Peter D. Haynes, Elmo Zumwalt’s Project SIXTY: Driving Institutional Change in an Era of Great Power Competition at Sea in:

Sebastian Bruns, Sarandis Papadopoulos (Ed.)

Conceptualizing Maritime & Naval Strategy, page 91 - 112

Festschrift for Captain Peter M. Swartz, United States Navy (ret.)

1. Edition 2020, ISBN print: 978-3-8487-5753-4, ISBN online: 978-3-8452-9915-0,

Series: ISPK Seapower Series, vol. 3

Bibliographic information
Elmo Zumwalt’s Project SIXTY: Driving Institutional Change in an Era of Great Power Competition at Sea Peter D. Haynes Introduction In 1970, the U.S. Navy, for the first time in decades, found itself confronted by a rival capable of contesting the seas.1 For the new chief of naval operations (CNO), Admiral Elmo R. “Bud” Zumwalt Jr. (CNO 1970-74), the emergence of a powerful Soviet navy and the need recapitalize the fleet and close the widening gap in sea control capabilities in an era of budget cuts required drastic changes in U.S. naval strategy.2 Armed with an unwavering confidence in his ambitious vision, Zumwalt sought to overhaul the institution, modernizing it for a new era of naval (as well as budgetary) competition. From his perspective, the Navy had lost its way strategically. The Navy had splintered conceptually and materially. It was confused about its purpose and how to rationalize it. There was a lack of understanding of why fundamental changes in the security environment necessitated changing how the fleet was to be employed and what capabilities it needed. Zumwalt’s primary instrument for institutional strategic change called Project SIXTY. He gave his small, handpicked team sixty days (hence the 1 The author would like to thank Peter Swartz for his insights and access to his research material in the writing of this chapter and other efforts as well as for his indispensable support, mentorship, and friendship through the years. As no other, Peter has inspired, supported, and mentored a generation of naval strategist and scholars. 2 “Sea control,” as Milan Vego notes, “can be described as one’s ability to use a given part of the ocean/sea and associated air (space) for military and nonmilitary purposes and to deny the same to the enemy in a time of open hostilities.” Milan Vego, Maritime Strategy and Sea Control: Theory and Practice (New York: Routledge, 2016), 24. To be clear, power projection (i.e., carrier strike warfare and amphibious assaults) is a capability. Sea control is an objective. Aircraft carriers can be used both to establish sea control (e.g., by sinking the enemy’s warships) and to exploit sea control (e.g., launching strikes on the enemy’s territory). By contrast, sea denial, usually practiced by a weaker opponent, is about preventing the enemy’s ability to use the seas. 91 name) from his first day in office to develop a comprehensive strategic plan. The plan was to be in the form of a classified briefing for presentation to the secretary of defense for his approval. It was to explain the Navy’s purpose in the post-Vietnam era, articulate and prioritize the service’s missions, and set forth the capabilities needed to execute them. Project SIXTY was a project as well as a document. As a CNO-driven effort to develop and drive an extensive agenda of bewildering institutional change, Project SIXTY remains unprecedented. As a document, it was also notable. With Project SIXTY, Zumwalt inaugurated the strategic capstone document. These self-generated statements, which come in various forms – strategies, visions, and concepts, are signed or directed by the CNO or the secretary of the Navy. To audiences (either internal, external, or both), they provide a conceptual framework needed to align the many activities of a complex warfighting organization and an explanation of the Navy’s purpose.3 For U.S. leaders and strategists, studying why and how Zumwalt sought to change the Navy in an era marked by maritime great power competition and the need to control the seas is critical. In short, the similarities between the challenges then and now are striking. Examining Zumwalt’s Project SIXTY – both the process and the document – helps isolate what U.S. naval leaders and strategists need to think about. The chapter examines how Zumwalt saw the challenges and why he saw the need to employ a capstone document and reorganize his staff, the Office of the Chief of Naval Operations (OPNAV). It examines and takes the measure of both the process and the document that is Project SIXTY and why it fell short, yet ignited a much-needed debate inside the Navy about its purpose providing the foundation for the Maritime Strategy of the 1980s. Finally, it explores how Zumwalt and Project SIXTY shaped a narrow, means-centered understanding of U.S. naval strategy that continues to haunt the Navy. 3 Peter M. Swartz, U.S. Navy Capstone, Policy, Vision and Concept Documents: What to consider before you write one (Alexandria, VA: Center for Naval Analyses, March 2009),, 1. Peter is (by far) the world’s foremost scholar on these documents. As a result of his dedication in curating, analyzing, and sharing material on these statements and background on how they came about, many scholars (none more so than the author) remain deeply in debt to Peter, and more so for his insights, enthusiasm, and mentorship. To examine Peter Swartz’s highly regarded series of PowerPoint briefs on the Navy’s capstone documents, of which there are seventeen, see apstone-strategy-series. Peter D. Haynes 92 Zumwalt’s Problems Secretary of Defense Melvin Laird and Secretary of the Navy John Chaffee had selected Zumwalt over seven admirals and twenty-six vice admirals.4 At 49, Zumwalt was the youngest CNO. He was also the first surface officer since Arleigh Burke (CNO 1955-61). In Zumwalt, they saw a charismatic leader, a leading-edge analytical thinker, and passionate agent of institutional change, just the type to carry out their mandate for change in an institution historically resistant to such. Previously, Zumwalt had been the commander of U.S. Naval Forces, Vietnam, responsible for the coastal and riverine campaigns. Neither CNO Thomas H. Moorer (1967-70) nor the commanders of U.S. Pacific Command had paid much attention to these sea-control campaigns, which sought to interdict Viet Cong and North Vietnamese supply lines.5 From their perspective, these operations lacked the prestige of carrier strike operations and were not well supported.6 That did not stop Zumwalt, however. He transformed these backwater campaigns by instilling an aggressive mindset throughout the command.7 He secured needed capabilities, and gathered around him only the sharpest, most innovative officers.8 He was intensely loyal to those under his command, visiting them often to conduct frank and open round-table meetings with commanders and junior enlisted personnel to understand problems and impediments to change. Morale and operational effectiveness increased dramatically (along with casualties). As CNO, Zumwalt brought the same approach to bear to address the Navy’s many problems. Among them were how to afford an all-volunteer force, which would come into effect in 1973. Competing with the civilian sector meant more funding to recruit and retain personnel, which would now take up a far greater percentage of the Navy’s budget. The need to recruit and retain personnel in a time of profound changes in naval technology was critical—and challenging. Morale in the fleet had plummeted. It suffered from rampant drug abuse and historically low reenlistment rates. 