As a result, Soviet influence in the Middle East reversed trends and increased. In the early 1980s, fuelled by reaction to Israel’s incursions into Lebanon, the Soviet military presence in Egypt and Syria exceeded that of a decade before. While Jordan and Saudi Arabia still resisted more than a minimal Soviet presence, South Yemen (facing a conflict with North Yemen) and Iraq saw a strong security relationship with the Soviet Union as their best assurance against neighboring threats. To the east India, depending on increasing Soviet arms shipments to remedy the defects in its military seen in 1984, became closer to Russia.
Yet none of this helped the Soviet Union improve its economy or deal with the fundamental problem of paying for the Brezhnev era military build-up. However, the West’s policy desire to maintain good relations with the Soviet Union—as seen in the failure to sustain sanctions post-Afghanistan—showed the Soviets how they might have access to the West’s technology. With the Middle East’s oil exporters increasingly undercut by instability and anti-Western engineered oil shortages, the West—especially Western Europe—became increasingly dependent on the Soviets for energy needs.
Slowly, through the 1980s, the Soviet military led the way towards modernization, with both overt (and covert) imports of computer technology. As in the mid-19th century, the military was the locomotive of reform. The microchip revolution spread to the command economy by the end of the decade. The Soviets were able to buy as much of the new technology as they wished from a demoralized West and so avoided any need to reform their society to meet the challenge.38
None of this solved fundamental problems of legitimacy or addressed economic failures, but it enabled any crisis in Eastern Europe, as in the Soviet Union, to be met with armed force and repression. The leadership in Moscow had seen that the use of military force to solve the problems of resistance in their sphere of influence would have no more than a temporary impact on relations with the West. Gorbachev proved, with the Afghan lesson in mind, to be willing to use repression to keep the Soviet empire together with the objective of what he saw as buying time for his reforms to work and so addressing the root causes of discontent. Gorbachev might have grave misgivings about the use of armed force to maintain Soviet control, but he could not rebut the apparent effectiveness of its use in Afghanistan, nor could he overcome the insistence of the Soviet military and KGB—their prestige undiminished by battlefield defeat—that this was an effective response. The use of force against East Europeans would certainly lead to a cooling in East-West relations and delay the “self-Finlandization” of Europe for some years. But in the end, détente was too precious to be disturbed by dead Poles or East Germans, any more than it was disturbed by dead Afghans.
The Reality
In assessing what might have happened, I have tried to abide by Geoffrey Parker’s “minimal rewrite rule.”39 With the exception of the aborted Iran raid, all is factual until the “October surprise.” In setting out a course of events that is reasonable as well as thinkable, the policies carried out by the US and the West in the 1980s in this scenario are basically those of the late 1970s carried forward. The changes are those that could be expected from a re-elected Carter administration in which Cyrus Vance became the leading foreign policy voice. Such an administration might well have aided the Afghan resistance not one dollar less than the real-world Reagan administration did. While in this scenario, it proved unable to supply Stinger SAMs to the Afghans, in reality the first Reagan administration was equally held in check by the bureaucracy.
The difference in this scenario is that Afghanistan becomes the salvation of the Soviet Union where, in reality, it was one of the key factors that doomed it to irrelevance and destruction. It is in the absence of the strong leadership historically provided by the Reagan administration (and which meshed well with that exerted, in different ways, by Prime Minister Thatcher and Pope John Paul II) and in the existence of a US strategy aimed not at keeping the Cold War going at decreasing levels of tension, but in winning it. That the Cold War ended when and how it did was by no means pre-determined. Indeed, those named above—and, in the early 1980s, Zbiginiew Brzezinski—were among the few contemporaries who considered the eventual result possible, let alone likely.
The scenario differs from reality in that Carter confronts the Soviets in 1979–80 but backs away from this in his second term. The policies ascribed to the Carter administration are all those advocated at the time by elements within it, mostly by Vance and the State Department. The turning away from Afghanistan after the 1980 elections projected for a second Carter term certainly had many predecessors in the first term, such as the neutron bomb policy turn-around. Indeed, in 1980–81, in appeared as if none of the earlier Carter-era policies had succeeded. However, they did provide the groundwork for the more effective policies that slowly emerged under the Reagan administration. However, under a second Carter administration the policies would likely have perished in more “flip-flops.” Under Reagan, they were integrated in a larger US strategy.
