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"After me, the flood"
Much has been written elsewhere regarding the unforgivable sin of failing to plan for known contingencies. Whatever one thinks of the current changes undergoing the United States Army, the least controversial thing to be said about them is that they certainly represent a change from what has come before. And regardless of what one thinks, or refuses to think, about their merit, one can say one other thing for certain: they will eventually yield. Sooner or later, the "idiosyncrasies" of the current administration will again be replaced by "regular order". They must, the only question is how long will that transformation take. As members of the profession of arms we must at least consider how we will collectively re-establish some of the fundamental characteristics and capabilities of our military in the period that follows. This is essential, because any period of chaos or lack of resolve on our part has the potential to imperil national defense. Without a plan, what could be a very bumpy transition could give rise to an exploitable opportunity on the part of America's enemies to damage American interests, threaten America's overseas holdings, gain footholds in the "near-abroad", or threaten mainland America itself. The US Army's unshakable contract with the American people to fight and win the nation's wars by providing prompt, sustained land dominance across the full spectrum for conflict does not leave a lot of time for navel gazing during periods of uncertainty or of transition. In so far as that political uncertainty may unavoidably involve our Army, it is our responsibility to plan our way to the other side of it so that we may safeguard essential capabilities and be in a position to continue mission. Retaking the moral high ground (rule of law) The current administration's problematic relationship with the principles that inform the just use of force, such as the rule of law and the laws of land warfare, have been comprehensively documented elsewhere. Recent examples, in the form of exploding Venezuelan fishing boats accompanied by official pronouncements of indifference to the legal niceties of such action, make the direction we are moving in all too clear. What concerns us here is how best to put Humpty Dumpty back again after he has been comprehensively damaged. Respect for the law that underpins the just use of force, and especially the various international regimes that support it, is difficult to build and easy to dismantle. This is especially the case where the offending party has heretofore held a pre-eminent role in maintaining the status quo. As America abandons her post as the guardian of international law and of the rules-based international order to seek a role as one among several regional hegemons this will, by design, create a destabilizing environment for smaller nations and could lead to the readjustment of borders through conflict. Thinking through to a future where America may once again seek to champion a rules-based international order, how might we, as nation and as an Army, seek to incentivize participation by smaller nations who we may have earlier abandoned to their fate? I would suggest, ironically, that by maintaining our military strength and capabilities we may again be able to benignly bully the world in a multilateral rules-based order that transcends "the law of the jungle" as we did in the post WWII period. More than that, we would have to identify and maintain reservoirs of good practice and learning that survive the current period - such as the jurisprudence of the International Criminal Court, independent centers for the study of international law (in so far as our institutional ones do not avoid becoming fatally compromised), and independent expertise to whom we might have resort when we need them to rebuild our own institutional capacity. Rebuilding academic infrastructure Similarly, the loss of academic independence and the curtailing of academic enquiry, although easy to achiev...
