrnyt, 2:1994, p. 3; Major General O.L.Kandborg, quoted in Jane’s Defence Weekly, 19 August 1995, p. 24. 44 Interviews conducted by the author, Copenhagen, March 2002.

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45 Peter Viggo Jakobsen, The Danish Approach to UN Peace Operations After the Cold War: A New Model In the Making? (reprint) (Copenhagen: DUPI, 1998), p. 12; Durrell-Young, Multinational Land Formations, pp. 31–3. 46 Interview conducted by the author, Copenhagen, March 2002. 47 Christiansen, ‘DIB-Opgaver, organisation, opstilling og utdannelse’, pp. 10–11. 48 ‘Hårde straffe til soldater’, Berlingske Tidende, 24 December 1999. 49 MoD, Årlig Redegørelse 1995, p. 6. 50 Jakobsen, The Danish Approach, p. 13 and Colonel Jørn Jensen, ‘I fredens tjenesteen bataljonschefs erfaringer’ \Militœrt Tidsskrift 2:1996, p. 94. See also Hans Christian Berg, Uffe Østegaard og Hans Engell, Se lige ud! Vernepligten til debatt (Copenhagen: Folk og Forsvar, 1999), written in defence of conscription, increasingly under pressure in the late 1990s. 51 MoD, ‘Rapport om Forsvarets Framtidige Struktur’, p. 66. 52 MoD, ‘Lov om forsvarets formal, opgaver og organisation m.v.’, 8 December 1993 in Forsvarslovene m.v 1993 (Copenhagen: MoD, 1993), p. 5. 53 DUPI, FN, Verden og Danmark, p. 58. 54 MoD, ‘Lov om forsvarets formår, p. 5. 55 Ibid., p. 5. 56 SNU, Danmark efter den Kolde Krig, p. 69. See also Faurby, ‘Danish Alliance Policy’, p. 74. 57 ‘Bemerkninger til lovforslaget’, in Forsvarslovene m.v 1993, p. 9. 58 Ibid., p. 9. 59 Ibid., pp. 10–11. 60 MoD, Årlig Redegørelse 1993, p. 6. 61 SNU, Danmark efter den Kolde Krig, pp. 69, 26–128. 62 Colonel E.T.Nielsen, ‘NATO’s udvikling og fremtidige rolle’, Militœrt Tidsskrift, 5:1994, pp. 287–8. 63 SNU, Dansk og Europeisk Sikkerehet, p. 137. 64 MoD, Et Forsvar for Fremtiden:På Vej mod år 2000, Apri 1996, p. 14; MoD, Aftale om Forsvarets Ordning 1995–99, 8 December 1999. 65 MoD, Forsvarsministerens Årlig Redegørelse 1995, p. 3. 66 MFA, Prinsipper og perspektiver i dansk udenrikspolitikk (Copenhagen: MFA, 1993) Summary, pp. II–III and VI. 67 Ibid., pp. 22–5, 35. 68 MFA, ‘Danish Security Policy’ (draft), November 1996, p. 1. 69 Ibid., p. 7. 70 MoD, ‘På vej mod det nye NATO’, DUPIDOK 1996 (Copenhagen: DUPI, 1997), pp. 461–2. 71 Minister of Foreign Affairs, Nils Helveg Petersen, ‘NATO Enlargement and European Security Architecture’, 11 April 1997, in Bertil Heurlin and Hans Mouritzen (eds), Danish Foreign Policy Yearbook 1998 (Copenhagen: DUPI, 1998), p. 112. 72 MoD, Årlig Redegørelse 1992, pp. 25–6. See also Henning-A.Frantzen, ‘The Baltic Response to NATO ‘s Enlargement’, Jane’s Intelligence Review, 9:10(1997), pp. 438– 42; Henning-A.Frantzen, ‘The Baltic Quest for Security: The Regional Option’, unpublished extended essay submitted to King’s College, 1997. 73 MoD, Årlig Redegørelse 1998, Ch. 3; MoD, Årlig Redegørelse 1995, p. 35. 74 ‘Hæren skal du i verden’, Politiken, 6 August 1998.

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75 Hans Christian Berg et al., Se lige ud!, pp. 65–7. 76 ‘Beretning fra Forsvarskommissionen af 1997’, Fremtidens Forsvar (resyme), December 1998, pp. 3–8; p. 5 for quote. 77 ‘Beretning,1997’, p. 13. 78 The MFA home page lists parliamentary decisions on Danish contributions to international operations under the heading ‘crisis management’. See http:// www.um.dk/udenrigspolitik/sikkerhed/krise. 79 Minister of Defence, Hans Hækkerup, ‘Danish Armed Forces: Maintaining WarPrevention Capacity’, Danish Foreign Policy Yearbook 1998 (Copenhagen: DUPI, 1999), p. 124. 80 Hans Hækkerup, ‘Forsvarsministeren’s indlæg ved Det krigsvitenskapelige Selskabs 125 års jubileum’, Militœrt Tidsskift, 1:1997, pp. 57, 62. 81 Hans Hækkerup, ‘NATO Reform and the New NATO Strategy’, presentation at the NAA, Edinburgh, 11 November 1998; Heurlin and Mouritzen (eds), Danish Foreign Policy Yearbook 1999, pp. 164–5, p. 164 for quote. 82 Villaume, ‘Denmark and NATO’, pp. 53–5. 83 The MFA later stated that the air campaign over Kosovo was a ‘humanitarian intervention’ based on ‘humanitarian needs and regional destabilisation’. See MFA, ‘NATO efter Washington toppmøded’ and ‘Danmarks deltakelse i KFOR’, available online at http://www.um.dk/udenrikspolitik/um-tema/nato and http:// www/um/dk/ udenrikspolitik/sikkerhed. 84 See Friis Arne Petersen, ‘The International Situation and Danish Foreign Policy 1999’, in Heurlin and Mouritzen (eds), Danish Foreign Policy Yearbook 2000, pp. 11–12. 85 Ibid., p. 13. 86 DUPI, Humanitœr Intervention: Retlige og Politiske Aspekter (Copenhagen: DUPI: 1999); MoD, ‘Lov nr.122 af 27 februar 2001 om forsvarets formal og opgaver og organisation m.v.’ 87 Interviews conducted by the author, Slagelse, March 2002. 88 MoD, Årlig Redegørelse 1999, pp. 8–9. 89 Kjeld G.H.Hillingsø, ‘Det Danske Forsvaret i Omstilling’, Det sikkerhetspolitiske bibliotek, 2:2001 (Oslo: The Norewgian Atlantic Committee, 2001), pp. 4, 14–16. 90 Henning Sørensen, ‘Denmark’, in Charles C.Moskos, John Allen Williams, David R.Segal (eds), The Postmodern Military: Armed Forces After the Cold War (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999), p. 125; MFA, Danmarks Internationale Indsats (Copenhagen: MFA, 1993), pp. 118–22. 91 Per Frydenberg (ed.), Peacekeeping experience and Evaluation: The Oslo Papers (Oslo: NUPI, 1964), Appendix 1 for the bills from each of the Nordic countries. 92 Lieutenant Colonel F.Lodberg, Chief of the UN Unit, ‘FN afdelingen 1964–1994’, Hœrnyt, 2 (1994), pp. 16–17. 93 DUPI, FN, Verden og Danmark, p. 58; Lieutenant Colonel P.Skov-Christensen, ‘Tar Europa fredsbevarende operationer alvorligt?’, Militœrt Tidsskrift, 6:1992, p. 175. 94 Lars R.Møller, Operation Bøllebank: Soldater i Kamp (Copenhagen: Høst og Søns Forlag, 2001), p. 115. 95 Møller, Operation Bøllebank, p. 197. From a report to HOK after reconnaissance in Bosnia in 1993. 96 For an account of this operation see Møller, Operation Bøllebank, pp. 276–98.

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97 MoD, Forsvarsministerens Årlig Redegørelse 1995, pp. 14–15. 98 Colonel Jørn Jensen, ‘I fredens tjeneste: en bataljonschefs erfaringer’, Militœrt Tidsskrift, 2:1996, pp. 92–9; Colonel Jørn Jensen, ‘Ledelse under ekstreme vilkåransvarets byrde’, Militœrt Tidsskrift, 2 (1998), pp. 147–53. 99 Hans Hækkerup, ‘Danish Armed Forces: Maintaining War-Prevention Capability’, in Heurlin and Mouritzen (eds), Danish Foreign Policy Yearbook 1998, p. 127. 100 MoD, Forsvarsministerens Årlig Redegørelse 1996, pp. 21–5. 101 MoD, Forsvarsministerens Årlig redegørelse 1997, Ch. 4, p. 16. 102 See NATO Press Communique M-NACC 2(95) 22, ‘Progress Report to Ministers by Political-Military Steering Committee/Ad Hoc Group on Cooperation in Peacekeeping’ (Brussels: NATO, 1995). 103 MoD (RAG), ‘Muligheter for og omfang af Danske styrkeindsættelser’, pp. 19, 35. 104 Beretning fra Forsvarskommissionen af 1997, pp. 12–13. 105 Friis Arne Petersen, ‘The International Situation and Danish Foreign Policy 1997', in Heurlin and Mouritzen (eds), Danish Foreign Policy Yearbook 1998, p. 13. 106 Ole Wæver, ‘Danish Dilemmas: Foreign Policy Choices for the 21st Century’, in Due-Nilsen and Petersen (eds), Adaptation and Activism, pp. 286–7. 107 MFA, ‘Beretning om FN’s 53. Generalforsamling’, Bilag 7. 108 MoD, Årlig Redegørelse 1994, p. 17. 109 Lieutenant Colonel Møller, ‘Værnfelles doktrin—Forsvarsakademiets behov for en vaernfelles doktrin’, Militœrt Tidsskift, 4 (1998), pp. 343–4. 110 HOK, Feltreglement I (Copenhagen: HOK, June 1994), pp. 1–2. 111 Lieutenant Colonel Peter Kuhnel, ‘Doktrinutvikling i hæren’, Militœrt Tidsskrift, 1: 1998, pp. 6–8. 112 Lieutenant Colonel L.R.Møller and Major H.H.Møller, ‘Værnfelles doktrinudvikling i Danmark’, Militœrt Tidsskift, 3 (1997), pp. 269–81. 113 For insights into this debate, see Lieutenant Colonels P.Kuhnel and J.K.Byrnak, ‘Doktrinudvikling i Danmark, set fra en hæroffisers side’, pp. 348–51, and Commander Henrik Elbro, ‘Maritim doktrinutvikling—sådan gør vi’, pp. 453– 73, both in Militœrt Tidsskrift, 5 (1997); Lieutenant Colonel R Kuhnel, ‘Doktrinudvikling i hæren’, pp. 3–14, Major T.D.Møller, ‘Danske Divisions Føringskonsept, pp. 29– 33, and Lieutenant Colonel L.R.Møller, ‘Værnfelles doktrinudvikling i Danmark’, pp. 79–88, all in Militœrt Tidsskift, 1 (1998); Torben Ørting Jørgensen, ‘Doktrineranakronisme, fiktion eller blot værnspessifik fobi’, Militœrt Jidsskrift, 2 (1998), pp. 200–9; Colonel M.Svejgaard, Major M.A.L.T.Nielsen and Major K.Nødskov, ‘Operativ doktrinudvikling i flyvevåbenet’, pp. 357–66, Militœrt Tidsskrift, 4 (1998). 114 Møller, ‘Danske Divisions Føringskonsept’, p. 30. 115 Interview conducted by the author, Slagelse, March 2002. 116 Jørgensen, ‘Doktriner-anakronisme’, p. 203. 117 J.K.B.Pedersen, ‘Det nationale forsvars stilling’, Militœrt Tidsskrift, 1 (1995), pp. 57–64; Lars H.Jensen, ‘Nationalt eller internationalt fokus—ikke enten/eller, men både og’, Militœrt Tidsskrift, 3 (1995), pp. 202–11. 118 Interviews conducted by the author in March 2002. None of the interviewees saw this as a particularly important issue. For one exception, see Lieutenant Colonel P.K. Nielsen, ‘Fredsstøttende operationer versus krigsoperationer’, Militœrt Tidsskrift, 3 (1998), pp. 269–78. 119 Jakobsen, The Danish Approach, pp. 1–2.

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120 Lieutenant Colonel P.Skov-Christensen, ‘Tar Europa fredsbevarende operationer alvorligt?’, Militœrt Tidsskrift, 2 (1992), pp. 175–84. 121 Jørgensen, ‘Doktriner-anakronisme’, p. 204. 122 General Lieutenant K.G.H.Hillingsø, ‘Foreword’, in Møller, Operation Bøllebank, P. 11. 123 Colonel Eigil Schjønning, ‘Hæren og de fredsstøttende operationer!’, Militœrt Tidsskrift, 1 (1999), pp. 83–7; Colonel Jørn Jensen, ‘I fredens tjeneste- en bataljonssjefs erfaringer’, Militœrt Tidsskrift, 2 (1996), pp. 92–100. 124 Jakobsen, ‘The Danish Approach’, p. 4. 125 HOK, Feltreglement I, pp. 1,102–3, 1,131. 126 HOK, Peace Support Operations, HRN 083–002 (Copenhagen: HOK, April 1999); Jakobsen, The Danish Approach, pp. 1–2; HOK, Peace Support Operations, pp. 101– 2, 106, 307–310. 127 HOK, Field Regulations no. 1 (Copenhagen: HOK, April 2000), pp. 101–2. 128 Interviews conducted by the author, Copenhagen, March 2002. 129 Interviews conducted by the author, Copenhagen, March 2002. See also Pedersen, ‘Det nationale forsvars stilling’, pp. 57–64; Lieutenant Colonel Per SkovChristensen and Olrogskaptein Jens Claus Hansen, ‘Det danske stabskursus’, Militœrt Tidsskrift, 1 (1995), pp. 64–9, in particular p. 69.

