9 July 2012
The first jet-powered fighters and bombers became operational before the end of the Second World War. Under the pressure of war, the Germans developed the ME-262 fighter jet and the Arado Ar 234 bomber, while the British developed the Gloster Meteor fighter. The Germans adopted a more elegant and efficient engine design (an axial flow turbojet, in contrast to a centrifugal compressor), but the design required components that were at the very limits of the materials and manufacturing technology of the time. Some of these early jet engines had a service life of only 25-50 hours. The early British jet engines with a centrifugal compressor had a longer service life as the engine components were not subject to operating temperatures as high as that of axial flow engines.
The technology to design and produce cutting-edge fighter jet engines continues to this day to limit the ambitions of air forces and the industrial concerns that produce their jets. In a special Aerospace supplement to today’s Financial Times, a detailed article by Kathrin Hille, China: Doing it all yourself has its drawbacks, discusses China’s military aviation ambitions, which include not only the now well-known J-20 stealth fighter in development, but also a lighter weight stealth fighter, the J-60. Experts cited in the article emphasize that at least ten years of trials and testing were required for the F-22 to be put in the service, and still today the F-22 has problems. The less experienced Chinese air force will experience at least comparable development horizons for its fifth generation fighter.
Despite China’s obvious military aviation ambitions, which now must include carrier aviation as well, and despite all the accounts in the popular press of Chinese engineering prowess (presumably as revealed by new buildings and high speed trains), the Chinese cannot yet build the engines that power their most advanced fighter aircraft. According to the FT article cited above, the Chinese rely on Russian and Ukrainian sources for their engines. The Chinese J-10 and J-11 use the Russian-designed Salyut AL-31 FN engine. According to AIN Online, in Ukraine Wins Engine Contract for Chinese L-15 Jet Trainer Production, “China has ordered 250 AI-222-25F turbofans from the Ukraine to power production versions of the Hongdu L-15 advanced jet trainer.”
When one thinks of the public perception of the relative industrial plant of China and the Ukraine, one would not think that China needs to go to the Ukraine to purchase its most advanced jet engines, but this is the case in fact. The whole of China’s industrial plant is not yet capable of producing the materials and manufacturing technology necessary to the production of the kind of engine needed for the fifth generation stealth fighter (or even its training aircraft), and without the engine the jet is an empty shell.
In the long term I don’t think that there is any question that China will be able to tool its industrial plant up to the quality necessary to produce the engines that its jets require, but the fact that it is not yet at that level points both to the achievement of Soviet bloc manufacturing centers during the Cold War, as well as the extent to which China was more or less completely left out of the Cold War competition that drove military technological advances in the second half of the twentieth century. Russian-based industrial concerns are continuing to refine and improve the capacities they acquired during the Cold War, even if they lack the funds and the ambition to participate on the same level as China in global military arms procurement.
Of course, the Russians are developing the Sukhoi PAK-FA in cooperation with India, and this is certainly a global player in the fifth generation fighter competition, but I think that there is an accurate sense that Russia simply does not possess a sufficiently robust economy to follow up on its technological skills. It can produce the PAK-FA, but its ability to afford several squadrons seems questionable at best, whereas there isn’t much question that China can afford several fifth generation squadrons, but it doesn’t quite yet have the expertise to produce them on an exclusively domestic basis. This gives the Russians a certain power over China in the short term, even if the Russians choose not to use this lever. In fact, the Russians might well like the idea of a fifth generation fighter arms race between the US and China, because this occupies the US and leaves less strategic attention left over to focus on Russia’s near abroad. In the short term, again, the Russians may see it in their interest to facilitate Chinese military aviation ambitions, though it is unlikely that the Russians will see this as a long term strategic interest.
The Russians and the Chinese share a fairly long border, and even during the Cold War when the East was supposedly monolithically Red, they went to war over that border (cf. Sino-Soviet border conflict). This happened during my lifetime, and I am sure that it has not been forgotten either in China or Russia. That being said, former rivals sometimes become the best of allies, as was the case with NATO. While I do not think that this is at all likely, it is possible that the SCO could come to play a role in uniting former rivals and enemies in the face of the perception of a greater threat (presumptive US dominance over East Asian affairs).
Again, I do not think that this is at all likely, but it would certainly be strategically interesting if the SCO replaced NATO as the central strategic entity in the coming century. Since NATO no longer has a mission after the end of the Cold War, and the Western powers are essentially casting about either for a replacement role for NATO or for some alternative institution to give strategic focus and direction to Western interests, there is a kind of strategic void in the world today (and consequent strategic drift). In the West, we assume that this void will eventually be filled with a Western institution, but this is not necessarily the case. The SCO is an non-Western institution that could, in theory, fill this void.
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10 January 2012
Recently I have become fascinated by the development of early bombers during the First World War. Driven by the exigencies of the world’s first large-scale industrialized war (the Russo-Japanese War was an industrialized war, but not on the scale of the First World War), aircraft developed rapidly. I have focused on the same rapidity of technological development previously emphasizing the modernity of weapons systems during the Second World War. In The Dialectic of Stalemate I wrote:
“When the Second World War ended, there were operable jet fighters, ballistic missiles, electronic computers, and atomic weapons. None of these existed when the war began.”
True enough, but the essential ideas behind these weapons systems were already in play. An idea can be implemented in any number of ways (admittedly some more efficacious than others), and exactly how an idea is implemented is a matter of technology and engineering — in other words, implementation is an accident of history. As soon as the idea has its initial implementation, we are clever enough to usually see the implications of that idea rather quickly, and thus technology is driven to keep up with the intrinsic potentiality of the idea.
