Run fast, it’s another historically informed maritime current events podcast – or possibly what three naval geeks trapped in a pub would sound like if recorded.
So what is part two about? Well the #Bilgepumps team is talking about China in the East and South China Seas again, what is the difference between gunboat diplomacy and naval diplomacy, the American Navy, several frigate projects, and our idea for a huge WWII anniversary exercise involving every allied ship you can think off and oh so much history.
#Bilgepumps is a fresh new series, and we don’t know if it is going to be popular or hated, so we hope you like it and enjoy the discussion. For any comments or suggestions please tweet them at the Bilgepump crew (with #Bilgepump) at Alex (@AC_NavalHistory), Drach (@Drachinifel), and Jamie (@Armouredcarrier). Or you can comment on our Youtube channels (listed down below).
Peter W. Singer and August Cole have once again collaborated on a “useful fiction” project (their term) entitled, Burn-In. A “burn-in” refers to the “continuous operation of a device (such as a computer) to test for defects or failure prior to putting it to use.” In this case, the novel follows the story of an FBI agent, Lara Keegan, who finds herself paired with a “Tactical Autonomous Mobility System” or “TAMS,” an autonomous robot gifted with artificial intelligence and human-like features, though smaller than your average person at only five feet tall.
In a brief epilogue to the reader, Singer and Cole explain why they undertook this project. They argue that we are in the midst of a new industrial and information revolution which touches every segment of society, and will create political, social, economic, cultural, and security disruptions on a scale never before endured. “What is worrisome is how poorly understood [this revolution] is, both by the public and by policymakers. It is not just that too many lack a sense of the scale of change that is to come, but also the ability to visualize it.”
The authors draw the reader into a world that is at once familiar, and yet near-dystopian. The trials of life, raising children, providing for a family and ultimately doing one’s duty are set against a backdrop of immense economic dislocation and social unrest. Throughout the book we are given glimpses into a future America that on some level shows the hope and promise of technology and how it can empower lives. At the same time, the dislocation caused by automation in many cases replaces human decision-making with algorithms, and is brought home to the reader in Keegan’s strained relationship with her husband Jared, whose promising law career has been cut short. The reader can sense the tension and bitterness as Jared had been reduced to a virtual reality “gig economy” to help the family make ends meet. Their young daughter Haley becomes both the anchor for the couple and the bridge between the family and this new way of life.
In many respects, the social and economic dislocation as a result of the quickening pace of technological change is nothing new in history. The late 18th to early 20th centuries witnessed the transition from an agrarian-based way of life to one based on industrialization and commercial exchange. The pace of technological change has only quickened during that time. As the majority of the planet’s population now lives in urban centers, technological change between human generations has sped up exponentially. Futurist Ray Kurzweil suggests there is a law of accelerating returns, arguing that as civilizations repurpose and build upon the technologies of the previous generations, the rate of change is compounded exponentially. With an exponential growth rate, understanding the implications of new technology becomes increasingly difficult, if not impossible. Decision-makers from Congress and corporate boardrooms to family households are likely to find themselves in a perpetual “analysis paralysis loop,” unable to cope. We see much of this manifest today in our world. Consider the following:
People’s willingness to share personal information has fundamentally changed our notion of privacy. Movement, interaction, and exchange is being tracked and monitored by governments, companies, universities, parents, and employers. Yet the social response has been muted, at best, to this transformation. We live in a world where convenience has taken on a higher value than privacy.
The principle means of social interaction is now through some form of platform-based technology, such as Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram. However, communication, traditionally defined as a means of transmitting knowledge or information to another person, has evolved into a performance mechanism, designed to either signal our virtue or perpetuate outrage. It has proven to be a very capable tool of social disruption and manipulation.
Advancing technology has vastly improved the material condition of humanity to the point where some of the poorest areas of the globe would almost be considered moderately well-off compared to where they were a few decades ago. Technology and material goods that were prohibitively expensive just a few short years ago are almost ubiquitous now, creating change in our patterns of behavior and attitudes toward luxury and class. Today, in an era where almost every child in America has a smartphone, only 30 percent of children in working class families live at home with their biological parents, compared to 85 percent of children in affluent families. In 1960, 95 percent of children of both classes lived with their biological parents.
Even now, though, universally available information technology is changing more than our patterns of behavior, it might be creating physiological changes that resemble addictive disorders. These addictive disorders are only exacerbated when policies are adopted encouraging drug legalization without fully understanding the health care costs associated with long-term use, especially on teenagers and young adults, whose cognitive performance is declining.
