Evolution of Civil-Military Relations in East-Central Europe and the Former Soviet Union 9780313073069, 9780313315626

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THE EVOLUTION OF CIVIL-MILITARY RELATIONS IN EAST-CENTRAL EUROPE AND THE FORMER SOVIET UNION

Recent Titles in Contributions in Military Studies Battles of the Thirty Years War: From White Mountain to Nordlingen, 1618-1635 William P. Guthrie A Grateful Heart: The History of a World War I Field Hospital Michael E. Shay Forged in War: The Continental Congress and the Origin of Military Supply Lucille E. Horgan Tricolor over the Sahara: The Desert Battle of the Free French, 1940-1942 Edward L. Bimberg Henry Lloyd and the Military Enlightenment of Eighteenth-Century Europe Patrick J. Speelman United States Military Assistance: An Empirical Perspective William H. Mott IV To the Bitter End: Paraguay and the War of the Triple Alliance Chris Leuchars Guns in the Desert: General Jean-Pierre Doguereau's Journal of Napoleon's Egyptian Expedition Rosemary Brindle Defense Relations between Australia and Indonesia in the Post-Cold War Era Bilveer Singh The Later Thirty Years War: From the Battle of Wittstock to the Treaty of Westphalia William P. Guthrie Trial by Fire: Command and the British Expeditionary Force in 1914 Nikolas Gardner The Cross and the Trenches: Religious Faith and Doubt among British and American Great War Soldiers Richard Schweitzer

THE EVOLUTION OF

THE EVOLUTION OF CIVIL-MILITARY RELATIONS IN EAST-CENTRAL EUROPE AND Edited by Natalie L. Mychajlyszyn and Harald von Riekhoff

Contributions in Military Studies, Number 228

PRAEGER

Westport, Connecticut London

London

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data The evolution of civil-military relations in East-Central Europe and the Former Soviet Union / edited by Natalie L. Mychajlyszyn and Harald von Riekhoff. p. cm. — (Contributions in military studies, ISSN 0883-6884 ; no. 228) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 0-313-31562-0 (alk. paper) 1. Civil-military relations—Europe, Central. 2. Civil-military relations—Former Soviet republics. 3. Civil-military relations—Bulgaria. I. Mychajlyszyn, Natalie, 1968- II. Von Riekhoff, Harald, 1937- III. Series. JN96.A38C584 2004 322' .5 '0947—dc22 2003060709 British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data is available. Copyright © 2004 by Natalie L. Mychajlyszyn and Harald von Riekhoff All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, by any process or technique, without the express written consent of the publisher. Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 2003060709 ISBN: 0-313-31562-0 ISSN: 0883-6884 First published in 2004 Praeger Publishers, 88 Post Road West, Westport, CT 06881 An imprint of Greenwood Publishing Group, Inc. www.praeger.com Printed in the United States of America

The paper used in this book complies with the Permanent Paper Standard issued by the National Information Standards Organization (Z39.48-1984). 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

For Dennis and my parents NM

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Contents Abbreviations

ix

Part I: Introduction and Theoretical Perspectives

1

1.

Introduction Harald von Riekhoff

2.

Civil-Military Relations in Postcommunist Eastern Europe and the Former Soviet Union: Some Theoretical Issues Mark Yaniszewski

Part II: NATO Accession States: The First Round 3.

Civil-Military Relations in the Czech Republic: Ambivalent Reformers, Immature Structures David J. Betz

3

19 39 41

4.

Hungary: A Corner Turned? James Sherr

63

5.

Postcommunist Civil-Military Relations in Poland Piotr Dutkiewicz

83

Part III: NATO Candidate States

103

6.

Civil-Military Relations in the Baltic Republics Harald von Riekhoff

105

7.

Postcommunist Civil-Military Relations in Bulgaria Piotr Dutkiewicz and Plamen Pantev

139

Contents

Vlll

Part IV: Post-Soviet States 8.

9.

157

Civil-Military Relations in Post-Soviet Russia: Rebuilding the "Battle Order"? David J. Betz and Sergei Plekhanov

159

The Euro-Atlantic Strategic Culture, Democratic Civil-Military Relations, and Ukraine Natalie Mychajlyszyn

191

Part V: Conclusion 10. Conclusion Harald von Riekhoff

211 213

Appendix: List of Interviews

223

Selected Bibliography

229

Index

235

About the Contributors

243

Abbreviations AFU

Armed Forces of Ukraine

BSP

Bulgarian Socialist Party

C3

Command, Control and Communication

CDS

Chief of the Defense Staff

CEFTA

Central European Free Trade Agreement

CIS

Commonwealth of Independent States

CPC

Communist Party of Czechoslovakia

CSSD

Czech Social Democratic Party

EAPC

Euro-Atlantic Partnership Council

EDF

Estonian Defense Forces

EU

European Union

FIDESZ

Federation of Young Democrats

HHDF

Hungarian Home Defense Forces

IDAB

International Defence Advisory Board

IFOR

NATO's Implementation Force in Bosnia-Herzegovina

IMF

International Monetary Fund

IPP

Individual Partnership Program

KFOR

NATO's peacekeeping operation in Kosovo

MAP

Membership Action Plan

MOD

Ministry of Defense

MPA

Main Political Administration

MPP

Hungarian Civic Forum

x

Abbreviations

MRF

Movement for Rights and Freedoms

MPFSEE

Multinational Peace Force South-Eastern Europe

NACC

North Atlantic Cooperation Council

NAF

National Armed Forces (Latvia)

NATO

North Atlantic Treaty Organization

NCOs

Noncommissioned Officers

NGOs

non-governmental organizations

NSWP

Non-Soviet Warsaw Pact countries

OBSEC

Organization for Black Sea Economic Cooperation

ODS

Civic Democratic Party

OECD

Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development

OSCE

Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe

PARP

Planning and Review Process

PfP

Partnership for Peace

PPBS

Planning, Programming, and Budgeting System

PSO

Peace Support Operations

SDR

Strategic Defense Review

SFOR

NATO's Stabilization Force in Bosnia-Herzegovina

SNM

Simeon II National Movement

SPSEE

Stability Pact for South-Eastern Europe

UDF

Union of Democratic Forces

UN

United Nations

UNMIK

UN Mission to Kosovo

UNPROFOR

UN Protection Force

WEU

West European Union

Parti

Introduction and Theoretical Perspectives

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1

Introduction Harald von Riekhoff

Civil-military relations encompass the entire spectrum of relations among government, society, and the armed forces. The essence of civil-military relations in democratic societies consists of the depoliticization of the military— that is, their neutrality vis-a-vis domestic politics and the subordination of the military to the legitimate civilian authority that represents the institutionalized expression of the popular will. As Philippe Schmitter recognizes, the depoliticization, or political disengagement, of the military is not solely the responsibility of the latter; it also requires a broader civilian consensus: "The military must become (and remain) convinced that they have no need or right to intervene with force in civilian political struggles, and . . . conversely, civilian politicians must be discouraged (or prevented) from bringing the peculiar resources of the military into the political process as a means for resolving their disputes."1 This volume explores this theme in depth with respect to the evolution of democratic civil-military relations in the postcommunist societies of Eastern Europe and the former Soviet Union. Indeed, the experience in postcommunist societies has shown that notwithstanding initial apprehensions, there is less risk of the military deliberately intruding into domestic political space than of civilian politicians enticing the military to enter active politics in order to help them resolve domestic political disputes. As Mark Yaniszewski discusses in his theory chapter, even a depoliticized military establishment may involve itself in a domestic political debate, or be drawn into it, if civilian authority is uncertain