8 COMPARATIVE ANALYSIS1

NATO and PSO While the Cold War arguably ended in 1989, the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation (NATO) and the three member states examined in this book had problems finishing it off completely. In 1992–3, policy documents officially stated that there was no longer a danger of a major war caused by Russia. In both Canada and Denmark this conclusion was drawn during this year. An important threat perception from 1989 and up to 1992–3 was a return to the Cold War caused by reactionary forces and turmoil in the East. Thus the 1991 Strategic Concept of NATO stressed that the Alliance would meet aggression as early and as far forward as possible. When the former Soviet Union collapsed and the true state of affairs in Russia became more evident, the image of Russia as a major, conventional threat to the West gradually faded. But the fear of what the further development in Russia might cause in terms of instability and conflict continued to influence defence thinking in the years to come. In Britain, policy papers expressed this fear in 1995, and in 1998 it was argued in Canada that NATO had to change its focus away from containing Russia. In Denmark, the mobilisation plans of the Cold War were not put out of effect until 1999. However, other threat perceptions gradually became prominent. Developments in the Balkans exemplified the other threat scenario that applied to the entire Eastern bloc: domestic conflict and war, which had the potential of escalation and were considered to be a danger to European or international stability. Other threats became more visible, like terrorism, weapons of mass destruction, threats from dangerous regimes and consequences of failed states such as mass migration and production and smuggling of drugs. But it was not clear what the military response to such threats should be. NATO in principle accepted a wider security agenda and that some of its role for the future was to get involved outside of its territory. NATO has taken important steps in expressing a new security understanding built around concepts like ‘a broad concept of security’, and ‘shared’ and ‘indivisible security’. The notion that the security situation in other states will have external effects on the security of others was accepted. So was NATO’s role in maintaining some

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degree of stability in Europe when it comes to issues like the Partnership for Peace programme and the enlargement debate. However, the concept of defence has not been reinterpreted in the same way and to the same extent. By 1999 ‘defence’ still had very much a territorial meaning in NATO. NATO could have adjusted defence conceptually by including it in the wider security agenda. This has not been done formally. Thus peace support operations (PSO) or, from 1999, crisis response operations (CRO), are conceptually not linked to defence, but kept apart from it. This also means that the most likely task of NATO is not subjected to the same degree of commitment as it has been assumed that Article 5-related tasks would be. For out-of-area operations, the source of legitimacy was to be peacekeeping, later PSO, and not defence. However, it should be underlined that this does not necessarily reflect a discrepancy between the understanding of the security problems and of the concept of defence. Rather, it can be argued that it was not possible to create consensus on this issue because too many Allies were not willing to accept the consequences flowing from an expanded concept of defence. Thus defence was consciously attributed a territorial meaning. Had outof-area missions been incorporated as an Article 5 task, this could have committed members to a stronger fundamental restructuring of their military apparatus. Also, NATO could have faced a legitimacy problem had an expanded version of defence been adopted. This became problematic for the Alliance even within the PSO approach and culminated with the air campaign over Kosovo without a United Nations (UN) mandate. Thus, this was a problem the Alliance could not avoid. The handling of the Kosovo crisis and the subsequent Strategic Concept reflected two issues of great concern within the Alliance. First of all, NATO’s role became less dependent on the UN. Second, out-of-area operations became an important aspect in defence planning, through the Defence Capabilities Initiative (DCI) programme. Arguably, this process was more a question of out-ofarea operations than of PSO. Through PSO, the principle that NATO assets could be used outside NATO territory was established, a principle of wider implications linked to the future utility of the Alliance. The 1999 Strategic Concept did not settle these two issues, and debate continued into the postSeptember 11 era. NATO’s transformation has been driven by crisis and thus it encompasses a significant portion of reaction to immediate needs rather than being shaped by a strategic vision. Crisis management and PSO served as political vehicles that brought the Alliance outside its own territory in response to crisis. As pointed out earlier, crisis management is not new; essential parts of NATO’s Cold War strategy were built around crisis management and the prospect of limited war. But it was given a new meaning after 1991, linked to crisis out-of-area. Thus, crisis management became an all-encompassing concept without any precise meaning, but with a significant political function, as it became the political concept for NATO’s role in peacekeeping.

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The importance of the Strategic Concept diminishes when one considers developments in NATO through this period. The 1991 Strategic Concept referred neither to peacekeeping nor to PSO, nor to out-of-area operations, and maintained that developments in the Soviet Union constituted the greatest concern for the Alliance. Only a short time after the Concept had been adopted, the Soviet Union ceased to exist and NATO became involved in peacekeeping. The Strategic Concept seems to have had little effect upon what kinds of tasks NATO will take on. It is likely that developments in NATO will also be crisisdriven in the future. In this respect, the Article 5 decision after 11 September is illustrative. A crisis constituted by outside events is needed for NATO to change. Thus the Strategic Concept is not that strategic, if strategic is defined as forwardlooking. The changes made from 1991 to 1999 were made gradually and the 1999 Strategic Concept assimilated the decisions made during this period. It is thus very much backward-looking, using recent experience as the basis for the future. Finding the balance between historical experience and stipulations about the future as the basis for defence planning is a general dilemma of strategy. History cannot be ignored, but if given too much weight there is a danger that one prepares for the wars of the past rather than wars of the future. However, it seems that in NATO, a new task is taken on as an immediate response to a particular crisis and then made into policy afterwards, based on the calculation that the future will be like the immediate past. The assumption has always been that NATO would represent a more robust and more efficient peacekeeping strategy than the UN. A linkage was made between robustness and efficiency. Force was perceived as a solution. Although initial NATO documents stressed the classical peacekeeping principles, the conceptual adjustments made in this period were significant. This discussion was shaped very much by the desire to rectify the problems of the United Nations Protection Force to the former Yugoslavia (UNPROFOR), and to create a concept under which a more efficient military force could operate. In the process, the extent to which a robust force would have to be dependent on ‘consent’ for deployment, if it was not to fight its way in, was underestimated. When Milosevic denied consent in Kosovo, and coercion by threat failed, air power had to create a ‘permissive environment’. Strangely, the major concern in this period was over ‘exit strategies’, and not ‘entry strategies’: in all three countries, neverending commitments to peacekeeping caused governments to express reservations about contributions. Peace enforcement, originally designed to offer a compromise between ‘war’ and ‘peacekeeping’, was not such a third alternative after all, but a concept dependent on fighting a war to create the conditions for a more robust peace implementation force, unless the process of coercion by threat in itself caused the necessary political change. Kosovo revealed how little European states had moved in their defence policies and how few resources they were willing to commit to a crisis. The process within NATO up to 1999 focused very much on command structure and too little on the rest of the structure, which is under national control. Only in

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1997 was the DCI aired in NATO, and only in 1999 was it endorsed. This means that beyond downscaling, there was not that much attention devoted to how to develop modern and deployable troops. Initiatives were taken, notably the Allied Command Europe Rapid Reaction Corps (ARRC), but this started off with a pure Article 5 focus, and the role of the ARRC was unclear up to 1994/5 when scenarios for deployment of the Corps to Bosnia emerged. NATO’s Implementation Force (IFOR) in Bosnia was established on the remnants of UNPROFOR and only in the concluding phase of the war. IFOR was important, but it constituted no serious test of the ‘transformation’ within the Alliance by 1996. The first severe test was Kosovo in 1999. Whereas it would be misleading to argue that NATO failed this test completely (it was not a ‘perfect failure’ as Mandelbaum argued), the entire process over Kosovo clearly indicates the lack of reform of the Alliance, in terms of decision-making procedures, military capability and political will. Thus the reforms had to be carried into the new millennium, with the ‘Prague Capabilities Commitments’, the new ‘NATO Response Force’ and a new Allied Command Transformation. These are developments beyond the time frame of this book. National responses: policies One general point should be made about the role of defence reviews. These are in general not radical, but rather they absorb changes that are made incrementally. Their most important role seems to be to explain influential trends and decisions already taken. To illustrate this, one can point to the Canadian example of conducting a defence review only after pulling out of Europe, arguably the most important strategic decision since Canada joined NATO. Whereas the two other states have conducted two defence reviews in this period, Canada has undertaken one. In Britain, the Strategic Defence Review (SDR) to a great extent reflected gradual changes implemented in the years preceding it. Whereas the 1992 decisions in Denmark were to a certain extent radical, they were arrived at years after a review had been concluded. However, in Britain and in Denmark the processes have been better coordinated with processes in NATO. Britain, at least to a certain extent, coordinated the Options process with work on NATO’s strategy and force structure. The SDR was undertaken prior to NATO’s Review in part in order to influence it. The Danish decisions in 1992 followed shortly after NATO’s Review. The 1997–8 Review was less connected to NATO, and arguably more a project undertaken to secure continued domestic support for the internationalisation of Danish defence. The immediate reaction to the end of the Cold War was the reduction in size of the structure and reduced levels of readiness. This was of course only logical, given the unique circumstances of the Cold War. However, since participation in PSO is based on both reaction capability and sustaining operations for years, NATO and the three member states struggled with finding the right balance in the structure between rapid readiness and sustainability. The initial deployments

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to PSO of 1992–4 suffered from poor readiness and ad hoc solutions. The equipment standard was poor, and units were suffering from lack of personnel and were scrambled in last minute. Even in the United Kingdom (UK), such weaknesses were revealed. This was very much due to the mobilisation system of the Cold War. Units were only partially manned and their use dependent upon mobilisation. The conventional wisdom developed that you need three times the force you will deploy in order to sustain a commitment over time. In Canada, even greater proportions were argued for, up to five times the size. This is also a reflection of the changing character of the military profession. Six months away from home base is regarded as the norm. Being a soldier is to be compatible with having a family life. It has come close to just another job. All three member states have included PSO in defence planning and defence objectives and have supported the involvement of NATO in PSO. This has been done under various umbrellas. In Canada, it was seen as ‘contributing to world peace and project[ing] Canadian interests abroad’, by ‘participation in humanitarian, peacekeeping, monitoring, verification, peace restoring and other security enhancing activities’ and later under the concept of ‘human security’ from 1994. In Britain, from 1992, PSO was to ‘protect UK’s wider security interests through the maintenance of international peace and stability’. These interests also included justification for the British seat in the UN Security Council and influence in NATO. In the Kosovo debate, military force was to be used for the purpose of the ‘common good’ and British forces were to represent ‘a force of good’ in the world. The SDR upgraded British security interests in terms of priority at the expense of traditional defence. Defence was now to support ‘foreign policy objectives’ and roles previously regarded as third priority were upgraded to first priority. In Denmark, the objective was to ‘promote a peaceful international development with respect for human rights’ as a way of securing Denmark’s ‘indirect security’. ‘Direct security’ was still the primary responsibility of the government. While all three states quite eagerly supported the idea that NATO should become involved in peacekeeping, they were far more reluctant to contribute resources and to shape their forces accordingly. All three states have developed principles, as part of their policy, meant to guide their contributions to such operations. The intention of these principles was in part to play down the commitment, partly due to the dislike of neverending commitments. Internal wars are by nature time-consuming and they do take time to heal. This is something NATO could not change, and was indeed a given limit to the efficiency of NATO in handling these conflicts. The way these states chose to structure their commitments and forces differed. Britain took on a leadership role in shaping the ARRC and committed a division. The ARRC provided a multilateral framework, which enabled Britain to build a significant national intervention capacity and maintain—or increase—its influence within NATO. The British perception, at least, is that the ARRC has given Britain influence in NATO. Canada withdrew all military commitments to NATO, and based its international role more on a case-by-case basis, and less on

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commitment. The strategy of commitment was replaced by a strategy of choice. Denmark created a reaction brigade with several roles. One of them was to form the Danish contribution to the ARRC and secondly to contribute to PSO, while the rest of the Army was being integrated into a multinational corps with her neighbours. Denmark adjusted significantly, if one takes her Cold War policy of an almost pacifist nature into consideration. This Danish move was made under the pretext of PSO and strongly advocated by the Minister of Defence, Hans Hækkerup, and was very much in line with the United States (US) policy. In Denmark there is a very visible distinction between Article 5 and non-Article 5 operations expressed in the defence laws, in terms of the structure and even in the interpretation of the readiness system. While no policy of earmarking units for peacekeeping has been adopted, there is nevertheless a de facto distinction between Article 5 and non-Article 5 when it comes to the Army. The DIB is primarily geared towards NATO Article 5, but its declared state of readiness does not cover non-Article 5 operations. The bulk of the Army is reserved for Article 5 and has little relevance for the most likely tasks. The headquarters (HQ) of the trinational corps can be deployed for other contingencies while the corps itself is for Article 5 only. The distinction between Article 5 and nonArticle 5 permeates Danish defence thinking, at least with respect to the Army, to an extent not found in Canada and the UK. The reason for this is likely to be because of Denmark’s geostrategic situation, relatively greater neighbouring states in terms of population and resources, so that Denmark feels compelled to rely on conscription. With conscription, Denmark can participate in a corps on equal footing with Poland and Germany. Without conscription, the structure would be significantly smaller. Conscription makes it difficult to sustain a policy which does not separate between the two. However, it is hard to see the real value of a structure like the Danish Division in the current strategic setting. Had Denmark professionalised and modernised the structure, it would be smaller but more relevant and more in line with the Danish security thinking. In Canada and Britain, on the other hand, the distinction between the two for defence planning purposes has been played down. In Britain, it was the degree of choice which was the defining criteria. But there is one crucial difference between Canada and Britain: in Britain it meant that PSO and out-of-area operations were upgraded in importance. In Canada, on the other hand, it meant a downgrading of the commitment attributed to NATO and Article 5. Britain increased her involvement in PSO and even upgraded the structure very much on the basis of the out-of-area requirements, while Canada withdrew her military contributions from Europe and maintained a modest level of contribution to NATO PSO. There are variations in the threat assessments and subsequent responses in these three countries. The Canadian defence review stressed the fundamental uncertainty and unpredictability of international affairs and threats to her national security which were not particularly military: smuggling, poaching, riots and pollution of Canadian waters; rhetorically, this was the core of defence

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policy. Defence of North America, the second role, was still primarily an American responsibility and neither of these two roles provided any significant input to the force structure of the Army. Simultaneously, peacekeeping as a part of Canadian strategy was in doubt. The underlying factor explaining Canadian defence policy is the strategic imbalance between Canada and the US. British policy papers expressed fear of instability and came to insist that the situation in Bosnia and Kosovo threatened British security. This statement was made without reservations; it was not considered a threat to British interests, or indirect security; it was simply a threat to British security. The underlying factor explaining UK policy is the desire to maintain influence in NATO and in the UN, and a fear of instability in Europe. However, the fear of a reversal of developments in Russia also influenced defence thinking, at least up to the SDR. Danish strategic analysis stressed the potential for future conflict, although unlikely, in Europe and between Europe and other major actors. Thus, the underlying factor in Danish defence policy is the fear of a breakdown in European integration and the rise of a hegemony in Europe. This was considered, but rejected as unlikely. Therefore, one could concentrate on improving the ‘indirect’ security of Denmark, while maintaining the bulk of the mobilisation army as a guarantee for the future. In both Britain and Denmark a ‘10-year rule’ was adopted: there would be no severe conventional threat to national (territorial) security the next 10 to 15 years. Defence policy was developed against this background. The force structures of these three countries have not been driven by the requirements of PSO. In Britain and Denmark, the structure was driven primarily by national defence aspects and NATO Article 5 defence. In the case of Canada, it is more difficult to pinpoint the defence objectives that determined the force structure. While the Defence Review stressed national defence and defence of North America together with the US, neither of these tasks or the threats outlined could underpin the combat-capable Army of three brigades, which was the preferred alternative to a ‘peacekeeping’ structure. Simultaneously, Canada withdrew from Europe and attached less importance to traditional NATO defence. During the 1990s, it was not very likely that Canada would contribute a full brigade to any war. However, the status within NATO and possibly also the self-esteem of the Canadian Forces (CF), plus the desire to maintain an Army as a guarantee for the uncertainties of the future, may explain the Canadian Force structure. The future beyond the time frame of 10–15 years also played a role in shaping defence in Britain and Denmark. The point was made that the existing structure should be maintained in order to preserve competence and in order to have a basis for potential regeneration of a larger structure should it become necessary. The decisions to look beyond the period of 10–15 years limited the option for more radical reforms, at least in Denmark. Multinational military integration is now regarded as the way ahead for three reasons. First, multinationality is a source of legitimacy. A multinational military unit is regarded as an expression of the will of a broader community. A