Once the proof of concept of heavier-than-air flight was realized, the rest fell into place like pieces of a puzzle. Aircraft would be armed; they would seek to destroy other aircraft, and prevent themselves from being destroyed; and they would seek to destroy targets on the ground. Hence the idea of aircraft in warfare rapidly moves to fighters and bombers. The pictures above are of the Zeppelin-Staaken r.vi — not the first enclosed bomber, but among the first (the Russians, I believe, made the first enclosed bomber, the Sikorsky Ilya Muromets).
The Zeppelin-Staaken r.vi was an enormous craft with a wingspan almost equal to that of a B-29 and a crew of many men. In fact, these early German bombers were called Riesenflugzeug (or R-planes) — gigantic aircraft. An early testimonial from a Zeppelin-Staaken r.vi crew member vividly conveys the sense of flying the R-planes:
“Inside the fuselage the pale glow of dim lights outlined the chart table, the wireless equipment, and the instrument panel. Under us, the black abyss.”
Trenches: Battleground WWI, episode 5, “Fight On, Fly On”
The technology and engineering of flight during the First World War was not sufficiently advanced to make a decisive strategic difference, but they had the idea of what was possible, and they attempted to put it into practice. The idea of bombers, coordinated by radio, executing a strategic precision airstrike was already present during the First World War.
During the Second World War, the technology had advanced to the point that strategic bombing was decisive, and, in fact, it was at one point the only possible war that the UK could wage against Germany. The evolutionary development continues to the present day. Contemporary precision munitions are finally beginning to converge on true precision air strikes that were first imagined (and attempted) during the First World War.
The point here is that, once the idea is in place, the rest is mere technology and engineering — in other words, implementation. The corollary of the essential idea coupled with with contingent implementation is the fact that the wars of industrial-technological civilization, there are no secrets.
William Langewiesche in his book Atomic Bazaar: The Rise of the Nuclear Poor emphasized that the early atomic scientists knew that there were no “secrets” per se, because the atomic bomb was the result of science, and anyone who would engage in science, technology, and engineering on a sufficiently large scale can build a nuclear weapon.
This thesis should be generalized and extrapolated beyond the science of nuclear weapons. Precision munitions, aviation, targeting, and all the familiar line items of a current military budget are refined and perfected by science and technology. For all practical purposes, all war has become science, and science is no secret. Any sufficiently diligent and well-funded people can produce a body of scientific knowledge that could be put into practice building weapons systems.
One might suppose, from the regimes of state security that have become so prevalent, that secrecy is of the essence of technological warfare. While this impression is encouraged, it is false. Secrecy is no more central to competition in technological warfare than it is central to industrial competition. That is to say, secrecy has a role to play, but the role that secrecy plays is not quite the role that official secrecy claims might lead one to believe.
Wittgenstein in his later work — no less pregnantly aphoristic than the Tractatus — said that nothing is hidden. And so it is in the age of industrial-technological civilization: Nothing is hidden. Everything is, in principle, out in the open and available for public inspection. This is the very essence of science, for science progresses through the repeatability of its results. That is to say, science is essentially an iterative enterprise.
Wittgenstein also said in his later period that philosophy leaves the world as it is. That is to say, philosophy is is no sense revolutionary. And so too with the philosophy of war, which in its practical application is strategic doctrine: strategic doctrine leaves the world as it is.
The perennial verities of war remain. These are largely untouched by technology, because all parties to modern, scientific war have essentially the same technology, so that they fight on the same level. Military powers contending for victory seek technological advantages when and where they can get them, but these advantages are always marginal and temporary. Soon the adversary has the same science, and soon after that the same technology.
The true struggle is the struggle of ideas — the struggle of mind against mind, contending to formulate the decisive idea first. As I said above, once the idea is in place, everything else follows from the idea. But it is the idea that is the necessary condition of all that follows.
War, then, is simply the war of ideas.
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7 January 2012
In the discussion that resulted from my post Air Superiority in South Asia, one comment posted brought my attention to rumors that Pakistani F-16s had humbled Eurofighter Typhoons at the Anatolian Eagle Exercises. After receiving the comment I did some reading about this, and in my response to the comment tried to sum up what I had discovered. At that time, I regarded the issues raised by the comment and what has been written about the episode as an open question, and to a certain degree matters like this will always remain an open question. However, I have learned a few things since I last wrote about this, and what I have learned reveals a pattern. While a single incident can always be an outlier, a pattern reveals reveals something more than this. One expects a pattern to repeat. If a pattern repeats, measures can be taken ameliorate the repetition if desired. On the other hand, if we discern a pattern and fail to take action, we are culpable for the consequences of such repetition if it is unwelcome.
The incident in question was at Exercise Anatolian Eagle 2008. Anatolian Eagle exercises have been taking place for ten years now, several times per year, at Konya, Turkey. The website for the exercises bills them as the “#1 Tactical Training Center of the World.” After the 2008 exercises a PAF (Pakistani Air Force) pilot was quoted as follows:
“NATO pilots are not that proficient in close-in air-to-air combat. They are trained for BVR (Beyond Visual Range) engagements and their tactics are based on BVR engagements. These were close-in air combat exercises and we had the upper hand because close-in air combat is drilled into every PAF pilot and this is something we are very good at.”
Much has been written about this since, and there has been no definite identification of whose Eurofighter Typhoons the Pakistanis engaged. Originally they were reported to be RAF jets, then Italian jets, and then others. And it has been claimed that there were no times when the Pakistanis engaged any of these Eurofighter Typhoons. I am not in a position to settle the various accounts that are to be found on the internet, but other matters can shed some light on the reported incident.