4

Civil-Military Relations

or disputed. Russia, where the military was brought in to resolve the constitutional crisis between President Boris Yeltsin and a rebellious legislature in 1993; the former Yugoslavia, where the military became an instrument for waging interethnic conflicts throughout the 1990s; and Poland and Hungary at the outset of transition, when presidents and governments each sought alliances with the military to help them get the upper hand in their struggle for control over defense policy—are all examples of this phenomenon. In exploring the transition from communist-style to democratic civil-military relations in Eastern Europe and the former Soviet Union, the chapters in this volume advance many themes and issues currently being raised by the literature on civil-military relations. For instance, the term "civilian control," which is used most frequently to denote the subordination of the military to civilian authorities, is not unproblematic. Indeed, "control" may be outmoded and misleading, as it conveys a meaning that is excessively technical and narrow in scope. It can also be interpreted pejoratively as keeping the military in its place, which is not the only, or even the principal, objective of civilian authority. Unfortunately, however, there is no consensus among contemporary analysts on a preferable substitute term.2 Perhaps "civilian supervision" or "direction," or even "primacy," over defense and security policy would be preferable to "control." Richard Kohn conceptualizes civil control as a process rather than a fact, and he suggests that the best way to understand civilian control is to weigh the relative influence of military and civilian officials in decisions on defense and security policy.3 In their recent book, Andrew Cottey, Timothy Edmonds, and Anthony Forster identify three distinct issues that are central to democratic political control: the relationship between the military and domestic politics that aims to transform the armed forces into neutral servants of the democratic government; the control of defense policy by democratic, civilian agencies; and foreign-policy decision making, including decisions to use or deploy force, by legitimate civilian authorities.4 Each of these three central issues calls for a delicate balancing act between civilian and military functions and, as Clausewitz accurately predicted, is likely to generate friction. For instance, there exists a delicate and not clearly demarcated line between political neutrality, on the one hand, and the military acting as a bureaucratic interest group and defending its perceived specific group interests, on the other. The military in a democratic system should be nonpartisan, but it is hardly apolitical in the sense of being excluded from the policy process. By advocating a certain defense policy or decision, the military may easily become enmeshed in partisan political debates. This is difficult to avoid, but it can be contained by confining such bargaining to closed doors. Yehuda Ben Meir argues that the military should advise civilians and represent its specific interests inside government but should refrain from any public advocacy.5 The United States is generally seen as the prototype of stable civil-military relations in a mature democracy. Yet since World War II, the U.S. military has played a considerable role in public debates on policies that affected its expertise and interests.6 To take just one example, Gen. Colin Powell, as chairman of the Joint Chiefs of

Introduction

5

Staff, publicly took issue with certain controversial security policies of the Clinton administration. The division of labor in managing defense policy is equally problematic, as it must balance control of defense policy by civilian authorities with due respect for the autonomy of the professional military in implementing that policy. Military professionalism is a necessary, but not a sufficient, condition for effective civilian control. Samuel Huntington regards professionalism as instrumental in "imparting expertise, responsibility and corporateness."7 Huntington's theory of professionalism enjoys great popularity in postcommunist countries today, part of its appeal no doubt stemming from the fact that it is based on the successful U.S. model, in which civilian control is undisputed. A professional military develops a strong sense of corporate identity and will insist on a degree of autonomy in discharging its responsibilities. Douglas Bland argues that under an overall umbrella of democratic civilian direction, the military should retain its rightful authority in matters of military doctrine, discipline and internal organization, operational planning, tactical direction of military operations, and promotions—except in the appointment of the most senior officers, whose orientations should be generally compatible with that of the government.8 The role of the military in foreign policy, in particular decisions to use force or to deploy national troops abroad, also figures significantly. While civilian authorities have primacy in the foreign policy sphere, they should respect military advice and operational requirements. In principle, civilian control is absolute, but by tradition and convenience, command decisions are normally delegated to the military. Despite this convention, civilian authorities are often tempted to micromanage military operations, particularly if they form part of a coalition effort. This can be a source of considerable friction in civil-military relations, as was witnessed during NATO's air campaign in Kosovo. Analysts of civil-military relations have identified a set of attributes that they deem necessary, or at least of major importance, for the effective democratic supervision of the military. In his theory chapter Mark Yaniszewski provides a comprehensive and very useful checklist of necessary reforms in civil-military relations—constitutional, administrative, economic, structural, and societal— that should be undertaken by postcommunist transition countries in order to meet accepted Western standards of democratic control. A few essential requirements are summarized here: • A legal-constitutional order that establishes clear lines of civilian authority and defines the respective authority and responsibility of key players (e.g., president, government, parliament and parliamentary committees) in times of peace, emergency, crisis, and war • The rule of law, transparency, and accountability in military affairs • A chain of command for the armed forces, headed by civilian authorities

6 Civil-Military Relations • An institutionalized oversight mechanism by national security councils, parliaments, and parliamentary defense committees, rendering military affairs more transparent and increasing public interest • A civilian minister of defense • A ministry of defense [MOD] with an integrated staff composed of military and a professional, depoliticized civilian bureaucracy • A general staff that is either integrated into the MOD or otherwise effectively subordinated to the minister of defense • Strict regulations and a military culture that ensure the nonpartisanship of the armed forces • A civil society that is engaged in defense matters and capable of informed public debate and that, while supportive of basic defense goals, holds the government and military to strict accountability standards. The literature on civil-military relations is extensive, but it consists largely of case studies. The underlying theoretical structure has remained fairly underdeveloped, and what theory exists is now rather dated. Most of the theory on civil-military relations emerged at the beginning of the Cold War. Its central preoccupation was with coups d'etat, especially in Latin America, and with the challenge of managing the colossal military establishment of a nuclear superpower, having the United States in mind. Neither body of theory is central to the concerns facing postcommunist states today, for praetorianism has fortunately not become an issue during their transition, and no superpower remains in the region. The classical template of civil-military relations developed by Huntington and Morris Janowitz portrays the relationship as inherently adversarial and oppositional in nature, stemming from the underlying dilemma that a military powerful enough to satisfy a nation's external security needs poses a potential threat to civilian authority at home.9 To resolve that dilemma, Huntington proposes the separation and respective autonomy of the political and military spheres, keeping the military both institutionally and ideologically separate from politics. According to Huntington's chain of reasoning, autonomy will promote military professionalism, which in turn will render the military politically neutral and thereby secure civilian control. Despite the lasting appeal of Huntington's theory today, including in Eastern Europe and the former Soviet Union, many of its core claims have not been borne out by empirical inquiry or political events.10 Thus, Huntington's hypothesis that a professional military will remain subordinate to civilian authority, while true in the U.S. context, has not always applied elsewhere—as, for example, during the French Fourth Republic. Another limitation of Huntington's separation model is that it is basically U.S.-centric. It describes the separation of civilian and military institutions found in the United States and prescribes this as the civil-military relations