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contribution is thus a concrete expression of solidarity, support and agreement on both specific goals in relation to the situation at hand and more general issues such as international norms. Second, multinationality is a way of managing resources. It is a way of building a rationale for maintaining structures which could become redundant if a purely national perspective were applied. And it is a means of distributing costs and a means used to prevent ‘going small’ again, in the words of a British Chief of Defence. Moreover, multinationality in force structure and command is only a reflection of present realities: no single European state could have dealt with cases like the Balkans or Somalia alone without bringing its armed forces beyond breaking point. Multinationality is thus politically necessary. Third, multinationality is a means of preventing renationalisation of defence, especially in Europe. In both Britain and Denmark this point was made early in the decade. In Denmark, integration with Germany after 1945 became the solution to Danish security problems. Thus it was only logical to integrate with Poland when the Cold War ended. This, again, suggests that the fear lurking beneath defence policy is a major European conflict, rather than brushfires at Europe’s periphery. Denmark maintained her mobilisation plans right up to the end of the 1990s and the argument in favour of conscription is very much based on the uncertainty of the future. Taking part in PSO, maintaining a rather big Army, and integrating with multinational structures are also ways of balancing Allies and advancing own interest within the Alliance, not only to cope with actors and threats outside it. The idea of multinationality was developed so far that the 1999 Strategic Concept of NATO referred to ‘role specialisation’ among the members. Even though such a suggestion is not entirely new in NATO, this idea opens up the way for radical new thinking. It may be possible that NATO force planning can be based on NATO’s total needs rather than being shaped by the perceived need of individual members. However, while multinationality is sensible for the reasons referred to above, it is also inherently problematic. This is because of the political structure in Europe. The ‘ownership’ of multinational formations is indeed so complex that it severely hampers the efficiency and the possibilities for ‘role specialisation’. If the idea of role specialisation is pursued it means in reality that the ambition of national defence is abandoned and that a multilateral military structure takes priority over national needs. On the other hand, military integration cannot be fully effective without political integration, or at least without a more integrated political decision-making process. As policy making is under national control, decisions related to the structure, training and preparations, as well as political guidelines and restrictions regarding the use of national assets in operations, hamper efficiency. This is a political problem that can only be fully solved by giving up some of the essential hallmarks of state sovereignty: full control of a state’s armed forces. It can be argued that domestic politics and political culture influence defence policy, not only strategic assessments about current and future needs based on

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threat assessments. In Canada, the economic decline in the beginning of the 1990s, coupled with Canada’s historic role in peacekeeping and the desire to be a’combat-capable’ state that could demonstrate sovereignty by ‘defending’ itself without the US, shaped the Defence Review of 1994. In Britain, changes in defence policy were minimal from 1992 until the change of government and the subsequent SDR in 1997–9. Policy was based on the desire to preserve as much as possible of the existing structure as a basis for British influence in the UN and in NATO. In Denmark, the ‘no’ to the European Union (EU) and the personal views of the Minister of Defence and the military leadership to a great extent explain policy developments. Domestic factors coupled with the traditional perceptions of the relationship with their neighbour states very much explain the difference in the policies adopted by these countries. While defence is shaped by perceptions of potential enemies and external threats, the desire to influence allies is also important. Another feature of the structural changes is greater emphasis on jointness. In Canada and the UK, command arrangements were amended correspondingly with greater emphasis on jointness and on political and military cooperation. In Denmark, which is fully integrated into NATO, command structure did not follow suit, but still, greater emphasis was put on matching the services towards a greater joint capacity. However, ‘jointness’ can be seen as a function of ‘deployability’. A force deployed to remote and distant areas will necessarily be joint. Peacekeeping was by tradition predominantly an Army j ob, but in the 1990s air and naval power were given greater roles in PSO. To an extent, the expansion of PSO capacity in Denmark and Canada in particular can be attributed to the inclusion of the other services in this role. Neither Canada nor Denmark has expanded their Army peacekeeping contributions significantly, although the quality, in terms of equipment and training, of what is now offered is higher than it was before 1990. A battalion ‘plus’ is what these two countries can maintain over time. Additional deployments will be short-term only, except for commitments of staff officers and observers. Britain, which entered the PSO arena only in 1992, can maintain a brigade over time and still have resources for other operations as well. The comparison between Denmark and Canada is important in another respect, too. Denmark has maintained conscription and the Danish International Brigade (DIB) consists of a limited number of professionals; the majority of the troops are part-timers. Canada, on the other hand, has three standing professional brigades. The Army contribution to PSO made by these two countries is roughly at the same level. Britain, on the other hand, is willing to commit the bulk of her Army to PSO, when deemed necessary. This suggests that there is more to this question than simply a choice between professionals and conscription. The decisive issue is political will to accept the costs of active international engagement. Denmark and Canada were both active supporters of UN peacekeeping before 1995. After NATO’s involvement their resources were diverted to NATO PSO and neither managed to maintain significant contributions to UN peacekeeping.

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For both these countries a commitment of one battalion deployed over time is a strain on defence assets. The UK has a much greater capacity, but even in Britain, the quite small deployments to Bosnia from 1992 strained the British Army. Britain had other commitments too, so the overstretch problem was not only a result of a defect instructure, but it did play a role. All three countries refer to defence of the state as the basic task of the military. The polarisation between ‘international’ and ‘national’ defence— arguably the defining dilemma of defence policy as studied here—has been strongest in Denmark. While foreign and defence policy expressed the view that major conflict was only likely within a greater European context, it was simultaneously stressed that the number one responsibility of Danish defence was to secure Denmark. The Canadian Defence Review of 1994 was also given a distinctly national flavour. It concluded that home defence was the first priority and that defence should never become the responsibility of others. The slogan was ‘a country not worth defending is a country not worth preserving’. In Canada this was important because of the asymmetry in the power balance with the US. To be able to defend oneself was thus a way to avoid US domination or, as it was stated, defence should never ‘become the responsibility of others’. All three countries maintained that the ultimate task was national defence, the inescapable responsibility of governments. However, in Britain, the government came to insist that Bosnia and Kosovo affected British security, and the SDR altered the priorities somewhat. However, this issue had limited consequences for the structure in Britain, as the Armed Forces are professional and are accustomed to being used globally. It can be argued that the uncertainties of international affairs and the fear of a new ‘great war’ are looming in the background of defence policy making. The political rhetoric is characterised by the idea of national defence. The concepts of both ‘war’ and ‘defence’ are certainly powerful political concepts in the domestic defence debate. It is unacceptable to state, for instance, that traditional defence of the state is no longer relevant, or that the ambition of territorial defence is completely abolished. This is too controversial and is not an acceptable political option. The consequences for a government pursuing such an option could be severe in domestic politics. While it can be argued that security is multilateral and that most threats will require multilateral responses in a globalised and interdependent world, the concept of ‘national security’ is very much alive in the security debate and security thinking. ‘Real’ security and ‘real’ defence is seen very much through national lenses, while tasks like PSO are optional, relating to international security. This indicates that there is a division in defence policy into fundamental and optional security concerns. British policy is quite explicit about this distinction. The first and fundamental security concerns are those relating to the existence of the state as a sovereign political unit; secondary security issues relate to NATO. But to draw a line towards optional security concerns is difficult because the border between the two fluctuates. This distinction is perhaps not a surprise, but

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to evaluate and determine what constitutes a fundamental security interest and what does not, is far from self-evident. Geography still plays an important role in shaping defence policy and in shaping the perception of one’s degree of choice. Even though it can be argued that technology, interdependence and globalisation have made geography less important, geography and the symbols of state boundaries still matter in the policy-making process. This influence is psychological, or even fictitious. Britain is still insulated and less vulnerable in a psychological sense than, for instance, Denmark. Article 5 or non-Article 5: defence of what? In all three countries, internal conflicts were regarded as ‘ethnic’. However, it can be argued that they were not considered a real threat, but more as troublesome hot spots that had to be dealt with. Whereas internal wars during the Cold War struggle between communism and the free world were regarded as highly political, the conflicts in the 1990s were depoliticised. There were no aggressors, no enemies, no insurgents, no subversion and no war. Rather, a politically neutral language was adopted. Insurgencies were now complex emergencies, failed states or simply humanitarian crises and tragedies. Aggression requires an aggressor; a crisis just happens. The causes of conflicts were regarded as not so much political, but as ethnic or a variation thereof, and the main concerns were humanitarian. The international response was forms of humanitarian actions or PSO. Only with 11 September 2001 were wars once again politicised: terrorists became ‘global insurgents’, the Taliban and Al Qaida became the enemies, and failed states, such as Afghanistan, became a true security problem. War was declared, albeit on terrorism and not on the terrorists. Whereas terrorism had been defined in NATO’s doctrine hierarchy as a ‘non-Article 5’ problem, it was terrorism that caused NATO to invoke Article 5 measures for the first time in history.2 However, the nature of the task confronting those who wanted to deprive Al Qaida of access to and control of territory in Afghanistan was arguably very similar to the situation in Bosnia, Somalia and Kosovo. The events of 11 September demonstrated, perhaps in an extreme and unique way, that a non-state actor taking harbour in a weak or collapsing state could indeed threaten the security of the world’s only superpower. What changed with 11 September was that for the US, and to some extent the UK, ‘complex emergencies’ were no longer regarded an optional problem. The concept of crisis management was of importance to NATO. As previously pointed out, this was initially a framework for responding to Article 5 threats through reinforcement of exposed regions in NATO. Later it became a framework for, or synonymous with, PSO. However, in Denmark the Defence Laws only dealt with the Article 5 meaning of the concept, even though the Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MFA) used it as a framework for PSO. In Canada and Britain the concept was not given significant attention or any precise meaning. In terms of doctrine, the concept was largely ignored in all three

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countries, as focus was on adjustment in peacekeeping doctrine and principles. Thus, arguably, there is a doctrinal gap within NATO as well as in the three states when it comes to using military power to reinforce diplomacy. This leads to the next point, which is that diplomacy and force are still considered mutually exclusive in war. NATO and the three member states have accepted a distinction between war and ‘operations other than war’ (OOTW), defined precisely as the existence of diplomacy in combination with force. War is considered a breakdown of diplomacy; in OOTW, force supplements or supports diplomacy. The object of defence when it comes to contribution to PSO is not precise. Whether it is ‘peace’, ‘stability’, ‘humanitarian norms’, ‘international norms’ or ‘national interests’ that are being defended varies. During the Cold War there was a perceived choice between peace and stability on the one hand, and upholding human rights by military force on the other a choice between stability and justice. International stability has had two components, in particular after the Second World War: state sovereignty and the primary authority of the UN Security Council in providing legitimacy for the use of force. By 1999, NATO had undermined both. Supporting human rights, at least within Europe, was seen as a way of promoting stability. Nevertheless, it seems that neither ‘national interests’ nor the concern for the wellbeing of others offer a full explanation for the policies pursued. It should, however, be noted that publicly, the activist approach has been a strong feature. Governments and NATO have stressed the moral duties of securing human rights. It should not be underestimated that underneath this humanitarian agenda there is also a story about keeping NATO relevant, about rivalry and competition for power among NATO members and about setting principles for future NATO policies. However, the strong emphasis given to humanitarian arguments as a rationale for intervention in the 1990s clearly suggests that there were truly moral concerns playing a significant role in the decisions to use force. Furthermore, humanitarian arguments create expectations in the public, which are hard to ignore. In Canada, the government went out of its way to persuade the public that Kosovo represented a case of purely humanitarian motives and that Canada had no strategic interests in Kosovo. In Denmark and the UK, reference to national interest and even security was used alongside humanitarian motives. Fighting wars or supporting peace? In all three countries the point was made that the military should be able ‘to fight’, to have ‘combat capability’ or ‘warfighting capability’. This issue was raised in all three countries in the period of 1994–8. In all three countries the conventional military doctrine of ‘warfighting first’ was accepted politically in defence policy reviews and subsequently made into policy. At the outset, such points seem awkward. To state explicitly that the military exists to be able to fight is to state the obvious. To state the opposite would make the military

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redundant. The explanations suggested here for the military rejecting PSO are threefold. First, rejecting PSO indicates a certain pressure towards shaping defence more on the rationale of PSO than on war, and it was assumed that this would mean less need for modernising equipment, and a lighter structure. A PSO structure is seen as a softer version which could endanger investments in military hardware like artillery and tanks. In Canada, the argument was tied to a specific structure. Thus, the argument was used to support maintaining what was already there. The arguments against letting PSO influence defence structure can thus be judged as a fear of providing political arguments which would be popular in times of cuts in defence spending. Moving towards a ‘constabulary force’ could thus seriously hamper the ability of armies to project force. In this sense, the point about ‘warfighting first’ has some logic; it would hardly make the world safer if NATO had adopted a soft structure entirely. However, as is was pointed out in British policy, the congruence between PSO and warfighting equipment increased during the 1990s and the NATO PSO was dependent upon such hardware, but perhaps not on a scale relevant for ‘warfighting’ scenarios. Deployments of tanks and artillery to Bosnia thus became an argument in the political debate that was used to support the relevance of the existing structure. Arguably, the polarisation between warfighting and peacekeeping, in terms of structure, confused the debate and prevented reforms from taking place. The second argument used to reject PSO is that military training should be geared towards the most difficult task, i.e. fighting major wars. A high-intensity force is capable of low-intensity operations. A force designed to fight wars is capable of all other tasks as well, while a PSO force would not be capable of a transition to war. This argument is more dubious and simplistic. PSO and operations in internal conflicts—conflicts that are fought within civil society— are fundamentally different from the image of a traditional war fought in the battlefield, and this difference cannot be measured in intensity alone. Intensity should be measured against the complexity of PSO in internal conflicts, something which it is not easy to do. The complexities of PSO and of the environment in which they take place are likely to require understanding through education and training. Various forms of war demand different perspectives and philosophies. In particular, the restrictions placed on the use of force create a need for more, not less, training. It is faulty to assume that using less force is somehow easier than more force. To say that the military has shifted from traditional roles under the umbrella of defence to PSO is thus a simplification. The time spent on PSO-related training is relatively small. The ‘warfighting first’ doctrine has been maintained. Training for PSO is thus limited, short and conducted only when made necessary by deployments. It is seen as detracting from more important training. This reflects the way the military perceives its role. It should be noted that this priority is not only due to military conservatism. In none of these three states has the political ambition of defence and warfighting been formally abolished. In fact, one could