I previously cited The DEW Line blog, which included a comment that sought to place the Pakistani claim in context:
“The PAF and RAF aircraft were conducting DACT – Dissimilar air combat training. PAF were the Blue force. RAF were the Red force. Red force was meant to die and was representing a particular threat for the purposes of the exercise, this threat was not the RAF and the Eurofighter’s full capability or even their tactics.”
And another comment reiterated some of the points of the earlier comment:
“Just to build on Aussie Digger’s comments, a well-placed source has told me the following: ‘None of the RAF Typhoon pilots involved in Ex Anatolian Eagle recalls undertaking Basic Fighter Maneuvers with Turkish air force F-16s flown by Pakistan exchange pilots.’ So if a ‘kill’ is claimed, it took place under exercise conditions where it was supposed to happen, and from distance but within visual range; not dogfighting!”
These seemed like reasonable claims to me, but there is a larger context that I mentioned above, which suggests a pattern. That pattern is a tension between technology and training. Although in historical terms, jet fighters are very young, with only about sixty years of operational experience, the design and operation of fighters has already gone through several cycles. At one point in the cycle, technology is emphasized, and at another point in the cycle real-world experience in training is emphasized.
The USAF has long emphasized technological solutions to combat problems, and this is to be expected because US technology gives the USAF an advantage over other forces. However, this advantage admits of exceptions. USAF desire to push the technological envelope led to the F-4 being fitted with missiles (the Sparrow and the Sidewinder) and no gun at all when air-to-air missile technology was still rather new and not yet robust or entirely dependable, especially when you are depending upon it for your life. These F-4s fought against Soviet MiGs of the North Vietnamese air force and often found themselves at a disadvantage in dogfighting as a result of their lack of guns. Part of the problem were rules of engagement that required visual identification of targets, which defeats the purpose (and advantage) of non-line of sight missile technology.
There is a detailed monograph on this by Steven A. Fino, formerly available on the internet, but now unaccountably unavailable. Fortunately, I downloaded it while it was available (I don’t always remember to do so). I will only quote a few sentences, but the whole document is a revelation:
As MiG activity increased during the remainder of April and May 1966, several American pilots continued to follow the Feather Duster advice and tried to avoid entering a turning engagement with the MiGs. Sometimes, though, they could not; during the course of an engagement, multiple MiGs could often force the F-4 to turn to defend itself, forcing the Phantom crews to discard their approved combat solution. Despite this emerging combat reality, many pilots let their faith in missile technology and published tactics unduly influence their opinions of air-to-air armament. Most continued to categorically dismiss the potential value of a gun on the F-4.
And a page later:
Because the F-4C did not have a gun, nor were there any plans to add a gun to the platform, the Air Force focused its efforts on improving the “poor” performance of the F-4‘s missile armament. The substandard results were difficult to ignore. From April 1965 through April 1966, the primary armament of the F-4, the AIM-7 Sparrow—the weapon that had guided the aircraft‘s design and development—had accounted for only one kill, downing a MiG-17 on 23 April 1966. To address the problem, the Air Force appointed a special team of USAF and F-4/Sparrow specialists to travel to Southeast Asia to personally review the weapon system‘s combat performance and “recommend the required actions necessary to enhance success of future Sparrow/Sidewinder firings.”
“ALL THE MISSILES WORK” TECHNOLOGICAL DISLOCATIONS AND MILITARY INNOVATION: A CASE STUDY IN US AIR FORCE AIR-TO-AIR ARMAMENT, POST-WORLD WAR II THROUGH OPERATION ROLLING THUNDER by Steven A. Fino (p. 85 and following)
Fino isn’t the only one to cover this ground. Fino cites Clashes: Air Combat over North Vietnam 1965-1972 by Marshall L. Michell III. I first learned of this indirectly from Chasing Shadows: A Special Agent’s Lifelong Hunt to Bring a Cold War Assassin to Justice by Fred Burton and John Bruning. This book also cites Marshall L. Michel’s book.
Burton and Bruning also tell the fascinating story of lack of US success against Soviet MiGs, and the skullduggery involved in transporting a captured MiG-21 from Israel to the US for study. The disproportion in kill ratios was so great that there was very real fear that the NATO-Warsaw Pact confrontation in Europe would be lost by NATO because of the apparent impunity with which Soviet MiGs defeated the best technology of the US. While both the USAF and USN did rather poorly against MiGs initially, USN aviation opened their Top Gun school, made changes to pilot training and began to score significantly better kill ratios against Soviet MiGs than the USAF. A mission by the USN to “help” the USAF failed miserably due to inter-service rivalry.
At about the same time as the USAF was doing miserably against Soviet MiGs in southeast Asia, the Israelis were doing quite well against Soviet MiGs operated by Egypt, Iraq, and Syria — Soviet client states in the region armed with the latest and greatest MiG-21s. The same MiGs that were disproportionately killing USAF jets in SE Asia were in turn being disproportionately killed by the Israeli Air Force (IAF) mostly operating French Mirage III fighters.
I can’t do justice to this interesting story here — the reader is encouraged to follow my references and get the details for yourself — and we can’t narrow the complexity of these diverse situation to a single cause, but there is a common thread that distinguishes the successful forces in air combat, and this is (not surprisingly) doctrine that emphasizes air-to-air combat and pilot training that puts this doctrine into practice. This may sound too obvious to even to say, but at this crucial time (late 1960s to early 1970s) in the development of the supersonic fighter jet, US pilots were being taught and trained to depend on missiles, and their jets didn’t even have guns to engage enemy fighters in close air-to-air combat.