Introduction

7

model par excellence.11 Even though it has succeeded in the United States, the separation model might not be acceptable or workable in the cultural or social environments of other countries. As Rebecca Schiff demonstrates, countries like Israel have developed a much tighter integration between the military and civil society than stipulated by the separation model without sacrificing democratic civilian control. The classical model of civil-military relations will have to be adjusted to fit the changed nature of contemporary warfare and altered force structures—for example, combined joint operations—in the post-Cold War environment. A new layer of civil-military relations above the national level will have to be added to explain civil-military relations in alliances and temporary coalitions. The model will also have to be attuned to the political conditions facing countries that are not mature democracies but find themselves in the difficult process of transition toward democracy, as witnessed in Eastern Europe and the former Soviet Union. Fortunately, despite the general paucity of theory and lack of attention to either the military or civil-military relations in modern democratic theory,12 some recent theoretical endeavors are of interest and relevance. The recent transition of Latin American countries to democracy has revived the interest in the issue of civilian control of the military in mature democracies as well as in countries that have embarked on a transition to democracy. There can, of course, be no democratic control of the military in the absence of a functioning democracy; it is therefore entirely appropriate to incorporate democratic theory into the study of civil-military relations. Attempts to compare Latin America (where the transition has been from semi-authoritarian or mixed regimes) to postcommunist states in Eastern Europe and the former Soviet Union (where the transition has been from totalitarian rule) are of particular theoretical interest. The seminal work in this field has been done by Juan Linz and Alfred Stepan, who examine the process of democratic transition and consolidation (i.e., involving changes in attitude, behavior, and constitutions) in southern Europe, South America, and postcommunist Europe. Their work shows how democratization impacts on civil-military relations and vice versa.13 According to Linz and Stepan, consolidated democracy denotes a "political regime in which democracy as a complex system of institutions, rules and patterned incentives . . . has become 'the only game in town.'"14 The creation of a consolidated democracy depends on the existence of a robust civil society capable of monitoring the government; of a Rechtsstaat in which the government apparatus is subject to the rule of law; and of a usable bureaucracy. There is a deficiency of all three in contemporary postcommunist states. The inherent problem of democratic consolidation is compounded by ethnic divisions that exist in several countries in the region studied in this volume. Moreover, the simultaneous reform of state structures and the creation of market economies places the democratic experiments ™ those countries on weak and uncertain economic foundations. Peter Feaver has recently developed an agency theory to explain the growing tension in U.S. civil-military relations in the post-Cold War era.15 The theory reflects concern about a looming crisis, or at least conflict, in U.S. civil-military

8

Civil-Military Relations

relations that peaked during the Clinton administration.16 The conflict was over the defense budget, the issue of gays in the military, and civilian-imposed constraints on the use of force in military operations in Somalia, Haiti, Bosnia, and Kosovo. The ensuing friction revealed a widening gap in civilian and military values and a general shift toward a more conservative ideology and overt Republican partisanship on the part of the U.S. military. Feaver's agency theory follows the classical tradition of Huntington, focusing on civilian and military institutions. Where it breaks new ground is in creating a systematic strategic interaction model to explain the dynamics of civil-military relations. The post-Cold War period has witnessed more intrusive monitoring on the part of U.S. civilian authorities, with more frequent congressional investigations, larger civilian staffs in the Office of the Secretary of Defense, and more civilian micromanaging of defense policy. The military, in response, has become increasingly adept in fending off these intrusive measures, Gen. Colin Powell serving as the exemplar. Feaver's agency theory was developed primarily with U.S. civil-military relations in mind, but it provides a very useful tool for the analysis of civilmilitary relations in postcommunist states as well. One of the positive aspects of the Soviet legacy in Central and Eastern Europe is the generally high professional status of the regular armed forces and their commitment to serve legitimate state authorities. Thus, there is no resistance by the military to the fundamental principle of civilian control, to which they had become fully accustomed under Soviet rule, nor has the military exhibited any obvious praetorian inclination. These are valuable assets in forming a system of democratic civilian control in the face of so many other obstacles and liabilities. The problem has not been in accepting the principle of civilian control, but in putting it into routine practice. Nonetheless, in the aftermath of the "Velvet Revolution," the new civilian leadership of the transition states, and much of the general public, regarded the military with considerable suspicion and distrust as successors of the Red Army and sympathizers with communism. This attitude was particularly strong in the Baltic states, Czech Republic, and Hungary. Thus, civilian intrusiveness was pursued with particular energy, in order to put the military in its place and ensure its loyalty to the new system. The national media showed a similar inclination, exposing scandals, disciplinary infractions, and evidence of disloyalty within the armed forces instead of dealing with more substantial defense issues. In turn, the military adopted effective evasion mechanisms to circumvent what they regarded as clumsy or unwarranted civilian intrusions into its professional domain. Having just escaped from the intensive political monitoring by the Communist Party, the military was reluctant to submit to new forms of civilian intrusion, even if it accepted the overall direction by civilian leaders at the top. As Feaver notes, "Friction will be greatest when the civilian has strong incentives to monitor intrusively and the military has strong incentives to shirk."17 Friction and alienation between the two sides were in fact quite prevalent during the first years following the Velvet Revolution. Because of the lack of resources, together with incompetence and inexperience on the

Introduction

9

part of civilian superiors, the military was able to get away with a lot: for example, a lack of transparency in dealing with the government, parliament, and media; blocking, or at least delaying, the subordination of general staff to ministers of defense; and marginalizing civilians in ministries of defense. Douglas Bland's attempt to construct a unified theory of democratic civilmilitary relations is derived from regime theory and represents an ambitious effort to revise the classical theory of civil-military relations. In line with classical theory, his analysis concentrates on the bilateral relationship between civilian and military institutions.18 But Bland abandons the tradition of stressing the adversarial nature of the relationship. Instead, he views it in non-zero-sum terms, whereby "civilian control of the military is managed and maintained through the sharing of responsibility for control between civilian leaders and military officers."19 Political and military leaders share in defense policy and decision making, and both are accountable for outcomes and consequences. Even though there may be occasional friction, ultimately civilian and military leaders have shared interests and complementary roles in deciding and managing national defense. The formula for successful civil-military relations is not separation, as recommended by classical theory, but a cooperative arrangement or partnership. Bland uses regime theory to explain the cooperative arrangement between civilians and the military. The civil-military relations regime, like other regimes, is based on principles (e.g., accountability of the military to civilian authority, and accountability of the latter to the people); norms (e.g., civilian control exercised by the minister of defense); rules (e.g., identifying the chain of command ); and decision-making procedures (e.g., consensus building by a

national security council of civilian leaders, parliamentarians, senior public servants, and military leaders).20 Regimes are usually stable arrangements,

although they may change as values, interests, personalities, and threats shift. Bland's civil-military relations regime theory appears to be of particular relevance to the situation in postcommunist countries in Eastern Europe and the former Soviet Union. It is not that the principle of civilian control has been challenged in those countries, notwithstanding occasional confusion about what specific institution should exercise this control; nor has the military deliberately sought to interfere in domestic politics (though the taboo against involving the military to help resolve domestic power struggles is somewhat less well respected). What is missing is a constructive routine working relationship between civilian and military agents—between military officials and parliamentary defense committees, between civilian and military personnel in the ministries of defense, and between ministries of defense and general staffs— such as would exist under the kind of cooperative arrangement that Bland has outlined. Western nations have urged the transition countries to establish the necessary "hardware" of democratic control—for example, the requisite laws and institutions, civilian-dominated ministries of defense, civilian ministers of defense, and parliamentary defense committees. Most of this infrastructure is now in place. What has been lagging behind, however, is the "software" of civilian control—the underlying norms, beliefs, and attitudes.21 As James Sherr

