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The Interest of America in Sea Power, Present and Future by A. T. Mahan

A >> A. T. Mahan >> The Interest of America in Sea Power, Present and Future




Now, the United States has made an announcement that she will support
by force a policy which may bring her into collision with states of
military antecedents, indisposed by their interests to acquiesce in
our position, and still less willing to accept it under appearance of
threat. What preparation is necessary in case such a one is as
determined to fight against our demands as we to fight for them?

Preparation for war, rightly understood, falls under two
heads,--preparation and preparedness. The one is a question mainly of
material, and is constant in its action. The second involves an idea
of completeness. When, at a particular moment, preparations are
completed, one is prepared--not otherwise. There may have been made a
great deal of very necessary preparation for war without being
prepared. Every constituent of preparation may be behindhand, or some
elements may be perfectly ready, while others are not. In neither case
can a state be said to be prepared.

In the matter of preparation for war, one clear idea should be
absorbed first by every one who, recognizing that war is still a
possibility, desires to see his country ready. This idea is that,
however defensive in origin or in political character a war may be,
the assumption of a simple defensive in war is ruin. War, once
declared, must be waged offensively, aggressively. The enemy must not
be fended off, but smitten down. You may then spare him every
exaction, relinquish every gain; but till down he must be struck
incessantly and remorselessly.

Preparation, like most other things, is a question both of kind and of
degree, of quality and of quantity. As regards degree, the general
lines upon which it is determined have been indicated broadly in the
preceding part of this article. The measure of degree is the estimated
force which the strongest _probable_ enemy can bring against you,
allowance being made for clear drawbacks upon his total force, imposed
by his own embarrassments and responsibilities in other parts of the
world. The calculation is partly military, partly political, the
latter, however, being the dominant factor in the premises.

In kind, preparation is twofold,--defensive and offensive. The former
exists chiefly for the sake of the latter, in order that offence, the
determining factor in war, may put forth its full power, unhampered by
concern for the protection of the national interests or for its own
resources. In naval war, coast defence is the defensive factor, the
navy the offensive. Coast defence, when adequate, assures the naval
commander-in-chief that his base of operations--the dock-yards and
coal depots--is secure. It also relieves him and his government, by
the protection afforded to the chief commercial centres, from the
necessity of considering them, and so leaves the offensive arm
perfectly free.

Coast defence implies coast attack. To what attacks are coasts liable?
Two, principally,--blockade and bombardment. The latter, being the
more difficult, includes the former, as the greater does the lesser. A
fleet that can bombard can still more easily blockade. Against
bombardment the necessary precaution is gun-fire, of such power and
range that a fleet cannot lie within bombarding distance. This
condition is obtained, where surroundings permit, by advancing the
line of guns so far from the city involved that bombarding distance
can be reached only by coming under their fire. But it has been
demonstrated, and is accepted, that, owing to their rapidity of
movement,--like a flock of birds on the wing,--a fleet of ships can,
without disabling loss, pass by guns before which they could not lie.
Hence arises the necessity of arresting or delaying their progress by
blocking channels, which in modern practice is done by lines of
torpedoes. The mere moral effect of the latter is a deterrent to a
dash past,--by which, if successful, a fleet reaches the rear of the
defences, and appears immediately before the city, which then lies at
its mercy.

Coast defence, then, implies gun-power and torpedo lines placed as
described. Be it said in passing that only places of decisive
importance, commercially or militarily, need such defences. Modern
fleets cannot afford to waste ammunition in bombarding unimportant
towns,--at least when so far from their own base as they would be on
our coast. It is not so much a question of money as of frittering
their fighting strength. It would not pay.