This is a key point. There is a difference between decisions made as problem-solving and decisions made as part of an integrated strategy, even when they are the same decisions. Carter and Reagan both decided to aid the Afghan resistance. The dollar amount of the aid to the Afghans supplied in this scenario’s second Carter administration was at the same level as that actually supplied during the first Reagan administration. Both decisions had the same limitations (Pakistani intransigence, US bureaucratic reluctance) but here it is seen that Reagan succeeded and Carter failed in dealing with Afghanistan not because of decisions made with Afghanistan alone, but because Carter never integrated his Afghanistan-related decisions into part of a larger strategy to win the Cold War. Indeed, he never thought such a strategy was feasible or even, in the light of the nuclear risks, desirable. Some, such as Brzezinski, see this as no failing. He has accurately pointed out that the Carter policies—emphasizing human rights, support for the Afghan resistance, increasing defense spending—were those used by the Reagan administration to conclude the Cold War successfully.
In reality, US support for the Afghan resistance was crucial for its eventual success. With US support, Pakistan, China, Saudi Arabia, Britain, France and others could join in the effort. This scenario shows that, without strong US leadership, without a strong build-up of US strategic and conventional forces, there would not have been such a broad response. The Afghans developed the largest national rising of the 20th century without foreign support. But it was only the higher level of foreign support—especially that emerging in the second Reagan administration—that allowed them to overcome their lack of political development and make enough of an impact on the Soviets that Gorbachev realized he could not have both Afghanistan and reform. Reform needed better relations with the West, and the first Reagan term, for all its limits in supporting the Afghans, had demonstrated that this would remain a barrier to such relations.
The Soviets were unable to sustain the challenge Afghanistan posed to their system because they were being pressed on so many different fronts. Had accommodation with the Soviets been the US goal, Afghanistan would never have contributed to presenting Soviet power with a situation it could not handle. In different contexts, the same US actions could have had very different results.
Bibliography
Allin, Dana, Cold War Illusions, St Martin’s, New York, 1994.
Calrey, Demetrios James, ed., The New American Interventionism, Columbia University Press New York, 1999.
Cogan, Charles G., “Partners in Time: The CIA and Afghanistan since 1978,” World Policy Journal, v. 10 n.2 1993, pp. 73–98.
Friedman, Norman, The Fifty Year War: Conflict and Strategy in the Cold War, Naval Institute Press, Annapolis, 2000.
Gaddis, John Lewis, Strategies of Containment, Oxford University Press, Oxford, 1982.
Gates, Robert M., From the Shadows, Simon & Schuster, New York, 1996.
Hayward, Steven F., The Age of Reagan, Random House, New York, 200
1.
Kaufman, Burton I., The Presidency of James Earl Carter Jr., University of Kansas Press, Lawrence, 1993.
Kaufman, Robert G., Henry M. Jackson: A Life in Politics, University of Washington Press, Seattle, 2000.
Morris, Kenneth E., Jimmy Carter: American Moralist, University of Georgia Press, Athens, 1996.
Muravchik, Joshua, The Uncertain Crusade: Jimmy Carter and the Dilemmas of Human Rights, Hamilton Press, Lanham, MD, 1986.
Ranney, Austin, ed., The American Elections of 1980, AEI, Washington, 1981.
Rikhye, Ravi, The Fourth Round, Indo-Pak War 1984, ABC Publishing House, New Delhi, 1982.
Rikhye, Ravi, The War That Never Was, Chankaya Publications, Delhi, 1988.
Thomas, Raju G.C., Indian Security Policy, Princeton University Press, Princeton, 1986.
Vance, Cyrus, Hard Choices, Simon & Schuster, New York, 1987.
Westhold, Arne, ed., “Meeting of the Politburo, March 17, 1979,” Cold War International History Project Bulletin, issues 8–9, Winter 1996–97 (internet edition).