10

Civil-Military Relations

observes in the chapter on Hungary, progress in civil-military relations is not to be measured by the number of civilians in controlling positions, but by the extent to which civil-military collaboration becomes the norm and the military identifies with the new democratic order. Like Bland's regime theory, Rebecca Schiff s theory of concordance in civilmilitary relations regards governments, the military, and civil society as potential partners who, depending on the prevailing conditions, can reach a consensus on the preferred type of civil-military relations.22 This consensus could take the form of a separation of civilian and military institutions, as advocated by classical civil-military relations theory, but it could also result in significant civil-military integration, as manifested in Israel, or other mixed arrangements. Schiff assigns much greater weight to civil society and political culture than does either classical theory or Bland's regime theory, both of which are primarily concerned with the bilateral relationship between government and the military. Schiff suggests four important indicators of concordance, the degree of agreement on the ethnic or class composition of the officer corps, on the role of the military in defense decision making, on the nature of recruitment, and on military style. In postcommunist countries, there may be considerable concordance on the first and last indicators, but the role of the military in defense decision making has remained problematic and controversial (as is revealed in the country chapters that follow). With respect to recruitment, there exists a broad consensus between governments and the military leadership on the continuing need for military conscription, but conscription is opposed by a substantial majority of the public in postcommunist countries. In the immediate aftermath of the Velvet Revolution, all members of this group of countries undertook basically similar measures to dismantle control of the military by the Communist Party and to establish the basic laws and institutions for democratic civilian control of the military. Several factors have influenced the evolution of civil-military relations in postcommunist states. Perhaps the most important among them are the Soviet legacy and other historical experiences; domestic political, social, and economic developments; and the international context of civil-military relations reform. But over the course of a decade, their paths to democratization and reform of civil-military relations have come to differ noticeably in pace, direction, and commitment. Thus, we may well be approaching a point where it is no longer useful or even possible to consider postcommunist societies as a single phenomenon. The common denominator—that is, the legacy of Soviet rule, either as a constituent part of the USSR or as a member of the Warsaw Pact—is receding in collective memories and as a dominant factor in political life. Countries that built their armed forces from scratch, such as the Baltic states and Slovenia, have encountered fewer problems in establishing democratic control over the military—for example, by institutionalizing civilian defense ministers and subordinating the general staff to the minister—than have countries that had maintained national armed forces during the Soviet period or, like Ukraine, created an armed force by expropriating portions of the Soviet military. But nations that had to assemble the rudimentary building blocks of armed forces

Introduction

11

had greater difficulty than the latter group in simultaneously formulating coherent defense policies.23 The initial dismantling of Communist Party political control of the armed forces was achieved with considerable speed and, given the intimate ties that had existed, surprisingly little resistance from the military, across all cases.24 This institutional divorce from communism appears to have been, on the military side, a combination of realism and opportunism with a long-standing, albeit well concealed, resentment of political intrusion by the Party. The fear that progress in democratic civil-military relations in Eastern Europe and the former Soviet Union might be impeded by a continuing alliance between the military and successor communist parties has proved to be unfounded. In the 1996 Czech elections, 50 percent of members of the armed forces voted for leftist candidates.25 It may be debated whether this reflects a resistance to change by the Czech military or a protest vote against the poor material conditions under which it worked. In 1995, 25 percent of Russian officers expressed a preference for the Communist Party, and 20 percent supported Zhirinovsky's nationalist populist party. It is safe to assume that this was essentially a protest vote against the extremely unsatisfactory management of military affairs by President Yeltsin and the disastrous conduct of the war in Chechnya. In sharp contrast, in the 2000 presidential elections Vladimir Putin eclipsed all other political stars and received 80 percent of the recorded military vote.26 This was probably the first time that the majority of the Russian military had voted for the party in power; moreover, it indicated that there was no long-term linkage between the Russian military and the Communist Party. It would be a mistake to regard all aspects of the Soviet legacy as impediments to the creation of democratic civil-military relations. In fact, several features of this legacy are essentially compatible with the Western model of democratic civil-military relations. The high professionalism of the Soviet military, which to a lesser degree also shaped the military cultures of other Warsaw Pact countries, has been a stabilizing factor during the postcommunist period. Soviet-style militaries regard themselves as servants of the legitimate state authorities, whoever these might be, a tradition that enabled them to shift their loyalties from communist rule to postcommunist regimes with relative ease. There was also no tradition of praetorianism in czarist Russian and Soviet military culture.27 Despite intensive politicization, or "partisization," the Soviet military generally avoided involvement in domestic politics beyond promoting perceived bureaucratic interests in intra-Party debates on defense. On the whole, the military in postcommunist countries has continued this tradition and have sought to preserve its neutrality vis-a-vis domestic politics. This attempt has not always succeeded, as politicians have been tempted to involve the military in struggles against their political opponents. Also, the crisis over the very survival of the Russian armed forces as viable instruments of national defense during Yeltsin's personalist rule drove the military into active politics. There are, however, several negative dimensions of the Soviet legacy that account for the rather problematic experience in establishing democratic supervision of the military in postcommunist societies—in particular, the

12

Civil-Military Relations

tradition of military autonomy, the Soviet bureaucratic mind-set, and Soviettype military style, or "culture." It is perhaps paradoxical that with respect to the implementation of policy, the Soviet military enjoyed a certain "limited autonomy within the context of overall political subordination to the party."28 The monopoly of the military in supplying all ministers of defense and virtually all senior positions in the defense ministry, as well as, of course, the Soviet General Staff, was one manifestation of this autonomy. In the postcommunist period, the military has tried to protect and, where possible, enhance this autonomy. It is no accident that Huntington's separation formula had such great appeal in the postcommunist states, as it suggested a seemingly logical division of functions whereby the military would keep out of domestic politics and civilian authorities would curtail their intrusions into defense policy implementation. This orientation generated a considerable amount of "shirking" behavior, to use Feaver's terminology, as the military sought to block, delay, or undermine the appointment of civilians as ministers of defense, the subordination of the general staff to the minister, and the creation of influential civilian defense bureaucracies. With the aid of opposition political parties, the military was at least partially successful in delaying effective reforms. As James Sherr's chapter notes, the government's plan to integrate the Hungarian MOD and defense staff was delayed by such a blocking coalition; as we learn from Natalie Mychajlyszyn's chapter, the brief Ukrainian experiment with a civilian minister of defense in 1994 remained precisely that—a brief experiment with Western civil-military relations standards, one that has not been followed up at the time of this writing. A second detrimental aspect of the Soviet legacy is what may be called the Soviet bureaucratic mind-set that permeates military attitudes (as well as those of other bureaucratic institutions). It is characterized by obsessive secrecy, a preference for hoarding information rather than sharing it with other agencies, a general reluctance to cooperate or coordinate policy with other bureaucratic actors, and a top-heavy style of bureaucratic decision making whereby decisions and policy initiatives all come from the center. This is in sharp contrast to NATO countries, where policy making is a two-way process, with a large proportion of initiatives and correctives originating at the middle or even lower levels of the bureaucracy. Sherr's chapter on Hungary comments on the absence of a well-defined committee system in the Hungarian Ministry of Defense. He compares the situation with the United Kingdom, where most defense policy is made by interdepartmental committees composed of both civilians and military officers. The Soviet bureaucratic mind-set is naturally strongest in Russia, but it affects other postcommunist governments as well. It poses a major obstacle to the realization of the kind of cooperative civil-military relations arrangements that Bland's regime theory envisages. Problems of cooperation and coordination are encountered not only in bilateral relations between the military and civilians, but also in relations among the different layers of civilian authority—presidents, governments, and parliaments—and thus impair the ability of the latter to discharge their responsibilities in supervising the military.

