> Begin forwarded message:
> 
> From: Mark M
> Subject: The Brain of the Pentagon
> Date: May 13, 2019 at 07:06:20 EDT
> 
> The Brain of the Pentagon
> By Eliot A. Cohen
> 
> May 12, 2019
> 
> https://www.defenseone.com/ideas/2019/05/brain-pentagon/156843/
> 
> 
> When the memorial service for the former defense official Andrew W. Marshall, 
> who recently passed away at the age of 97, was held, an eclectic throng 
> attended. Former senior Cabinet officials, generals (the vice chairman of the 
> Joint Chiefs of Staff gave one of the eulogies), professors, think tankers, 
> and bureaucrats from several continents showed up. There were historians, 
> anthropologists, economists, journalists, and political scientists. But it 
> was not a gathering of the establishment, for these were the cranky insiders 
> rather than the complacent wielders of authority. And all of us thought of 
> ourselves as members of what is affectionately known as St. Andrew’s Prep.
> 
> Andy came to Washington in 1969 from the Rand Corporation to work for Henry 
> Kissinger. His friend James Schlesinger recruited him from there to create 
> and run the Office of Net Assessment in the Pentagon in 1973, and he retired 
> out of that job an astounding 42 years later. In that time, he influenced not 
> only the senior civilian and military leadership of the Pentagon 
> (emphatically, some more than others), but generations of students of 
> national-security affairs.
> 
> Put at its most simple, net assessment is about comparing opposing sides in 
> actual or potential conflict. That might sound straightforward, but it is 
> not. Intelligence agencies focus on the other—they are by culture and 
> sometimes by bureaucratic practice allergic to studying their own side. The 
> military engages in planning, of course, but that is not the same thing as 
> assessment, because action is very different from analysis. Think tanks 
> usually conduct their studies with an eye on clearly defined deliverables in 
> well-measured times for particular clients. Universities do all kinds of 
> analytic work, but very rarely with the kind of highly classified information 
> that is needed.
> 
> Related: Is the Pentagon Truly Committed to the National Defense Strategy?
> Related: The Pentagon’s First AI Strategy Will Focus on Near-Term Operations 
> — and Safety
> Related: The National Defense Strategy Is No Strategy
> What Andy Marshall invented (and it was his invention) was something else: a 
> sober, multifaceted, long-range scrutiny of military balances that probed for 
> hidden asymmetries of strategy or organizational behavior, and that took in 
> everything—from geography to technology, order of battle to styles of 
> command, and culture to bureaucratic routine. Many of the products were 
> highly classified. Some were well known (such as his iconic assessment of the 
> standoff in Central Europe during the Cold War) and some went to only one or 
> two consumers. They gave no clear guidelines for immediate action. Indeed, 
> the reason the Office of Net Assessment flourished was because, from a narrow 
> bureaucratic point of view, it threatened no one. Some secretaries of defense 
> neither understood its work nor cared about it; the clever ones, such as 
> Schlesinger and Harold Brown, treasured it.
> 
> At any given time, fewer than a dozen bright young officers and civilians at 
> most were at the heart of the ONA, but its intellectual ripples extended far 
> away. Read Graham Allison’s Essence of Decision, and there in the credits you 
> will see Andy Marshall. Look at some of the finer literature on intelligence 
> and on military effectiveness in the interwar period and World War II, and 
> you will see that it was sponsored by Andy Marshall. Read about how the 
> United States sharply revised downward its estimate of the size of the Soviet 
> economy in the mid-1980s, and you will see that it rested on work by émigré 
> Soviet economists who had been disregarded by their more orthodox Western 
> counterparts. Andy had contracted for, and championed, their work.
> 
> Andy was an intellectual magpie. He devoured books on early-19th-century 
> military history (“Read Dominic Lieven’s book on how the Russians beat 
> Napoleon; it will change your view of Russian military culture”), Chinese 
> philosophy, and biological anthropology. To be sure, privates often think of 
> their sergeants as apes; Andy wondered what it meant that the generals and 
> politicians had a good deal of the primate in them, too. He wrote very 
> little, in part because he was a perfectionist. As more than one subordinate 
> or contractor ruefully acknowledged, you would give him something you had 
> written, he would mumble at you and say “Do it again,” and after the third or 
> fourth go, it was the best thing you had ever written in your life.
> 
> Andy’s was the life of the mind, devoted to the study of conflict and 
> informed by a deep and abiding—if often pessimistic—love of the United 
> States. He would listen to anyone who had something to say, be it a Harvard 
> professor or a graduate student masquerading as a reserve second lieutenant. 
> He liked the oddballs—those dissident Soviet economists, the crackbrained 
> technologists, the impossibly insubordinate armor officers, the eccentric 
> hedge-fund guy who was willing to help the country while trying to figure out 
> which way the financial winds were blowing.
> 
> What those memorializing Andy remembered most, however, was his kindness. He 
> could be tough, and on rare occasions—when someone was appallingly stupid or 
> had behaved very badly—he could get angry, but that was rare. For the most 
> part, he gave. He gave opportunities for scholars whose work did not quite 
> fit within disciplinary boundaries. He gave brilliant young officers (like 
> the four-star-general officer who eulogized him) an opportunity to sit for a 
> couple of years getting smart. He did not mind investing in some intellectual 
> drilling that yielded only dry holes, because he knew that that was the price 
> of exploration. And, in a lesson to all self-important people, if he thought 
> you might possibly have something to say, he would sit and listen to you no 
> matter how old you were, where you went to school, or what your status was.
> 
> St. Andrew’s Prep may have some reunions (there is a foundation named after 
> Andy), but he was the centripetal force that held it together. That is fine; 
> he knew that nothing lasts forever, and that it was time for others to do his 
> kind of mentoring, exploring, and inquiring about what makes the world of 
> strategy spin. He left behind webs of friendship and connection, and an 
> American tradition of strategic thinking that will live well beyond him.
> 
> In recent years, grim-faced or obsequious Russian and Chinese officers came 
> to Washington seeking the mysterious secrets of the impassive brain of the 
> Pentagon. They had pored over every reference to him (not many) in the press, 
> and sought the hidden mysteries in his still scantier writings. They knew 
> that he had anticipated the transformative effects of the information 
> revolution on warfare, and wondered what he saw coming next. They would have 
> loved to have purloined and secretly photographed the folder covered with 
> security stamps labeled “The Really Big Secrets of Net Assessment.”
> 
> It does not exist, of course, though they will not believe it. They may never 
> understand that his real secret was that of a roving mind and a patient 
> intellect, married to the spirit of a masterly teacher and generous friend. 
> If they only knew it, they would realize that the real secret to Andy 
> Marshall’s success could begin to be found in the broad smiles and loud 
> laughs as St. Andrew’s Prep celebrated its times with its wise mentor, the 
> kindly, not entirely inscrutable brain of the Pentagon.
> 
> By Eliot A. Cohen // Eliot A. Cohen is the director of the Strategic Studies 
> Program at the Johns Hopkins University School of Advanced International 
> Studies. From 2007 to 2009, he served as counselor to Secretary of State 
> Condoleezza Rice. He is the author of "The Big Stick: The Limits of Soft 
> Power and the Necessity of Military Force."
> 
> 
> 

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