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argue that this priority corresponds to the political desires and objectives adopted. Although some concern has been expressed in the political debate over training issues related to PSO in all countries, this is not a major political concern. The military is relatively free to decide for itself how education and training should be carried out. This was also the case in Canada up to the investigations following the Somalia incident. Thus there are the contours of a compromise between the political aim of preparation for and participation in PSO and the military desire to put warfighting first: PSO is accepted as a task, as something the military is obliged to do, as long as it does not influence the structure, equipment and training, which should be geared towards war. The main problem, however, with this ‘warfighting first’ doctrine is not that soldiers prepare for war, but rather that warfighting is defined by images of wars of the past, rather than by exploring trends shaping strategic affairs and thereby trying to create an image of wars in the future. In this sense, the ‘warfighting first’ doctrine is conservative, as warfighting is thought of as a kind of reoccurrence of the battles fought in the Second World War, and planned for during the Cold War. There is only limited acceptance of the changing nature of war and warfare as it has been discussed in academia. Most of the ‘new’ wars are categorised as OOTW. The success of the Gulf War probably sustained the ‘warfighting first’ doctrine, as it showed that traditional wars of great tank battles can be necessary, and supposedly demonstrated the supremacy of manoeuvre warfare.3 But in terms of underlying thinking there seems to be doctrinal agreement that PSO are regarded as different from the perception war, in several ways. First, PSO are regarded as too ‘political’. Politics is thus seen as a factor depriving war from its true character. War has in doctrinal terms been defined as the suspension of normal political relations and diplomacy. True, war is a suspension of normal political relations, but politics will still be involved. Doctrines leave the impression that the lines that separate war from other cases is whether politics has ceased to function or not and it is assumed that military autonomy from politics will be greater in war than in OOTW. The term ‘use of force in support of diplomacy’ as a special case apart from war suggests that the ideal solution for a ‘proper war’ is that political activity is suspended. Whereas force will be used to underpin a political settlement in humanitarian interventions in civil wars, a proper war leaves more room for military solutions. There is also an assumption that the restrictions placed on the use of force in PSO will not apply in a proper war. It can be argued that the predominant understanding of the relationship between diplomacy and force is sequential; first a battlefield decision is reached, then negotiations start. Second, PSO require several skills that are regarded as ‘civilian’ and not military. Such civilian skills encompass negotiations, cooperation with civilian authorities and organisations and press and information handling. These can of course be seen as specific PSO-related skills. On the other hand, it is not unlikely that they would be just as important in a future war as they are in PSO. It can be

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argued that PSO as experienced in the Balkans are indeed more appropriate as a source of inspiration for a future limited war than a war dominated by great battles autonomous from the civilian context. The effects of the information age make it harder to assume that war will be fought outside the civilian context. Rather, war will always be judged in part on the basis of its effect on civil society. In the globalised information age, it can indeed be questioned whether war will again become a matter predominantly of battles between armies in a clearly defined battlefield or whether all wars will be regarded as an activity undertaken within civil society. Third, PSO are time-consuming and slow, while the ideal war is short, swift and decisive. PSO depart from nearly all traditional military principles that in the 1990s were important parts of military thinking centred on manoeuvre warfare. Furthermore, PSO differ from the expectation of what ‘war’ should be like when it comes to assumptions about issues like decision-making processes and command arrangements. Standard military doctrines prescribe clarity and simplicity, but when faced with the reality of politics, such principles fail to be fulfilled. Fourth, war is a concept connected to the self-defence of a state, politically and militarily. This ethos is shaped by the idea of defence of national security. The Canadian doctrine is quite explicit about this: wars are national, whereas PSO are multinational. This feature is somewhat downplayed in the other two countries, but the same argument has been made in both Britain and Denmark. The perception is that many PSO can only vaguely be fitted into a state’s national interests. Therefore, PSO are regarded as somewhat peripheral to the true role of the military. In practice, this means that the military institutions still regard PSO as a ‘minor’ activity when making doctrine, training and educational systems. PSO detract from more important tasks. However, NATO PSO seem to be more accepted and more popular within military circles and defence ministries than UN peacekeeping. NATO’s operational mode is regarded as more similar to the military logic than the UN modus. Military robustness is more attractive in military circles than the softer UN version. The problems of matching doctrine and training to the strategic need should not be underestimated. However, it should not be overstated either. The basic premise that PSO-related training detracts from warfighting skills may be a misconception. It can be argued that it adds to the warfighting skills and that the experience gained in PSO constitutes a ‘reality check’ against the predominant doctrinal view on war. Doctrinal developments Doctrines have been given significant attention in NATO and in the three states explored here. They have to a great extent replaced the old military planning of the Cold War. The more fluid security environment caused a greater need for conceptual thinking than for specific defence plans. In Canada and Britain, the

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doctrinal libraries are extensive, whereas Denmark relies more on NATO doctrines. The doctrine of ‘manoeuvre warfare’ inspired by the US Air Land Battle doctrine from the 1980s, which formed the philosophical underpinnings of the Gulf War, was given weight in all three countries. This is, however, a doctrine for situations quite different from that of PSO and civil war. Manoeuvre warfare is based on tempo, offensive action, surprise, initiative and concentration or mass in decisive battles in order to shatter the cohesion, morale, will and decision making of the enemy. PSO may share the objective of manoeuvre warfare to influence the will of the enemy to continue fighting, but the operational and tactical modus operandi is quite different. The point has been made, by the military in all three states, that manoeuvre warfare is a concept valid throughout the ‘spectrum’ of conflict. However, it can be argued that the underlying thinking of manoeuvre warfare is particularly unsuited for PSO and crisis management. The emphasis given to the above-mentioned principles of tempo, concentration of effort, surprise and mission tactics, as well as the assumed autonomy of military commanders and the operational level of war, corresponds poorly to the political realities of PSO. Indeed, if followed consistently in a crisis management process, these principles would be dangerous. The concept of war has been exposed to modifications in the doctrines examined here. They deal with restrictions on the use of force, and the concept of victory has been modified. The critique of ‘unconditional surrender’ and of the concept of ‘military victory’ indicates a gradually changing concept of war. Civil—military cooperation (CIMIC) is included in the warfighting manuals, if not in the training, and Canadian doctrine argues that CIMIC is as important to warfighting as it is to PSO. Canadian doctrine also puts emphasis on flexibility and ability to manage change. British doctrine argues that multinationality is the norm, not the exception, for the future, contrary to Canadian doctrine, which puts multinational operations in the box of the special cases. Danish doctrine has abandoned the concept of annihilation of the enemy and replaced it by ‘imposing one’s will’ as the general objective of wars, and also expresses the view that wars leave room for negotiations. Canada has drawn a distinction between conflicts that were concluded by coercion (war), and those concluded by negotiations (OOTW). Such a distinction may be problematic, as it can be very hard to predict how wars are concluded when they start. Also, since coercion encompasses an element of negotiations or bargaining, it is difficult to view this distinction as particularly relevant. Doctrines for PSO have been prescribed in all three countries and, in all three countries as well as in NATO, PSO have been categorised as OOTW. Britain took a lead in the doctrinal and conceptual work regarding PSO. NATO draft doctrines became synonymous with British doctrine. The Canadian Army doctrine did not devote significant attention to PSO. Nevertheless, there are variations in how peacekeeping principles have been interpreted in these three countries. For instance, British doctrine states ‘minimum force necessary’, Danish doctrine states ‘conditioned use of force’, while Canadian doctrine states

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‘use of force as a last resort’. While British doctrine turned peace enforcement into a third option between war and peacekeeping, Danish doctrine distinguished between limited and proper intervention, and Canadian doctrine put defence of a NATO Ally in the same category as peace enforcement. This clearly suggests that there is only limited doctrinal agreement on both the nature of and the principles applying to robust peacekeeping within NATO. Whether the effect from such different doctrinal views is felt in actual operations is beyond the scope of this book. However, as interoperability also depends on common military language, i.e. understanding of concepts and principles, this discrepancy should not be underestimated as mere semantics. Since PSO encompasses a variety of tasks, from peacekeeping and observer missions to wars of various forms, it is arguably as futile to prescribe general PSO principles as it is to prescribe military principles valid for all kinds of war. It is difficult to see the conceptual difference between peace enforcement and war. After the Gulf War, peace enforcement was thought of as synonymous with war, therefore no special structures or training were needed. Then peace enforcement was applied in internal conflicts of other states, and took a quite different shape. The attempt was made to transform peacekeeping into a third alternative between peacekeeping and war, very much inspired by imperial counterinsurgency. But, as internal war will be different to traditional wars between states, peace enforcement would naturally have to adjust from the Gulf War perspective when applied to civil wars. Peace enforcement was a matter of adjusting to the shift from war between states to war within states, coupled with the use of air power. Thus, it was not only peacekeeping that needed adjustment; it was enforcement or war that needed to be redefined, in order to make it politically relevant and appropriate to the requirements of civil wars. A major doctrinal difference also exists between Britain and the two other countries. Britain has maintained the counterinsurgency (COIN) doctrines of the imperial age along with the experience from Northern Ireland. In this respect there is less news from the ‘new wars’ for Britain than there is for Denmark and also to Canada. Neither of these latter countries have COIN doctrines. Both of their armies have a limited role in these kinds of conflict domestically, both by law and by history. Whereas Canada and Denmark are experienced peacekeepers, they do not enjoy the experience from this ‘other kind of war’ to the extent that the British Army does. Neither Denmark nor Canada pays much attention to urban warfare, and national laws restrict their role in operations that involve civilians. Irregular strategy and tactics, or ‘new’ conflicts, are not given much space in the military doctrines of Canada or Denmark. Possibly, it is too optimistic to find a common and general formula of doctrinal priorities across the members of NATO. The historic records, culture, experience and ways of thinking differ too much. It can thus be argued that the ‘warfighting first’ doctrine is more appropriate for British forces, since the imperial history and experience from Northern Ireland may make the British Army more receptive to the necessary skills of robust PSO and measured

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application of force than for instance Denmark and Canada. The three states have chosen different training systems. In Canada, PSO is excluded from the syllabus of the Staff College and conducted only in a special institution prior to deployment. In Britain, PSO eventually was included in the military academies as training for OOTW. In Denmark the Staff College devotes significant time to PSO, while the basic training is focused on traditional warfighting. A certain degree of differentiation from state to state may be necessary. A major problem in NATO as well as in these three countries is that the doctrinal developments seem to have followed two patterns: either manoeuvre warfare or PSO. Neither forms the appropriate framework for crisis management or limited and constrained wars in conflicts that are fought within civil society, as in civil wars. Nor do they correspond to, or deal satisfactorily with, the dilemmas that arise when force and diplomacy are used in combination, or discuss how military force can make diplomacy more efficient. Whereas the British doctrine briefly mentioned crisis management and elaborated on the concepts of intensity and limitations, there has not been any effort to, for instance, prescribe principles for crisis management or elaborate on what it takes for crisis management to be effective. As pointed out above, principles for the traditional conduct of war, like surprise, tempo and offensive action, are hardly relevant for crisis management; on the contrary, they can be dangerous. Conclusion The most important conclusion from this analysis is threefold. First, all three countries supported the idea that NATO should get involved in PSO, initially in support of the UN, later replacing the UN. PSO was a vehicle for bringing the Alliance out of area. The expectation was that NATO PSO were to be more effective through the capacity for the use of force. In all three countries, PSO activites were to be taken on by structures designed for Article 5 purposes. A distinction was made and upheld, except in the case of Britain in 1998, between Article 5 and non-Article 5, with the former taking priority over the latter. PSO were included as an objective of defence in all three countries. However, defence was defined very much along territorial lines, whereas international military effort was not included in defence to the same degree. This approach was not unproblematic, as PSO placed special demands on the structure as a whole, in particular combining training readiness with endurance capability. This created a need for new training and readiness cycles. However, aside from this, little has actually been done to meet the challenge of PSO in new conflicts. Doctrines primarily focus on warfighting, and the ‘warfighting first’ doctrine has been accepted politically in all three countries. Training for PSO is minimised. This leads to the third part of the conclusion, which is that war, in doctrinal terms, is defined as suspension of policy, while OOTW, notably operations in support of diplomacy and PSO, are undertaken while policy is still

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at work. However, due to the warfighting first doctrine, little has been done to explore how force can be utilised to support such processes. When it comes to the conceptual issues relating to PSO and crisis management, there is little agreement and understanding of these new concepts, and there are different approaches to this issue in the three countries. This adds to the impression that PSO have been given little attention both in terms of policy and doctrines within NATO and at the national level. Notes 1 All quotations used in this chapter are found in the previous chapters of this book, unless otherwise indicated. 2 NATO, ‘Statement by the North Atlantic Council’, press release 124(2001), 12 September 2001, available online at http://www.nato.int/docu/pr/2001/p01– 124e.htm. 3 Lawrence Freedman, ‘The Revolution in Strategic Affairs’, Adeplhi Paper no. 318 (Oxford: Oxford University Press for the IISS, 1998), p. 32.

9 CONCLUSION

This book has discussed the concepts related to internal wars and peace support operations (PSO), and then examined the process of strategic change within the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation (NATO) and three NATO member states. The purpose has been to examine the responses given to the challenges of new conflicts and PSO, and to determine how these new tasks relate to the concepts of defence and war. Conceptualisation and the underlying thinking and priorities attached to these concepts have been the primary issue. However, through the study of concepts, the book has also tried to explain policy choices made. The main findings have been analysed and elaborated on in the comparative analysis and it is therefore not necessary to repeat all of them here. However, three points should be made. Firsty, it has been argued that, even though NATO has changed and changes have been made in policies and doctrines, the predominant concepts of defence and war maintained by NATO, and by the member states examined here during most of the period, remained out of step with the new security logic of the Alliance. To refer to the process within NATO as ‘transformation’ would be an exaggeration. Rather, the new tasks have been added to the existing ones as a kind of optional activity, incrementally and reluctantly. The new tasks have been included in defence policy, but arguably not in the concept of defence. There is tension between national security and international security, and the balance favours national security, at least in rhetoric. In all three countries, governments stated that their first priority was national security and national defence, while most of their imminent security concerns were clearly multinational issues demanding a multinational response and cooperation. The ‘new wars’ have been put in the operations-other-than-war (OOTW) category, the box of special cases. The point made here is that a rather conservative understanding of the concepts of defence and war hampered the process of adjusting to the new strategic environment in the 1990s. The distinctions drawn between Article 5 and nonArticle 5 missions and between war and OOTW are indeed manifestations of a degree of discrepancy between the security understanding within NATO and the meaning attributed to the concepts of defence and war. While NATO and the three states examined here claimed to be defending peace, order, national interests, the common good and human rights when

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embarking on interventions, they did so, they argued, without resorting to war. PSO was an extension of peacekeeping, which gradually came to rely on force to an extent that makes it hard to separate it from the concept of war even though it was placed in the box of OOTW politically and doctrinally. Although peace enforcement doctrinally was presented as a middle-ground option, NATO came to rely on air war to pave the way for peace agreements and NATO troops on the ground. It is therefore incorrect to say that PSO is a concept apart from war, like peacekeeping was. Also, as demonstrated in this book, conceptually and doctrinally there was by 1999 still confusion and disagreement about the content of the concepts of PSO, OOTW and crisis management, as well as on their principles for conduct. The debate on peacekeeping assumed that peacekeeping had to adjust due to the rise of new conflicts. However, the alternative strategy, war, also had to change. Second, PSO was a task taken on with a structure designed primarily for other tasks, notably Article 5, i.e. territorial defence against external aggression. This may seem to be the most ‘formidable’ security challenge. But as pointed out here, every kind of war has its own challenges. The experience from the involvement in PSO shows that there has been more to it than just using structures designed for defence for other tasks. The initial deployments in 1992–3 gave testimony of poor readiness and soon caused overstretch to ill-suited structures. The Article 5 structure was simply not suited for the new tasks, because it was dependent on political circumstances that did not apply in these wars. Shortfalls in manpower were not rectified by mobilisation of reserves, the tasks at hand did not correspond to the training and doctrinal focus, limitations made some of the weaponry and organisation less relevant and units could not deploy as one, but rather piecemeal in a multinational setting. Only slowly did the Alliance take on a new role, and when it did, the new role in PSO became a non-Article 5 task. There are sound arguments for a cautious approach in these matters. Reconceptualising war and defence could have challenged prevailing interpretations of international law and provoked instability by creating or reinforcing perceptions of offensiveness and excuses for interventions to support own interests. NATO would still have had to exercise restraint, and a military response would not be appropriate to all of the new security challenges. In the early 1990s, reconceptualisation of defence could have been provocative to Russia. If mismanaged, it could have developed into a blank cheque for intervention and undermined efforts that had been aimed at preventing war from becoming a legitimate option in international relations. Declaring war on irregular non-state actors may have been seen as giving them legitimacy. NATO’s out-of-area strategy would undoubtedly have had to be sensitive to all these aspects. However, NATO states nevertheless had to confront these issues at some stage, as the organisation’s survival was dependent on its relevance to the new threats. In 1999 NATO chose to challenge international law anyway. Resorting to PSO rather than to defence for claiming legitimacy could not make the problem go away. But it was not possible to achieve consensus for a