Introduction

13

Another negative feature of the Soviet legacy derives from the rigid disciplinarian style of military leadership that was practiced by the Red Army and has been continued by several of its postcommunist successors. Discipline may be deemed to be an exclusively military matter and not an issue of civilmilitary relations. It will be recalled, however, that Schiff includes military style as one of the four important indicators of military-societal concordance. The authoritarian leadership style, in particular the brutal treatment of conscript soldiers, clashed with the newly emerging democratic norms and values of postcommunist civil society. It received much unfavorable media attention and thereby contributed to a negative public image of the military in several Eastern European and former Soviet countries. There are, however, historical factors apart from the Soviet legacy that affect contemporary civil-military relations in postcommunist societies. The "archeological" approach of stripping away layers of history can yield interesting discoveries, and not necessarily expected ones. The fact that a country like Poland had military rule from 1926 to 1939 and again from 1981 to 1989 may seem to suggest that the country is highly susceptible to praetorianism, but developments since the fall of communism have not confirmed this facile hypothesis. However, Poland's rich and tragically romantic military history may help explain why the Polish armed forces enjoy considerably greater prestige and public support than their counterparts in otherwise comparable countries, like the Czech Republic, that have solid "Good Soldier Svejk" antimilitarist traditions. There is also evidence of historical revivalism in civil-military relations in the region. After the Velvet Revolution, several countries returned to the interwar practice of appointing an overall commander of national armed forces, with various impacts on civil-military relations. In the case of Lithuania, where national forces were built from scratch, the appointment of a central military figure had a positive impact on civil-military relations, as it helped to instill professionalism in the military. In Hungary, where there already existed a professional national army, the creation of a powerful senior defense commander had the reverse effect of weakening civilian control—because it impeded the integration of the General Staff into the Ministry of Defense. David Betz and Sergei Plekhanov conclude their chapter on Russia with the somber observation that after a brief interlude of reform, Russia may again be reverting to its traditional battle order—the fusion of state and the military. Under President Putin the military involvement in politics has grown, even assumed the character of state policy, whereby military personnel are appointed as presidential representatives to important government positions or are encouraged to run as provincial governors in order to restore the Kremlin's central authority over the country's regions. An examination of the effect of domestic political social and economic factors on reforms in civil-military relations makes the central role of democracy clearly evident. It should come as no surprise that one finds a high correlation between success in the consolidation of democracy and progress in democratic supervision of the military. The members of the Visegrad Group, which have

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taken a vanguard role among postcommunist states in building viable democratic systems, also have the best records in reforming civil-military relations in accordance with standard Western principles. However, greatly complicating the democratic experiment in postcommunist countries, at least in the short run, is the fact that it has been undertaken simultaneously with the transition to a market economy.29 Economic reforms generated great economic and social uncertainty and led to a decline in economic productivity in the whole region. Confronted with this unstable socioeconomic environment, governments, parliamentarians, and civil society at large neglected such issues as defense and civil-military relations. Progressive defense plans often had to be aborted because of emergency budget cuts, and necessary reforms like civilianization of the ministry of defense, even if accepted in principle, had to be postponed because the resources needed to train a civilian defense bureaucracy simply were not available. The domestic environment during the first decade after communism was generally inhospitable to democratic reforms of civil-military relations. In addition, ethnic tensions in countries like the Baltic states, the former Yugoslavia, Romania, Russia, and Ukraine further complicated democratization efforts and thus, at least indirectly, impeded democratic reform of civil-military relations.30 Ironically, the impact of the external environment on the reform of civilmilitary relations in postcommunist states has been more benign. It is generally assumed that an imminent external security threat would undermine efforts to establish civilian control of the military, as social experiments would not seem appropriate at such a time. On the whole, however, few countries in the region under study here have faced imminent external threats during the last decade. The obvious exception has been the former Yugoslavia, which has suffered from a series of civil wars that degenerated into interstate wars following the secession of its constituent parts and then foreign intervention. For countries bordering on the former Yugoslavia there was a certain risk of being drawn into the escalating Balkan conflict. For instance, as James Sherr describes, Hungary resembles a frontier state, with five of its six neighboring states suffering from domestic instability and containing Hungarian minorities. With the majority of postcommunist states seeking membership in the European Union or NATO, the Western model of civilian-military relations has acquired particular relevance and appeal. NATO has acted as a major catalyst in advancing democratic direction of the military in the region. The alliance serves as a model; it creates incentives for reform because democratic control of the military is an explicit condition for admission; and it also provides material assistance and advice to new or aspiring members through NATO's Partnership for Peace (PfP) program and, more recently, its Membership Action Plan (MAP). These programs have helped promote the civil-military reform agenda in postcommunist states, as participants have had to adopt NATO planning standards. It is thus no accident that NATO candidates have generally performed better in reforming civil-military relations than those who are not on the list or are at the end of the queue.

Introduction

15

The Western and NATO contribution to democratic civil-military relations in postcommunist countries has not, however, been an unmitigated blessing. As noted above, the Euro-Atlantic paradigm of civil-military relations is itself under attack and in need of being updated; moreover, again as noted, it has not produced an explicit model that might be readily transplanted to fit conditions facing postcommunist countries. There is also the danger that excessive dependence on NATO may impair national initiatives and self-reliance. Paradoxically, NATO membership, far from resolving all problems in civilmilitary relations, has generated some of its own. For instance, taking direction from NATO commands has exposed the militaries of the new NATO members to accusations of bypassing their national civilian authorities. Finally, there is a danger that new NATO members may undertake reforms without genuine conviction, in a rather superficial or purely cosmetic way, in order to satisfy NATO demands. This volume seeks to unpackage these and other, related themes concerning the evolution of civil-military relations in the postcommunist societies of Eastern Europe and the former Soviet Union. Indeed, the problem of establishing effective democratic control of the military in postcommunist transition states has attracted considerable attention in recent years. In large part, this interest may be explained by the geostrategic importance of the region, as the stability and democratic progress of these countries is repeatedly linked not only to their own security but also to that of the region. The phenomenon is also of considerable theoretical interest, because the experience of a transition from, rather than toward, communist rule is unique. A number of questions previously unthinkable can now be considered and answered on the basis of the actual experiences of transition states. A number of recent works have sought to explore the political and theoretical ramifications of the emerging democratic control of the military in postcommunist societies.31 The present collection contributes to this emerging body of literature on civil-military reforms in the transition states of Eastern Europe and the former Soviet Union. It originated as a comprehensive research project on the problems in and progress of civil-military relations in twelve postcommunist states conducted under the auspices of the Military Training Assistance Program of the Canadian Department of National Defence. Our research team visited each of these countries and held extensive interviews with senior military, defense, and foreign policy officials, parliamentarians, academics, members of research institutes, and media personnel. While we must respect the confidentiality of our interlocutors, the interview process provided a very rich and diverse information base that reflects the opinions of practitioners and analysts in postcommunist societies and provides the core of information for each of the country chapters in this volume. Unless otherwise indicated, the interviews for each chapter were carried out by the respective author(s). Not every chapter cites its interviewees, but a listing of the interviews for each country study is included in the appendix (names withheld).