Disproportionate fighter kills, moreover, are not historically unprecedented. In fact, fighter kill ratios can be so one-sided that it is shocking to see the numbers. If you look at the list of fighting aces from the Second World War, it would be rather understating the obvious to note that it is dominated by Germans. The number one fighting ace of all time, Erich “Bubi” Hartmann, had 352 recorded kills to his credit. The highest scoring US Ace of the war, Richard I. Bong, had 40 kills.
While part of the German dominance of fighter aces in the Second World War may be due to engagements on the Eastern Front, where it could not be expected that what remained of Soviet industrial plant could produce anything close to the technical mastery of German fighter planes, but this cannot be the entire explanation. German fighters were also engaged on the Western Front. it would be an interesting project to break down kills ratios on the Eastern and Western Fronts. Probably someone has already done so.
An interesting footnote to Erich “Bubi” Hartmann’s career, after he spent ten years in Soviet gulags after he refused to fly for newly communist GDR, coincides with the period discussed above. Hartmann opposed the adoption of the US F-104 Starfighter by the Bundesluftwaffe and was forced into retirement in 1970. His warnings about the F-104 technology proved to be well-founded, as it killed 115 German pilots in non-combat missions. Again we see a pattern: US hubris over its technological advantage turns to tragedy with the same sad inevitability that upotian dreams result in dystopian nightmares when put into practice.
With these lessons and examples in mind, I have a completely different perspective on the statements made by the unnamed Pakistani pilots. Western air forces, with the money for new jets and their technological advantage, continue to rely disproportionately on this advantage, while other air forces invest in their human capital, not least because that is their advantage, and that is what they can do given their financial limitations.
Much has been made of the on-board technology of the F-35, which promises to be the most technologically advanced fighter ever built. It is especially proficient in delivering precision weapons to a distant target beyond line of sight. But we have seen this before. The USAF does not have a good record in preparing close in air-to-air combat doctrine and training its pilots to engage in such combat, and US pilots have not distinguished themselves in the disproportionate ways that some peoples have distinguished themselves in close air-to-air dogfighting. One suspects that the familiar pattern is being repeated.
It now seems to be entirely creditable to me that the Pakistani pilots, drilled in close air-to-air fighting were entirely capable of humbling western fighter pilots whose training and equipment has diverged from the nitty-gritty of air combat. Of course, none of this would matter if you could engage and destroy your target when it is still over the horizon and you never have occasion to engage in close air-to-air combat. But can this be done so reliably that air-to-air combat can be consigned to history, like chariot races?
The question now becomes precisely parallel to the question I asked when considering the vulnerability of carriers given the developments in carrier technology and doctrine since the great carrier engagements of the Pacific Theater during the Second World War. In that case I answered that developments in carrier technology have been evolutionary rather than revolutionary, so that while the accidents (and I use this term in the sense of Aristotelian metaphysics) of combat engagement between carrier strike groups will change over time, the essence of such conflict nevertheless has remained invariant over time. Since carriers were vulnerable then, if the essence of the combat situation is invariant over time, carriers are vulnerable today. Q.E.D.
I make the same judgment here: the changes in fighter technology from the introduction of fighter aircraft in the First World War to their current iteration today has been a gradual and evolutionary development without revolutionary breaks in technology, despite the naming of fighters in “generations” which contributes to an image of revolutionary technological change with each new generation of fighter aircraft. Because of the evolutionary development of fighter technology, tactics, and doctrine, accidental features of air combat (like air speed) will change, but the essential features of air-to-air combat will be retained despite accidental change.
For the record, I do not deny the possibility of a game-changing technology that would result in revolutionary change and an essential change in air combat, and I will go so far as to say that precision weapons systems are close to attaining this status, but they are not there yet. Any air force that relies on technology to the detriment of drilling in close air combat will find itself at a disadvantage despite its technology.
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6 January 2012
Kenneth Clark, in his Civilisation: A Personal View, concludes his multi-hour documentary with a reflection on moral psychology, although he does not call it that. He particularly mentions the rise of humanitarianism. This sort of thing would not go over well today, some forty years later, as it would be seen as rather too credulous, and smacking of progressivism (which, we are given to understand, is a terrible thing). But listening to Clark it is obvious that it is already in his time becoming dangerous to say such things — dangerous, because one is liable to be thought a simpleton. Clark himself calls himself a “stick-in-the-mud.”
I do not disagree with Clark, and I am not so dismissive of progress as has become common today, but this is a point I will not argue here. I simply tell you my prejudices so you know that I agree with Clark on this point. This is significant because, even if we recognize the emergence of a humanitarian consciousness in the nineteenth century, we must recognize at the same time the earlier wisdom of Hamlet, viz. that we often discover that we must be cruel to be kind.
One might consider it a kindness that the First World War was ended by agreement with an armistice, and that this spared lives and property by not necessitating an invasion of Germany itself, but the very fact that the defeat of Germany was not made absolutely manifest on the home front in an age of popular sovereignty meant that the armistice did not settle the war. As Foch said, and was proved right, “it is not peace, but an armistice for twenty years.”
Would it have been a “kindness” to push on an defeat the Germans on German soil, taking the lives of more soldiers and destroying the infrastructure of Germany in the teens? This would possibly have changed subsequent history, and it might not have been necessary to level Germany twenty years later with a strategic bombing campaign. And it would have been primarily soldiers who were put at risk of life and limb. During the First World War, more soldiers died than civilians. During the Second World War, more civilians died than soldiers. This is a portent that says something truly horrific about our time.