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reinterpretation of Article 5, and territorial defence remained the smallest common denominator of the Alliance. Similarly, there were sound arguments in favour of not creating special peacekeeping units. Such units would have had only limited relevance and utility in the new and more robust peacekeeping and in potential wars of the future. But the process somehow became trapped between two constructed alternatives of warfighting and peacekeeping. Instead of focusing on these two alternatives, more could have been done to mitigate the competing demands of the multitude of challenges caused by the many possible threats, scenarios and tasks assigned to the military in this period. As the British case shows, it was possible to alter the structure to accommodate these needs to a greater extent than was done until the Strategic Defence Review (SDR) in 1998. Doctrines and training could have more sensitivity to trends that clearly shaped the interventions and PSO of the 1990s. Third, and finally, this book has discussed and elaborated on different understandings of the concept of war. There is, of course, no universal understanding of the concept. However, proper war is most of all defined as wars fought by states following international law and practice. Mandelbaum’s definition, ‘the use of mechanized weapons in formal battles between the professional armed forces of sovereign states’,1 corresponds with the prevailing idea of what war is. However, many of the OOTW of the 1990s were arguably wars. The concept of ethnic conflict points to ethnicity as the root cause. These are viewed as irrational undertakings in which hatred and deliberate cruelty between ethnic groups play a significant role. Or, on the other hand, one can view such wars as the outcome of elite policies in which history and ethnicity provide the means to create conflict and increase or maintain power. Arguably, both images can be applied to internal wars and to wars between states alike; both can be rational and irrational. The view that state warfare is less cruel and more rational than internal wars is nevertheless dubious. Simultaneously, this form of conflict is fundamentally different from state warfare in the way it is fought. State warfare centres on the idea of the decisive battle and on the principles of mass, concentration of firepower and tempo, all taking place in short campaigns. Irregular war is characterised first of all by battle avoidance, of wearing down the enemy by inflicting pain. While state warfare is regular, non-state warfare is irregular. While state warfare stresses maximisation of force, counterinsurgency (COIN) doctrine stresses minimum use of force and that winning hearts and minds of the contested population is the number one priority. While state warfare is very much a centralised way of war, irregular war is decentralised. In state warfare, generals take strategic decisions; in irregular wars junior officers may take them. There is also disagreement on the utility of Western technology in the two forms of warfare. However, modern technology is of course relevant if used in ways which serve the political purpose, and technological innovations like precision munitions, improved communications and improved means of

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intelligence gathering may be as relevant to internal wars as they are to wars between states.2 In terms of structure, the difference boils down to a tank debate. This debate is beyond the scope of this book, and the arguments cannot be pursued in depth here. It should be pointed out that this debate has continued into the new millennium under the ‘transformation’ initatives lauched by the United States (US) administration after 11 September 2001. The debate may seem closer to a conclusion with the emphasis on development of new combat vehicles in the US and in the United Kingdom (UK). However, the military continues to stress the need for tanks and resists change in the direction of lighter forces. Such forces can be a supplement, not a replacement, of the heavier forces, they argue. To prepare for the diversity of war, it is necessary to apply creative thinking and to adapt. It is important to stress that there is more that separates forms of warfare than degrees of intensity, as the term high- and low-intensity warfare implies. It can be argued that to classify wars by a degree of intensity is particularly misleading. Three distinctions should be pointed out as more relevant. The first is the distinction between wars that are fought within society and those that are fought outside it. Civil wars belong in the first category, traditional wars between states in the second. The second distinction is the one between total war and limited war. Arguably, a war of ‘ethnic cleansing’ is a total war, and so was the Second World War. But limited war fought for limited aims with limited means is frequent and arguably more relevant for Western states in the strategic setting of the 1990s. The third is the distinction between wars of necessity and wars of choice. It should be stressed that the degree of choice is shaped by subjective perceptions as well as by objective criteria. Even in cases when a state is exposed to a direct attack, the decision to defend can be a matter of choice. The other option is to accept the political claims of the opponent. Together, these three distinctions form a model that points to differences in war and warfare which are more relevant than the distinction made between wars of different intensity and the distinction between war and OOTW. This does not mean that the concept of OOTW is completely irrelevant. Traditional, consensus-based peacekeeping, ‘ceremonial duties’, disaster relief and operations in which the use of force plays little or no role are clearly not war. However, interventions and operations based on the use of force, no matter how humanitarian and noble their motives are, and no matter how limited they may be, will still be war fought in pursuit of political objectives, or at least influenced by political considerations, and they do need political solutions. While it has been argued that the adaptation process has been hesitant and incomplete, it should not be ignored that changes have been made. PSO have been included in defence policy and in force planning in NATO. Doctrines for PSO have been developed, albeit as minor appendixes to warfighting doctrines. Structures and training cycles have been adjusted in order to maintain both reaction capability and sustainability of long-term commitments. To a certain degree formal doctrines reflect some of the trends shaping conflicts. The concept of war has to a certain degree been modified. However, the predominant view

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maintained throughout this period is that preparing for high-intensity warfare is the best way, indeed the only way, to prepare for the spectrum of conflict. PSO is a task at odds with the predominant military thinking. The main focus of the doctrinal developments in this period has been on the implementation of manoeuvre warfare. The other doctrinal track has been adjusting the concept of peacekeeping and reinterpreting peacekeeping principles. Neither of these approaches sufficiently addresses the issue of how the threat or the actual use of force can be used to support diplomacy and political processes. War, fighting and combat are still the number one priority for the military. This is the stated policy in NATO as well as in the three states studied here. This should not come as a surprise. The administration and application of violence is the rationale for having a military. What is surprising is, perhaps, that PSO has been given so little attention. What should be of concern is the limited attention devoted to irregular warfare. Given the historic problems experienced by states in this sort of conflict, and the differences and special characteristics of this form of war, one would assume it would be in the interest of the military to learn, understand and develop doctrines for these kinds of war. Rather than accepting the trends of change and asking whether traditional military thinking underpins and meets the new requirements caused by these trends, standard doctrine maintains that war is a distinct condition, with clear end states ruled by a military logic expressed through military principles. The common expectation is that when war breaks out, policy retreats into the background. PSO are considered to be different from war because this policy retreat does not happen. The classification of military force in support of diplomacy as a distinct category apart from war supports this argument. There is a tendency to think of force and political efforts as mutually exclusive in proper war. Whereas Clausewitz’s thesis of war as a continuation of policy with other and violent means is commonly accepted, policy is regarded very much as something which deprives real war of its true character and which therefore should step into the background when war breaks out. It corresponds to Clausewitz’s concept of ‘friction’, something that deprives war of its true character; consequently, its influence should be minimised. Policy is seen as interference in proper war in which the military assumes autonomy within the political framework of stated objectives and limitations of resources. This view also has implications for civil-military relations, and in fact it reflects the military view of the Prussians in the mid-nineteenth century.3 There is still a great belief in military autonomy during times of war and political interference is regarded as ‘micro management’. This way of thinking about war and diplomacy as mutually exclusive also goes back to the distinction the United Nations’ (UN’s) Agenda for Peace in 1992, in which peacemaking (diplomacy and mediation) was defined as a peaceful Chapter VI measure, whereas enforcement was a Chapter VII measure. There was thus no room for combining the two: enforcement was to be used when peacemaking failed. This way of thinking is also reflected in NATO’s concepts, in much of the literature on peacekeeping

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and in doctrines. In the process, military operations in support of diplomacy, or coercion, were turned into an alternative to ‘normal’ war. Whereas the idea that a threat can be used to back diplomacy was a feature of nuclear strategy in the Cold War, this idea has to be adjusted to non-nuclear strategies in other kinds of scenarios.4 If coercion is regarded as more appropriate for limited war, it would be logical to discuss more thoroughly what it takes to make coercion effective. This has hardly been done in the doctrines examined in this book. Because of the high-intensity primacy doctrine, and because war is seen as a replacement of policy, important questions were not addressed properly in the doctrinal debate in the 1990s. These questions relate to how force can support diplomacy, how force can be utilised for limited political purposes without depriving military force of its intended effect and, finally, how to ensure that military doctrines remain relevant within the prevailing political realities. Whereas crisis management, characterised by close political control over military means as defined by NATO, became synonymous with PSO, the focus was on adjusting peacekeeping and peacekeeping principles to a doctrine more in line with NATO’s posture and the new conflicts. The concept of crisis management was nevertheless neglected doctrinally in Canada. In Britain, the doctrine only described the decision-making structure, not the concept itself. In Denmark, it was referred to only in the traditional Article 5 context. NATO’s intervention in Kosovo was the culmination of a decade of debate about humanitarian intervention, robust peacekeeping and crisis management, but doctrines failed to address these questions. The military preferred to fight a short and decisive air war, accepting that in order to achieve the humanitarian objectives a period of war with all its consequences had to be fought. This corresponded neither to the humanitarian concerns and limited intentions of the political leadership within NATO nor the expectations of the wider public. The discrepancy between the expectations raised by the concept of humanitarian intervention, on the one hand, and the brutal realities of war, on the other, caused much of the criticism NATO had to endure during and after the intervention. As the concern over casualties increased during the 1990s, the distinction was reestablished between combatants and non-combatants—a distinction that was ignored during the Cold War, according to Howard, due to the expectation that war would nevertheless be total and nuclear, at least in the West.5 The principle of military necessity, the idea that civilian casualties can be justified in war if what is gained is proportionate with what is being sacrificed, came under pressure. Overwhelming and concentrated force used to achieve surprise, the guiding principles for the use of force in war, has in practice been transformed into a regulated use of force; perhaps more accurately described as ‘just enough’. The principle of minimum use of force should not be judged as pertaining to peacekeeping alone. For British soldiers, minimum use of force has been a fundamental principle. Winning in ‘small wars’ or in internal conflict depends not so much on the amount of firepower applied, nor on killing enemy soldiers, but rather on offering protection and goodwill to civilians and thus depriving the

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guerrillas or rebels of logistics, information and possible recruits by undermining their political support. Soldiers will therefore have to get accustomed to strict regulations on their ability to use their weapons.6 Limiting the use of firepower is thus not only a legal or moral issue; it is indeed good strategy. The measured or regulated use of force is not easier than using overwhelming force: it can indeed be more difficult and more dangerous. The concept of alliance or coalition warfare departs from the idea of war as a national undertaking pursued for issues that are categorised as strictly national interests. Rather, the new conflicts have constituted a threat to European security as a whole, if not to the individual states. Multinationality also provides legitimacy and burden sharing. Multinationality is the norm, and it has been so for a while. NATO’s emphasis on multinationality in force structure at the lowest level in the command chain, coupled with multinational decision making, makes strategic guidance and military command more complicated. However, multinational operations were regarded as the norm in Britain, and very much so in Denmark, while Canada defined war as a national undertaking even though coalition warfare was regarded as the norm politically. If the future is multinational, more emphasis should be placed on developing common doctrines. As it is now, national doctrines supersede NATO doctrines. Whereas national doctrines emphasise the ‘Canadian’ or ‘British’ view on war, more attention should be devoted to achieving a higher degree of doctrinal consensus. This study has analysed policy and doctrines as they have been stated. The issue has not been to analyse the credibility of the humanitarian concerns expressed in statements and policy papers or to look for other explanations. In fact, declaratory policies both in NATO and in Britain and Denmark are quite explicit: there are mixed motives. Contributing to PSO and to multilateral structures and institutions is also a way of securing own interests and preserving influence. However, there are also sincere humanitarian motives, and arguably these have been the primary reasons for intervention. National interests may of course have influenced how the process of intervention proceeded, but NATO has in the past been reactive in its approach, responding to crises. Without these crises NATO would not have resorted to war. The concept of ‘crisis response operations’ underlines defensive intentions, since it is reactive: operations undertaken in response to external events. What undermines the credibility of the stated humanitarian motives is when rhetoric is backed up with limited resources. In the cases of Denmark and Canada in Kosovo, the commitment extended to a handful of fighter aircraft and a battalion of troops. This may undermine the credibility of humanitarian motives and it also indicates that these threats and risks are not regarded as real security problems. A British officer commenting on NATO’s campaign in Kosovo stated that the military doctrines of NATO were out of step with the political reality of the Alliance. This illustrates a dilemma in strategic affairs. Doctrines have to negotiate two competing demands. There is the demand for being politically relevant and adjusting doctrine to the political realities. The political logic is in many cases

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dominated by incrementalism, freedom of action and avoidance of commitments, as well as concerns about costs and casualties. The military logic works the other way round, with a focus on clear objectives, clear commitments, clearly defined end states, overwhelming resources and as few limitations as possible. By insisting on adherence to standard military principles, the military logic is imposed on the political logic rather than the other way round. There is undoubtedly a limit to the degree to which the military can adjust in order to satisfy policy without becoming less effective. On the other hand, there is room to mitigate the existing discrepancy and this question should be given more attention. While the military should focus on using force and fighting wars, it should do so in a relevant political context and against realistic opponents in a relevant scenario. Every age has its kind of war. The 1990s followed a period of 50 years in which defence and war had been thought of in a total and nuclear context. Clausewitz, reflecting upon the Napoleonic Wars, also raised the question whether war would always tend towards the extreme of absolute war, now that it had been experienced.7 The answer to that question is no. Total war is the exception and not the rule. The 1990s was a period in which NATO had to adjust to a new strategic environment dominated by wars fought within states and within societies just outside NATO’s borders, some of which were total in terms of objectives pursued and means employed by the original belligerents. NATO responded reluctantly, but fought two limited wars between 1995 and 1999. These were nothing like the war NATO had spent 40 years planning for and did not correspond to the expectation of what war was like, but they were in fact wars subjugated to the ‘limiting conditions’ and the ‘peculiar preconceptions’ of the post-Cold War era. Notes 1 2 3 4

Mandelbaum, ‘Is Major War Obsolete?’, p. 35. Freedman, The Revolution in Strategic Affairs’, p. 75. Beatrice Heuser, Reading Clausewitz (London: Pimlico, 2000), pp. 56–64. Thomas C.Shelling, Arms and Influence (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1966), p. 16; Lawrence Freedman (ed.), Strategic Coercion: Concepts and Cases (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998). 5 Michael Howard, The Invention of Peace (London: Profile Books, 2000), p. 76. 6 Henning-A.Frantzen, ‘Get Used to it’, Journal of Military Ethics, 2:1 (2003), pp. 78–82. 7 Clausewitz, On War, p. 593.