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The book begins with Mark Yaniszewski's chapter outlining the theoretical and historical context in which these democratic civil-military reforms are being carried out in the region. The next section considers the experiences of countries accepted in the first round of NATO expansion. David Betz explores the changes and shortcomings of the Czech Republic's experience; James Sherr follows suit regarding Hungary. Piotr Dutkiewicz next outlines the process and the pitfalls that faced Poland's reform efforts. The following section examines the efforts at democratic civil-military reforms in some of the candidate countries for the next round of NATO expansion. Harald von Riekhoff provides in a single chapter an in-depth analysis of the experience of the three Baltic states—Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania. Piotr Dutkiewicz and Plamen Pantev then consider Bulgaria's route toward democratic civil-military relations. The next section examines the state of postcommunist civil-military relations in countries with which NATO has established enhanced partnership arrangements. David Betz and Sergei Plekhanov then attempt to untangle the complexities of civil-military reform in Russia. Finally, Natalie Mychajlyszyn explores the impact of Ukraine's state of civil-military relations. NOTES 1. Philippe Schmitter, "Foreword," in Civil-Military Relations in the Soviet and Yugoslav Successor States, ed. Constantine Danopoulos and Daniel Zirker (Boulder, Colo.: Westview, 1996), xii. 2. David Betz and John Lowenhardt refer to a meeting of experts who wrestled with the issue but could not establish a consensus in their volume, Army and State in PostCommunist Europe (London: Frank Cass, 2001), 149. 3. Richard Kohn, "How Democracy Controls the Military," Journal of Democracy 8:4 (1997): 143. 4. Andrew Cottey, Timothy Edmonds and Anthony Forster, eds., Democratic Control of the Military in Post-Communist Europe (Houndmills, Hampshire, and New York: Palgrave, 2002), 7. 5. Yehuda Ben Meier, Civil-Military Relations in Israel (New York: Columbia University Press, 1995), 25. 6. Amos Perlmutter and William Leo Grande, "The Party in Uniform: Toward a Theory of Civil-Military Relations in Communist Political Systems," American Political Science Review 76 (1982): 780. 7. Samuel Huntington, The Soldier and the State: The Theory and Politics of CivilMilitary Relations (Cambridge, Mass.: Belknap Press of Harvard University, 1967), 718. 8. Douglas Bland, "A Unified Theory of Civil-Military Relations," Armed Forces and Society 26:1 (Fall 1999): 19. 9. For the classics of civil-military relations, see Samuel Finer, The Man on Horseback: The Role of the Military in Politics, 2nd ed. (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1976); Huntington, The Soldier and the State; Morris Janowitz, The Professional Soldier: A Social and Political Portrait (Glencoe, 111.: Free Press of Glencoe, 1960); and Amos Perlmutter, The Military and Politics in Modern Times: On Professionals, Praetorians, and Revolutionary Soldiers (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1977). 10. Peter Feaver, "The Civil-Military Problematique:- Huntington, Janowitz and the Question of Civilian Control," Armed Forces and Society 23:2 (Winter 1996): 158.

Introduction

17

11. Rebecca Schiff, "Civil-Military Relations Reconsidered: A Theory of Concordance," Armed Forces and Society 22:1 (Fall 1995): 8. 12. Schmitter, "Foreword," xiv. 13. Juan Linz and Alfred Stepan, Problems of Democratic Transition and Consolidation: Southern Europe, South America, and Post-Communist Europe (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Press, 1996). 14. Juan Linz and Alfred Stepan, "Toward Consolidated Democracies," Journal of Democracy 7:2 (1996): 15. 15. Peter Feaver, "Crisis as Shirking: An Agency Theory Explanation of the Souring of American Civil-Military Relations," Armed Forces and Society 24:3 (Spring 1998): 40734. 16. See the symposium on the crisis in civil-military relations, Armed Forces and Society 24:3 (Spring 1998): 357-462. 17. Feaver, "Crisis as Shirking," 414. 18. Bland, "A Unified Theory of Civil-Military Relations," 7-26; and "Patterns in Liberal-Democratic Civil-Military Relations," Armed Forces and Society 21-A (Summer 2001): 525-40. 19. Bland, "A Unified Theory of Civil-Military Relations," 9. 20. Bland, "Patterns in Liberal-Democratic Civil-Military Relations," 532-36. 21. Ibid, 525. 22. Schiff, " Civil-Military Relations Reconsidered," 7-24. 23. Cottey et al, eds. Democratic Control of the Military in Post-Communist Europe, 5. 24. On the topic of Communist Party control of the military, see Perlmutter and Grande, "The Party in Uniform," 778-89; Timothy Colton, Commissars, Commanders and Civilian Authority (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1979); Roman Kolkowicz, The Soviet Military and the Communist Party (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1967). 25. Marybeth Ulrich, "The Democratization of Civil-Military Relations in the Czech Republic," in The Military and Society in the Former Eastern Bloc, ed. Constantine Danopoulos and Daniel Zirker (Boulder, Colo.: Westview, 1999), 69. 26. Sven Gunnar Simonsen, "Marching to a Different Drum? Political Orientation and Nationalism in Russia's Armed Forces," in Army and State in Post-Communist Europe, ed. Betz and Lowenhardt, 50. 27. Martial law in Poland in 1981 was not intended to overthrow the Polish Communist Party but was declared in coalition with the latter and with its blessing. While some military leaders participated in the attempted Soviet coup in August 1991, the armed forces rank and file remained neutral and thus contributed substantially to the collapse of the coup attempt against then Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev. 28. Perlmutter and Grande, "The Party in Uniform," 779. 29. For the problem of simultaneous economic and political reform, see Jon Elster, "The Necessity and Impossibility of Simultaneous Economic and Political Reform," in Constitutionalism and Democracy: Transitions in the Contemporary World, ed. Douglas Greenberg, Stanley Katz, Melanie Oliviero, and Steven Wheatley (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1993), 267-74. 30. Alfred Stepan, "When Democracy and the Nation-State Are Competing Logics: Reflections on Estonia," Archives Europeennes de Sociologie 35:1 (1994): 127-41. 31. For recent studies on the subject, see Cottey, Edmunds and Forster, eds. Democratic Control of the Military in Post-Communist Europe; Betz and Lowenhardt, eds. Army and State in Post-Communist Europe; Anton Bebler, ed, Civil-Military Relations in Post-Communist States: Central and Eastern Europe in Transition

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(Westport, Conn.: Praeger, 1997); Danopoulos and Zirker, eds. Civil-Military Relations in the Soviet and Yugoslav Successor States and The Military and Society in the Former Eastern Bloc.

