SMH 2018 and “Cross Functional” Officers

I’ve been distracted by the publication of Learning War and the warm welcome its received, so this follow-up post on the Society of Military History’s Annual Meeting (SMH 2018) is later than I intended. What strikes me as I review my notes from the meeting is how “cross-functional” U.S. naval officers of the early twentieth century were.

Cross-functionality is a common concept in software, but unusual in a military context. I’m using it here to refer to naval officers who developed experience and skill in many different specialties—surface ships, submarines, aviation, and politics—that together created an integrated fleet. Just as many development teams today encourage broad expertise across a variety of domains and technologies, the U.S. Navy of the early twentieth century encouraged officers to develop familiarity with different aspects of naval warfare.

This theme appeared in several papers. Scott Mobley used textual analysis of two different version of William Leahy’s diary (one recently discovered at the U.S. Naval Academy) to assess Leahy’s view of the American intervention in Nicaragua in 1912. Leahy was a Lieutenant Commander in the Pacific Fleet and served as chief of staff to the intervention’s commander, Rear Adm. William Southerland. Leahy also served as the military governor of Corinto, requiring him to employ both strategic acumen and political skill. Leahy was not the only U.S. officer with a political role in the early twentieth century. A talent for foreign relations—which I think of, with apologies to Clausewitz, as “war by other means”—was desirable. Even junior officers were encouraged to develop their political skill. It was essential when communication mechanisms were slow and small ships—like those in the Philippine archipelago—were the most visible local representation of the U.S. government. I believe it made officers better equipped to deal with the inherently political challenges of high command, which include not only collaboration with other nations, but the competing incentives of different services. “Jointness” is inherently political.

Ryan Wadle gave a valuable paper on “generalists vs. specialists” in the interwar (1919-1939) U.S. Navy, a fascinating topic with important ramifications for today. Wadle used Henry Yarnell as a vehicle for his analysis, charting the major developments of his career. He started as a surface warfare officer, became head of the Newport torpedo station, and then a staff officer. Later in his career, Yarnell was head of the Bureau of Engineering, commander of the battle force’s aircraft carriers, and commander of the Asiatic Fleet. Yarnell was a “triple threat” officer, with a rich experience commanding surface ships, submarines, and aircraft carriers. He and Ernest King—who went on to become the Navy’s commander-in-chief during World War II—are the most famous examples of this cross-functional skillset, but they are not the only ones. Our discussion afterwards focused on how culture was broadly cohesive across the Navy during this time and not divided into the factions (submarines, surface, and aviators) that we see today. We left wondering what specific mechanisms the Navy used to incentivize this broad familiarity and what it might take to create parallel incentives today. The current paradigm “channels” officers into specific specialties and inhibits them from developing experience in other arms of the service.

This is obviously undesirable, because without a broad understanding of how the various elements of the fleet can be used effectively together, it is difficult for teams of officers to self-organize to solve complex problems. Specialization—in military forces and in software teams—encourages the development of top-down control mechanisms that reduce the speed of decision-making and discourage individual initiative. This is true within a specific service, but also across them during “joint” operations. A century ago the Navy avoided this by encouraging officers to develop a richer set of skills. My time at SMH 2018 has me wondering how the Navy might address this challenge today as it attempts to encourage what the current Chief of Naval Operations, Adm. John Richardson, calls “high velocity learning.”

Strategy from “Inherently Erroneous” Conceptions

Fear of InvasionA brief review of David G. Morgan-Owen’s The Fear of Invasion: Strategy, Politics, and British War Planning, 1880-1914 (Oxford University Press, 2017)

I am very grateful for this book. David G. Morgan-Owen’s narrative provides much-needed clarity on one of the fundamental questions of World War I: How did the Royal Navy, the most dominant naval force of the day, come to adopt a passive strategy that ceded the initiative to their German opponents?

Morgan-Owen’s detailed analysis of strategic planning in the decades prior to the war provides a compelling answer. He does this by expanding the scope of the narrative, looking beyond the Royal Navy’s planning to consider its relationship with the British Army and the Government. What emerges is a pattern of decisions—each with a logical explanation in context—that gradually limited the Royal Navy’s freedom of action and left Admiral John R. Jellicoe in the unenviable position of being, in the words of Winston Churchill, “the only man on either side who could lose the war in an afternoon.”