4 Larry Berman, Zumwalt: The Life and Times of Admiral Elmo Russell “Bud” Zumwalt Jr. (New York: HarperCollins, 2012), 215. 5 See Robert W. Love, Jr., in History of the U.S. Navy, 2 vols., vol. II 1942–1991 (Harrisburg, PA: Stackpole Books, 1992), 544–546. 6 George W. Baer, One Hundred Years of Sea Power: The U.S. Navy, 1890–1990 (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1994), 390. 7 Rest of the paragraph based on ibid., 388–393, and Berman (2012), 166–203. 8 These officers included Lieutenant Peter Swartz, who did an advisory tour with the South Vietnam navy before joining Zumwalt’s staff. Elmo Zumwalt’s Project SIXTY 93 Meanwhile, the cost of weapons systems was skyrocketing.9 Whereas the Forrestal-class carriers, built from 1955–61, cost $250 million each, a Nimitz-class carrier was $2 billion. The cost of a 1960s’ F-4 Phantom II was $3 million, and its replacement, the F-14 Tomcat, was $25 million. The cost of a destroyer went from $50 million to the Spruance-class’s $350 million. Admiral Hyman Rickover’s insistence that all large surface combatants be nuclear-powered did not help. Building and maintaining these ships cost five times more than conventional counterparts. In short, no longer could the Navy replace ships and aircraft on a one-for-one cost basis. Like the carrier fleet, the submarine fleet needed to be recapitalized. Built in the early 1960s, the ballistic missile-carrying nuclear-powered submarines (SSBNs) would reach the end of their service lives in the 1980s. As the nation’s only invulnerable second-strike platform, the SSBN threatened the Soviet Union under all conditions of retaliation, serving as a maximum deterrent. The SSBN’s mission was Navy’s primary one for the Cold War, and was financially supported as such.10 In a time when the Soviets were reaching parity in the number of nuclear weapons, the importance of the SSBN’s mission to the Navy was unrivaled. A new class of nuclear-powered attack submarines (SSNs) – the Los Angeles-class – was needed as well. The Soviets’ new Delta-class SSBNs did not need to transit through the Greenland-Iceland-United Kingdom (GIUK) gap, across which the Navy had erected a stout barrier of SSNs and maritime patrol aircraft and the Sound Surveillance System (SOSUS). Instead, they could launch their missiles in home waters where Soviet naval air, surface, and subsurface forces could better protect them. Of the Navy’s capabilities, only its (highly expensive) SSNs were capable of threatening the Deltas in their patrol bastions, much of which were under Arctic ice.11 For the first time in the Cold War, the Navy confronted the need to protect its SBBNs on patrol from a far greater number of modern Soviet SSNs while prosecuting opposing SSBNs in home waters. From a nuclear deterrence perspective, the importance of sea control was increasing. These were only part of a broader set of problems. While the United States was preoccupied in Vietnam, the balance of power at sea had shift- 9 Baer (1994), 410. 10 Peter D. Haynes, Toward a New Maritime Strategy: American Naval Thinking in the Post-Cold War Era (Annapolis, MD: The Naval Institute Press, 2015), 24. 11 Owen R. Coté, Jr., The Third Battle: Innovation in the U.S. Navy’s Silent Cold War Struggle with Soviet Submarines, Naval War College Newport Papers 16 (Newport, RI: Naval War College Press, 2004), 65. Peter D. Haynes 94 ed. An activist foreign policy and booming Soviet economy was driving a massive naval rearmament. Designed for sea denial and nuclear retaliation, the Soviet navy was competing with the U.S. Navy in terms of technology and day-to-day presence in key strategic areas such as the Mediterranean, the Indian Ocean, and the Atlantic. Meanwhile, to help pay for the Vietnam War, the Johnson administration had cut the fleet’s operating budget, curtailing U.S. naval presence in all but the Western Pacific, and halved the shipbuilding budget.12 Between 1966 and 1970, the Navy built 88 ships, the Soviets 209.13 Apart from nuclear deterrence, Zumwalt also focused on sea control. He sought to close the yawning gap in the fleet’s sea control capabilities. The need to control the seas should war arrive was now far greater than at any time since the Second World War. The capabilities to do so, however, had ebbed. For the first time in the Cold War, the Soviets had a navy capable of cutting the sea lines of communication (SLOCs) to U.S. allies in Europe and Asia. To lessen superpower tensions and promote stability while the United States disengaged from Vietnam, the Nixon administration had deemphasized the nuclear option. For Zumwalt, this increased the likelihood of conventional conflict and therefore the importance of protecting the movement of personnel and material across the oceans. However, protecting the SLOCs was a tall order. With a three-to-one advantage in attack submarines, the Soviets threatened to overwhelm the Navy’s ability to close strategic chokepoints like the GUIK gap and defend the convoys. With their long-range bombers, the Soviets threatened the convoys and mitigated the carriers’ ability to approach the Russian homeland close enough to strike submarines in their pens, the basis of the Navy’s maritime strategy in the late 1940s and early 1950s.14 As a result, 12 Lawrence J. Korb, “The Erosion of American Naval Preeminence, 1962–1978,” in In Peace and War: Interpretations of American Naval History, 1775–1984, ed. by Kenneth J. Hagan, 2nd edition (Westport, CT: Greenwood, 1984), 337–338. 13 Ibid. 14 See Michael A. Palmer, Origins of the Maritime Strategy: the Development of American Naval Strategy, 1945–1955 (Annapolis, MD: The Naval Institute Press, 1990). 