Even coast defence, however, although essentially passive, should have
an element of offensive force, local in character, distinct from the
offensive navy, of which nevertheless it forms a part. To take the
offensive against a floating force it must itself be afloat--naval.
This offensive element of coast defence is to be found in the
torpedo-boat, in its various developments. It must be kept distinct in
idea from the sea-going fleet, although it is, of course, possible
that the two may act in concert. The war very well may take such a
turn that the sea-going navy will find its best preparation for
initiating an offensive movement to be by concentrating in a principal
seaport. Failing such a contingency, however, and in and for coast
defence in its narrower sense, there should be a local flotilla of
small torpedo-vessels, which by their activity should make life a
burden to an outside enemy. A distinguished British admiral, now dead,
has said that he believed half the captains of a blockading fleet
would break down--"go crazy" were the words repeated to me--under the
strain of modern conditions. The expression, of course, was intended
simply to convey a sense of the immensity of suspense to be endured.
In such a flotilla, owing to the smallness of its components, and to
the simplicity of their organization and functions, is to be found the
best sphere for naval volunteers; the duties could be learned with
comparative ease, and the whole system is susceptible of rapid
development. Be it remembered, however, that it is essentially
defensive, only incidentally offensive, in character.

Such are the main elements of coast defence--guns, lines of torpedoes,
torpedo-boats. Of these none can be extemporized, with the possible
exception of the last, and that would be only a makeshift. To go into
details would exceed the limits of an article,--require a brief
treatise. Suffice it to say, without the first two, coast cities are
open to bombardment; without the last, they can be blockaded freely,
unless relieved by the sea-going navy. Bombardment and blockade are
recognized modes of warfare, subject only to reasonable
notification,--a concession rather to humanity and equity than to
strict law. Bombardment and blockade directed against great national
centres, in the close and complicated network of national and
commercial interests as they exist in modern times, strike not only
the point affected, but every corner of the land.

The offensive in naval war, as has been said, is the function of the
sea-going navy--of the battle-ships, and of the cruisers of various
sizes and purposes, including sea-going torpedo-vessels capable of
accompanying a fleet, without impeding its movements by their loss of
speed or unseaworthiness. Seaworthiness, and reasonable speed under
all weather conditions, are qualities necessary to every constituent
of a fleet; but, over and above these, the backbone and real power of
any navy are the vessels which, by due proportion of defensive and
offensive powers, are capable of taking and giving hard knocks. All
others are but subservient to these, and exist only for them.

What is that strength to be? Ships answering to this description are
the _kind_ which make naval strength; what is to be its _degree_? What
their number? The answer--a broad formula--is that it must be great
enough to take the sea, and to fight, with reasonable chances of
success, the largest force likely to be brought against it, as shown
by calculations which have been indicated previously. Being, as we
claim, and as our past history justifies us in claiming, a nation
indisposed to aggression, unwilling to extend our possessions or our
interests by war, the measure of strength we set ourselves depends,
necessarily, not upon our projects of aggrandizement, but upon the
disposition of others to thwart what we consider our reasonable
policy, which they may not so consider. When they resist, what force
can they bring against us? That force must be naval; we have no
exposed point upon which land operations, decisive in character, can
be directed. This is the kind of the hostile force to be apprehended.
What may its size be? There is the measure of our needed strength. The
calculation may be intricate, the conclusion only approximate and
probable, but it is the nearest reply we can reach. So many ships of
such and such sizes, so many guns, so much ammunition--in short, so
much naval material. In the material provisions that have been
summarized under the two chief heads of defence and offence--in coast
defence under its three principal requirements, guns, lines of
stationary torpedoes, and torpedo-boats, and in a navy able to keep
the sea in the presence of a probable enemy--consist what may be
called most accurately preparations for war. In so far as the United
States is short in them, she is at the mercy of an enemy whose naval
strength is greater than that of her own available navy. If her navy
cannot keep the enemy off the coast, blockade at least is possible.
If, in addition, there are no harbor torpedo-boats, blockade is easy.
If, further, guns and torpedo lines are deficient, bombardment comes
within the range of possibility, and may reach even the point of
entire feasibility. There will be no time for preparation after war
begins.