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Michael Clark and Philip Sabin, (eds), British Defence Choices for the Twenty-First Century (London: Brassey’s for CDS, 1993). Richard Connaughton, ‘Wider Peacekeeping—How Wide of The Mark?’, British Army Review, no. 111, December (1995), pp. 55–64. Sherard Cowper-Coles, ‘From Defence to Security: British Policy in Transition’, Survival, 36:1 (1994), pp. 142–61. Stuart Croft, British Security Policy (London: Harper Collins Academic, 1991). Michael Dockrill, British Defence since 1945 (London: Basil Blackwell, 1988). Colonel Alastair Duncan, ‘Operating in Bosnia’, RUSI Journal, June (1994), pp. 11–18. Colonel Andrew Duncan, ‘The British Army: Approaching the Millenium’, Brassey’s Defence Yearbook 1997 (London: Brassey’s, 1997), pp. 22–36. General Sir Martin Farndale, ‘United Kingdom Land Forces Role and Structure Into the 21st Century’, RUSI Journal, Summer (1991), pp. 7–12. General Sir Michael Farndale, ‘The British Army: Implications of Change’, Brassey’s Defence Yearbook 1992 (London: Brassey’s for RUSI, 1992, pp. 39–55). Joseph Frankel, British Foreign Policy 1945–73 (London: for RUSI by Oxford University Press, 1975). David French, The British Way in Warfare 1688–2000 (London: Unwin Hyman, 1990). Lawrence Freedman, The Politics of British Defence (Basingstoke: Macmillan, 1999). Lawrence Freedman, ‘The Defence Review: International Policy Options’, RUSI Journal, August (1997), pp. 39–41. John Goulden, UK Ambassador to NATO, ‘NATO Approaching Two Summits: The UK Perspective’, RUSI Journal, December (1996), pp. 29–32. John Goulden, UK Ambassador to NATO, ‘From Partnership for Peace to Full Enlargement’, RUSI Journal, February/March 1999, pp. 25–7. General Sir Charles Guthrie, ‘The British Army at the Turn of the Century’, RUSI Journal, June (1996), pp. 5–9. Richard Hatfield (MoD), ‘NATO’s New Strategic Concept’, RUSI Journal, December (1999), pp. 1–6. Beatrice Heuser, Nuclear Strategies and Forces for Europe, 1949–2000 (London: Macmillan, 1997). Beatrice Heuser, Nuclear Mentalities? Strategies and Beliefs in Britain, France and the FRG (Basingstoke, Macmillan, 1998). Alice Hills, Doctrine, Criminality, and Future British Army Operations: A Half Completed Understanding, The Occasional, no. 39 (SCSI, April 2000). Sir Arthur Hockaday, ‘Parliamentary Control of Defence: The Role of Select Committees’, RUSI Journal, Spring (1990), pp. 7–10. Michael Howard, The Continental Commitment (London: Maurice Temple Smith, 1972). Secretary of State for FCA, Douglas Hurd, ‘Foreign Policy and International Security’, RUSI Journal, December (1992), pp. 1–4. Secretary of State for FCA, Douglas Hurd, ‘Speech, the Royal College of Defence Studies’, London, 8 December 1993, Arms Control & Disarmament Quarterly, January (1994), pp. 35–42. Field Marshal, Sir Peter Inge, ‘The Roles and Challenges of the British Armed Forces’, RUSI Journal, February (1996), pp. 1–5. The International Centre for Security Analysis, ‘Coalitions and the Future of UK Security Policy’, Whitehall Paper Series, no. 50 (London: RUSI, 2000).

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Franklyn A.Johnson, Defence by Ministry: The British Ministry of Defence 1944–1974 (London: Gerald Duckworth & Co, 1980). Lieutenant General Sir Garry Johnson, ‘On Winning: An Option for Change Without Decay’, RUSI Journal, Autumn (1991), pp. 10–13. Tim Laurence, Humanitarian Assistance and Peacekeeping: An Uneasy Alliance (London: RUSI, Whitehall Papers, 1999). W.M.Roger Louis and Hedley Bull (eds), The Special Relationship: Anglo-American Relations Since 1945 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1986). Jay Luvaas, British Military Thought 1915–1940 (London: Cassel and Co, 1965). Colin McInnes, The British Army and NATO’s Rapid Reaction Corps (London: Brassey’s for CDS, March 1993). Colin McInnes, ‘The Future of the British Army’, Defense Analysis, 9:2 (1993), pp. 121– 36. Reinhardt Meier-Walser, ‘Britain in Search of a Place “at the heart of Europe”’, Aussenpolitiek, 1 (1994), pp. 10–19. Thomas R.Mockaitis, British Counterinsurgency in the Post-Imperial Era (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1995). Richard Mottram, ‘Options for Change: Process and Prospects’, RUSI Journal, Spring (1991), pp. 22–6. Nicholas J.Newman, Asymmetric Threats to British Military Intervention Operations, RUSI Whitehall Paper Series, no. 49 (London: RUSI, 2000). General A.J.G.Pollard, ‘The Army: Is Less Enough?’, RUSI Journal, Autumn (1991), pp. 19–22. Secretary of State for Defence, Michael Portillo, ‘Bosnia—Implementation of the Peace Agreement’, RUSI Journal, February (1996), pp. 27–30. Secretary of State for Defence, Michael Portillo, ‘Conservative Party Defence Policy’, RUSI Journal, June (1997), pp. 29–32. General Sir David Ramsbotham, ‘Military Realities: Reconstruction, Redeployment, Resettlement’, RUSI Journal, August (1992), pp. 7–11. Brian Holden Reid (ed.), Military Power: Land Warfare in Theory and Practice (London: Frank Cass, 1997). Brian Holden Reid, Studies in Military Thought: Debates with Fuller and Liddell Hart (Lincoln, NE: University of Nebraska Press, 1998). Brian Holden Reid and Major-General J.J.G. Mackenzie (eds), The British Army and the Operational Level of War (London: Tri-Service Press 1989). Secretary of State for Defence, Malcolm Rifkind, ‘Peacekeeping or Peacemaking?’, RUSI Journal, April (1993), pp. 1–6. Secretary of State for Defence, Malcolm Rifkind, ‘Front Line First’, RUSI Journal, December (1994), pp. 1–6. Secretary of State for Defence, George Robertson, ‘The Strategic Defence Review’, RUSI Journal, October (1997), pp. 1–5. Secretary of State for Defence, George Robertson, ‘Some Preliminary Lessons’, RUSI Journal, August (1999), pp. 1–6. Philip A.G.Sabin, ‘British Strategic Priorities in the 1990s’, Adelphi Paper no. 254 (London: Brassey’s for the IISS, Winter 1990). Philip A.G.Sabin, ‘Air Power in Joint Warfare’, in Stuart Peach (ed.), Perspectives on Air Power (London: The Stationary Office, 1998), pp. 239–65. Colonel Bob Stewart, Broken Lives (London: Harper Collins, 1993).

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Hew Strachan, The Politics of the British Army (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1997). Trevor Taylor, ‘A British Perspective’, in Michael Brenner (ed.), Multilateralism and Western Strategy (London: Macmillan, 1995). Rod Thornton, ‘The Role of Peace Support Operations Doctrine in the British Army’, International Peacekeeping, 7:2 (2000), pp. 41–62. D.Cameron Watt, Succeeding John Bull: America in Britain’s Place 1900–1975 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984). Sir John Weston, ‘The Challenges to NATO: A British View’, NATO Review, December (1992), pp. 9–14. Chief of General Staff, General Roger Wheeler, interview in Military Technology, 11 (1998), pp. 29–34. Chief of the General Staff, General Roger Wheeler, ‘The British Army after the SDR: Peacemakers Know that Britain Will Deliver’, RUSI Journal, April/ May (1999), pp. 4–7. Barney White-Spunner, ‘The Thin Blue Line: Britain’s Contribution to United Nations’, Brassey’s Defence Yearbook 1995 (London: Brassey’s for RUSI, 1995). Philip Wilkinson, ‘Sharpening the Weapons of Peace: Peace Support Operations and Complex Emergencies’, International Peacekeeping, 7:1, Spring (2000), pp. 63–79. Paul Williams, ‘Fighting for Freetown: British Military Intervention in Sierra Leone’, Contemporary Security Policy, 22:3 (2001), pp. 140–68.

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Colin S.Gray, Canadian Defence Priorities: A Question of Relevance (Toronto: Clarke Irwin and Co., 1972). David G.Haglund, Dreaming of a New NATO? Canada and the Cooperative Security Alliance, SWP AP 2061 (Ebenhausen: Stiftung Wissenschaft und Politiek, March 1998). David G.Haglund, What NATO for Canada?, Centre for International Relations, Martello Papers no. 23, 2000. Fen Osler Hampson and Dean F.Oliver, ‘Pulpit Diplomacy’, International Journal, Summer (1998), pp. 379–406. Colonel David Harris, ‘Challenges in the Military Futures’, Canadian Defence Quarterly, December (1993), pp. 17–22. Paul Heinbecker, Assistant Deputy Minister, DFAIT, ‘Human Security: The Hard Edge’, Canadian Military Journal, Spring (2000), pp. 11–16. David M.Hewitt, From Ottawa to Sarajevo: Canadian Peacekeepers in the Balkans, (Kingston, ON: Centre for International Relations, 1998). Joel Jockel and Joel Sokolosky, ‘Lloyd Axworthy’s Legacy’, International Journal, Winter (2000/1), pp. 1–18. Peter Langille, Changing the Guard: Canada’s Defence in a World in Transition (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1990). David Last, Theory, Doctrine and Practice of Conflict De-Escalation in Peacekeeping (Lester B.Person Canadian International Peacekeeping Training Centre, 1997). Albert Legault, Canada and Peacekeeping: Three Major Debates (Cornwallis: Canadian Peacekeeping Press, 1999). Roch Legault, ‘The Urban Battlefield and the Army: Changes and Doctrines’, Canadian Military Journal, Autumn (2000), available online at http://www.journal.forces.gc.ca/ legacy/vol 1 /no3_e/history_e/hist 1 _e.html. David Leyton-Brown (ed.), Canadian Annual Review of Politics and Public Affairs 1991 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1998). David Leyton-Brown (ed.), Canadian Annual Review of Politics and Public Affairs 1992 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1998). David Leyton Brown (ed.), Canadian Annual Review of Politics and Public Affairs 1993 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1999). David Leyton Brown (ed.), Canadian Annual Review of Politics and Public Affairs 1994 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2001). David T.Lightburn, ‘Canada and NATO: The Other Transatlantic Partner’, Canadian Defence Quarterly, April (1992), pp. 33–7. Sean M.Maloney, ‘Insights into Canadian Peacekeeping Doctrine’, Military Review, March—April (1996), pp. 11–23. Sean M.Maloney, ‘“Global Mobile”: Flexible Response, Peacekeeping and the Origins of Forces Mobile Command, 1958–1964’, The Army Doctrine and Training Bulletin, 3: 3 (2000), pp. 20–33. Sean M.Maloney, ‘“Global Mobile II”: The Development of Forces Mobile Command, 1965–1972’, The Army Doctrine and Training Bulletin, 4:2 (2001), pp. 7–23. H.Massay (ed.), The Canadian Military: A Profile (Canada: Copp Clarke Publishers, 1972). D.Morton, A Military History of Canada: From Champlain to Kosovo (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1999).

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Nils Ørvik (ed.), Canada and NATO, National Security Studies, 3:82 (Kingston, ON: Queens University Press, 1982). Lester B.Pearson, Memoirs 1948–1957: The International Years, vol. II (London: Victor Gollancz, 1974). Dorothy Schaffer, War and the Military Courts (New York: Exposition Press, 1981). James D.D.Smith, Canada in Croatia: Peacekeeping and UN Reform—The View From the Ground (London: SCSI, 1995). Joel J.Sokolosky, ‘Domestic Disturbances and the Military: The Canadian Experience’, Parameters, Spring (1993), pp. 93–101. Joel J.Sokolosky, Canada Getting it Right this Time: The 1994 Defence White Paper (Carlisle Barracks: SSI, US Army War College, April 1995). Gregory Wirick and Robert Miller (eds), Canada and Missions for Peace (Ottawa: International Development Research Centre, 1998). Robert Wolfe (ed.), Transatlantic Identity? (Kingston, ON: School of Policy Studies, 1997).

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Hærens Operative Kommando, ‘Feltreglement nr. 1’ (Copenhagen, 1994) Hærens Operative Kommando, ‘Peace Support Operations’, HRN 083–002, April 1999; both obtained in the Defence College. Hærens Operative Kommando, Hœrnyt, 2:1994. Hærens Operative Kommando, ACODEN News, 7:2, 14 March 1997. Hærkommandoen, ‘Feltreglement nr. 1’ (B) Kamppladsen (Copenhagen: 1952, approved in May 1943) and Hærkommandoen, ‘Feltreglement nr. 1’ (Copenhagen, 1963); both obtained from the Royal Military Library (Det Kongelige Garnisonsbibliotek), Kastellet, Copenhagen. Henning-A. Frantzen, ‘The Baltic Quest for Security: The Regional Option’, extended essay submitted to King’s College for the degree of MA in War Studies in 1997 (unpublished). Udenriksministeriet, Prinsipper og Perspektiver i Dansk Udenrikspolitikk (Copenhagen, 1993). Udenriksministeriet, Danmarks Internationale Innsats (Copenhagen, 1993). Udenriksministeriet, The Danish Commission on Security and Disarmament 1995, Danish Security Policy (Summary) (Copenhagen, 1995). Udenriksministeriet, ‘Danish Security Policy’ (draft), November 1996 (unpublished); provided by the Danish Ministry of Foreign Affairs.. Udenriksministeriet, Beretning om FN’s 53. Generalforsamling (1998), available online at http://www.um.dk.