29–31. Of note, this is perhaps the earliest of many instances of authors thanking Peter Swartz. In a statement that could have been written anytime over the last thirty years, Palmer noted “I must acknowledge the help of Captain Peter M. Swartz, USN,” he noted, “in initiating, stimulating, and focusing the study.” Echoing the comments of many after him, Palmer continued, noting, “Throughout the writing of this work he has remained an invaluable supporter, source of information, advisor, and friend.” From this author’s perspective, no truer words were ever written. Elmo Zumwalt’s Project SIXTY 95 the burden of sea control was shifting away from carriers and towards the well-financed ASW triad – SSNs, maritime patrol community, and SOSUS – and to the fleet of obsolescent surface combatants and ASW carriers, the latter of which were all retired by 1970.15 The lack of surface combatants to escort convoys was particularly acute. The SSBN program, which accounted for a staggering 13 percent of the Navy’s budget in the early 1960s, had devoured the funds needed to replace the 750 World War II-era ships that comprised the bulk of the surface force.16 Consequently, between budget cuts, rising maintenance costs, and high-tempo operations in Southeast Asia, the surface fleet’s material readiness plummeted. As a result, CNO Moorer scrapped ships without replacement, which continued under Zumwalt.17 By 1975 the fleet would number 512, down from 926 in 1969.18 The Soviets went beyond attack submarines in expanding the threats to the Navy’s ability to control the seas. This complicated American efforts of how to recapitalize the surface fleet. In the 1960s, the Soviets began deploying large numbers of attack submarines, surface combatants, and bombers armed with anti-ship missiles, which outranged the weapons systems of U.S. surface combatants. The Soviets’ diversification meant that sea control was now a farther ranging and much more expensive three-dimensional problem. Multi-mission surface ships – ones capable of long-range anti-aircraft warfare (AAW) and anti-surface warfare (ASUW) as well as ASW – were far more expensive than more ships specialized for one or two of these missions. In Zumwalt’s view, the Vietnam War had tipped the fleet materially and conceptually too far towards exploiting sea control at the expense of establishing it.19 In Vietnam, Zumwalt no doubt felt keenly the disparity of U.S. strategy that had placed overwhelming emphasis on strike warfare. As in the Korean War, the Navy relied heavily on the carrier to demonstrate its relevance. For Zumwalt, the Vietnam War accelerated trends that were unbalancing the fleet and corroding its coherence. In the 1950s, the carriers were a central element in the Navy’s three key tasks – nuclear de- 15 Coté (2004), 46 and 53. 16 Baer (1994), 356 and 399. 17 Ibid., 403. 18 Ronald O’Rourke, “Navy Force Structure and Shipbuilding Plans: Background and Issues for Congress,” Congressional Research Service RL32665, 20 October 2009, 37, d0f465011790589aed37ae7e70d61.pdf. 19 Baer (1994), 402–403. Peter D. Haynes 96 terrence, sea control, and limited war and operations short of war. That changed in the early 1960s – the SSBN supplanted the carriers in the role of nuclear deterrence and the SSN became (and remains) the primary sea control instrument. Given their (assumed) vulnerability to Soviet longrange bombers, the carrier was relegated to gunboat diplomacy and the type of limited war that showed up on the aviators’ doorstep in Vietnam. Installed in 1961, Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara’s Planning, Programming, and Budgetary System (PBBS) only exacerbated these problems. PPBS stove-piped the programmatic decisions of the Navy’s warfare communities: surface ships, submarines, and aviation. Their respective program sponsors on the OPNAV staff answered to McNamara’s staff (the Office of the Secretary of Defense, or OSD) more so than to the CNO, and hence were free to pursue parochial interests. Apart from coalescing around community-defined technologies, OPNAV grew in size and became unwieldy. Then (as now), the diversification of the threats to sea control across more domains exposed deficiencies in the Navy’s ability to coordinate its communities’ programmatic decisions and develop a strategybased conceptual framework about how the pieces of the fleet should fit together.20 To Zumwalt, one thing was clear. Should war come, as he bluntly testified to Congress, the Navy would not be able to keep the SLOCs open.21 The Navy had too few surface ships and most of those were poorly manned, trained, and equipped to defend themselves let alone the tens of merchant ships convoying across the seas. Between the gap in sea control capabilities and lack of a collaborative sense of purpose to maintain the cohesiveness needed by a fighting force, Zumwalt saw the need for drastic and unremitting change in U.S. naval strategy and the process by which it is developed and executed. Towards that end, he sought to reshape the Navy’s identity and purpose and rebalance the fleet in light of the Soviet sea-control threat.22 20 The warfighting domains are sea, air, land, space, the electromagnetic spectrum, and now cyberspace. 21 Elmo R. Zumwalt, Jr., On Watch: A Memoir (New York: Quadrangle, 1976), 337– 338, as quoted in Haynes, (2015), 28. 22 Haynes (2015), 28. Elmo Zumwalt’s Project SIXTY 97 Zumwalt’s Project SIXTY As Zumwalt knew, rebalancing the fleet with a greater emphasis on sea control required limiting the influence of the carrier aviators.23 Twenty years earlier, CNO Forrest Sherman (1949-51), a carrier aviator, managed that quite well. In 1949, senior carrier aviators had sought to redefine the Navy not as a flexible, carrier-based offensive sea control navy, but a carrier-based nuclear retaliatory one to rival if not replace the Air Force’s Strategic Air Command.24 Externally their bid had been rebuffed with Secretary of Defense Louis Johnson’s firing of CNO Louis Denfeld (1947–49) in what became known as the “revolt of the admirals” affair. Internally, it had been rebuffed by Denfeld’s replacement, Sherman, who reinstalled the attack-at-the-source offensive sea control strategy, which he had developed as deputy CNO for Operations in 1946–47.25 Like Sherman, Zumwalt understood that sea control and not power projection provided the glue that cohered the fleet. While supporting the need for the third Nimitz-class carrier (which would be USS Carl Vinson), Zumwalt sought to downplay the Navy’s power projecting image. In terms of U.S. policy, limited war was now passé. In terms of societal support, many Americans associated carrier operations with the disillusionment of the Vietnam War.26 In contrast to Sherman, however, Zumwalt lacked the informal and formal power to drive institutional change and the temperament to manage the aviators. A protégé of Paul Nitze, secretary of the Navy (1963–67), Zumwalt was viewed as an upstart. Worse, he was viewed pejoratively as a “political” admiral, in other words, one whose advancement owed more to political connections and bureaucratic finesse than operational merit. While he was as brilliant as Sherman or Burke, whose exploits from the Second World War were better known, Zumwalt lacked their legitimacy.27 Unlike Burke, Zumwalt lacked experience in carrier operations and the trust of aviators. While both were destroyermen, Zumwalt had difficulty restraining his parochialism for the surface community. After Burke, the CNO no longer commanded the fleet, another source of power. Having been promoted at a comparatively faster rate, Zumwalt—who had just 23 Ibid., 28. 24 See Jeffrey G. Barlow, Revolt of the Admirals: The Fight for Naval Aviation, 1945– 1950 (Washington D.C.: Naval Historical Center, 1994). 