Notes
1. In his poem “September 1, 1939”.
2. Morris, Jimmy Carter: American Moralist, p. 320.
3. Gaddis, Strategies of Containment, p. 345.
4. Morris, Jimmy Carter: American Moralist, p. 263.
5. Muravchik, The Uncertain Crusade, p. 202.
6. Burton I. Kaufman, The Presidency of James Earl Carter, p. 365.
7. Hayward, The Age of Reagan, p. 537.
8. Hayward, The Age of Reagan, p. 537.
9. Burton I. Kaufman, The Presidency of James Earl Carter, p. 365.
10. Friedman, The Fifty Year War, p. 422.
11. Vance, Hard Choices, p. 387.
12. Cogan, “Partners in Time,” p. 76
13. Gates, From the Shadows, p. 113 details the Vance-Brzezinski battle on this issue.
14. Nelson Polsby: “The Democratic Nomination,” in Ranney, The American Elections of 1980, p. 45.
15. Robert G. Kaufman, Henry M.Jackson: A Life in Politics, p. 397.
16. Friedman, The Fifty Year War, p. 439.
17. Ibid., p. 439.
18. Allin, Cold War Illusions, p. 146.
19. Friedman, The Fifty Year War, pp. 438–9.
20. Allin, p. 146.
21. This comment appeared in The New Republic, October 25, 1980, p.9.
22. Hayward, The Age of Reagan, p. 609.
23. Hayward, The Age of Reagan, p. 498.
24. Thomas, Indian Security Policy, p. 286.
25. On thinking on the India-Pakistan military balance and potential war plans in the early 1980s generally, see Rikhye, The Fourth Round, Indo-Pak War 1984. The author can attest that this work of “future history” was widely read by senior military and government officials in Pakistan at the time.
26. Rikhye, The War That Never Was, p. 165.
27. Rikhye, The War That Never Was, p. 87.
28. This was the rationale behind the Brass Tacks exercise (actually conducted in 1987). Rikhye, The War That Never Was, p. 154.
29. Rikhye, The War That Never Was, pp. 156—57. The Indian plan is from Brass Tacks.
30. On Trident, see Rikhye, The War That Never Was, pp. 192–202.
31. On the potential problems of an advance on Hyderabad, see Rikhye, The War That Never Was, pp. 154–76.
32. On potential Pakistani countermoves, see Rikhye, The War That Never Was, pp. 180–85.
33. The potential risks to an Indian invasion are in Rikhye, The War That Never Was, pp. 177–80.
34. On Trident limitations, see Rikhye, The War That Never Was, pp. 195—97.
35. See generally Cogan, also Alan J. Kuperman: “The Stinger Missile and US Intervention in Afghanistan,” in Calrey, The New American Interventionism, pp. 159–203.
36. Winston S. Churchill, In the Balance: Speeches 1949–50 (Houghton Mifflin, Boston, 1951), p. 356.
37. Westhold, “Meeting of the Politburo, March 17, 1979,” p. 139.
38. Friedman, The Fifty Year War, p. 486, sees this as a possible alternative.
39. Ferguson, Niall, ed., Virtual History: Alternatives and Counterfactuals (Basic Books, New York, 1999), p. xii.
10
RED LIGHTNING
The Collapse of the Red Army
Peter G. Tsouras
Svechin General Staff Academy: Moscow, December 2, 20071
Marshal of Russia, Prince Ivan Vaselevich Chonkin mounted the rostrum of the lecture hall of the Aleksandr Svechin Academy of the Great Russian General Staff.2 Two hundred pairs of eyes fixed themselves on the spare old man in the plain gray uniform, relieved only by the glitter of the Saint George Cross and two Hero of Russia medals. It was rumored that the very wrinkles of the uniform fell out in awe of the wearer. Behind him, the great wall of the auditorium was almost filled with Konstantinov’s famous portrait of the historic meeting of Chonkin and the tsar-to-be, Piotr III. Some regarded Konstantinov’s work more as an icon than a historical painting. There was an unearthly aura to the scene as the two soldiers received the blessings of the Patriarch at the St Sergeiv Monastery on that fateful day in September 1989. The three would march across the ruins of an empire to save Russia.3
Behind the ascetic face that had been compared to a Rublyev saint, a glint of carefully-disciplined mirth flickered. Chonkin began to speak:
“Gentlemen, the seed of disaster that befell the former Soviet Union germinated in the US Army Center of Military History. Let me emphasize that this section represented some of the finest minds to have studied military history in any age. Their fertile, collective efforts were carefully directed and encouraged by a command structure that valued the lessons of the past more highly than the introduction of new technological toys.”