It is not in the preparation of material that states generally fall
most short of being ready for war at brief notice; for such
preparation is chiefly a question of money and of manufacture,--not so
much of preservation after creation. If money enough is forthcoming, a
moderate degree of foresight can insure that the amount of material
deemed necessary shall be on hand at a given future moment; and a
similar condition can be maintained steadily. Losses by deterioration
or expenditure, or demand for further increase if such appear
desirable, can all be forecast with reasonable calculations, and
requirements thence arising can be made good. This is comparatively
easy, because mere material, once wrought into shape for war, does not
deteriorate from its utility to the nation because not used
immediately. It can be stored and cared for at a relatively small
expense, and with proper oversight will remain just as good and just
as ready for use as at its first production. There are certain
deductions, a certain percentage of impairment to be allowed for, but
the general statement holds.

A very different question is confronted in the problem how to be ready
at equally short notice to use this material,--to provide in
sufficient numbers, upon a sudden call, the living agents, without
whom the material is worthless. Such men in our day must be especially
trained; and not only so, but while training once acquired will not be
forgot wholly--stays by a man for a certain time--it nevertheless
tends constantly to drop off from him. Like all habits, it requires
continued practice. Moreover, it takes quite a long time to form, in a
new recruit, not merely familiarity with the use of a particular
weapon, but also the habit and working of the military organization of
which he is an individual member. It is not enough that he learn just
that one part of the whole machinery which falls to him to handle; he
must be acquainted with the mutual relations of the other parts to his
own and to the whole, at least in great measure. Such knowledge is
essential even to the full and intelligent discharge of his own duty,
not to speak of the fact that in battle every man should be ready to
supply the place of another of his own class and grade who has been
disabled. Unless this be so, the ship will be very far short of her
best efficiency.

Now, to possess such proficiency in the handling of naval material for
war, and in playing an intelligent part in the general functioning of
a ship in action, much time is required. Time is required to obtain
it, further time is needed in order to retain it; and such time, be it
more or less, is time lost for other purposes,--lost both to the
individual and to the community. When you have your thoroughly
efficient man-of-war's man, you cannot store him as you do your guns
and ammunition, or lay him up as you may your ships, without his
deteriorating at a rate to which material presents no parallel. On the
other hand, if he be retained, voluntarily or otherwise, in the naval
service, there ensues the economical loss--the loss of productive
power--which constitutes the great argument against large standing
armies and enforced military service, advanced by those to whom the
productive energies of a country outweigh all other considerations.

It is this difficulty which is felt most by those responsible for the
military readiness of European states, and which therefore has engaged
their most anxious attention. The providing of material of war is an
onerous money question; but it is simple, and has some compensation
for the expense in the resulting employment of labor for its
production. It is quite another matter to have ready the number of men
needed,--to train them, and to keep them so trained as to be available
immediately.

The solution is sought in a tax upon time--Upon the time of the
nation, economically lost to production, and upon the time of the
individual, lost out of his life. Like other taxes, the tendency on
all sides is to reduce this as far as possible,--to compromise between
ideal proficiency for probable contingencies, and the actual demands
of the existing and usual conditions of peace. Although inevitable,
the compromise is unsatisfactory, and yields but partial results in
either direction. The economist still deplores and resists the loss of
producers,--the military authorities insist that the country is short
of its necessary force. To obviate the difficulty as far as possible,
to meet both of the opposing demands, resort is had to the system of
reserves, into which men pass after serving in the active force for a
period, which is reduced to, and often below, the shortest compatible
with instruction in their duties, and with the maintenance of the
active forces at a fixed minimum. This instruction acquired, the
recipient passes into the reserve, leaves the life of the soldier or
seaman for that of the citizen, devoting a comparatively brief time in
every year to brushing up the knowledge formerly acquired. Such a
system, under some form, is found in services both voluntary and
compulsory.

It is scarcely necessary to say that such a method would never be
considered satisfactory in any of the occupations of ordinary life. A
man who learns his profession or trade, but never practises it, will
not long be considered fit for employment. No kind of practical
preparation, in the way of systematic instruction, equals the
practical knowledge imbibed in the common course of life. This is just
as true of the military professions--the naval especially--as it is of
civil callings; perhaps even more so, because the former are a more
unnatural, and therefore, when attained, a more highly specialized,
form of human activity. For the very reason that war is in the main an
evil, an unnatural state, but yet at times unavoidable, the demands
upon warriors, when average men, are exceptionally exacting.

