My sector of my government was the Navy. I became an officer coming fresh out of college and loved the Navy passionately serving in it for four years before the fire faded from the romance. I am loyal to it still, much as one might care for an old love felled by bad decisions. For most of my career the Navy was dynamic, creative, and honest. Increasingly, though, I saw our military avoiding hard thought and difficult decisions, hypnotizing itself with empty mantras. After World War II, anger had saved the Navy. A generation of bloodied crusaders rebuilt the force and unleashed it on the Balkan and in Desert Storm. I watched those heroes from the trenches in awe. And now they are gone. Today, I see apathy and confusion and mediocrity. We still have a great Navy, but it is greatness by legacy. Two misfortunes struck our military. First, the Soviet system collapsed, robbing the West of a cherished, vivid enemy. Second, the armed forces of the allied performed magnificently in and above the deserts of Mesopotamia, convincing a generation of leaders that perfection had been attained. Like many, we allowed the ineptitude of a specific adversary to convince us of our general superiority.
We live in the most unsettled, spiritually turbulent age in history, a period of multiple and layered revolutions. In the realms of failure - they are and will be legion - hatred is currency, and violence language. Ours is a world we wish to change, but do not understand. As I roamed the globe, I saw a fundamental asymmetry between the kind of military force we prized and the sort we would need. I also became convinced that traditional boundaries between the military, economic, civil, cultural, and religious spheres were crumbling. Although the ultimate business of the military will always be to make war, I sensed that we would become involved in many activities that did not match our traditions, and that officers would need to learn to see more broadly, to act more acutely, and to acquire different skills. Officers always need the killer instinct. But today, they also need the discipline of a saint, the insight of an anthropologist, and the acrobat's sense of balance.
Strategy is theology with the hope left out. It is about the death of some and the survival of others, and its greatest constructions break on the rock of the world. No individual has all the essential questions, let alone useful answers to them. Each pilgrim on the long road of change must be content to make his or her contribution to the collective effort and to taste disappointment. Only that long - theological - view lends at least an illusion of worth to our efforts. Preachers come and go, but the congregation remains.
Ultimately, I have a simple view of history and of the future. I see mankind torn between the Sermon on the Mount and the story of Cain and Able. We may long for the peaceable kingdom, but Cain will always be with us. We will need good soldiers to deal with him. Therefore the need grew in me to testify to my vision instead of fighting a war I did not believe in. So here are some of my writings, written over the last years with passion, love, and sometimes despair. They are ultimately small, as is the work of every man. The pen is not mightier than the sword, but an able pen can help design a better sword. That has been my enduring goal.