Those words made sense to me over three decades ago when I first started looking into the naval history of World War I. They seemed to offer a useful explanation for Admiral Jellicoe’s defensive attitude in the war’s largest fleet action, the Battle of Jutland. As more recent scholarship emerged, however, I began to wonder. Andrew Gordon’s The Rules of the Game was an important step because it introduced the idea that perhaps the Royal Navy was insufficiently well-prepared to exercise command in a modern naval war.1

My study of U.S. Navy doctrine and tactics in the interwar period (1919-1939) provided another useful perspective. Although historians have repeatedly accused the U.S. Navy of “refighting” Jutland, U.S. Navy officers examined the battle as a learning tool, drawing out valuable lessons about the principles of naval warfare.2 One of the ideas repeatedly stressed in their analyses was the importance of offensive action, to seize the initiative and keep the enemy off-balance. Today, we would describe this as getting inside your opponent’s OODA (Observe-Orient-Decide-Act) Loop. In Learning War, I make the point that the U.S. Navy’s conception of the importance of the initiative expanded during the interwar period, so that it embraced not just the tactical level of warfare, but also the strategic. With this in mind, one U.S. officer described Jellicoe’s approach as “an inherently erroneous conception of naval warfare.”3 A rather damning critique which I’ve referenced in the title of this post.

I had that perspective in mind when I read Shawn T. Grimes’s Strategy and War Planning in the British Navy, 1887-1918. Grimes challenges many established assumptions about the Royal Navy’s approach to war, providing a thorough analysis of exercises, strategic thinking, and conceptualizations about a potential war in the North Sea. I highly recommend it. Before reading his monograph, I hypothesized that—as strange as it might seem—perhaps the Royal Navy had not performed the kind of large-scale exercises necessary to adequately assess how to handle a modern fleet in battle. Reading Grimes, I realized my hypothesis was incorrect. Exercises were performed, and they seemed to provide a reasonably accurate assessment of modern technologies and their capabilities. I began to wonder if something prevented the Royal Navy from learning effectively from their exercises.

I had several questions. Why did men like Jellicoe adopt a defensive strategic posture? How did they maintain it in light of their material superiority? What led them to remain passive in the home theater while pursuing aggressive actions elsewhere around the globe? How did they expect the Royal Navy to help win the war?

Morgan-Owen provides a compelling history that answers these questions. British war planning is described in its full complexity; the Empire’s strategy emerges from the interaction of three linked—but largely independent—organizations, the British Army, the Imperial Navy, and the Government. Morgan-Owen eschews simplistic explanations like personal failings or shortcomings within a single organization’s planning process. Instead we are told that the “lack of a meaningful vision of how to prosecute a war against Germany” prevented alignment.4 There was no coherent overall strategy.

Instead, there were a series of lower-level decisions made by each of the three major organizations involved. The Army focused on creating a large expeditionary force, first for India, and then later for the Continent. The Government (and the public) became aware of the potential threat of a German surprise attack on England’s East Coast. The swift Prussian victory in 1870 prompted fears that a rapid movement across the North Sea could land unopposed and force a decision while the main strength of the British Army was away. The Royal Navy could not allow this to occur, so it focused on countering the threat.

Taken together, these cascading decisions—the brief description in the paragraph above is a gross simplification—provide a clear explanation for Jellicoe’s defensive stance. The outcome is remarkable in hindsight, because it meant that the inherent flexibility offered by naval power—which the British had used repeatedly to their advantage in the past—was subordinated to the employment of a large army. One could argue that the British, by focusing on a continental commitment, played to German strengths, which is something strategic planning should avoid. This outcome was obviously not clear to decision-makers at the time, and Morgan-Owen does an excellent job of explaining their perspectives, assumptions, and context to illustrate how undesirable consequences can result from the actions of well-intentioned individuals.

I highly recommend this book for anyone interested in strategy, war planning, or naval history.

1. Gordon suggests that the Royal Navy’s dominant position through the nineteenth century led to ossified command structures that were insufficient for the demands of modern naval combat. Andrew Gordon, The Rules of the Game: Jutland and British Naval Command (Annapolis, Md: Naval Institute Press, 1996).

2. David Kohnen argues that the U.S. Navy was the ultimate winner of Jutland. David Kohnen, “The U.S. Navy Won the Battle of Jutland”, Naval War College Review (Autumn 2016, Vol. 69, No. 4), 122-145.