25 See Palmer (1990), 33–52. 26 Lisle Abbott Rose, Power at Sea, Vol. 3: A Violent Peace, 1946–2008 (Columbia, London: University of Missouri Press, 2007), 192–193. 27 Baer (1994), 408. Peter D. Haynes 98 three tours as an admiral – lacked for relationships with senior admirals to leverage support. McNamara’s changes undermined the CNO’s formal power, too. In the 1950s, the CNO had more authority to manage the elements of naval strategy – the fleet, OPNAV, and the bureaus. A CNO could assess the strategic environment, establish a strategic approach, and rebalance the fleet accordingly.28 As a result of PPBS, the CNO now had little control over much of OPNAV or input into the PPBS. This was to rectify, as McNamara noted, the “tendency on the part of the services to base their planning and force structure on their own unilateral views of how a future war might be fought.”29 In short, Zumwalt found himself lacking the power for institutional change that CNOs once had.30 To regain power, Zumwalt refashioned the tools of governance. With his infamous “Z-grams,” Zumwalt reasserted authority over the fleet. He gathered, coopted, and leveraged innovative thinkers. To provide him with independent advice and analytical firepower, he created the CNO Executive Panel (and OP-00K to manage it), which was comprised of senior civilian and Navy officials from the scientific, engineering, political, and academic communities. He reinvigorated strategic and tactical thinking by revising the Naval War College’s curricula. To gain control over OPNAV he reorganized OPNAV.31 Specifically, he sought to revise and control the Navy’s program planning process and elevate the importance of the Systems Analysis Division, OP-96 (renamed N81 in the early 1990s). Distrustful of bureaucracies (owing perhaps to his tour as the executive assistant to Secretary of the Navy), he created the CNO’s Executive Board, which consisted of OPNAV’s senior admirals and civilians, to drive consensus. To ensure Project SIXTY’s initiatives were being implemented, he established the office of the Coordinator of Decisions, OP-09C. To counterbalance the 28 Hone, Power and Change: The Administrative History of the Office of the Chief of Naval Operations, 1946–1986 (Washington, D.C.: Naval Historical Center, 1989), 51–53. 29 House Committee on Armed Services, Statement of Secretary of Defense Robert S. McNamara before House Committee on Armed Services (HCAS) on the FY 1963–67 Defense Program and 1963 Defense Budget, January 24, 1962, 36 as quoted in Richard E. Hegmann, “In Search of Strategy: The Navy and the Depths of the Maritime Strategy,” PhD dissertation (Waltham, MA: Brandeis University, 1991), 385. 30 “When I was CNO,” as Admiral David McDonald (1963–67) noted, “I often felt that I had no more authority than a lieutenant commander.” Interview, David L. McDonald by John T. Mason, Jr., 1976, 139, U.S. Naval Institute Oral History as quoted in Hone (1989), 129. 31 See ibid., 85–98. Elmo Zumwalt’s Project SIXTY 99 power of the three-star aviator responsible for the aviation community’s programmatic decisions, he created deputy CNO-level counterparts for the surface and submarine communities. In essence, Zumwalt had created a staff-within-the-OPNAV staff. Finally, he assigned only trusted agents to key senior positions in OPNAV, almost of whom were fellow surface officers.32 Zumwalt had a lot going for him, however. With an earlier tour in OSD Policy, preceded by attending the National War College, Zumwalt had far more experience in national policy making and analysis than his predecessors. He was well versed in strategic-level trends and U.S. national security. More importantly, Zumwalt, unlike most senior admirals, was intimately familiar with the new basis of knowledge in the Pentagon and how to leverage that knowledge politically. This basis of knowledge was systems analyses, which McNamara had made preeminent.33 McNamara had established OSD’s analytical research office. But OPNAV did not follow suit. In short order. McNamara and Secretary of the Navy Nitze grew dissatisfied with how the Navy justified its programmatic decisions, believing they lacked analytical rigor.34 To Nitze, senior admirals did not understand the importance of systems analysis.35 In real terms, the Navy’s institutional health was now in the hands of those slide-rule wielding officers in OP- NAV whose analyses now determined and rationalized the Navy’s resource decisions.36 To compete with McNamara’s “whiz kids” in OSD, Nitze directed CNO David McDonald (1963-67) to task Zumwalt with establishing and leading OPNAV’s analytical arm, which was the Systems Analysis Division, OP-96. Zumwalt, then a rear admiral, wielded his thorough knowledge of analytical data throughout OPNAV, the Pentagon, and Congress, amassing an enormous amount of influence over the process by which the Navy determined its warfighting capabilities. His goal was to establish an analytically based understanding of the Navy’s’ capability requirements and convey to OSD how the Navy’s resources should be apportioned and rationalized in what was (and still is) the lingua franca of the Pentagon, the so-called sys- 32 Jeffrey Sands, On His Watch: Admiral Zumwalt’s Efforts to Institutionalize Strategic Change, CRM-93-22 (Alexandria, VA: Center for Naval Analyses, July 1993), 76. 33 See Jerry L. McCaffery and L. R. Jones, Budgeting and Financial Management for National Defense (Greenwich, CT: Information Age Publishing, 2004), 92. 34 Hegmann (1991), 405, and Berman (2012), 155. 35 Berman (2012), 155–156. 36 Haynes (2015), 26. Peter D. Haynes 100 tems analyses.37 On his own accord, Zumwalt commissioned studies on fleet escort, ASW, tactical air power, surface-to-surface missiles, and the future of naval warfare.38 Given a broad set of campaign and net assessmentbased analyses, no admiral had a clearer understanding of the Navy’s comparative capability gaps and inability to coordinate its programmatic decisions. None could match his ability to relate fundamental changes at the strategic-level, including U.S. strategy, with the Navy’s operational-level requirements. Zumwalt amassed so much influence that CNO Moorer, who had little control over the OP-96’s conclusions (particularly those that questioned the effectiveness of the carriers’ bombing campaigns in Vietnam), sought to transfer him away from the Pentagon.39 To ensure he did not raise the ire of Nitze, who was now deputy secretary of defense, Moorer upgraded the rank of the commander of U.S. Naval Forces, Vietnam to three stars before ushering Zumwalt out of the Pentagon and to the backwaters of the Vietnam War. Consequently, when he returned as CNO, Zumwalt knew exactly what he wanted to do. He commissioned Project SIXTY on his first day. Rear Admiral-select Stansfield Turner and later Rear Admiral Worth Bagley led the project (Turner almost single-handedly at the start). Like Zumwalt, both were surface officers, former executive assistants