2

Civil-Military Relations in Postcommunist Eastern Europe and the Former Soviet Union: Some Theoretical Issues Mark Yaniszewski

The study of civil-military relations involves the analysis of the complex and constantly evolving relationship between civilian authorities, on the one hand, and the military establishment, on the other. Topics of interest include the determination of the defense budget, the chain of command, military procurement, operational deployments, and so on, but the central focus of this analysis revolves around the questions of who formulates policy and who exercises ultimate authority—the civilian government, the military professionals, or some combination of the two. Historically, this relationship has taken a wide variety of forms. In various places and at various times, military establishments have enjoyed greater or lesser degrees of autonomy, while national governments have exercised a correspondingly wide variety of control and oversight mechanisms. At the same time, the underlying tenet of the vast majority of these systems presumes that the civilian "half of the civil-military equation should be predominant. This ideal can be found in virtually every Western and non-Western culture—including modern democratic systems; most authoritarian regimes; Marxist, National Socialist, and Fascist totalitarian regimes; and even the Chinese Confucian tradition, where "rule by the pen [i.e., the civilian bureaucracy] rather than the sword formed the ideal, if not always the reality, of Confucian political values."1 Even in places where coups have occurred, military rule is often seen as an exceptional or aberrant phenomenon or at best a temporary expedient—even by the perpetrators of coups themselves.2

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This nearly universal acceptance of the principle of civilian predominance is something of a surprise, given that the military possesses a near monopoly over the instruments of violence in most societies. As Samuel E. Finer rhetorically postulates, "The wonder . . . is not why [the military] rebels against its civilian masters, but why it ever obeys them."3 The answer to this seeming paradox can be found in the issue of legitimacy. As Rousseau writes, force is a poor basis on which to claim political legitimacy. Specifically, "If force creates right, the effect changes with the cause. Every force that is greater than the first succeeds to its right. As soon as possible to disobey with impunity, disobedience is legitimate; and the strongest being always in the right, the only thing that matters is to act so as to become the strongest."4 Civilian governments, on the other hand, base their claims to political legitimacy not on brute force, but on such factors as divine authority, descent by blood from an established political line, the effective exercise of power, or a popular mandate.5 Compared to these claims to power, the legitimacy of military rule, the principle of "might makes right," is highly problematic.6 Given this extensive history, it is not surprising that the tradition of civilian predominance is now being replicated in the postcommunist world of Eastern Europe and the former Soviet Union. The region's new governments, for instance, moved quickly to dismantle the various control mechanisms put into place during the communist era, but they moved just as fast to fill the void with new civilian oversight mechanisms. For their part, policy makers in the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) similarly favored the creation of a system of democratic civilian control in the region—even if the alliance did not expand everywhere. Finally, Eastern Europe's military establishments chafed under communism's intrusive and oppressive control and oversight mechanisms (albeit to varying degrees); thus, they too favored the establishment of new forms of civilian oversight. These various stakeholders did not necessarily agree among or between themselves as to the exact form these new oversight mechanisms should take, but they were united in the belief that civilian authority should predominate. This chapter will shed some theoretical light on the tasks facing the postcommunist world as these societies move to create new civilian oversight mechanisms. To this end the chapter will be divided into three major parts. First, the stage will be set by a brief overview of civil-military theory. In particular, the rise and prevalence of modern civilian control models will be surveyed. Second, communist-era civil-military relations will be reviewed, in order to provide the context for the current reform debate. The chapter will conclude with an inventory of prospective reforms, in order to suggest where civil-military relations in the postcommunist world may be headed. CIVIL-MILITARY RELATIONS: AN OVERVIEW The seminal study of modern civil-military relations is Samuel Huntington's The Soldier and the State. In this work, Huntington documents the rise of

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military professionalism in Europe and the ways in which civilian authority can be maintained. For Huntington, modern military systems arose on account of the deficiencies inherent in medieval military structures and their later derivatives. In medieval Europe, a local lord might hold his title at the pleasure of the Crown in return for certain military obligations (i.e., the lord might be obligated to provide a certain number of mounted knights or peasant infantry to the ruler whenever called upon). Unfortunately for the Crown, such service or service in kind, such as the provision of money instead of military personnel, was not always forthcoming when demanded. Worse still, it was possible in an era when military defense (castles and fortifications) held a considerable edge over military offense (sieges and the logistics they demanded) for a recalcitrant lord to resist efforts by the Crown to enforce feudal obligations. Finally, and perhaps worst of all for the Crown, the military capabilities of the forces actually provided by a lord could vary by a considerable margin, as there was, in effect, no quality control. As more centralized states evolved during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, the political system evolved to the point where European monarchs were strong enough to overcome aristocratic resistance and, consequently, employ the aristocracy as the national officer corps on a more permanent basis— a system of "aristocrat as amateur officer." This solved the problem of aristocratic recalcitrance, but the problem of military efficiency remained. Although exceptions might be made in the case of some of the more technical arms (e.g., the navy, artillery, and logistics services), most officers in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries owed their positions to birth and not necessarily merit. In some cases, such as in England, officers could even purchase rank—a system that might raise revenues for the Crown but did nothing to guarantee military proficiency. The real catalyst for modern military reform emerged during the Napoleonic Wars. Napoleon's victories at Jena and Auerstadt in 1806 brought Prussia's "aristocrat as amateur officer" system into utter disrepute and opened the door for a revolution in civil-military relations. In particular, the military impact of France's levee en masse, or the "nation in arms," conclusively demonstrated the need for reform of the Prussian General Staff. Throughout this period the size of military formations was growing exponentially, the levee en masse fueling this rise through conscription. Although conscription produced citizen-soldiers who were poorly trained (at least by the standards of the eighteenth century and its system of long-service "volunteers"), it did produce them in quantities and imbued them with national spirit sufficient to bring frequent victories against aristocratic opponents in wars now being fought on a continental scale.8 Thus, if Prussia was ever to compete successfully with Napoleon's France, it would have to expand its military potential accordingly. As Voltaire wrote, "It is said that God is always for the big battalions."9 At the same time, Prussia's aristocratic officers—selected on the basis of birth, wealth, and intuitive ability—had demonstrably lacked the skills necessary to produce victories. Henceforth, Prussia's new armies and their conscript hordes would need to be trained,

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supplied, and led into battle by a new group of highly trained and skilled individuals. In subsequent years, Scharnhorst, Gneisenau, and other Prussian military reformers moved quickly and decisively to rebuild Prussia's army on a new, professional basis. The entire Prussian military system of "aristocrat as amateur officer" was reevaluated and remodeled. In this effort, the military reformers were assisted by two factors. First, the post-Westphalian nation-state was growing increasingly powerful and could afford—for the first time in history— the luxury of creating and maintaining a full-time, professional military establishment (at least as far as the officer corps was concerned). Second, the spread of liberal and democratic values in parts of Europe fueled the creation of military meritocracies. Although resisted in many countries (as demonstrated during the 1848-49 "Springtime of the Peoples"), the military establishment could not be insulated from these developments, and beginning with the most technical branches of the armed forces, the officer corps was increasingly opened up to individuals from outside the ranks of the aristocracy. SUBJECTIVE VERSUS OBJECTIVE CONTROL As the nineteenth century progressed, military reformers across Europe increasingly followed Prussia's lead and implemented the new military system. Military professionalism and technical ability—along with seniority—became the basis for military advancement. The new system worked to solve the problem of the "big battalions," and it produced technically competent officers in sufficient numbers; however, it created a new problem in its place. Instead of being a subcaste of the aristocracy, the officer corps was now a caste unto itself. Civilian governments—from autocratic Prussia to liberal England—needed to develop new ways to control this necessary but potentially dangerous social institution.10 According to Huntington, two basic options were available in states developing the new professional officer corps: subjective control and objective control.11 Subjective control is a system whereby a civilian government seeks to ensure its authority over the armed forces by maximizing its power relative to that of the military. Such a system can take a variety of forms. In the early years of the American republic, for example, concern over the potential political influence of the regular army lead to the establishment of citizen-militias as counterweights, while regular military formations were almost entirely disbanded.12 Authoritarian regimes, on the other hand, typically employ a whole series of intrusive and coercive mechanisms (e.g., intimidation and secret police surveillance of key individuals) to control their armed forces, while totalitarian regimes—such as those of Nazi Germany, communist Eastern Europe, and the Soviet Union—employed even more intrusive and coercive control mechanisms, including social reengineering. For civilian regimes, the employment of a system of subjective control presents something of a dilemma. On one hand, the army can never be stronger