Such horrific choices have faced us repeatedly throughout our history, and still face us today. Because these choices are hideous, the way that each of us comes down on one side of the question or the other is often used against us, when the most unflattering construction is placed on our preference. This is disingenuous, because either side can smear the other side with the unsavory and unavoidable corollaries of a forced choice. And history forces us to make such forced choices — or forces us to avoid making a choice and, as we say today, kicking the can further down the road — time and again. We should not conceal this from ourselves.
Here is a semi-contemporary example. I have read interviews with one of the scientists who was involved in the design of the neutron bomb. He had served as a solder in Korea, and he had seen the devastation wrought in Korea by conventional weapons. Many cities were annihilated, not unlike the German cities subject to strategic bombing during the Second World War. This vision of destruction on an apocalyptic scale was an inspiration to this scientist, and was part of his experience that contributed to the design of the neutron bomb. For this man, the neutron bomb was a more humanitarian weapon — not unlike the guillotine, which when first invented by a doctor, was conceived as a humane form of execution.
After it become possible to build a neutron bomb, and some nation-states considered adding it to their arsenals, the very idea of the neutron bomb was held up as something ghastly and ghoulish, as though it had been designed with the intent to killing people while “saving” their property, which latter might be expropriated by others who would simply move in to a depopulated urban area. Anti-neutron bomb activists put the worst possible construction on the intention of the neutron bomb. For them, it was apparently more “humanitarian” to keep war so horrible that it would remain unthinkable. From this point of view, mutually assured destruction is a good thing. And I certainly understand this argument, but at the same time as I understand the argument, I know that, for some people, mutually assured destruction is one of the great moral obscenities of our time, and our civilization should be ashamed of itself for having made such a conception possible, not to mention the very foundation of the international order during the Cold War.
What is more “humanitarian”: the threat of a nuclear genocide of a significant proportion of our species, or the threat of a lesser degree of destruction that might settle a war at a lower cost? I think that if you are honest with yourself, you will acknowledge that each alternative is a moral horror. That does not mean that I regard the argument between the two as indifferent. On the contrary, I believe that rational arguments can be made on both sides of the question. All I am saying here is that the irrational thing is to believe that moral horror is exclusively on one side or the other.
This is certainly not the only paradox of humanitarianism, but it is certainly one of them.
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28 December 2011
Recently there has been a debate at the Foreign Policy website about the possibility of a US-led preventative war against Iran, to prevent the latter from becoming a nuclear weapons power. Matthew Kroenig wrote an article for Foreign Affairs advocating a preventative war; Stephen M. Walt wrote a response against Kroenig in Foreign Policy; Kroenig responded to Walt, and Walt wrote another rejoinder. You can read all about it in Why attacking Iran is still a bad idea. I rarely say this, but I agree with almost everything that Stephen M. Walt wrote.
With all this talk of war and Iran, here’s a quick review of what I’ve written about some of Iran’s more interesting capabilities revealed over the last three years:
This was my first post about the much-discussed acquisition by Iran of the Bradstone Challenger, a specialty high speed small sport boat with obvious military implications for building a fast patrol boat.
After discussing the possibility of a fast patrol boat, the question emerges of the possibility of “swarm warfare” involving a large number of small, fast patrol boats going up against a large, lumbering blue water navy in the confines of the Persian Gulf, and most especially the Strait of Hormuz (the latter very much in the news again; cf. US warns Iran over threat to block oil route)
I left a lot of questions unanswered in my post on small boat swarm warfare, so I revisited the topic in this little-read post that attempts to place a US-Iran confrontation in a political context. The Iranians don’t need to sink a carrier in order to score a political victory, and they don’t need to stop all traffic in order to do real economic damage merely by slowing the sixty percent of the world’s oil that transits the Strait of Hormuz.
This post was a further elaboration of the problems of swarm warfare, specially asking whether we should regard such weapons systems as tactical (like a tank or a helicopter) or strategic (like a nuclear bomb).
This post followed the announcement by Iran of the indigenous development of a drone UCAV bomber, the Karrar.
This post followed the announcement by Iran of the indigenous development of a flying boat, the Bavar, which I suggested might also be used in swarm warfare, like fast patrol boats.
The central argument of this post concerned the political imperatives that drove the design of the F-35, but I have also observed here that political imperatives have similarly driven Iran’s innovative weapons systems.
In this relatively recent post I discussed the Iranians taking possession (possibly by hacking and hijacking) a Lockheed Martin RQ-170 Sentinel drone, which may well have things to teach them about their own drone program under development.
I hope that these posts have given the reader an adequate understanding that Iran is well aware of its pariah status vis-à-vis the Western powers, and that it has sought to address its vulnerable position in the world by pursuing innovative weapons systems and developing innovative doctrines for the battlespace deployment of these weapons systems. Iran’s innovations don’t guarantee military success or the efficacy of their weapons systems in combat, but it does suggest surprises in any military engagement that cannot be predicted prior to combat. I have no doubt that every conceivable scenario has been and is being war-gamed by military professionals around the world, but none of this will accurately predict the real thing.
One of the few things upon which I would disagree with Stephen Walt in the arguments he made (as referenced above) is his cautious attitude on whether or not Iran is seeking to become a nuclear power. I not only believe this to be the case, but I believe that it is more or less inevitable, and that the other powers in the world need to get used to the idea of a nuclear-armed Iran. It won’t be the end of the world. Of course, perhaps you will be saying to yourself that the Israelis won’t let it go that far, and will intervene as they intervened with Iraq’s nuclear program under Saddam Hussein. The obvious rejoinder to this is that the Iranians will have learned the lessons of the vulnerability of the Osirak reactor. I am sure that Iran’s nuclear facilities are both hardened and geographically distributed.