to the secretary of the Navy, and, unlike most admirals, had tours in OSD or the Joint Staff that exposed them to national security issues. Zumwalt’s decision to establish a small team of highly innovative and strategic thinkers outside of the staff was telling. Either OPNAV did not have the capability to develop a comprehensive plan (particularly via systems analysis) or that if it did such an effort would require consensus between the warfare communities and, more importantly, a year to staff. Zumwalt’s brief of Project SIXTY to the secretary of defense, his deputy, and the secretary of the Navy in September 1970 went off without a hitch. He secured a commitment from the secretary of the Navy for fundamental change and buy-in from the secretary of defense, which Zumwalt leveraged. In short, to reestablish the CNO’s ability to drive change, Zumwalt had invented a new tool of institutional governance – the strategic capstone document – that rationalized the Navy’s purpose, provided a conceptual framework for the fleet, and a plan of action to secure the needed capabilities. Having received his bosses’ imprimaturs, Zumwalt sent the clas- 37 Berman (2012), 156. 38 Ibid. 39 Ibid., 162. Elmo Zumwalt’s Project SIXTY 101 sified brief, which consisting of thirty pages of text and forty viewgraphs, to all admirals and Marine Corps generals. In the cover letter, Zumwalt stated “I consider that the substance of this presentation sets forth the direction in which we want the Navy to move in the next few years. The decisions that we make, and implement, at the command levels of the Navy should be consistent with these concepts.”40 The decisions that Zumwalt focused on were those associated with determining weapons systems. With its narrow, capability-based approach, Project SIXTY was all about resource decisions. Today, the document would be called the CNO’s programmatic guidance (albeit with far more analysis at the strategic level than contemporary ones). The document noted that “the Navy’s capabilities fall naturally into four categories.”41 In priority order, these were “Assured Second Strike, Control of the Sea Lines and Areas, Projection of Power Ashore, and Overseas Presence in Peacetime.”42 Arguably, this was the first document that articulated and prioritized the Navy’s missions, which in essence were nuclear deterrence, sea control, power projection, and forward presence. For Zumwalt, a more holistic capability-based approach deemphasized the warfare communities’ influence and parochial interests. To capture the conceptual high ground, he had introduced an explicit mission-based framework and associated vocabulary, which can also be seen as a way to reestablish the CNO’s power. Overall, Project SIXTY marked a shift away from implicit arguments about naval purpose in general to an explicit capability-based framework that defined the Navy’s purpose almost wholly in light of the Soviet threat and operational and tactical-level considerations, a trend that would continue through the end of the Cold War. The document argued that two trends – nuclear parity and the emergence of a strong, globally deployed Soviet navy – increased the importance of sea control (and by implication the Navy). It argued that nuclear parity increased the need to ensure the SSBN’s invulnerability and the likelihood of conventional conflict. This, in turn, increased the importance of sea control and forward presence, the latter of which was required to deter the Soviets, be a position to respond to crisis, and compete with the Soviets for political influence overseas. Due to the lack of sea control capabilities, the Navy “will no longer be able to oppose [the Soviets] simultaneously in 40 “Project SIXTY” in U.S. Naval Strategy in the 1970s: Selected Documents, Naval War College Newport Papers 30, ed. by John B. Hattendorf (Newport, RI: Naval War College Press, 2007), 3. 41 Ibid., 4. 42 Ibid., 4. Peter D. Haynes 102 the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans.”43 It noted that the Navy had a 55 percent chance of defeating the Soviets at sea now and a 30 percent chance given what was programmed for the 1972 budget.44 To bolster its argument about the importance of sea control, Project SIXTY referred to the Nixon Doctrine. That message argued that U.S. allies and partners in Asia now had to shoulder more of the burden of managing the Cold War. For conflicts other than those directly associated with the Soviet threat, U.S. allies and partners would have to provide the manpower. They could, however, count on the United States to send military material and economic assistance, almost all of which moved across the seas. All of these arguments set up Project SIXTY’s primary message. In short, sea control was now more important than power projection and should be fiscally supported as such. Much like today, naval officers in OPNAV no doubt skimmed over the pages that framed the strategic environment focusing instead on finding the real programmatic guidance – “the Soviet Naval threat, our commitments abroad, and the credibility of our seabased strategic deterrent demand that the sea control mission be assigned priority of resources at the expense of projection of power ashore.”45 For carrier aviators, this was a shot across the bow. However, Project SIXTY did not explicitly state what platforms were needed and which were not. As was made clearer when he introduced new programs into the Navy’s Program Objective Memorandum (POM), Zumwalt sought to rebalance the fleet and close the sea control capabilities gap by continuing to employ a “high-low” mix. In terms of the “high,” Project SIXTY noted “the Navy is committed to several complex and expensive systems.”46 These included the Los Angeles-class SSN, the Spruanceclass destroyer, a Nimitz-class carrier, and large-deck amphibious ships.47 These programs, already embedded in the Navy’s POM, made up the majority of the budget. “I believe that we can and should complete most of these major projects that are now underway,” as Zumwalt noted in the document, particularly since “abrupt changes in direction of procurement are costly and disruptive.”48 Consequently, a significant part of the needed sea control capabilities (i.e., the “low” part) would have to be made up on the margins. The low 43 Ibid., 27. 44 Ibid., 28. 45 Ibid., 27. 46 Ibid., 17. 