Preparedness for naval war therefore consists not so much in the
building of ships and guns as it does in the possession of trained men
in adequate numbers, fit to go on board at once and use the material,
the provision of which is merely one of the essential preparations for
war. The word "fit" includes fairly all that detail of organization
commonly called mobilization, by which the movements of the individual
men are combined and directed. But mobilization, although the subjects
of it are men, is itself a piece of mental machinery. Once devised, it
may be susceptible of improvement, but it will not become inefficient
because filed away in a pigeon-hole, any more than guns and
projectiles become worthless by being stored in their parks or
magazines. Take care of the pence and the pounds will take care of
themselves. Provide your fit men,--fit by their familiarity not only
with special instruments, but with a manner of life,--and your
mobilization is reduced to a slip of paper telling each one where he
is to go. He will get there.

That a navy, especially a large navy, can be kept fully manned in
peace--manned up to the requirements of war--must be dismissed as
impracticable. If greatly superior to a probable enemy, it will be
unnecessary; if more nearly equal, then the aim can only be to be
superior in the number of men immediately available, and fit according
to the standard of fitness here generalized. The place of a reserve in
any system of preparation for war must be admitted, because
inevitable. The question, of the proportion and character of the
reserve, relatively to the active force of peace, is the crux of the
matter. This is essentially the question between long-service and
short-service systems. With long service the reserves will be fewer,
and for the first few years of retirement much more efficient, for
they have acquired, not knowledge only, but a habit of life. With
short service, more men are shoved through the mill of the
training-school. Consequently they pass more rapidly into the reserve,
are less efficient when they get there, and lose more rapidly, because
they have acquired less thoroughly; on the other hand, they will be
decidedly more numerous, on paper at least, than the entire trained
force of a long-service system. The pessimists on either side will
expound the dangers--the one, of short numbers; the others, of
inadequate training.

Long service must be logically the desire, and the result, of
voluntary systems of recruiting the strength of a military force.
Where enrolment is a matter of individual choice, there is a better
chance of entrance resulting in the adoption of the life as a calling
to be followed; and this disposition can be encouraged by the offering
of suitable inducements. Where service is compulsory, that fact alone
tends to make it abhorrent, and voluntary persistence, after time has
been served, rare. But, on the other hand, as the necessity for
numbers in war is as real as the necessity of fitness, a body where
long service and small reserves obtain should in peace be more
numerous than one where the reserves are larger. To long service and
small reserves a large standing force is the natural corollary. It may
be added that it is more consonant to the necessities of warfare, and
more consistent with the idea of the word "reserve," as elsewhere used
in war. The reserve in battle is that portion of the force which is
withheld from engagement, awaiting the unforeseen developments of the
fight; but no general would think of carrying on a pitched battle with
the smaller part of his force, keeping the larger part in reserve.
Rapid concentration of effort, anticipating that of the enemy, is the
ideal of tactics and of strategy,--of the battle-field and of the
campaign. It is that, likewise, of the science of mobilization, in its
modern development. The reserve is but the margin of safety, to
compensate for defects in conception or execution, to which all
enterprises are liable; and it may be added that it is as applicable
to the material force--the ships, guns, etc.--as it is to the men.

The United States, like Great Britain, depends wholly upon voluntary
enlistments; and both nations, with unconscious logic, have laid great
stress upon continuous service, and comparatively little upon
reserves. When seamen have served the period which entitles them to
the rewards of continuous service, without further enlistment, they
are, though still in the prime of life, approaching the period when
fitness, in the private seaman or soldier, depends upon ingrained
habit--perfect practical familiarity with the life which has been
their one calling--rather than upon that elastic vigor which is the
privilege of youth. Should they elect to continue in the service,
there still remain some years in which they are an invaluable leaven,
by character and tradition. If they depart, they are for a few years a
reserve for war--if they choose to come forward; but it is manifest
that such a reserve can be but small, when compared with a system
which in three or five years passes men through the active force into
the reserve. The latter, however, is far less valuable, man for man.
Of course, a reserve which has not even three years' service is less
valuable still.