Some time ago I mentioned how much I unexpectedly enjoyed William Langewiesche’s book Atomic Bazaar: The Rise of the Nuclear Poor. Langewiesche concludes his book by mentioning the importance of, “…finding the courage in parallel to accept the equalities of a maturing world in which many countries have acquired atomic bombs, and some may use them.” I can imagine someone calling this pessimistic or fatalistic, but it is so sober and so realistic that I admire Mr. Langewiesche for ending on this note. It is precisely this spirit that ought to inform all our endeavors (and adventures). There are some things that can be addressed by the military power of the advanced industrialized nation-states of the West, but there are other things that are beyond the possibility of intervention. Physics and technology must be counted among those things that cannot be stopped by intervention, and physics and technology are what it takes to build a bomb. Deal with it.
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11 December 2011
More than a year ago, in An Iranian Coup written in August 2010, I discussed the Iranian production of a drone UCAV (unmanned combat air vehicle) bomber, the Karrar. One of the consequences of developing an innovative weapons systems, in addition to the obvious effort to push technologies as far as they can be pushed, is the development of expertise in design, construction, maintenance, and operations of the weapons system in question. Thus even if Iran’s UCAV Karrar is not terribly sophisticated, simply engaging in production and operation of the drone is fostering a team of experienced UCAV experts.
Iran has now put this expertise to good use, having apparently taken control of a Lockheed Martin RQ-170 Sentinel, also called “The Beast of Kandahar,” brought it down to the ground in one piece, and now have put it on display. There is no agreement on exactly how Iran obtained possession of the RQ-170 Sentinel. Many news stories only suggested scenarios of the drone coming down of its own accord on Iranian territory, the result of a “falling leaf” descent, or “flat spin.” I judge this scenario to be unlikely, though I am apparently in the minority on this. I think that the Iranians viewed US drones over their territory as a potential gold mine, like the US trying the recover Soviet submarines from the bottom of the ocean during the Cold War. It is there for the taking, if only you can get your hands on it.
It seems to me by far the most likely story that the Iranians managed to take over the controls of the RC-170 — albeit imperfectly — and guide it down in a less than perfect landing that caused some damage but which left the craft mostly intact. Why should this be more likely that the US losing control of the craft and it coming down of its own accord within Iran? Because of the nature of the technology. I will try to explain what I mean by this using an analogy with a classic situation in which technology changed the battlefield.
One of the most perfect examples in history of changing the classic equation of a battlefield favoring the initiative was the introduction of machine guns and barbed wire during the First World War. Machine guns and barbed wire overwhelmingly favored the defense, and as a result the First World War turned into a standoff in which major operations taking the initiative came at such a great cost for such a small result that any victory was a Pyrrhic victory. This situation was not changed until another technology came along — actually a combination of hardware technologies and social technologies of military doctrine — during the Second World War, when massed mechanized armor was employed according to infiltration tactics and Blitzkrieg was born. The initiative shifted back from the defense to the offense, and the Second World War as in consequence a very different war than the First World War.
The introduction of computer technology to the battlefield is one of those technological innovations that rapidly changes the battlefield equation. Here, it is not that the initiative has shifted from the attack to the defense, but rather that battlefield exploitation of computer technologies has shifted the initiative from regular to irregular forces, or, if you prefer, the overwhelming superiority of conventional military forces can be nullified under certain circumstances so that unconventional forces and unconventional methods of offense can be disproportionately effective.
What are these circumstances in which the initiative goes to irregular forces? Particular individuals with a special genius for programming. That’s all it takes: a clever sixteen year old with a good idea and reasonably current equipment — maybe not cutting edge technology, but pretty good technology, such that is within the grasp of second- and even third-tier nation-states today, as well as within the realm of possibility for well-funded non-state actors — could be sufficient to defeat the institutionalized hardware and software systems of conventional forces.
In the C4ISR networked battlespace of the near future, the weapons systems will be awe-inspiring in their complexity and precision, but all of them, however impressive, with have an Achilles heel, and that Achilles heel will be the network itself and wireless communication within the network. The wireless network is available for all to eavesdrop, and the only thing keeping you out of another’s network is their encryption.
This situation is not new; we have been here before. After the explosion of the first atomic bombs, several of the scientists who worked on the project, and especially Oppenheimer, emphasized that there was no “secret” of atomic weapons. His point was that the bombs were the results of science, physics, and technology. In principle, any determined agent could master the science, the physics, and the technology, producing an atomic bomb for themselves. The same is true of most of our high technology weapons systems: there are no secrets per se, only an incremental advantage of one side having slightly more advanced technology than the other side, and this advantage will be nullified in time. And so it is today with the networked battlespace: the possibilities of radio-frequency transmission are known to all, as are the basic ideas behind remote operation of drones. In this context, the only skill that matters is hacking, and hackers of genius are as likely to emerge in Iran, China, or Russia as in the US, the UK, or Canada.
The technology onboard the RQ-170 is likely to be greatly in advance of Iran’s own Karrar, but thanks to the growing expertise the Iranians are cultivating, they have a good chance of exploiting this captured technology and improving their own future UCAV iterations. It would be interesting to know if US UCAVs have some kind of device that destroys their inner mechanisms if they fail to remain in contact with their proper handlers. If they do not as yet have this feature, I suspect that they will have something like it in the near future.
In the meantime, the Iranians can be expected to exploit the captured RQ-170 to the limit, as Russia exploited the B-29 that fell into its possession at the end of the Second World War, and as the US exploited its captured MiGs during the Cold War, studying them (and, in the case of the Russians, copying them) in painstaking detail. And the Americans will be working on counter-measures to having their drones hijacked. Encryption will be the key technology in this battle of technologies, with cleverness and innovation figuring more significantly than institutional and organizational rationality.