3. Commander Holloway H. Frost, The Battle of Jutland (Annapolis, Md: U.S. Naval Institute, 1936), 517.

4. David G. Morgan-Owen, The Fear of Invasion: Strategy, Politics, and British War Planning, 1880-1914 (Oxford University Press, 2017), 215.

On the Scrum Master Toolbox Podcast

I’m excited to be on a recent episode of Vasco Duarte’s Scrum Master Toolbox Podcast along with Karl Scotland and Henrik Mårtesson. The three of us discussed strategy, doctrine, and decision-making in Agile and business contexts.

Karl has some wonderful tools and approaches for what he calls Strategy Deployment (conceptualizing and promulgating a plan throughout an organization). The X-Matrix is a way to visualize desired outcomes, strategic approaches, specific tactics, and processes. The format of the matrix allows them all to be related together. Along with his Backbriefing and Experimenting A3s, the X-Matrix forms a three-level hierarchy for synergistic planning. Karl waked me through this approach during a workshop at Lean Agile Scotland last year. He emphasized that while the tools are useful, the real value comes from the conversations they trigger.

I would agree with that assessment, which is why I stress the importance of the Naval War College’s “conference method” when I bring up the U.S. Navy’s historical tool for strategic decision-making, the Estimate of the Situation. The Estimate of the Situation was a well-defined process that—like Karl’s X-Matrix—walked participants through exploring options and formulating strategies. Unlike Karl’s three-level hierarchy, it was fractal, so any level of the organizational structure could use the Estimate. What made it really powerful was the conversations it triggered (hence the importance of conferences).

I’d never met Henrik before, but it was a pleasure to talk with him. He describes himself as a systems thinker who focuses on making companies more resilient and more fun. That really came though in our conversation and I was pleased to learn more about his perspective.

Check out the podcast to hear more about our discussion and the different themes we explored like John Boyd’s OODA Loop, Nassim Nicholas Taleb’s Skin in the Game, and Steven Bungay’s The Art of Action.

Thoughts from SMH 2018

I attended the Society of Military History’s annual conference in Louisville, KY last week and it was a wonderful time. I enjoyed catching up with old friends, making new ones, and sitting in on some very thought-provoking panels.

IMG_1364Learning Across Peace and War

The conference’s theme was “Landscapes of War and Peace” so I put together a panel on learning in the U.S. Navy of the early 20th century, before, during, and after World War I. My paper was about the early development of U.S. Navy doctrine and I attempted to illustrate the importance of certain methods developed at the Naval War College—the conference method, the estimate of the situation, and the concept of “doctrine”—and how these ideas influenced the development of tactical doctrine within the fleet (there’s more on that in my book).

I thought it was an excellent panel. There was a nice synergy between my paper and the others. K.J. Delamer discussed the importance of Mahan’s thought for the campaign in the Pacific in World War II. Larry Burke presented on the early development of American naval aviation; his paper reminded me how much emphasis there was on making “every ship” an airplane carrier from the earliest days, something I had noticed in my own research, but have never stressed the way Larry did. Randy Papadopoulos was our commentator and said something that I felt was particularly important. “Doctrine” as we understand it today seems to have originated with Dudley Knox and his work at the Naval War College; that was a major element of my paper, but it merits further study.

Race, Progressivism, and Holy War

One theme that emerged from several of the panels I attended was the idea of race. “Was the First Crusade an Offensive or Defensive War?” was a panel discussion in which attendees wrestled with changing definitions of “offensive” and “defensive” war over very long timescales. It was quickly apparent that the justifications used in the eleventh century to “defend” Christendom would not be considered “defensive” today, but the discussion was still quite valuable. One question surfaced the importance of race as a means of distancing Christians from Muslims and justifying a “holy war.”

That idea was in my mind when I attended “Bayonets & Bolos: The Sharp End of Military Culture in the U.S. and the Philippines.” Garrett Gatzemeyer gave a particularly interesting paper on the relationship between bayonet training in the U.S. Army during World War I and the role of progressive reformers. Their emphasis on the importance of “manpower and manhood” to win the war reflected Social Darwinist assumptions about relationships between races and the superiority of white Americans. Justin C. Pergolizzi’s paper on the Dominican Constabulary established by the U.S. Marine Corps in 1917 touched on very similar themes, drawing attention to the paternalistic racism of American interventions in Central America and the Caribbean.