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Lieutenant Colonel L.R. Møller and Major H.H Møller, ‘Værnfelles doktrinutvikling i Danmark’, Militœrt Tidsskift, 3 (1997), pp. 269–81. Colonel Lars R.Møller, Operation Bøllebank: Soldater i Kamp (Copenhagen: Høst og Søns Forlag, 2001). Major T.D.Møller, ‘Danske Divisions Føringskonsept’, Militœrt Tidsskift, 1 (1998), pp. 29–33. Colonel E.T.Nielsen, ‘NATO’s udvikling og fremtidige rolle’, Militœrt Tidsskrift, 5 (1994), pp. 278–99. Lieutenant Colonel P.K.Nielsen, Tredsstøttende operationer versus krigsoperationer’, Militœrt Tidsskrift, 3 (1998), pp. 269–78. J.K.B.Pedersen, ‘Det nationale forsvars stilling’, Militœrt Tidsskrift, 1 (1995), pp. 57–64. Nikolaj Petersen, ‘Denmark and NATO 1949–1987’, Forsvarsstudier, 2 (1987) (Oslo: FHFS, 1987). Carsten Rasmussen, ‘FN tjeneste i Bosnien-Herzegovina’, Militœrt Tidsskift, 1 (1995), pp. 11–16. Colonel Eigil Schjønning, ‘Hæren og de fredsstøttende operationer!’, Militœrt Tidsskrift, 1 (1999), pp. 83–7. Captain Kim Schmidt, ‘FN- og NATO tjeneste i Kroatien og Bosnien- en kompagnisjefs erfaringer’, Militœrt Tidsskrift, 1 (1997), pp. 100–4. Lieutenant Colonel P.Skov-Christensen, ‘Tar Europa fredsbevarende operationer alvorligt?’ Militœrt Tidsskrift, 6 (1992), pp. 175–84. Lieutenant Colonel Per Skov-Christensen and Olrogskaptein Jens Claus Hansen, ‘Det danske stabskursus’, Militœrt Tidsskrift, 1 (1995), pp. 64–8. Henning Sørensen, ‘Denmark: From Obligation to Option’, in Charles C.Moskos, John Allen Williams and David R.Segal (eds), The Postmodern Military (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), pp. 127–9. Colonel M.Svejgaard, Major M.A.L.T.Nielsen and Major K.Nødskov, ‘Operativ doktrinutvikling i flyvevåbenet’, Militœrt Tidsskrift, 4 (1998), pp. 357–66. Christian Thune and Nikolaj Petersen, ‘Denmark’, in William J.Taylor Jr. and Paul M. Cole (eds) Nordic Defence: Comparative Decision Making (Lexington, MA: Lexington Books, 1985), pp. 1–36. Ole Wæver, ‘Danmarks Sikkerhedspolitiske Situation år 2000’, Militœrt Tidsskrift, 4 (1991), pp. 96–129.

The United Nations S/RES 757, 30 May 1992. S/RES 758, 8 June l992. S/RES 761,29 June 1992. S/RES 764, 13 July 1992. S/RES/1244, 10 June 1999. All available online at http://www.un.org/Docs/scres/. United Nations official homepage available online at http://www.un.org. United Nation Security Council Resolutions (only Resolutions quoted in this thesis are listed):

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UN document A/47/277-S/24111, 17 June 1992, An Agenda for Peace: Preventive Diplomacy, Peacemaking and Peacekeeping, available online at http://www.un.org/ Docs/SG/agpeace.html. UN Secretary-General, report S/1994/555, May 1994. UN Secretary-General, ‘Supplement to an Agenda for Peace’, S/1995/1, 3 January 1995. UN, The United Nations and Rwanda 1993–1996 (New York: UN Department of Public Information, 1996). UN, The United Nations and Cambodia 1991–1995 (New York: UN Department of Public Information, 1995). UN, The Blue Helmets: A Review of United Nations Peacekeeping, 2nd edn (New York: UN Department of Public Information, 1990). UN, The Blue Helmets: A Review of United Nations Peacekeeping, 3rd edn (New York: UN Department of Public Information, 1996).

The United States CRS Report for Congress, ‘The New NATO Strategy: Negotiating the Future of the Atlantic Alliance’ (Washington, DC: April 1991). CRS Report for Congress, ‘NATO: Article 5 and Collective Defence’ (Washington, DC: July, 1997). Department of the Army, FM 100–5, Fighting Future Wars (Washington, DC: Brassey’s, 1994). Department of the Army, FM 100–23, Peace Operations (Washington, DC: 30 December 1994). Department of State Publication 10161, ‘The Clinton Administration’s Policy on Reforming Multilateral Peace Operations’, May 1993. Lieutenant Colonel Jeff Duncan and Major Charles Hansrote, Doctrine Note: A New Paradigm for Combat Operations, 1 July 1995, available online at http:// www.cgsc.army.mil/cddpapers/paradme .htm. TRADOC, Shape the Battlespace, 26 September 1995, available online at http:// www.cgsc. armymil/cdd/papers/bs .htm. US Marine Corps, Small Wars Manual (Washington, DC: US Government Printing Office, 1940, 1987 reprint).

Other Reports, miscellaneous African Rights, Death, Despair and Defiance (London: African Rights, 1995). The Independent International Commission on Kosovo, Kosovo Report (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000). The International Peace Academy, Peacekeeper’s Handbook (New York: Elsevier Science, 1978). Task Force on Ethical and Legal Issues in Humanitarian Assistance convened by the program on Humanitarian Assistance World Conference on Religion and Peace, The

244 BIBLIOGRAPHY

Mohonk Criteria for Humanitarian Assistance in Complex Emergencies (1998 reprint provided by the Lester B.Pearson Peacekeeping Training Centre).

Media Collection of CD-ROMs for 1995–9, obtained in the Library of the IISS, London. Collection of CD-ROMs with newspaper clippings archive in the library of the DND, Ottawa, Canada, 1994–9. Financial Times 1995–99. Guardian and Observer 1995–9. Independent and Independent on Sunday 1995–9. The Times and Sunday Times 1994–9. Press Catalogue in the Library of the International Institute of Strategic Studies, London, including the files of NATO, Britain (with sub-files), Canada and Denmark as well as NATO (with sub-files), the UN, Balkans and Peacekeeping in the period of 1990– 9. Weekly news clippings file issued by the Norwegian Defence Staff, Oslo, including news clippings on defence-related issues in Denmark, 1991–9.

Surveys IISS, The Military Balance, for the years 1991 until, and including, 2000–1 (London: IISS). IISS, The Strategic Survey, for the years 1991 until, and including, 2000 (London: IISS).

Interviews I have conducted a number of interviews during visits and field trips in Britain, Canada and Denmark, as well as annual visits to the NATO HQ, Brussels. I have also visited NATO’s SFOR and KFOR (1998 and 2000), as well as UN HQ New York (1998, 2001). I have listed the dates and places of the interviews in the footnotes. Since not all of the interviewees can be named, I have chosen not to name any of them in this book.

INDEX

Note: names and titles are indexed under their abbreviated forms, e.g. AFOR (Albania Force)

and Denmark 157, 160, 165, 168, 173, 175; and NATO’s role 160; non-Article 5 roles 62, 63, 75, 186, 190–2 Arusha Peace Accords (1993) 20–1 Athens Report (1993) 78 ATP 35 (B) doctrine 169–70 Bagnall, General Nigel 93–4, 106 Balkan conflict 62–3, 65–70, 75–6, 81, 181; British role in 90–1, 97, 102, 190; Canadian role in 120, 121, 125, 133–4; Danish role in 151, 166–7, 171, see also Bosnia; Kosovo; Serbia BALTAP (Baltic Approaches) 153 BALTBAT (Baltic Peacekeeping Battalion) 161, 174 Baltic region 153, 161 battles 18, 194; and guerrilla warfare 23; tank battles 58, 166, 193–4 Baylis, John 92 Berdal, Mats R. 48 Betts, Richard 43 ‘Bi-MNC Directive for NATO Doctrine for Peace Support Operations’ (SACEUR/SACLANT) 79 Blair, Tony 105, 106 Bosnia 25, 40, 41, 43, 51, 66–7; British role in 90–1, 97, 98, 109; Canadian role in 125, 133–4; Danish role in 151, 166, 171; US view of 17, see also IFOR;

absolute war 46 Advance Order (Denmark) 153–4, 169 Afghanistan 72, 110 AFOR (Albania Force) 151, 164 An Agenda for Peace (UN SecretaryGeneral) 38–9, 132, 160, 203 air campaigns (Balkans) 66, 69, 105–6 Air-Land Battle doctrine 77 AJP (Allied Joint Publication) 77, 78 Albania 151 Albright, Madeleine 71 ALLC (Army Lessons Learned Centre, Canada) 139–10 AMF (Allied Command Europe Mobile Force) 60, 128, 132 Annan, Kofi 167 Ardant du Picq, Charles 32 armies see British Army; BSA; CF; Danish Armed Forces; force structure Aron, Raymond 9, 20 ARRC (Allied Command Europe Rapid Reaction Corps) 74–90, 183; and Britain 94–5, 103, 185; and Canada 128; and Denmark 151, 165, 185 Article 2 (Nato Treaty) 122, 128 Article 5 (NATO Treaty) 59–60, 68, 71, 81, 82, 200; and Britain 94;

245

246

INDEX

SFOR Britain 89–113; and the ARRC 94–5, 103; defence reviews 89, 93–4, 100–5, 184, 185, 188; and doctrine 41, 42, 43–4, 106–11, 112– 13, 195–7; Empire and imperial operations 24, 26, 91, 92; ‘gradual’ change 93–4; and Kosovo 89, 91, 105–6, 190; and NATO 94–5, 95–6, 98, 106, 109– 10, 111–12; objectives and priorities 95–7, 190; peacekeeping policy 95–6, 97–100, 100–2; political and military culture 91–3; Strategic Defence Review 100–5, 111, 184, 185, 188; structure and PSO 89–91, 192–3, see also COIN British Army 90, 92, 93–4; deployability 184, 189; new roles of 95–7, 99–100; and SDR (1998) 101, 102, 103–4; training and recruitment 98, 99, 111, 112,113 BSA (Bosnian Serb army) 49, 66 Callahan, David 16 Callwell, Charles E. 17, 18, 24 Canada 120–44; combat capable forces 129–31, 143; defence review 120, 184, 186, 187, 188, 189–90; doctrine 137–43, 195–6, 197; military structure and PSO 120–1, 192; and NATO 121, 122, 123, 124–5, 127– 9, 133; peacekeeping policy 121, 122–3, 126, 130, 131–8; political and military culture 121–4; and the US 122, 127, 143, 190; White Papers 124–7, 131, 132–3, 135; withdrawal from NATO commitments 124–5, 128, 143, 185, 187

casualties 22, 58, 166, 204 CDS (Chief of the Defence Staff, Canada) 124–5, 134 ‘Certain Shield’ 58 CF (Canadian Forces) 120–1, 125, 126, 143; deployability 184–5, 189; as peacekeeping force 124, 131–2, 133– 4; training issues 141–3, 144 CFE (Conventional Forces Europe) Treaty 155 CFP 165: Conduct of Land Operations (Canada) 137 Chapter IV (UN Charter) 36, 39, 167, 203 Chapter VII (UN Charter) 38–9, 50–1, 203 Chopra, Jarat 39 CIMIC (civil—military cooperation) 26–7, 77, 195; Canadian commitment to 136, 140; and peacekeeping 37–8, 40 civilians: casualties 204; civil control 24, 140; and internal war 27–8; and peacekeeping 38, 40, 45–6; and PSO 194, see also political culture CJTF (combined joint task forces) 73, 75, 161, 162 Clark, General Wesley 68, 69–70 Clausewitz, Carl von 1, 9, 18, 26, 203, 206 COIN (counterinsurgency) 19, 27, 40, 92; doctrine of 28, 196–7,201 Cold War: British strategies 92; and Canadian defence policy 122, 124; crisis management in 61–2; Danish strategies 154–5, 166; and irregular war 27; responses to 1–2, 181,184 collective security 34, 36 Collenette, David 135 combat capable forces 129–31, 143 command structure: decentralisation of 28–9, 141; of NATO 72–6

INDEX 247

‘complex emergencies’ 26, 40 concepts 5–7; of combat capability 129–30; of defence 10–11, 12, 71, 82, 163, 182; of internal war 16–20, 190–1; of proper war 110–11; safe haven concept 40; of war 8–10, 12, 45–6, 129–30, 172–3, 201–3, see also Strategic Concept (NATO) conscription 151, 153, 157–8, 189 consent 41, 42, 44, 48–9, 52 control: civil 24, 140; decentralisation of 28–9 counterinsurgency see COIN crisis management 61–2, 70–1, 100, 107– 8, 182, 191; and Danish defence policies 154–5, 158–9, 163, 174; in doctrine 197 CRO (crisis response operations) 70–1, 182, 205 Croatia 151, 166, 171 CSCE (Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe) 65, 158 Cyprus 59, 90, 92, 165, 166 Dandeker, Christopher and Gow, James 42 Danish Armed Forces 150–1, 153–4, 155– 8, 168, 189; DIB 151, 155–7, 174, 186, 189; modernisation of 160; Multinational Corps Northeast 161; peacekeeping duties 165–6, 185–6; training 153–4, 157, 165, 167, 171, 173 DCI (Defence Capabilities Initiative) 73, 76, 182, 183 de Chastelain, General A.J.G.D. 134 De Wijk, Rob 3 decentralisation 28–9, 141 defence: concepts of 10–11, 12, 71, 82, 163, 182; and deterrence 62, 80; doctrines of 77; international 155–7, 158–62; and intervention 11, 76;

object of 191–2; and peacekeeping 64; as political problem 74–5; and security 71,92, 158, 159, 168–9, 190 Defence Agreements (Denmark) 150, 155– 8, 163, 165, 184 defence laws, Danish 158–9 ‘defence of the mandate’ 36 defence policies: British 95–7, 98–9, 100–3, 185, 186, 190; Canadian 122–7, 143, 185; Danish 152–3, 158–63, 185–6, 187, 188–9 Defence Reviews 184; British 89, 93–4, 100–5, 184, 185, 188; Canadian 120, 184, 186, 187, 188, 189–90; Danish 168 Defence White Papers: Canada 124–7, 131, 132–3, 135; UK 95, 100 ‘Deliberate Force’ 66 Denmark 150–75; and the Cold War 154–5, 166; Defence Agreements 150, 155–8, 163, 165, 184; Defence Commissions 154, 160, 162– 3; defence laws 158–9; defence policy 152–3, 158–63, 185–6, 187, 188–9; doctrine 169–73, 175, 195–6, 197; and Kosovo 150, 151, 163–5; military structure and PSO 150–1; peacekeeping policy 165–9, 170–1; political and military culture 152–4, 169, 172 deployability 184–5, 189 DFAIT (Department of Foreign Affairs and International Trade, Canada) 125, 135, 136 DIB (Danish International Brigade) 151, 155–7, 174, 186, 189 diplomacy 47–8, 80, 110–11, 139–40, 173, 203–4

248

INDEX

Directorate of Army Doctrine (Canada) 137 DND (Department of National Defence, Canada) 123, 126, 130, 136 Dobbie, Charles 41, 42, 45 doctrines 4, 195–8; British 106–11, 112–13; Canadian 137–43; Danish 169–73, 175; of internal war 30; operational doctrine 108–9; peacekeeping 4–5, 37–8, 137–8; and political culture 205–6; PSO 37–8, 43–4, 77–81, 109–10, 196; wider peacekeeping 41, 42, 109, see also war (doctrines of) DPC (Defence Planning Committee) 62 EAPC (European—Atlantic Partnership Council) 2, 128 ‘early in, early out’ strategy 136 Eckstein, Harry 17 enforcement see force; PE ethnic wars 16–17, 20–4 EU (European Union) 150, 188 Europe: British role in 103; Canadian role in 125, 128–9, 143–4; Danish role in 160–1, 168; war and security in 92, 187, 188; wars in 92; WEU 64, 150 Faurby, Ib 152 FCO (Foreign and Commonwealth Office) 90, 95, 101 FIBUA (fighting in built-up areas) 141 Field Regulations no. 1 (Denmark) 169– 70, 171–2 Fisher, David 11 FM 100–23, Peace Operations 42, 46–7 force structure (NATO) 64, 72–6, 187, see also British Army; BSA; CF;