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Defence's New Industrial Strategy
Britain's long awaited Defence Industrial Strategy 2025 (DIS 25) has been released. It commits the Government to the largest sustained uplift in defence spending since the Cold War and seeks to complement the ambition of Strategic Defence Review 2025 (SDR 25). It sets a short-term target of raising spending from 2% of GDP to 2.6% by 2027, declaring an "ambition" in the medium term for 3% by 2030 in the next Parliament. Longer term it outlines a "historic commitment" to reach a target of 5% alongside other NATO allies by 2035. The investment trajectory the strategy sets out seems intent not only to underwrite British national security but to position its defence industry as a key engine of sovereign economic growth, regional regeneration and technological capability development. DIS 25 follows close on the heels of the recent announcement of a successful £10bn contract being signed for the UK to supply the Norwegian navy with Type 26 anti-submarine frigates. Its release also coincides with the Britain's flagship defence industry sector event Defence and Security Equipment International 2025 (DSEI 25) in London that serves as a physical totem of the Government's intention to encourage domestic and international commercial interest. The 108-page strategy document contains suitably impressive numbers related to investment allocations. UK Defence Innovation has been tasked to "invest in [Britain's] most innovative defence companies" with a ring-fenced annual budget of £400 million, plus a mandate that 10% of its equipment procurement is spent on novel technologies. Likewise, £15 billion has been committed to the "sovereign warhead programme" and a further £6 billion to "strengthen our supply chains… in munitions this parliament". Efforts have also been made address procurement efficiency with the National Armaments Director being given authority of a "new segmented approach". Coupled with a commitment to a five-year, proactive forecasting process promises to reduce the need for emergency budget supplements and enhance market trust. Reference is also made throughout to wider Government targets that promise to "reduce administrative costs of regulation to business… to create a regulatory environment fit for the current era of threat". Taken on face value, there is much to be optimistic about. For the British Army there is much to be encouraged by. Faster contracting and procurement cycles promise to narrow the gap between user requirement definition and frontline delivery. Projects such as RAPSTONE and ASGARD are recent examples of how this approach can be done, alongside more deliberate (i.e. traditional) programme of record processes that continue at pace. Expanding these 'proven commercial routes' to deliver capabilities for units and formations that range from armoured platforms, ground-based sensors, communication suites and munition stocks is an exciting prospect. Equally promising is the DIS' pledge to "increase prototype warfare" as this directly relates to the Army's wholesale drive for Robotics and Autonomous Systems (RAS) integration at every echelon. From a section operating with Uncrewed Ground Vehicles (UGVs) and Air Vehicles (UAS), to a formation headquarters that can plan and execute with AI-enabled battlefield analytics, this approach may see the transition from lab to field at unprecedented speed. That said, whilst DIS 25 has been broadly welcomed for its ambition, there are concerns and criticisms surrounding DIS 25 it. Commentary at DSEI 25 revealed a persistent frustration among industry leaders regarding the MOD's pace of reform, particularly in contracting and capability delivery. Concerns were voiced about bureaucratic inertia and the slow translation of strategic ambition into executable contracts, with some firms publicly citing delays in the Land Mobility Programme (LMP) and uncertainty around the new medium helicopter programme as emblematic of systemic issues. In contrast, speeches by Defence Secretary...
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On (Military) Pride and Prejudice and Why We Can't Engineer War
Pride goeth before the fall War starts with a bluster. Whether it is with sacrifices in the temples, parades or press conferences, young men are sent to battle with pomp and ceremony. Then, they storm the forts or the beaches or the hilltops. They die, usually horribly, foolishly, from mistakes historians will later describe as avoidable. Lessons are learned - often, they resemble lessoned already learned in previous conflicts. Force generation and employment adapts. War ends. Another one begins, the cycle repeats itself. Academics write about military incompetence; others wax poetically about zoology. One could argue that this pattern was to be expected in the past. For the majority of human history, fighting was barely a profession and militaries were lean establishment. Modern staffs, the "brain of the army" were a very late invention. Beforehand, learning was personal, military scholarship (often surviving centuries, receiving a stature akin to holy scripture) was anecdotal and amateurish. We have surely advanced since. Everywhere military "back office" has ballooned, the fighting force has been professionalized. Military academies were established and some places, education programs were even enshrined by law. The military profession has moved from mainly art to science and art. Militaries started trying to design themselves for the next war, establishing bureaucracies and process that move vast resources for that purpose. Yet militaries seem to keep getting it wrong. For a recent example, one should look east, the Russia-Ukraine war. Prior to that conflict, the Russian military, on its face, did everything right - it had a robust and professional back office, with many educational facilities, granting advanced degrees in military art and science to officers serving many years in their positions. It undergone and extensive reform converting it from a heavy conscripted force to a lean semi-volunteer