The United States is to all intents an insular power, like Great
Britain. We have but two land frontiers, Canada and Mexico. The latter
is hopelessly inferior to us in all the elements of military strength.
As regards Canada, Great Britain maintains a standing army; but, like
our own, its numbers indicate clearly that aggression will never be
her policy, except in those distant regions whither the great armies
of the world cannot act against her, unless they first wrench from her
the control of the sea. No modern state has long maintained a
supremacy by land and by sea,--one or the other has been held from
time to time by this or that country, but not both. Great Britain
wisely has chosen naval power; and, independent of her reluctance to
break with the United States for other reasons, she certainly would
regret to devote to the invasion of a nation of seventy millions the
small disposable force which she maintains in excess of the constant
requirements of her colonial interests. We are, it may be repeated, an
insular power, dependent therefore upon a navy.

Durable naval power, besides, depends ultimately upon extensive
commercial relations; consequently, and especially in an insular
state, it is rarely aggressive, in the military sense. Its instincts
are naturally for peace, because it has so much at stake outside its
shores. Historically, this has been the case with the conspicuous
example of sea power, Great Britain, since she became such; and it
increasingly tends to be so. It is also our own case, and to a yet
greater degree, because, with an immense compact territory, there has
not been the disposition to external effort which has carried the
British flag all over the globe, seeking to earn by foreign commerce
and distant settlement that abundance of resource which to us has been
the free gift of nature--or of Providence. By her very success,
however, Great Britain, in the vast increase and dispersion of her
external interests, has given hostages to fortune, which for mere
defence impose upon her a great navy. Our career has been different,
our conditions now are not identical, yet our geographical position
and political convictions have created for us also external interests
and external responsibilities, which are likewise our hostages to
fortune. It is not necessary to roam afar in search of adventures;
popular feeling and the deliberate judgment of statesmen alike have
asserted that, from conditions we neither made nor control, interests
beyond the sea exist, have sprung up of themselves, which demand
protection. "Beyond the sea"--that means a navy. Of invasion, in any
real sense of the word, we run no risk, and if we did, it must be by
sea; and there, at sea, must be met primarily, and ought to be met
decisively, any attempt at invasion of our interests, either in
distant lands, or at home by blockade or by bombardment. Yet the force
of men in the navy is smaller, by more than half, than that in the
army.

The necessary complement of those admirable measures which have been
employed now for over a decade in the creation of naval material is
the preparation of an adequate force of trained men to use this
material when completed. Take an entirely fresh man: a battleship can
be built and put in commission before he becomes a trained
man-of-war's man, and a torpedo-boat can be built and ready for
service before, to use the old sea phrase, "the hay seed is out of his
hair." Further, in a voluntary service, you cannot keep your trained
men as you can your completed ship or gun. The inevitable inference is
that the standing force must be large, because you can neither create
it hastily nor maintain it by compulsion. Having fixed the amount of
material,--the numbers and character of the fleet,--from this follows
easily the number of men necessary to man it. This aggregate force can
then be distributed, upon some accepted idea, between the standing
navy and the reserve. Without fixing a proportion between the two, the
present writer is convinced that the reserve should be but a small
percentage of the whole, and that in a small navy, as ours,
relatively, long will be, this is doubly imperative; for the smaller
the navy, the greater the need for constant efficiency to act
promptly, and the smaller the expense of maintenance. In fact, where
quantity--number--is small, quality should be all the more high. The
quality of the whole is a question of _personnel_ even more than of
material; and the quality of the _personnel_ can be maintained only by
high individual fitness in the force, undiluted by dependence upon a
large, only partly efficient, reserve element.

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