47 Ibid. 48 Ibid. Elmo Zumwalt’s Project SIXTY 103 part was to consist of large numbers of smaller, lower-cost defensive-oriented ships designed for local sea control in the open oceans. Zumwalt proposed four new ship classes, all of which were sea control-related. These were the Pegasus-class of small, but heavily armed hydrofoils. This capable platform carried the new Harpoon surface-to-surface missile, another program Zumwalt championed. These ships were designed to operate in less threatening areas such as the Mediterranean, which would free up more offensive platforms like carriers for duty elsewhere. The Surface Effect Ship was an 80-knot, cruiser-sized ship with a revolutionary air-lubricated hull. These were to designed to operate ASW helicopters and AV-8B Harriers in a local AAW role or carry logistics or large numbers of surface-to-surface missiles. Then there was the Oliver Hazard Perry-class frigate. It was armed with the Harpoon, a short-range AAW missile, a 76 mm cannon, and two ASW helicopters. The hallmark of the low part was the conventionally powered Sea Control Ship, a small ASW carrier that deployed ASW helicopters and AV-8B Harriers for short-range AAW. Ostensibly, these ships would replace the eight ASW carriers that had recently been retired. Only half of the ASW carriers’ fixed- and rotary-wing aircraft transferred to the larger carriers.49 However, Zumwalt’s plan to rebalance the fleet and reorganize it around the sea control mission did not pan out as intended. Zumwalt’s Project SIXTY Falls Short, Yet Sets Off a Needed Internal Debate Materially, Zumwalt’s plan to reorganize the fleet around the Soviet sea control threat fell victim to budget cuts, a stagnated economy, and rising inflation that promised to increase the unit costs of these ships fourfold.50 Of the four classes of ships, only the Perry-class of 51 ships (the first of which was commissioned in late 1977) was completed. While 100 Pegasusclass hydrofoils were planned, only six were built. Neither the Surface Effect Ship nor the Sea Control Ship saw the light of day. While Zumwalt had some congressional support, neither the carrier aviators nor Rickover saw much value in the Sea Control Ship. They thought the ship would only undermine support for more Nimitz-class carriers. Indeed, Zumwalt’s plan was subject to untold institutional resistance. From that perspective, Zumwalt would have been more successful at his strategic revolution had he not simultaneously embarked on a personnel rev- 49 Coté (2004), 46 and 53. 50 Baer (1994), 410. Peter D. Haynes 104 olution.51 For him, one was not be possible without the other. In Zumwalt’s view, the U.S.-Soviet competition at sea turned on advanced technologies. Consequently, the Navy needed to recruit and retain Sailors capable of operating far more complex weapons and information systems. To do so, Zumwalt saw the need to change the institution’s culture at the deck-plate level.52 Having released Project SIXTY, Zumwalt turned his attention towards personnel matters effort. He released a stream of personnel-related directives, many via his Z-grams. Many proved prescient and lasting and others controversial. His tireless efforts to change race relations should be accounted among his most prominent achievements. Spinning up his two revolutions, Zumwalt created a cloud of antibodies throughout the Navy. Many commanding officers and chief petty officers believed Zumwalt’s directives undermined their authority and ability to ensure good order and discipline; senior enlisted left the Navy in droves.53 For their part, many junior officers and junior enlisted personnel were highly supportive of Zumwalt’s initiatives. The tensions marked a generational shift from veterans of the Second World War and the Korean War to those buoyed by an unsettling countercultural revolution in the late 1960s that was consuming the nation. Having unleashed his own countercultural revolutions, Zumwalt created an unmanageable context where many within and outside of the Navy reflexively opposed his initiatives and refused to look at the merits of his arguments. He was a controversial and polarizing figure (and remains so today). As Zumwalt knew, however, leaders have only a short time to institutionalize change: four years in the CNO’s (two two-year terms). Given his experience, leadership style, and mandate for change from the secretaries of defense and the Navy, Zumwalt sought to input a large rudder correction as early in his term as possible and only later steady up on a course. Instead of an evolutionary and consensually driven approach (not unlike the Maritime Strategy of the 1980s), Zumwalt opted for a faster top-down revolutionary approach.54 While he strove for consensus, Zumwalt had little tolerance for those who sought to erect obstacles to prevent or delay change. He had an unwavering confidence in his crusade to change the Navy and in the ability of systems analysis to provide the right answers, both of which only increased institutional resistance. The assumption that 51 Sands (1993), 77. 52 Ibid., 76. 53 Berman (2012), 250, and Baer (1994), 410. 54 Sands (1993), 78. Elmo Zumwalt’s Project SIXTY 105 “whiz kid” analyses trumped experience and intuition stuck in the craw of many senior admirals, most of whom had far more flag-level experience at sea than Zumwalt.55 Unlike CNOs James Holloway III (1974–78) and Thomas Hayward (1978–82), both combat-experienced carrier aviators, Zumwalt had not commanded a numbered fleet (e.g., U.S. Seventh Fleet) or a U.S. naval component command (e.g., U.S. Pacific Fleet, respectively). Unlike Holloway and Hayward, he did not have a tour as a four-star admiral. Zumwalt’s knowledge of carrier strike warfare was based solely on analysis, not operational experience. Due to his unprecedented rise through the ranks, Zumwalt had been denied flag-level experiences at sea that might have tempered his approach and expanded his narrow base of knowledge. As CNO Moorer noted, Vice Admiral Zumwalt “requires more experience [to be CNO]…he is simply not ready for this assignment.”56 For those who hired Zumwalt for the skills he brought to the task they envisioned, however, time was of the essence. Whether he intended it or not, Zumwalt nonetheless provided a charged atmosphere and a spark that set off a much-needed debate in the Navy about the fleet’s purpose, how it should be balanced, and how sea control should be conceived and prioritized particularly in relation to power projection. With Project SIXTY and its pedagogic companion “The Missions of the U.S. Navy,” which was developed by Turner as president of the Naval War College and released in 1974, Zumwalt provided new concepts, a new vocabulary, and a solid intellectual framework upon which the decade-long debate would be conducted. In real terms, Project SIXTY and “The Missions of the U.S. Navy” represented the first effort by the Cold War Navy to address the inchoate state of sea power theory and broaden the thinking of naval officers beyond just tactically and technologically oriented community concerns.57 With his strategic revolution, Zumwalt catalyzed efforts of naval officers to think deeply about naval purpose and make clearer the logic behind their own community’s respective arguments. On one side of the debate, sea control advocates such as Zumwalt (and later President Jimmy Carter and Harold Brown, his secretary of defense) saw the Navy’s purpose in terms of general great power war.58 The Navy’s overriding purpose lay in its wartime role of keeping the SLOCs open. 55 Haynes (2015), 26. 