Singer and Cole paint multiple pictures of America, showing broad landscapes as well as intimate portraits. Early on we find parts of Washington D.C. “occupied” by a veterans’ group in a scene reminiscent of the Bonus Army march from 1932. In the last third of the book, Americans across the demographic and ideological divide take to the streets after a series of major shocks and disasters, looking for someone or something to blame. Much like the ease with which humans psychologically attach sinister motives to unnamed and ill-defined entities like the “Deep State” or “Big Oil,” these Americans lash out at what they think is “out-of-control technology,” without really having an idea of what to do, other than rage. They are ripe for manipulation and corruption without realizing their own vulnerability. And it is when Keegan’s own family gets caught up in the maelstrom that the reader begins to understand both the seething anger of Americans like Jared, as well as the hope and promise of what TAMS can do.
The Keegan-TAMS relationship evolves throughout the novel, trying to answer the question of human meaning and purpose in a world where, on the surface, TAMS might appear to be superior to a human in every way. TAMS can amass and process nearly infinite amounts of data to understand patterns and learn, while being stronger, faster, and in many cases more creative. Yet much eludes TAMS and, like the character Data from Star Trek: The Next Generation, it will never be human. The question becomes whether we will remain human.
The book, like the other noteworthy novel the two collaborated on, Ghost Fleet, meets its purpose skillfully. It is both lively, entertaining, and well-written as well as thought-provoking. Some will no doubt quibble with certain fictional elements, which naturally misses the point. The authors hope to leave the reader asking more questions rather than giving ready answers. The characters are engaging, yet flawed human beings, while TAMS is seemingly omniscient, yet innocent and ignorant. The writing is lively and colorful, and should be essential reading for anyone who looks out at the landscape today and sees clouds looming over the horizon.
LCDR Robert “Jake” Bebber is a cryptologic warfare officer assigned to Information Warfare Training Command Corry Station in Pensacola, Florida. LCDR Bebber was most recently the Cryptologic Resource Coordinator for the Abraham Lincoln Carrier Strike Group. He holds a Ph.D. in Public Policy from the University of Central Florida, and his writing has appeared in Proceedings, Orbis, Comparative Strategy, Journal of Information Warfare, Cipherbrief and CIMSEC. He is supported by his wife, Dana, and their two children Zachary and Vincent. LCDR Bebber welcomes your comments at [email protected]. These views are presented in a personal capacity.
Featured Image: “Cyberpunk Street” by Sergii Golotovskiy via Artstation
On this Memorial Day, CIMSEC remembers those that have died in defense of the United States of America and her democratic ideals. While it is an American holiday, our brothers and sisters around the world stand with us to remember. CIMSEC’s Italian Chapter sent us this video of the Italian Navy Band performing “Il Silenzio” by Nini Rosso. Most of you will recognize this tune as the American military anthem “Taps.” In fact, many countries around the world use variations of the tune to celebrate the end of the day or honor their fallen servicemembers, including Italy, France, Greece, the Netherlands, Germany, Austria, Spain, Great Britain, and Australia.
While there are many legends surrounding the origin of “Taps,” it is generally accepted that Union General Daniel Butterfield derived the tune from the “Scott Tattoo” written by Major General Winfield Scott, which took the Dutch tradition of sounding a bugle call to notify soldiers to cease the evening’s drinking and return their garrisons. In fact, the term “tattoo” comes from “doe den tap toe” – Dutch for “turn off the taps.”
We at CIMSEC hope that you can spend this Memorial Day enjoying the company of friends and family, and remembering those that sacrificed their lives for freedom and democracy, until it is time to “turn off the taps.”
Jimmy Drennan is the President of CIMSEC. Contact him at [email protected].
Featured Image: WATERS SOUTH OF JAPAN (Nov. 28, 2015) Yeoman Seaman Recruit Michael S. Williams, from Riverdale, Ga., center left, performs taps on a bugle during a burial-at-sea ceremony aboard the U.S. Navy’s only forward-deployed aircraft carrier USS Ronald Reagan (CVN 76). (U.S. Navy photo by Mass Communication Specialist 3rd Class Ryan McFarlane/Released)
Professor Heather Venable joined me to discuss her new book, How the Few Became the Proud: Crafting the Marine Corps Mystique, 1874-1918. It is a fascinating look at how the U.S. Marine Corps, struggling to define its role as a small fighting force in the earlier days of the republic, crafted a reputation and truly — a mystique — to ensure the service’s survival.