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26 October 2011
Yesterday the US dismantled the last B53 nuclear bomb, which was the largest yield nuclear weapon in the US nuclear arsenal, with a yield of about 9 megatons. This was not the highest yield US nuclear weapon ever fielded. This distinction belonged to the B41, with a yield of about 25 megatons. The last B41 was dismantled in July 1976. While the B41 was a very high yield bomb by any measure, it was not the highest yield nuclear device ever built. This distinction belonged to the Soviet-made AN602, commonly known as the Tsar Bomba. The highest yield US bomb ever exploded was the Castle Bravo test, which surprised its builders by an explosion of about 15 megatons, three times the expected yield of 4-6 megatons. The Tsar Bomba was a relatively “clean” bomb, while the B41 was the most efficient production-line nuclear bomb in terms of yield to weight ratio.
The B53 had a very long service life — nearly fifty years. With the end of the B53 we see the symbolic end of an era in strategic nuclear weapons. A bomb like the B53 or the B41 (or the Soviet RDS-9) could have, with a single blast, annihilated a contemporary megalopolis. It is interesting to note that the vastly expanded cities of today began to emerge at about the same time as nuclear weapons were invented, so that in this admittedly bizarre sense, the means of civilization to destroy itself perfectly kept pace with the scope and extent of the expanding urbanization of civilization. Of course, a contemporary megalopolis could be destroyed by multiple warheads, and most missiles and many other delivery systems are MIRVed and therefore have many warheads at their disposal, there is a certain elegance to the strategic calculus of one bomb, one city — this the ethos of the sniper — one shot, one kill — put into practice on a macroscopic scale.
It should be obvious that, had the US and the Soviet Union chosen to continue to design and build bigger nuclear weapons, that this capacity was technically within their grasp. Perhaps it would be possible to build a bomb with a yield of 500 megatons, or perhaps even a gigaton bomb. But there was nothing large enough to destroy to make it worth the while to attempt to build such devices. And then the paradigm or war began to shift. Ultimately, even nuclear weapons design began to incorporate features of precisification. Mature experimentation with nuclear weapons design included innovative shaped charges and miniaturization.
The age of the nuclear weapon as a purely strategic device is passing. Technologies of precisification and miniaturization are useful; you can do something with a precise or miniaturized nuclear device. It may sound odd to remark that a weapon is useful, but we must remember that throughout the Cold War nuclear weapons were strictly useless, present only to guarantee mutually assured destruction. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that nuclear weapons had only a strategic use. If the nuclear powers chose not to build bigger bombs, and eventually chose to decommission and dismantle their largest warheads, this tells us that the strategic situation has changed, and that the strategic calculation has changed with the strategic situation.
The limitation of the size of nuclear weapons and the decommissioning of larger weapons did not come about as a result of political pressure. While the B53 was old, there was no political pressure to eliminate it from the arsenal. The same cannot be said, for example, of the neutron bomb, which was not built for political reasons, or the Swedish nuclear weapons program, which was ended for economic reasons. These strategic decisions were strictly voluntary on the part of strategic planners, and as such they represent the purest expression of strategic thought.
More than a year ago in The Atomic Age Turns 65 I wrote about the 65th anniversary of the Hiroshima nuclear blast. There I observed that, “What we now usually call the Second World War was also the First Nuclear War.” I also noted that there has been no Second Nuclear War. In the same spirit of unfamiliar periodization, we could call this period of time from the first use of nuclear weapons to the dismantling of the largest bomb the First Nuclear Age, which lasted less than seventy years. During the First Nuclear Age, bigger was better. Now bigger is no longer better, and we have entered the brave new world of the Second Nuclear Age, in which the proliferation of nuclear weapons seems likely and the concern of nuclear terrorism is a much greater danger than a massive decapitation strike in the form of ICBMs, bombers, and SLBMs.
As the strategic logic of the Second Nuclear Age continues to unfold, nuclear doctrine will continue to change and adapt itself to changed circumstances. In the long term, these changes will eventually be concretely manifested in the nuclear arsenal. Given the slow pace of transition from doctrinal development to weapons production, the fact that world nuclear arsenals are already changing points to the reality of strategic change and confirms the End of a Nuclear Era.
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29 August 2011
The “tradition of non-use” refers to the non-use of nuclear weapons since the initial use of nuclear weapons to bring an end to the Second World War, which, as I have observed elsewhere, could as well be called the First Nuclear War. This tradition of non-use is striking, and perhaps even historically unprecedented. I cannot think of another weapons system produced in such great quantity and maintained the ready for use, that nevertheless remained unused for better than sixty years.
The possible exceptions to this would include other weapons of mass destruction (WMD). The traditional triumvirate of WMD includes nulclear, biological, and chemical weapons. As we know, chemical weapons were used many times during the First World War, though to little strategic effect. During the Second World War, stocks of chemical weapons were available, but despite the “total” character of the world, both Axis and Allies chose to observe a tradition of non-use of chemical weapons. Biological weapons are more difficult to pin down because of their historical precedent, but biological weapons in their contemporary form — i.e., in the form of weaponized biological agents stockpiled as a strategic deterrent — have been treated much like chemical and nuclear weapons.
With the first appearance of WMD in history, these technologies were part of a natural and logical process of escalation, which involved doing with other means what had already been done with conventional means. This was especially the case with nuclear weapons, which allowed for the destruction on cities simply and cheaply, although the destruction of cities had already been accomplished by more costly and more labor- and material-intensive methods. There was no reason not to use WMD once they become available, and there were many reasons to use them. And so they were used.