Danish Armed Forces force, use of: in British doctrine 107–8; in Danish doctrine 171, 172, 173; and diplomacy 47–8, 80, 110–11, 139– 40, 173, 203–4; in internal war 24, 27–8; and PE 44, 48; in peacekeeping 36, 38, 39, 42, 52 foreign policies: Britain 100–3; Canada 135–6; Denmark 150 foreign-policy-led defence 100–3 forward defence 77 France 43, 63 Frankel, Joseph 3 Freedman, Lawrence 10, 17, 24 Fuller, J.F.C. 9, 18–19 Galvin, John R. 17 genocide 21; casualties of 22 Germany 125, 159, 161, 188 Gow, James 11,21,71 Granatstein, J.L. 124 Gray, Colin S. 20, 127 guerrilla warfare 18, 19, 23, 24–5 Gulf War 42, 46, 47, 59, 90; and British SDR 104; influence on doctrine 195 Gustav Adolphus, King 34 Gwynn, Charles W. 24 Hækkerup, Hans (Minister of Defence, Denmark) 155, 163, 164, 165, 168, 185 Hammarskjöld, Dag 36, 39 Harmel report 153 Havel, Vaclav 68 hearts and minds 24, 27–8, 38 Heuser, Beatrice 73 high-intensity war 110, 111, 202 Hillen, John 5 Hoffman, Stanley 11 Holbrooke, Richard 66 Holsti, Kalevi J. 8 Howard, Michael 4, 10, 17

INDEX 249

human security agenda 135–6, 144, 192 humanitarian crises 26–7 humanitarian intervention: and concept of war 68, 191, 204; Danish in Kosovo 163–5; and defence 11, 76, 192; and peacekeeping 40, 137–8, 162, see also intervention strategies Hurd, Douglas 95, 97 IFOR (Implementation Force, Bosnia) 45, 48–9, 50, 66, 67, 183–4; British commitment to 91, 98, 107; Canadian commitment to 133, 136; Danish commitment to 151, 167 Ignatieff, Michael 21, 27 impartiality 42, 43, 44, 48, 52; Danish view of 168 imperial operations 24, 26, 91, 92 IMS (International Military Staff, NATO) 67,75 Independent (British newspaper) 93 intensity, and peacekeeping 51, see also high-intensity war; low-intensity wars internal war 16–20, 29–30, 190–1; ethnic 20–4; intervention strategies 24–9; and peacekeeping 37, 51 international defence 189–90; Danish role 155–7, 158–62, 163, 165, 167–8, 174–5, see also multinational operations interstate wars 23 intervention strategies: and defence 76; and internal war 24–9, see also humanitarian intervention intra-state conflicts 24–9, see also internal war IRF (immediate reaction forces) 155 irregular war 25–9, 201, 203, see also internal war Jakobsen, Peter Viggo 157, 164, 172 James, Alan 36, 46 Joes, Anthony James 28 Joint Doctrine and Concepts Centre 107

Joint Rapid Reaction Forces see ARRC; RRF Jomini, Antoine Henri de 18 JOPP (Joint Operational Planning Process) 139–40 JWP (Joint Warfare Publication, UK), 3–01 Peace Support Operations 109 Kaldor, Mary 16 Kant, Immanuel 34 Keegan, John 20 Kent, Randolph 26 KFOR (Kosovo Force) 45, 48–9, 50, 51, 68, 69; British contribution to 89; Canadian contribution to 121, 133; Danish contribution to 164 Kitson, Frank 17, 26 Korean War 46, 47 Kosovo 45, 48–9, 50, 58, 67, 75–6; British role in 89, 91, 105–6; Canadian role in 136; Danish role in 150, 151, 163–5; and NATO strategy 183, 184, 204, see also KFOR Land Operations 2020 study (NATO) 76, 110, 142 LANDJUT (German—Danish Land Corps) 161 Laqueur, Walter 16 League of Nations 34–5 legitimacy: of strategic peacekeeping 42–3; of war 10, 19 Lester B.Pearson International Peacekeeping Training Centre 122, 135 LIC (low-intensity conflict) 19 Lider, Julian 19 low-intensity wars 17, 19, 29, 202 Luttwak, Edward N. 27 Maastricht Treaty 150 McInnes, Colin 94 Mackenzie, General Lewis 130 Mackinlay, John 4, 17, 26, 39 Madrid Summit (1997) 70

250

INDEX

mandates (UN) 36, 67, 164 Mandelbaum, Michael 8, 184, 201 manoeuvre warfare 77, 93, 106, 108–9, 138, 141; Danish doctrine 169–70, 173; doctrines 195,202–3 Mao Tse-tung 23 MC (Military Committee, NATO): document MC 14/3 59, 61, 64; document MC 327 78–9, 172 MFA (Minister of Foreign Affairs, Denmark) 160, 163, 164, 168 MFO (Middle East Force and Observers, Sinai) 90 Middle East 71 middle ground debate 39–40 military culture: and political culture 91–3, 121–4, 152– 4 169, 172, 188–9; values 135 ‘Military Planning Document for Peace Support Operations’ (MC 327) 78–9 minimum force 48, 204 Mockaitis, Thomas R. 45 MoD (Ministry of Defence) 89, 94, 159, 160 Montenegro 66 moral interests 105, 112–13, 192 MSC (Military Staff Committee, UN) 35 multilateralism 122, 123, 135, 139 Multinational Corps Northeast 161–2 multinational operations 140, 161–2, 168, see also international defence multinationality 73, 74, 155, 187–8, 205 NAC (North Atlantic Council) 59, 65, 67 NACC (North Atlantic Cooperation Council) 61,78, 167 Namibia 166 national interests 10–11, 105–6, 126–7, 159–62, 174, 190; and defence 10–11, 105–6, 126–7, 159– 62, 174; security 194–5 nations see names of individual countries; states

‘NATO Doctrine for Peace Support Operations’ (SHAPE) 79 NATO Land Operations 2020 study 76, 110, 142 NATO (North Atlantic Treaty Organisation) 58–82; ATP 35 (B) doctrine 169–70; British role in 94–5, 95–6, 98, 106, 109–10, 111–12; Canadian role in 121, 122, 123, 124–5, 127–9, 133; command and force structure 72–6; Danish role in 150, 153, 155–6, 159– 60, 169–70; peacekeeping role 34; PSO doctrine 76–81; role in PSO 63, 69–70, 74, 81–2, 160, 181–4; Strategic Concept 1991 59–70, 181, 182–3; Strategic Concept 1999 70–2, 81, 104–5, 129, 182, 188; transformation of 2, 161–2, 184, 199, 200, see also Article 2; Article 5 Naumann, General Klaus 69 naval power 66, 151 NBC weapons 72, 91 new wars 1, 16, 193–4, 199 NGO (non-governmental organisation), and civil war 26, 27 Nicholas, Tsar 25 NORAD (North America Air Defence) 122, 127 Nordic forces 151, 165, 166, 167 Northern Ireland 92, 197 nuclear, biological and chemical (NBC) weapons 72, 91 nuclear strategies 91, 129 ONUC (United Nations Operation in Congo) 37 OOTW (operations other than war) 17, 26, 81, 191, 196; British doctrines 106, 111;

INDEX 251

Canadian doctrines 138, 140; Danish doctrines 172–3 ‘Operation Sharp Monitor’ 66 ‘Operation Storm’ 66, 166 operational doctrine 108–9 operations see CIMIC; force, use of; OOTW; out-of-area operations; PSO OPPLAN 40–104 66 Options for Change review 93–4, 96 OSCE (Organisation for Security and Cooperation in Europe) 65, 155 out-of-area operations 59, 60, 64, 66, 71, 182; British 93, 96, 103 overwhelming force 45–6 Paret, Peter and Shy, John W. 24 PE (peace enforcement): defined 47, 196; doctrines of 43–4, 80, 109–10, 138–9, 172; and peacekeeping 34–5, 39, 41, 42, 109; as war 37–9, 44–51, 192–5 peace making 80, 156 peace support operations see PSO peacekeeping see PK Petersen, Nikolaj 150 PfP (Partnership for Peace) 2, 61, 75, 78, 128, 161, 167 PJHQ (Permanent Joint Headquarters, UK) 104, 105 PK (peacekeeping): British policies 95–6, 97–100, 100–2; Canadian policies 121, 122–3, 126, 130, 131–8; changing nature of 52, 65–70; contrasted with war 46–7; Danish policies 165–9, 170–1; and defence 64; doctrines of 4–5, 37–8, 137–8; and PE 34–5, 39, 41, 42, 109; and PSO 41–3, 78, 98, 106, 109, 200; strategic 42–3; training for 167,

see also force, use of; PE; PSO policy 3–5, 184–90, 203, see also defence policies; foreign policies; peacekeeping policies; states political culture: and defence 74–5; diplomacy and war 47–8, 80, 110–11, 139–40, 173, 203–4; and doctrine 205–6; and ethnic wars 20–1, 21–2; and intervention 25–6; and military culture 91–3, 121–4, 152– 4, 169, 172, 188–9; and ‘modern war’ 68, 193–4; and NATO 61, 81, 190–2; and PSO 78, 106, 194, see also civilians Portillo, Michael 96, 97 ‘principles of war’ 9 ‘proper soldiering’ 4 proper war 110–11 PSO (peace support operations): British contributions 43–4, 109–10; and concept of defence 11; Danish role in 151, 162, 163, 168, 170– 2, 174; doctrines of 37–8, 43–4, 77–81, 109– 10, 196; French contributions 43–4; historical context of 34–5; middle ground debate 39–40; NATO’s role in 63, 69–70, 74, 81–2, 160, 181–4; and object of defence 191–2; peace or war 37, 44–51, 192–5; and peacekeeping 41–3, 78, 98, 106, 109, 200; traditional 35–6, 41–3; training for 141–2, 167, 173, 193, 195, 197 PSO Training Centre (Canada) 135, 141 Quester, George H. 14

252

INDEX

rapid reaction forces 167, see also ARRC; RRF recruitment: British Army 98, 99, 111, 112; Danish Armed Forces 157–8 reserve forces 104, 134 Rifkind, Malcolm 96 Roberts, Adam 5, 10, 11, 34, 35, 68 Robertson, George 76, 101 robust peacekeeping 50, 52, 183, 196 ROE (rules of engagement) 28, 140 Rose, General Sir Michael 43, 109 RRF (rapid reaction force, NATO) 64, 97, 103–4 Ruggie, John Gerard 5 Russia (former Soviet Union) 96, 181; as Soviet Union 60, 64–5 Rwanda 20–1, 23 SACEUR (Supreme Allied Commander Europe) 59, 79 SACLANT (Supreme Allied Commander Atlantic) 79 safe haven concept 40 Sarajevo (Bosnia) 40, 66 SDR (Strategic Defence Review, UK) 100– 5, 111, 184, 185, 188 ‘search and destroy’ 24–5, 29 second generation peacekeeping 39–40 security: collective security 34, 36; and defence 71, 92, 158, 159, 168–9, 190; direct and indirect threats 162; national 194–5; policies 152, 160–1, see also threat assessments September 11 terrorist attack 72, 183, 191 Serbia 21, 66 SFOR (Stabilisation Force, Bosnia) 45, 48– 9, 50, 66, 91; British commitment to 91, 98; Canadian commitment to 133, 136; Danish commitment to 151, 164, 167

SHAPE (Supreme Headquarters Allied Powers Europe), ‘NATO Doctrine for Peace Support Operations’ 79 SHIRBRIG (Standing High Readiness Brigade, UN) 132, 135, 167 small wars 17, 18–19, 24; defined 25; and peacekeeping 38, 47, see also internal war Small Wars Manual (USMC) 25, 26, 29, 38,47 Sokolosky, Joel J. 144 Somalia 40, 45–6, 49, 50–1; Canadian involvement in 134, 135 sovereignty 122, 127 Soviet Union (later Russia) 60, 64–5; as Russia 96, 181 ‘special relationship’ (Britain and US) 91– 2 STANAVFORMED (Standing Naval Forces Mediterranean) 66 states: and concepts of war 9–10, 201; and internal war 17–18, 20–1, 23, 51; and NATO command structure 72–3; and peacekeeping 169, see also names of individual countries Strategic Concept (NATO): 1991–99 59–70, 181, 182–3; 1999 70–2, 81, 104–5, 129, 182, 188 strategic peacekeeping 42–3 strategy 5–7, 9, see also concepts; doctrines; intervention strategies; threat assessment TA (Territorial Army, UK) 104 tank: battles 58, 166, 193–4; warfare 201–2 technology 201–2 terrorism, war on 191; and September 11 attack 72, 183 Tharoor, Shashi 34 Thatcher, Margaret 59

INDEX 253

Thompson, Robert 27 threat assessments 9, 126, 154, 159–60, 174, 186–7, see also security Times (British newspaper) 104 ‘Total Force’ initiative 131 traditional war 47–8, 77, 138, 172, 193–4; and peacekeeping 35–6, 41–3 training: British Army 98, 99, 111, 113; Canadian Forces 135, 141–3; Danish forces 153–4, 157, 165, 167, 171, 173; PSO-related 141–2, 167, 173, 193, 195, 197 transformation process 73, 202 UN (United Nations): and Britain 98; and Canada 120, 121, 128, 132, 133–4; and Denmark 164, 165, 167; mandates 36, 67, 164; and peacekeeping 34, 35–6, 37, 38–9, 165–6 UN (United Nations) Charter 45, 65, 78, 79–80; Chapter IV 36, 39, 167, 203; Chapter VII 38–9, 50–1, 203 UNEF I (United Nations Emergency Force I) 36, 165 UNEF II (United Nations Emergency Force II) 36 United States see US UNPROFOR (United Nations Protection Force) 43, 49, 67, 90, 131, 167 US (United States of America): British ‘special relationship’ with 91– 2; and Canada 122, 127, 143, 190; doctrine for Peace Operations (FM 100– 23) 42, 46–7; and LIC 19; and NATO 2, 69, 71, 73–4; and peacekeeping 35, 42 USMC (United States Marine Corps), Small Wars Manual 25, 26, 29, 38, 47

values: military 135; moral interests 105, 112–13, 192 van Creveld, Martin 19, 20, 29 Wæver, Ole 168 war: concepts of 8–10, 12, 45–6, 129–30, 172–3, 201–3; activism 152; in Europe 92; NATO non-involvement in 68–70; and PE 45–51, 80; as peace enforcement 37–9, 44–51, 192–5; politicisation of 190–2, 205–6, see also internal war; proper war war (doctrines of) 193–4, 195–6; British 106–7; Canadian 139–40; Danish 163, 169–70, 171, 172–3; NATO 77; warfighting first 170, 171, 173, 192–3, 197, 198 warfighting first doctrine 170, 171, 173, 192–3, 197, 198 Washington Treaty (NATO Treaty) see Article 2; Article 5 weapons 72, 91 WEU (Western European Union) 64, 150 Wheeler, General Roger 89, 94 Wheeler, Nicholas J. 11 ‘Wider Peacekeeping’ 41–3, 98, 106, 109 Wörner, Manfred 60 WTO (Warsaw Treaty Organisation) 58, 60, 154 Yost, David S. 3 Yugoslavia (former) 21, see also Balkan conflict; Bosnia; Kosovo; Serbia; UNPROFOR