Heather, if we could, I’d like to begin with the title of your new book, How the Few Became the Proud. I certainly recall the Marine Corps recruiting commercials from the 1980s. Some were on the TV, and some were run in movie theaters. And of course, the commercials ended with the same tagline: “The Few, the Proud, the Marines.” Who came up with that phrase?
Venable: “The Few, the Proud” slogan actually came out in the 1970s, coined by J. Walter Thompson, the Marine Corps’ ad agency. One slogan that a Marine coined during the span of my research, though, is “once a Marine, always a Marine.” The first reference I’ve found to this slogan occurred in about 1907, the invention of a creative recruiting officer. Recruiting officers had practical reasons for coining such a phrase—they really wanted former Marines to continue to identify with the Corps in order to encourage future Marines in their local communities to enlist. But it also marks a broader and intensifying effort to get all Marines to identify more actively and positively with their institution that really increased prior to World War I.
What surprised me a bit was not that the Marine Corps was good at advertising, but how early and aggressively they advertised the Corps. And this was in the age before the big New York City advertisers, correct?
Venable: A fundamental transformation occurred in American society between the Civil War and World War I in terms of what society deemed acceptable in regard to marketing. Before, if you wanted to sell oranges, for example, it was not polite to say something like, “We have the biggest, juiciest oranges of all the competitors.” Rather, you said something like, “A new shipment of oranges have arrived. Come get a dozen for 5 cents.” So some nineteenth-century Marines wanted to brag about their Corps, but they believed it to be impolite. When these sentiments began shifting in society as a whole, Marines seized the initiative and began actively promoting the Corps, largely without any interaction with the professional advertisers.
Of all the commercials — the one where the Marine slays the dragon is the most memorable to me — but I also remember the commercial with the knight turning into the Marine. Apparently there’s even a ranking of all Marine commercials. Do you have a particular favorite? Is there a consistent theme in this advertising that goes back to the 19th century?
Venable: I love the knight commercial as well. I don’t see a consistent theme going back to the nineteenth century. But I do see links between the idealism of Marines—especially recruiters—that really began solidifying prior to World War I. And there is a chivalry celebrated and a love for a brotherhood (and it was, at this point, a brotherhood solely) that echoes in the Corps’ most compelling commercials. Whereas the Army has tried many different approaches, the Corps has stuck more consistently with the idea of serving for the sake of serving. It could be argued that those knight commercials of the 1980s were even more idealistic than their predecessors, the early twentieth-century recruiting posters. (An interesting outlier to this general trend is this commercial from the 1970s.)
In your book, you say that the Marines, early in their history, referred to themselves as soldiers. It’s how they described themselves to others. But that changes over time. How and when did that change take place?
Venable: It still had not taken place fully by the end of World War I, which I was surprised to find. In World War I memoirs written by Marines, for example, I noticed how it was more natural for most Marines to refer to themselves as soldiers more frequently than Marines. Thus individual Marines who enlisted during the war did not buy as fully into the rhetoric as longer-serving Marines. But in terms of representing themselves to the public, Marines had solved the essential problem of making it mean something to be a Marine where they did not necessarily have to explain what a Marine was, which had been a problem for decades.
You end the story, as your subtitle notes, around 1918. If you had more time and space, what is the biggest addition to this story? Does the mystique build through Korea?
Venable: I would want to talk about the idea of every Marine being a rifleman, because I think that is a key addition to the Corps’ identity that I did not see in the time period I researched. I assume that as the Corps increasingly professionalized and evolved after World War I, it differentiated its roles and specialties, thus necessitating some adjustment to seek to keep the overall institutional culture cohesive.
And how was the mystique challenged in Vietnam? Obviously, it survived that war. Any thoughts on how it did so?
Venable: Amidst the recent social distancing and a lot of seniors in high school having to miss proms and graduations and other celebrations, I saw someone post on social media something like, “Imagine graduating from high school and knowing you were going to Vietnam.” My dad went to college for a few years before he enlisted in the Corps, so he didn’t have that exact experience, but I can still appreciate the intense feelings provoked by knowing what they would soon be doing overseas. And, like my dad, many of them chose to serve in the Corps rather than get drafted into the Army. You see the same kind of sentiments within the World War I timeframe. You want to serve alongside and with those people you perceive to be the best for a whole host of reasons. And, as long as the institution has leaders at all levels who uphold the institution’s most positive traits of identity and leadership, you’re going to do better no matter the state of social upheaval. In World War I, many Marines were disappointed by some of their leaders. I would assume that this same reaction factored into the experiences of Vietnam Marines.