army. It modernized, introducing new kit in every service and branch. It had many experienced officers from recent conflicts from Chechnya to Georgia and Syria to Ukraine itself. It was, on the paper at least, a serious threat, a force to be reckoned with. Yet, it too collapsed on the shores of reality and had to adapt and relearn lessons that were supposed to have already been known. This story is not unique. It repeats in many forms and languages. To the military professional observing from the ringside, this should raise serious questions about how militaries generate forces. Could it be that we are indeed incompetent? Are the tales of lions and donkeys true? It is, of course, complicated It is, indeed, complicated. Modern militaries like to engineer their forces. Force generation entails lengthy planning processes, involving many stakeholders and moving parts, over multiple years, meant to create the right force to win the first battle. To facilitate this design process, the military tries to holistically look at the various elements creating military power. These elements, referred to by the acronym DOTMLPF, describe everything that should go into the giant cocktail that is a military force - Doctrine, Organization, Training, Material, Leadership (and education), Personnel and Facilities. In recent years, a new ingredient was added to the recipe - Policy. With these powers combined, the right and lethel force is supposed to be created. This alphabet soup, however, only describes part of the very complicated picture and neglects the relationship between the various elements comprising military power. Depiction closer to reality would look something like this: A military force is an organ (ideally) larger than the sum of its parts. These parts include "hard" elements (everything we can describe and measure), "soft" elements (other things we can't comfortably describe, but rather talk with more hand waving about), non-military elements and unknown variables. Analysts and pundits tend to focus on the "shiny objects" that a...
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UK National Resilience
The United Kingdom's national resilience is a critical pillar of its security in an increasingly volatile global environment. As geopolitical tensions rise, particularly with adversaries such as Russia, the UK faces multifaceted threats that target its centres of gravity: key societal, economic, and infrastructural elements that underpin national stability. These centres include critical national infrastructure (CNI) such as telecommunications, water, energy, and social cohesion, which are vital to the functioning of modern society. In response to these threats, defence primes have advocated for investments in ground-based air defence (GBAD) systems, often citing Israel's Iron Dome as a model for protecting against missile and drone attacks. However, the UK's geopolitical and geographical context differs significantly from Israel, rendering direct comparisons problematic. While GBAD systems have a role, they are not the primary solution to the UK's immediate threats, which are more likely to involve hybrid warfare, cyberattacks, and disruptions to CNI rather than conventional missile barrages. This essay examines the challenges to UK national resilience, the limitations of GBAD as a solution, recent events targeting UK vulnerabilities, and the broader strategies needed to bolster resilience within the NATO framework. Understanding Centres of Gravity and UK Vulnerabilities In military and strategic theory, centres of gravity are the critical capabilities or assets that, if disrupted, significantly weaken a nation's ability to function. For the UK, these include CNI (telecommunications, energy, water, and transport), economic stability, public trust, and social cohesion. Unlike traditional military targets such as bases or airfields, these centres are civilian in nature but essential to national security. Adversaries seeking to undermine the UK are increasingly likely to employ hybrid tactics - combining cyberattacks, disinformation, sabotage, and economic disruption - to destabilise these assets without resorting to direct military confrontation. Recent events underscore the vulnerability of these centres. In 2024, reports indicated that the UK faces approximately 90,000 cyberattacks daily, many attributed to Russia and its allies, targeting government systems, financial institutions (FSI), and critical national infrastructure (CNI). These attacks aim to disrupt digital infrastructure, steal sensitive data, or sow distrust in institutions. Additionally, suspected sabotage of undersea cables in the Baltic Sea in 2024 highlighted the fragility of the UK's international communications networks, which are critical for economic and security functions. Such incidents demonstrate that adversaries prioritise non-kinetic means to degrade the UK's resilience, exploiting its reliance on interconnected systems. The UK's population centres are also vulnerable to disruptions that do not involve missiles. Power cuts, for instance, could paralyse urban areas, disrupting healthcare, transport, and food supply chains. The 2019 UK power outages, though not attributed to hostile action, exposed how a single failure in the National Grid could affect millions, with hospitals and transport systems struggling to cope. Similarly, social media-inspired unrest, as seen in the 2011 London riots and more recently in Southport, illustrates how disinformation or orchestrated campaigns could amplify social tensions, undermining public order. These examples highlight that adversaries can achieve strategic goals by targeting civilian infrastructure and societal cohesion rather than military assets. Defence Primes and the Push for GBAD Systems Defence primes, such as MBDA and Northrop Grumman, have seized on the growing threat perception to advocate for enhanced air and missile defence systems, particularly GBAD. They point to Israel's Iron Dome, which has successfully intercepted short-range rockets and drones, as a case study for why the UK should invest i...