56 Admiral Harry DePue Train II, Oral History (Annapolis, MD: The Naval Institute Press, 1997), 237, in Berman (2012), 215. 57 Haynes (2015), 28. 58 Paragraph based on ibid., 29. Peter D. Haynes 106 From their perspective, there was a real threat to U.S. control of the seas and a dearth of capabilities to address it. Power projection capabilities did little to address the problem. In an era of nuclear parity and growing conventional military competition in Central Europe, the Navy needed a fleet not unlike those that won the Battles of the Atlantic more so than the current fleet, which was modeled on the Pacific Campaign of the Second World War.59 The ability to protract a war and ensure access to resources and the alliance’s industrial capacity, which depends upon the ability to control the seas, promised to deter Soviet aggression far more than one designed to project power. By contrast, power projection advocates argued for a more expansive understanding of naval purpose.60 A balanced, carrier-based fleet was far more capable across the spectrum of warfare than was one designed more for specific missions like sea control. Such a fleet was more adaptable. As the Cold War demonstrated, the future was too unknowable. OSD’s prescriptive visions of conflict simply failed to materialize. The versatility of the carrier, the ultimate hedge against the unknown, allowed the Navy to participate in a breadth of missions across the spectrum, from nuclear war, limited war, and coercive diplomacy, and other ways short of war, a range unique among the services. Power projection platforms enabled all of the Navy’s roles: warfighting, diplomacy, and constabulary. Most sea control platforms, notably SSNs, were limited to the role of warfighting. In their view, sea control and power projection were not dichotic. The former is a condition and the latter is a capability. New capabilities such as the AEGIS cruiser promised to make the carrier viable in general war once again. Regardless of which side, many naval officers saw Project SIXTY as too defensive.61 Since Mahan, the Navy’s identity was offensive in nature. Zumwalt’s four classes of ships were designed for local sea control. These ships were not versatile enough per dollar spent across the broad range of missions the fleet faced short of general war. Given resource constraints, they argued that these specialized defensive platforms came at the expense of more versatile multirole platforms—including surface ships—that could 59 Eric Grove and Geoffrey Till, “Anglo-American Maritime Strategy, 1945–60,” in Maritime Strategy and the Balance of Power, ed. by John B. Hattendorf and Robert S. Jordan (New York: St. Martin’s, 1989), 281–282. 60 Paragraph based on Haynes (2015), 29. 61 Peter M. Swartz with Karin Duggan, U.S. Navy Capstone Strategies and Concepts (1970–1980): Strategy, Policy, Concept, and Vision Documents (Alexandria, VA: Center for Naval Analyses, December 2011), 15, slide 30. Elmo Zumwalt’s Project SIXTY 107 be used for offensive purposes.62 The power-projection view prevailed, manifesting itself most prominently in the Maritime Strategy of the 1980s. Conclusion In retrospect, Zumwalt’s Project SIXTY was based on a set of assumptions that would, in time, prove incorrect. Having learned from the Walker spy ring that their SSBNs were exceptionally loud and therefore vulnerable, the Soviets revised their thinking in the 1970s.63 Instead of sallying their SSNs to interdict the SLOCs, the Soviets planned to keep them near the bastions to protect their SSBNs.64 Zumwalt’s worse-case failed to materialize. The real threat to the convoys in the open oceans were not Soviet SSNs, the primary focus of much of Zumwalt’s “low” capabilities. Instead, they were Soviet bombers, surface combatants, and nuclear powered, cruise-missile carrying submarines (SSGNs). In this case, “high” capabilities such as SSNs, AEGIS cruisers, and carriers were of far greater use engaging these threats than Zumwalt’s “low” capabilities. The intelligence that the Soviet SSNs would not interdict the SLOCs and the introduction of long-range defensive weapons systems such as the AEGIS cruiser and F-14 resurrected the carrier’s role in general war and enabled the development of an offensive sea control strategy called the Maritime Strategy. Once again, sea control tied the fleet conceptually and aligned it materially. While it fell short in delivering its procurement goals, Project SIXTY turned out to be profoundly influential, pervasively so. Many of the tools of governance that Zumwalt fashioned remain, none more important than the CNO’s program guidance. As a process and product, Project SIXTY was institutionalized the next year. It was called the CNO Policy and Planning Guidance (CPPG), which would be one of many titles through the years for what amounted to the CNO’s program guidance. Zumwalt inaugurated the capstone document in the form of that guidance. He elevated the importance of OP-96 and systems-based analysis, and shifted the path to promotion to admiral from developing strategy and campaign plans to 62 Baer (1994), 406. 63 Robert C. Toth, “Change in Soviets’ Sub Tactics Tied to Spy Case: Material Reportedly Available to Walkers May Have Tipped Kremlin to Vessels’ Vulnerability,” Los Angeles Times, 17 June 1985, 5-06-17-mn-12570-story.html. 64 See Coté (2004), 70–72. Peter D. Haynes 108 managing weapons systems programs and manpower.65 As a result, Zumwalt narrowed the conceptual basis for internal OPNAV thinking about the future.66 As Peter Swartz noted, it led to the “Deliberate fostering of OP-96-led OPNAV ‘program planning’ as intellectual center of the OPNAV staff, vice OP-06-led ‘planning.’”67 The lens narrowed to address not strategic, but operational and tactical-level problems. Comparative force-on-force capabilities, high-tech solutions, and kill chain-based analytical constructs now represented the lens by which OPNAV viewed the U.S.-Soviet competition at sea (and now views the U.S.-Sino competition). The results were predictable. As George Baer noted, in the 1970s “The Navy made a mistake in stating its case largely in terms of competition with Soviet capabilities—that is, in terms of force structure, the same terms in which it justified its own doctrine. The mistake was the impassioned arguments about force structure…passed by most listeners outside the service. Such arguments failed to convey their implicit political and hence strategic context.”68 Project SIXTY elevated the analysts in OP-96 (most of whose officers came from the Navy’s Operations Analysis community) and marginalized the Navy’s strategists in OP-06 (which was changed in the early 1990s to N3/N5) who could convey that political and strategic context.69 Navy strategists, once preeminent on the OPNAV staff, found it difficult for broader strategic ideas to compete with quantitative analysis. Seen in that light, one can only marvel how the officers from the Navy’s Strategy community, established in the mid-1970s, overcame such obstacles in developing the highly successful Maritime Strategy, whose intellectual roots, it must be said, grew out of the soil tilled by the internal debate of the 1970s. This small and tightly knit cadre of sharp and highly educated officers, among whose number included Peter Swartz (who played a key role in the Maritime Strategy’s development), applied the lessons of Zumwalt’s Project SIXTY and the utility of a strategic capstone document in forging consensus for institutional change to a degree not seen since. 