Race was a central theme of the keynote, “Southern Cross, North Star – The Politics of Irreconciliation and Civil War Memory in the American Middle Border” by Christopher Phillips. He went through the themes explored in his award-winning book, The Rivers Ran Backward which explores the influence of the Civil War on the Midwestern states. The talk was a fascinating look at the troubled time in that region immediately following the Civil War and how regional differences and discrete “northern” and “southern” myth-making influenced racial attitudes. Phillips pointed out how rural counties embraced white nationalism while industrial modernization overtook the cities in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, a development that influences American politics to this day.

Early Sunday morning, I heard Matthew S. Muehlbauer discuss his paper, “Defending the City on the Hill: Holy War and Just War in Early New England, 1630-55” which built on his 2017 award-winning article on holy war and just war in New England during the same time period. He referenced Geraldine Heng’s The Invention of Race in the European Middle Ages and described differing attitudes between the settlers in Massachusetts Bay and along the Connecticut River. Where the former seemed to be predisposed to use just war approaches to legitimize fighting Native Americans, the latter quickly framed the conflict in holy war terms. The Native Americans were “others” and it was, therefore, justifiable to slaughter them (as at Mystic in May 1637) using the terminology of holy war. Muehlbauer closed with a hypothesis that fear plays an important role in how race is used to justify conflict; the Connecticut River colonists were much more fearful—because of the surprise attacks on them—than those in Massachusetts Bay.

Naval History?

Few panels addressed naval history directly, aside from mine and another scheduled at the same time, but there was one from the Naval Institute and another with Ryan Wadle. I’m excited for his forthcomingbook on Harry Yarnell. I’ll write about observations from those sessions in a future post.

Learning War is Coming!

I haven’t written here in some time, but I have been doing plenty of writing. My book on organizational learning in the U.S. Navy of the early twentieth century is being published by the U.S. Naval Institute this June and I’m very excited about it.

What’s it About?

Learning War: The Evolution of Fighting Doctrine in the U.S. Navy, 1898-1945 is an analysis of the development of the U.S. Navy’s approach to surface warfare—how it planned to fight a fleet action with battleships and supporting vessels—between the Spanish-American War and the end of World War II. In my analysis, I treat the U.S. Navy as a complex adaptive system and use concepts from that discipline, like enabling constraints and emergence, to illustrate why it was so effective at rapidly learning and consistently innovating. The first half of the twentieth century was a period of rapid technological change; it saw the introduction of new platforms—like destroyers, dreadnought battleships, and airplanes—and new technologies—like mechanical fire control computers, radio, radar, and turbine propulsion. The U.S. Navy was particularly effective at integrating all of these into its force structure and tactics.

How Does it Relate to Today?

Although today’s contexts and technologies are different, I believe the basic concepts that underpinned the U.S. Navy’s approach to learning and innovation are still relevant. I’ve used many of them effectively in my work with software teams; these include creating an environment of psychological safety, leveraging variability to rapidly explore new techniques and methods, and fostering decentralized decision-making to seize fleeting opportunities. In the book, I explain how these approaches developed and evolved in the U.S. Navy’s context. A core theme is the importance of continually revising approaches to ensure they remain relevant, something that the Agile community is wrestling with right now.

It will be great to see Learning War in print. I think my work is done. I’ve finalized the draft; I’ve been through page proofs and made corrections; I’ve edited the index; and I’ve gotten some very positive early feedback from historians I deeply respect. It’s been an amazing journey. If you’re interested, you can find the book on the U.S. Naval Institute’s Website, Amazon, or other booksellers.
Learning War_final.indd

2017 McMullen Naval History Symposium

IMG_1786I thoroughly enjoyed being part of the “extraordinary breadth” of scholarship presented at the McMullen Naval History Symposium last week at the U.S Naval Academy in Annapolis, MD. It was a wonderful conference, and Cdr. B.J. Armstrong deserves a lot of credit for its success. I’m very glad I finally got to meet him.

I attended several thought-provoking sessions on World War I, the interwar period (1919-1939), and the Battle of the Virginia Capes. I participated on a panel titled “1942 and Its Continued Historical Relevancy for the U.S. Navy” and I was also fortunate to win second prize in the CNO (Chief of Naval Operations) Naval History Essay Contest. I discussed my essay with some of the other winners in a session last Friday morning. Here are some of my highlights from the conference.