I want to move on to a chapter you wrote titled “Hypermasculinization.” What are you tackling in that chapter? And was the USMC (and is it still) disposed to hypermasculinization over the other U.S. military services?
Venable: I really wanted to understand some of the rhetoric produced by the first female Marines that did not make sense to me initially. They really undercut their own service. Everything fell into place for me when I realized that the first female Marines had not actually freed male Marines to fight. Indeed, those male Marines had already been declared unfit for overseas service. So the Corps’ reaction to this, I think, was similar to the impetus behind “every Marine a rifleman.” The greatest contribution of the first female Marines was ironically strengthening the Corps’ masculine identity by promoting the idea that all male Marines were fighters and female Marines were there to support them with clerical and other types of work.
I am absolutely convinced that the Corps is still the most hypermasculine of all the services. In talking to Army officers as long as a decade ago, I have been surprised how much more open they were to incorporating women into combat than men.
And the current Commandant seemed to fall into that tradition based on some comments he made last summer. Since then, though, he has taken some steps in the right direction that, frankly, have surprised me positively in regard to integrating training, because I agree with the argument that if you don’t integrate Marines from the very beginning, you can’t ever really integrate them if women aren’t visibly present during foundational experiences like the Crucible. I’m also excited to see major improvements on the Marine Corps’ website that was pretty disheartening about six months ago in the marked absence of females on the site.
Would you discuss the artist Chandler Christy’s famous recruiting poster — and how does it tie into that chapter?
Venable: I find it interesting that depictions of women in Marine uniforms tend to be more complex than women in Navy uniforms, at least around the World War I timeframe. The Chandler Christy poster features a woman dressed in a naval uniform as a simpering, flirtatious creature, intended to convey to a man that she is clearly not capable of military service, but he is. Thus images of women wearing Navy uniforms tended to avoid depictions of combat, like most of the Navy’s recruiting imagery at the time. But the Corps’ imagery is more complex and, indeed, conflicted. So a poster like “If You Want to Fight, Join the Marines” has some edgy elements to include a woman with her hand on a weapon, unlike the competing Chandler Christy poster for the Navy. But the Corps poses a more forthright challenge to potential recruits, asking them not just to “join” like the Navy but to “fight” and to consider why a woman is wearing a uniform and holding a bayonet but they aren’t.
Howard Chandler Christy’s 1915 poster, “If you want to fight! Join the Marines.”
Heather, last question, is Jack Nicholson in A Few Good Men overrated or underrated? Regardless, I think Aaron Sorkin nailed that script.
Venable: Great question. I think that Jack Nicholson appeared to be even more extreme than the characters in something like TheGreat Santini. I’ve been privileged to meet many Marines in my life, and none of them has been that extreme in personality. And so he was too stereotypical. Marines are normal people, not caricatures. Sorkin stressed the “warrior” aspect of the Corps’ legacy, not its highly idealistic vein captured so well in those 1980s commercials. So Nicholson’s character is overrated because he’s not subtle enough and certainly not human enough. And that’s consistent with the perceived warrior culture in the U.S. military as a whole that has really taken hold over the last few decades. It’s too simplistic and neglects the whole person.
Heather Venable is an associate professor of military and security studies in the Department of Airpower at the United States Air Force’s Air Command and Staff College. As a visiting professor at the U.S. Naval Academy, she taught naval and Marine Corps history. She received her Ph.D. in military history from Duke University. The views here are her own and do not necessarily reflect those of the U.S. Air Force, the Command and Staff College, or the U.S. Department of Defense. You can follow her on Twitter @Heather_at_ACTS and Linkedin.
Commander Christopher Nelson is the Deputy Senior Naval Intelligence Manager for East Asia in the Office of Naval Intelligence in Suitland, Maryland. He is a naval intelligence officer and graduate of the U.S. Naval War College and the Maritime Advanced Warfighting School in Newport, Rhode Island. The views here are his own and do not necessarily reflect those of the U.S. Navy or the U.S. Department of Defense.
Featured Image: Three noncommissioned officers from Marine Barracks, Washington at 8th & I, perform during a Tuesday Sunset Parade at the Marine Corps War Memorial in Arlington, Va., July 30, 2013. (Marine Corps photo by Lance Cpl. Dan Hosack/Released)