Like the transition from armor and shock weapons to gunpowder and cannon, the transition from conventional weapons to WMD was gradual, but with a much faster and steeper growth curve once science-driven technology began making WMD available in a systematic way. At some point this gradual transition came to be viewed in hindsight in terms of before and after and either/or — with the systematic use of the weapons system equated with apocalypse, cataclysm, and extinction. The incremental introduction of WMD was retrospectively perceived as a pivot point. That is to say, with the vision of nuclear annihilation vividly in the minds of everyone, we came to view the contemporary world as the Axial Age of Weapons Systems.
The doctrine that emerged from the Axial Age of Weapons systems was the tradition of non-use. However, it ought to be remarked that WMD had strategic use, so that their tradition of non-use was a doctrine of substrategic non-use. This strategic use coupled with operational and tactical non-use had a self-perpetuating character that isolated WMD from other weapons systems. Strategically, WMD proliferated, yet tactically and operationally they had no place in warfighting. Despite some limited attempts to create tactical nukes for use in theater, these efforts dwindled and the withered away under pressure to create fully strategic nukes. This constitutes a kind of allopatric speciation, in which weapons systems were forced apart in their adaptation to a a role that emerged in competition with other weapons systems. These weapons systems grew apart.
With the emergence of the Devolution of Warfare, the speciation of weapons systems encountered changed environmental conditions that favored conventional weapons and selected against WMD. This should not surprise us. It is one of the lessons of history that weapons systems must be fielded and put into use if they are to be used effectively. The role of strategic weapons systems guarantees that they will be insulated from this kind of effective use derived from experience. The more that they grow into their role — i.e., the more absolutely destructive they become — the more useless they become, and the more useless WMD become, the less likely that they could be employed effectively in combat operations.
The only role for WMD is not to be used, and so the doctrine of non-use makes them even more useless over time. Why, then to nation-states pursue WMD so relentlessly? Because their substrategic non-use has been coupled with their strategic use, and on a strategic level of isolation of WMD that has occurred as a result of the speciation of weapons systems has led some to the conclusion that only WMD can deliver on strategic ambitions.
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20 August 2011
Further to yesterday’s post, Constraint and Devolution, it has occurred to me that there is a close relationship between the two distinct tactical trends of constraint and devolution.
Weapons systems designed under political constraints are mostly weapons systems devolved from absolute destructiveness. While nuclear weapons were employed tactically at the close of the Second World War (which was also the First Nuclear War), the emergence of multiple nuclear powers with large stockpiles of nuclear weapons made nuclear weapons into purely strategic weapons systems that could not be used tactically without justifiable fears of escalation to the point of mutually assured destruction.
There are many political constraints on weapons systems, for example: 1) in terms of numbers of weapons and weapons programs, 2) expenses of the same, 3) frequency of use, 4) destructiveness of use, and 5) collateral damage inflicted.
1) Nuclear weapons stockpiled during the Cold War were judged to be a threat simply in virtue of their existence in large numbers; disarmament efforts often focused on reducing the numbers of nuclear warheads, delivery systems for nuclear warheads, and reducing the throw weights of missiles.
2) The F-22, the world’s first fifth generation air superiority fighter, and probably a superior airframe in comparison to the F-35, has been cancelled due to its expense.
3) It sometimes happens that the isolated use of a weapons system goes but little remarked, while the proliferation of a weapons system begins to be noted in the press and political pressure builds for the limitation of proliferating weapons systems. We have seen this in relation to landmines, cluster bomblets, and white phosphorus munitions.
4) Especially large-scale destructiveness, or weapons systems that cause especially gruesome injuries (which seem to attract the press more than outright deaths), create political pressure to limit their production, deployment, and use. Although physicist Leó Szilárd proposed the Cobalt bomb as early as 1950, no such bomb was built because its destructiveness was potentially too great. Since that time the scope of destructiveness has contracted to the point that the only weapons system that is politically acceptable is a precision weapons system (on which cf. no. 5, below).
5) The exponential increase of precision munitions is largely driven by the political need to minimize collateral damage. This has been perhaps the single most significant development driving weapons research in the past quarter century.
These constraints taken together — and this list I created off the top of my head, and is therefore in no respect to be considered exhaustive — force a devolution of war down to a scale at which effective action can only be taken by small fire teams with advanced weapons, or a single platform (jet, ship, helicopter, tank, etc.) mounting smart weapons systems.
There is hardly any place any more in contemporary warfare for conventional engagements. There will continue to be sporadic exceptions, like the take-down of Iraq, but this too, after the conventional phase, passed over into extended unconventional, asymmetrical, and irregular warfare.
At the same time that political constraints drive devolution, the devolution to small, highly mobile fire teams, as well as militant proxies and irregular forces, drives the demand for disproportionately effective small weapons systems — ideally, weapons systems that can be carried by an individual, but which will possess the precision destructiveness made possible by miniaturization and high technology.
The devolution of weapons systems involves a devolution of responsibility to small fire teams and irregular forces, which as a practical matter of fact must often involve a parallel devolution of authority to these same entities. The success and extrapolation of infiltration tactics since the closing stages of the First World War, and subsequently codified into doctrine during the Second World War, demonstrated to every large institutional military the importance of delegating authority and encouraging the initiative down to the level of the individual fire team.
The devolution of authority that follows from the decisive need to exploit the initiative and the politically driven constraint on weapons systems means that combat decisions will be more decentralized than ever. In practical terms, this means that decisions will be made at the far periphery of the political apparatus, and from this development we can expect to see an increase in limited, local atrocities from small combat teams that take decisions in the heat of battle and without oversight from more politically astute commanders closer to the centers of power but farther from the firefight.
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