65 Haynes (2015), 27. Zumwalt was the first of many CNOs –no fewer than seven – with a tour as the head of OP-96 or N81. By contrast, no admiral who has led OP-06 or N3/N5 has become CNO. 66 Swartz with Duggan (2011), 15, slide 30. 67 Ibid. Emphasis added. 68 Baer (1994), 415. 69 Swartz with Duggan (2011), 15, slide 29. Elmo Zumwalt’s Project SIXTY 109 Works Cited Baer, George W. One Hundred Years of Sea Power: The U.S. Navy, 1890–1990 (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1994). Barlow, Jeffrey G., Revolt of the Admirals: The Fight for Naval Aviation, 1945–1950 (Washington D.C.: Naval Historical Center, 1994). Barlow, Jeffrey G., From Hot War to Cold: The U.S. Navy and National Security Affairs, 1945–1955 (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2009). Berman, Larry. Zumwalt: The Life and Times of Admiral Elmo Russell “Bud” Zumwalt Jr. (New York: HarperCollins, 2012). Coté, Owen R., Jr., The Third Battle: Innovation in the U.S. Navy’s Silent Cold War Struggle with Soviet Submarines, Naval War College Newport Papers 16 (Newport, RI: Naval War College Press, 2004). Grove, Eric, and Geoffrey Till, “Anglo-American Maritime Strategy, 1945–60,” in Maritime Strategy and the Balance of Power, ed. by John B. Hattendorf and Robert S. Jordan (New York: St. Martin’s, 1989). Hattendorf, John B. (ed.), U.S. Naval Strategy in the 1970s: Selected Documents, Naval War College Newport Papers 30 (Newport, RI: Naval War College Press, 2007), snwc-newport-papers. Haynes, Peter D., Toward a New Maritime Strategy: American Naval Thinking in the Post-Cold War Era (Annapolis, MD: The Naval Institute Press, 2015). Hegmann, Richard E., “In Search of Strategy: The Navy and the Depths of the Maritime Strategy,” PhD dissertation (Waltham, MA: Brandeis University, 1991). Hone, Thomas C., Power and Change: The Administrative History of the Office of the Chief of Naval Operations, 1946–1986 (Washington, D.C.: Naval Historical Center, 1989). Korb, Lawrence J., “The Erosion of American Naval Preeminence, 1962–1978,” in In Peace and War: Interpretations of American Naval History, 1775–1984, ed. by Kenneth J. Hagan, 2nd edition (Westport, CT: Greenwood, 1984). Love, Robert W., Jr., History of the U.S. Navy, vol. II 1942–1991(Harrisburg, PA: Stackpole Books, 1992). McCaffery, Jerry L., and Jones, L. R., Budgeting and Financial Management for National Defense (Greenwich, CT: Information Age Publishing, 2004). O’Rourke, Ronald, “Navy Force Structure and Shipbuilding Plans: Background and Issues for Congress,” Congressional Research Service RL32665, 20 October 2009, f465011790589aed37ae7e70d61.pdf. Palmer, Michael A., Origins of the Maritime Strategy: the Development of American Naval Strategy, 1945–1955 (Annapolis, MD: The Naval Institute Press, 1990). Rose, Lisle Abbott, Power at Sea, Vol. 3: A Violent Peace, 1946–2008 (Columbia, London: University of Missouri Press, 2007). Peter D. Haynes 110 Sands, Jeffrey, On His Watch: Admiral Zumwalt’s Efforts to Institutionalize Strategic Change, CRM-93-22 (Alexandria, VA: Center for Naval Analyses, July 1993). Swartz, Peter M., U.S. Navy Capstone, Policy, Vision and Concept Documents: What to Consider Before You Write One (Alexandria, VA: Center for Naval Analyses, March 2009), Swartz, Peter M., with Karin Duggan, U.S. Navy Capstone Strategies and Concepts (1970–1980): Strategy, Policy, Concept, and Vision Documents (Alexandria, VA: Center for Naval Analyses, December 2011). Toth, Robert C., “Change in Soviets’ Sub Tactics Tied to Spy Case: Material Reportedly Available to Walkers May Have Tipped Kremlin to Vessels’ Vulnerability,” in Los Angeles Times, 17 June 1985, m-1985-06-17-mn-12570-story.html. Vego, Milan. Maritime Strategy and Sea Control: Theory and Practice (New York: Routledge, 2016). Zumwalt, Elmo R., Jr., On Watch: A Memoir (New York: Quadrangle, 1976). Elmo Zumwalt’s Project SIXTY 111

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The 21st century is witnessing renewed tension as conflicts between major powers, serious concerns about future security alliances and global, even generational, security policy challenges arise. In the light of this, naval forces and maritime security, and understanding their underlying strategic rationale, are gaining momentum and importance. What are the roles and missions of naval forces, and how have states and the institutions themselves sought to frame their goals and methods? This book brings together experts from the United States, Europe, and Asia to reflect on how maritime and naval strategy is conceptualised and how it has been used. It celebrates the life and work of Peter M. Swartz, Captain (US Navy) ret., who since contributing to ‘The Maritime Strategy’ of the 1980s as a young Pentagon officer, has been a mentor, friend, intellectual beacon and the foremost purveyor of maritime expertise to the global naval community. With contributions by James Bergeron, Sebastian Bruns, Seth Cropsey, Larissa Forster, Michael Haas, John Hattendorf, Peter Haynes, Andrzej Makowski, Amund Lundesgaard, Narushige Michishita, Martin Murphy, Sarandis Papadopoulos, Nilanthi Samaranayake, Jeremy Stöhs, Eric Thompson, Geoffrey Till, Sarah Vogler, Steve Wills.


Großmachtkonflikte, die Zukunft von sicherheitspolitischen Institutionen sowie transnationalen Generationenherausforderungen bergen eine neue globale Unsicherheit. Vor diesem Hintergrund bekommen maritime Sicherheit und Seestreitkräfte sowie deren Einordnung im außenpolitischen Werkzeugkasten eine zunehmende Bedeutung. Was sind die Rollen und Einsatzaufgaben von Seemacht, und wie haben Staaten und ihre Institutionen maritime Ziele, Mittel und Wege konzeptualisiert? Dieser Sammelband bringt ausgewiesene Experten aus den USA, Europa und Asien zusammen, die ihre Perspektive auf maritime Strategie teilen. Das Buch dient gleichzeitig die Festschrift für Peter M. Swartz, Kapitän zur See a.D. der US-Marine, der seit seiner Arbeit als einer der Autoren der „Maritime Strategy“ (1980er) als Mentor, Freund, intellektueller Leuchtturm und vor allen Dingen als Spiritus Rektor wesentlich zur Schärfung des Verständnisses von Seestrategie in den globalen Beziehungen beigetragen hat. Mit Beiträgen von James Bergeron, Sebastian Bruns, Seth Cropsey, Larissa Forster, Michael Haas, John Hattendorf, Peter Haynes, Andrzej Makowski, Amund Lundesgaard, Narushige Michishita, Martin Murphy, Sarandis Papadopoulos, Nilanthi Samaranayake, Jeremy Stöhs, Eric Thompson, Geoffrey Till, Sarah Vogler, Steve Wills.