A desire to "punch above its weight" has left Britain flailing in its most serious security challenge - combating terrorism. By Gerard DeGroot for ISN Insights
In Britain at the moment, calamities line up like buses outside a schoolyard. Strangely enough, this is fortunate for the government, since each new predicament stifles debate over yesterday's problem. In the past week, attention has focused on cuts in housing benefits and university funding. Hardly anyone is still talking about the Strategic Defense and Security Review (SDSR), October's big topic. That's a pity, since it has allowed Prime Minister David Cameron to hide the most blatant folly of his government so far.
Prior to the release of the SDSR on 19 October, critics warned that money, not security, would be the deciding factor in determining the size and shape of Britain's military forces. That warning proved true, but it was also beside the point, since it is doubtful that, given unlimited funds, the government would have made the right decisions to safeguard security. It was always inevitable that sacred cows would block the way of enlightened analysis.
Illusions of grandeur
Sacrosanct assumptions have muddled assessment of the type of military Britain needs. These assumptions are evident in the SDSR 's very first sentence: "Our country has always had global responsibilities and global ambitions." The implication, unstated but glaringly obvious is: "We will continue to do so." In other words, the past will go on shaping the future. Britain will not adjust to the fact that she is a small country of limited means. Uncomfortable with mediocrity, she will, at great cost, maintain an illusion of greatness.
During the SDSR debate, Cameron assured MPs that, despite the cuts, Britain would continue to "punch above its weight." The phrase, first used by Foreign Secretary Douglas Hurd in 1993, describes an obsession that has plagued the British since 1945. That obsession was the driving force behind the decision to go nuclear. In 1946, Foreign Secretary Ernest Bevin told the Cabinet: "We've got to have [the atom bomb]… whatever it costs. We've got to have the bloody Union Jack on top of it." Seven years later, Winston Churchill justified construction of a hydrogen bomb by arguing: "It's the price we pay to sit at the top table." As is clear, both Bevin and Churchill were thinking about status not security. Ditto Cameron.
Punching above one's weight is dangerous and costly. This explains why, in the last three decades, the UK has participated in more wars and suffered more casualties than any of her major European partners. It also explains why Britain spent nearly $70 billion on its military in 2009, an amount surpassed only by the United States and China. Military expenditure took up 2.5 percent of GDP, a significantly larger slice than in Germany (1.3 percent), Italy (1.7 percent) or Spain (1.2 percent). Significantly, the only country close to Britain was France (2.3 percent), another nation that has not adjusted well to post-imperial decline.
Britain's European partners have demonstrated their greatness more constructively, through industrial strength, financial stability, social progress or cultural vitality. Yet no one can realistically argue that Germany, Italy or Spain are more vulnerable because of their failure to arm themselves to the teeth. In fact, it could be argued that Britain's desire to strut on the big stage with pistols cocked has made her more vulnerable than she ought to be.
Obsessed with status, Britain has trumpeted her greatness by old-fashioned means, namely big-ticket military hardware like aircraft carriers, nuclear submarines and tanks. That hardware has in turn been attractive not for the security it brings, but for the strength it implies. This has meant that billions have been spent on hugely expensive weapons of little utility in a world where the suicide bomber represents the greatest security threat. What good is a Trident nuclear submarine against a jihadist wearing dynamite?
In truth, Britain has not punched above its weight and has not dined at the top table. Britain has, instead, attached itself obsequiously to America. The true nature of the relationship was revealed when US Secretary of State Hillary Clinton intervened in the SDSR debate on 14 October, cautioning Britain that defense cuts would violate the "commitment to the common defense." As Clinton's intervention reveals, Britain's strategy is formulated in Washington, not Whitehall. Thanks to the "special relationship", Britain has been buffeted by political forces beyond its control, most recently by being dragged into two unwinnable wars. Following America's lead has not brought security, rather the opposite.
After the cuts outlined in the SDSR , Britain's military is a Potemkin village likely to fool no one. Witness, for instance, the farcical decision to purchase two new aircraft carriers. According to the SDSR, "it is right … to retain … the capability … to deploy air power from anywhere in the world, without the need for friendly air bases on land." In the very next sentence, however, the report admits: "there are few circumstances we can envisage where the ability to deploy airpower from the sea will be essential." From contradiction grows charade: the carriers will be built, but there will be no planes to fly from them.
A few days before the SDSR, the government issued a comprehensive threat assessment. It casts a stark light on the gulf between reality and illusion. The assessment ranks threats in three tiers. The first tier includes attacks on cyberspace, international terrorism, natural disasters and a military crisis that "draws in" Britain. Since being "drawn in" involves an act of choice, that hardly constitutes a threat in the conventional sense.
The second tier essentially reiterates the first, the effect being to underline that terrorism is the biggest threat. Not until the third tier is there mention of "a large scale conventional military attack on Britain," though the seriousness of the danger is undermined since no information is provided on who these invaders might be. Indeed, General Sir Richard Dannatt , the former Chief of the General Staff, recently admitted that "it is widely accepted that there will be no credible conventional threat to our territorial integrity for the foreseeable future."
Sidestepping the real threat
Mired in fantasy, the SDSR does not adequately address the main danger outlined in the threat assessment, namely terrorism. A more realistic defense review - in other words, one genuinely designed to make Britain safer - would have focused on combating terrorism. The result would have been procurement priorities unlike any in British history since most of the weapons needed to defeat terrorists are not weapons at all. Expenditure would be shifted from tanks and aircraft carriers to espionage and cyber security. The most attractive feature of such a review is its cost. The high-tech devices appropriate to fighting terrorists cost a pittance compared to Typhoons or submarines. Stated simply: it is possible for Britain to save money and enhance security.
Possible, but not plausible. What the SDSR debate revealed is that most Britons - from Prime Minister to ordinary punter - are more interested in illusions of grandeur than simple security. As Dannatt remarked, "there is no real appetite to reduce further our role on the world stage." That is very true, but also very frightening. For the foreseeable future, Britain's security will rest on the shaky assumption that militant jihadists will be mighty impressed by giant aircraft carriers devoid of aircraft.
Dr Gerard DeGroot is Professor of Modern History at the University of St Andrews in Scotland and author of The Bomb: A Life.