They hung on his every word, of course. He allowed himself the luxury of admiring his own polished logic and his exquisite delivery. Well, he was good. Why deny it? What made it all so delicious, though, was that it was a lie… a beautiful, logical lie, but it was a lie nonetheless. Chonkin was one of the few who really knew what happened 20 years ago.
Center of Military History: Washington, June 15, 1987
Major John T. Moran had poured his first cup of coffee that morning hoping to be able to read the new Greenhill translation of de Saxe’s Mes Reveries in peace. The book was a gem, a rare reprint of the racy memoirs of a great captain of the early 18th century. Moran was hoping to write an analysis of de Saxe’s techniques for the Army’s professional journal, Military Review, but it did not seem possible. His in-box was always full. It had been made clear to him in his first week on the job that reading de Saxe was extracurricular. His job was to prepare biographies of generals about to retire. If he did well, he might even be allowed to join the team writing the section’s pride and joy, a history of Army word processing.
Moran was savoring both the coffee aroma and the prospect of enjoying the forbidden fruit of his new book when Fate rushed through the door flailing its arms and reeking of panic.
“Your briefing, your briefing for the Vice… Is it ready?” Fate bleated. The annoying thing about Fate was that it always came in disguise. Today it appeared as his boss, Colonel “Wild Bill” Benson.
“What briefing?” Moran asked.
Benson then shifted from a bleat to a shriek. “What briefing! What briefing! The one we talked about last week, that briefing! You do have it ready, don’t you, Major?”
Moran’s puzzled look turned Benson’s face beet red. He racked his brain and took a stab at it, “You mean my study on the Indirect Approach, Sir?”
“YES! That’s it! You have only 30 minutes to get there. HURRY!”
Unfortunately, the colonel’s appreciation of the Indirect Approach meant taking the wrong exit from the Capitol beltway to the Pentagon. Like a drowning man, he clutched at the thin assurance in Moran’s voice as if it were a life preserver.
Moran had no time to wonder how a five minute conversation in the hall over a month ago could turn into a br
iefing for the Vice Chief so soon. At least he had the study finished and grabbed a copy on the way out of the office. As they dashed out the door, Major John Morgan, who shared a cubicle with Moran wondered why “Wild Bill” had run off with Moran. It must be very important, he thought, to cancel the briefing he was supposed to give the Vice shortly. What could be more important than briefing the Vice on his retirement biography?
“The Little Bedroom,” the Pentagon
It is not a good omen when the Vice Chief of Staff of the US Army arrives at a briefing before the briefer, especially when the Vice’s name is General Oscar “Razor” Rauch. The stench of sacrilege filled the Little Bedroom,4 as the private briefing room of the Army Vice Chief was called. Moran was too intent on his subject to notice when he arrived. He pulled out his cold pipe, settled it in the corner of his mouth from where it would pass back and forth to his left hand, and began.
“On the battlefield, NATO is at a permanent disadvantage in light of the vast Soviet preponderance in weight of numbers of personnel and equipment, especially when this is enhanced by rough technological equivalence and an acceptable level of operational efficiency.”
The slash of a permanent frown across Rauch’s face deepened as he surveyed this officer. The man’s whole manner was an affront to him as Vice Chief of Staff. He was so… so casual and at ease. Rauch felt cheated of the palpable tremor of fear and apprehension that he had come to expect as his due. It was a soothing, gratifying feeling, and now he missed it.
“To oppose the Soviet steamroller on its own terms is doomed. Rather, the solution is the classic use of the concept of the Indirect Approach. Do not aim to strike the armed might of the Soviet Union. Strike its greatest weakness, a facet of the national character of the Russians.
Cold War Hot: Alternate Decisions of the Cold War Page 30