David Kohnen discussed the report of the “[Dudley W.] Knox, [William S.] Pye, [Ernest J.] King Board” issued in 1919 and its impact on officer education in the U.S. Navy. The report is an important part of the story of how the U.S. Navy harnessed the lessons of World War I and improved its approach to officer education before World War II. It was not surprising to hear that King was the “principal man” behind the report. It was also not surprising to learn that King published a version of the report in the Naval Institute’s Proceedings in 1920, sparking heated debate. Kohnen pointed out the importance of officer relationships for understanding the U.S. Navy of this period. King was a protégé of Henry T. Mayo, who commanded the Atlantic Fleet during World War I, and also knew William S. Sims, who commanded American naval forces in Europe. These more senior officers gave King and his colleagues “top cover” for the report and its recommendations.

Alexander Howlett presented his research into lessons learned by the Royal Navy’s Air Service and the Royal Air Force (RAF) in their campaign against the German U-Boats in 1917 and 1918. I thought one of his most interesting findings was that the British Admiralty allowed a great deal of variability; the development of tactics and doctrine devolved to individual stations. Those that created effective partnerships with surface forces and devised new techniques were more successful. When the RAF was formed, much of this learning appears to have been lost. Increasing centralization and ignorance of the best techniques for fighting the U-Boats prevented the RAF from capitalizing on established lessons. I enjoyed discussing this important shift with Howlett later that evening.

Branden Little highlighted the fact that U.S. Navy ships were used to ferry gold to American citizens in Europe immediately after the outbreak of war in 1914. Currency destabilized and many vacationers found themselves stranded without a means to pay for food, transportation, or lodging. The gold was a deliberate loan to allow Americans to pay for their needs before coming back to the United States. Armored cruiser Tennessee alone provided $5,867,000 according to one contemporary newspaper.

Sidney M. Chester followed the path of Tennessee and her sister North Carolina. They were sent to the Mediterranean where they spent a good deal of time in Beirut, then the “center of American and protestant activity” in the Middle East. The ships helped maintain harmony between various religious and ethnic groups; Chester related how more frequent liberty for the crews furthered this goal. Evidently, the sailors were good at picking fights and the regular fisticuffs diffused ethnic violence, a fascinating dynamic that I had never considered.

In our 1942 panel, I discussed the importance of the fighting in the Solomon Islands and how it triggered the U.S. Navy’s system of organizational learning; K.J. Delamer explained that PT Boats, although they had few tactical successes, were part of a multi-dimensional system of unrelenting pressure on the Japanese; and Hal Friedman illustrated that the Naval War College’s exercises of 1946 harkened back to the challenges of early wartime battles like Coral Sea, Eastern Solomons, and Santa Cruz. I particularly liked Delamer’s description of the challenge of attempting to fight steel-hulled Japanese barges in wooden-hulled PT Boats.

I moved out of my main area of interest to attend the session on the Battle of the Virginia Capes, and I’m very glad I did. James Holmes presented his “strategist take on history” by describing the effective ways in which the British deprioritized the North American colonies in favor of more important strategic theaters, like the sugar islands in the Caribbean. Holmes used the concepts of war developed by Carl von Clausewitz to frame his discussion and it was quite effective. However, at the end he introduced the idea of antifragility as developed by Nassim Nicholas Taleb, suggesting that liberal democracies like 18th century Britain can “bounce back” from failures like that experienced by the loss of the colonies.

During the commentary and questions, I started to consider the implications of this. We can potentially do ourselves a disservice if we apply a clausewitzian frame to the process of military decision-making in all times and periods. The way Holmes described the British approach, it seemed much less like a clear process of finding the “decisive theater” and much more a series of experiments and hypotheses intended to determine the most effective potential outcome. More specifically, I started to wonder if the concept of antifragility might not be a better frame for understanding British strategy in the late 18th century. Could the move into the southern colonies, which ultimately resulted in disaster t Yorktown, be seen as a minor investment with significant potential upside rather than a strategic mistake? I think that is a valuable question worth further investigation.

There were many other important sessions and talented presenters. I regret that I could not attend them all, but it has me looking forward to the next one in 2019. The McMullen Symposium is a great opportunity to learn, connect, and share ideas with the most talented minds in the field of Naval History.