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The Most Dangerous Invention: Gwynne Dyer and the History of War
Why Short Histories Matter War has long been the domain of soldiers and scholars: studied by the few, practised by the fewer, but suffered by the many. In the absence of lived memory, the risk is that societies forget what war really means. This fading memory matters. The 20th century saw war reach its historical zenith through extreme industrialised conflict. It was a time of mass mobilisation, unprecedented global integration, and civilian populations on the front and rear lines like never before. But today, nearly a century later, no full generation left alive can truly compute the scale of destruction the first half of the 1900s wrought outside of study, media, or memory. Total war is often abstract. It is reduced to historical footage, elevated by academic study, rendered across film and games, or reflected through anecdotes by those who have experienced conflict in our lifetime. That makes public understanding not just desirable, but necessary. As Great Power Competition returns, we risk confronting future war without a logical and emotional foundation needed to respect its costs. That is the challenge Gwynne Dyer takes up in The Shortest History of War. If war must be made intelligible to the many and not just the few, then its complexity simplified is key. His message is clear: violence certainly exists in nature, and fighting is too common across the animal kingdom; but war is something distinctly human. It is an institutional practice born of hierarchy, sustained by coercion, and shaped by political purpose. What the Book Gets Right: The Impressive Scope Dyer's narrative unfolds in broad chronological arcs, but its power lies in rejecting determinism. War, he argues, has never been inevitable and has always been enabled. Elites choose it, institutions entrench it, and ideologies justify it. Going as far back as historically plausible for a self-respecting scholar, Dyer systematically dismantles romantic myths of honourable violence and the noble savage. Instead, he traces how conflict has been shaped by degrees of industrialisation across millennia, various forms of nationalism before and after Westphalia was even a thing, evolving methods of bureaucracy long before Mandarins, and even game theory as a thought experiment. These are forces, Dyer outlines, which rhyme across history, reinforcing the institutional logic of violence and escalating its lethality. War is not some immutable condition of humanity - it is a social technology. A political invention, forged in the surplus of early agriculture and sustained by organised power ever since. One of the book's most striking passages illustrates the intense changes in just the last few centuries. Outlining the use of phalanx-style tactics, Dyer observes that a well-trained army from 1500 BCE (if rearmed with iron instead of bronze) could plausibly hold its own against one from 1500 CE. Yet within just a century of that, the military revolutions of the 17th century made such continuity impossible. The accelerating pace of change, particularly in our lifetime, has transformed war's destructiveness beyond recognition. Where war once meant hours of bloody attrition with swords or muskets, today it can mean a nuclear-armed intercontinental ballistic missile capable of erasing cities in minutes. The gap between what war was and what it could become has never been wider. Nowhere is this institutional absurdity clearer than in Dyer's analysis of Cold War nuclear doctrines. Mutually assured destruction (MAD), he writes, was not strategic brilliance but a global suicide pact rationalised into orthodoxy. What began as deterrence hardened into doctrine - a logic so widely accepted that he says its contradictions became invisible. But The Shortest History of War is not a book about tactics, doctrines, or battlefield dynamics. It is not concerned with how wars are fought, but why war became possible at all. Dyer is philosophical as any other scholar of war, but he nonetheless br...
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