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than the most powerful civilian actor (e.g., the governing "Party") and its associated institutions (such as militias and other paramilitary forces), or the civilians risk losing their ability to govern. On the other hand, a system of subjective control has the unwanted side effect of setting an upper limit to the military's power—always be less than or equal to that of the civilian elites. This limitation may preclude the maximization of national military capabilities and may keep the military from being strong enough to protect the state from its external enemies.13 According to Huntington, regimes interested in delinking the maximum strength of the military establishment from that of the civilian government, or regimes, such as democracies, adverse to the employment of coercive control mechanisms, have either to accept the political risks associated with the creation of a powerful military establishment or turn to other control mechanisms. For Huntington, the best solution—and the alternative to subjective control—is objective control. With objective control, the military establishment is not dominated or overwhelmed by the civilian actors. Instead, the military is controlled indirectly via values that it internalizes. Implicit in and underlying Huntington's model of objective control is a social contract between the army and society. In general terms, the civilian authorities promise not to politicize military matters, while the armed forces promise to stay out of the political arena.14 With a system of objective control, the armed forces internalize a professional ethic that stresses the apolitical character of defense policy making. In the words of Eric Nordlinger: Obviously the liberal model [i.e., the system of objective control] cannot rest secureiy upon civilian assertions, claims, and warnings. Subordination to civilian authority has to be internalized as a set of strongly held beliefs and values. Soldiers who are imbued with these beliefs and values—what might be referred to as the civilian ethic—are attitudinally disposed to accept civilian authority and to retain a neutral, depoliticized stance even when in sharp disagreement with the government.15 In the words of Huntington, a "highly professional officer corps stands ready to carry out the wishes of any civilian group which secures legitimate authority within the state."16 In the end, objective control allows for the creation of a military establishment that is more powerful than the civilian regime. This military establishment is better able to protect the state from external enemies, yet it is less likely to endanger the political position of the civilian authorities. OBJECTIVE CONTROL IN DEMOCRATIC REGIMES Obviously, simply choosing to adopt a system of objective control does not preclude difficulties in a civil-military relationship—even in a democracy. Rather, an effective system of objective control requires a careful balancing of mutual obligations. However, this is no easy task. Moreover, threats to this balance do not arise solely from within the armed forces; they may also arise from the civilian side of the equation or as a result of extraneous circumstances.

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In terms of specifics, an effective civil-military balance is best maintained when the civilian elite respects the military's sphere of professional competence and endeavors to make policy decisions on the basis of nonpartisan political criteria. For example, promotions and postings—with comparatively few exceptions (among senior officers)—should be left in the hands of the military's internal command structure and should not become a partisan political battlefield. Similarly, procurement decisions should be made on the basis of technical merit and strategic requirements—not politics. The integrity of the military chain of command should not be compromised; for instance, politicians should issue orders only to senior commanders. Also, the independence of the military justice system, like that of the civilian judiciary, should be acknowledged and respected. A balanced civil-military social contract also requires clear and constitutionally defined lines of civilian authority. Even the most depoliticized military establishment may find itself drawn into a political debate if civilian authority is uncertain, such as in instances where civilian authority is poorly divided between the legislature, the executive, and even the judiciary. To take one (as yet) hypothetical example, the War Powers Act, passed by the U.S. Congress in 1973 as a reaction against military deployments to Southeast Asia during the Nixon administration, contains within its provisions the potential to unleash a civil-military crisis in the United States. According to the act, the final authority to commit American troops (beyond sixty days) rests with Congress and not the president. However, the constitutionality of this law was never recognized by President Nixon—or by any subsequent administration. Nor has the act ever been put before the Supreme Court. Unless this ambiguity is resolved, the American military may someday have to decide whether to obey the political authority of the president or Congress—a situation that clearly would have political ramifications.17 The fault would not, however, lie with the armed forces in this instance, but with the civilian authorities. Of course, threats to the civil-military social contract may also arise in exceptional circumstances or in cases where the military is asked to obey orders that are legal within the context of national law but violate international law. For example, "History" judges quite differently the very political actions of Gen. Charles de Gaulle in defying the orders of his democratically elected political masters (by continuing France's fight against Nazi Germany in 1940) and Adm. Francois Darlan, who obeyed his government and refused to order the French fleet to carry on the fight from Britain or from French colonial ports.18 In the case of international law, it might also be noted how the Nuremberg Tribunals judged and condemned individuals obeying Nazi commands to commit genocide. "Just following orders" was not a defense against charges of war crimes, regardless of what legal or constitutional authority issued those orders. Soldiers are legally and morally required to disobey such orders even if their decision to disobey has political ramifications. These situations, again, do not constitute examples of inappropriate policy making by the armed forces. They are a function of the exceptional circumstances in which they arise.

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Obviously, the military in even the most liberal and democratic regime will be asked from time to time to participate in the political process. For example, the military may be asked to provide civilian oversight bodies with advice on technical issues, such as on future procurement programs or deployment capabilities. Where such advice has financial implications, some societal actors will view the military's "technical" advice as "political." Nevertheless, the civilmilitary social contract is not violated in instances where the armed forces as part of its normal duties is invited—not injected—into the political arena to provide technical advice. Finally, even when the military leadership does choose to intervene in the political process, the social contract's balance is maintained whenever a professional military relies upon normal constitutional and bureaucratic channels to make its case. In this regard, the military establishment will find itself, in many countries, well positioned to get its case heard. The minister of defense is sometimes a member of the armed forces and thus provides direct access to the government. Even if the minister is a civilian, the military high command typically has regular access to the minister, legislative committees, or even the cabinet as a whole. At other times, senior military personnel may make their opposition known by resigning and then making public pronouncements on the issue at hand, but even these actions constitute a legitimate form of political protest for military leaders. To do otherwise threatens the balance of the civilmilitary social contract. For example, unauthorized public comment by serving officers and leaks to the media represent illegitimate forays into the policy realm. CIVIL-MILITARY RELATIONS IN THE COMMUNIST BLOC Whereas civilian authorities in many societies—particularly democracies— seek to create a professional military with an internalized civilian ethic, civilian authority behind the Iron Curtain was established and maintained by means of a whole series of highly intrusive subjective control mechanisms. With but a few local variations, these mechanisms could be found across communist Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union.19 The nomenklatura represented one obvious mechanism of civilian control. Promotions and postings within the armed forces needed to pass through the Communist Party's politically motivated patronage system. Politically suspect officers were weeded out or found their careers retarded. In addition, communist authorities in several states manipulated ethnic factors for political advantage.20 Of course, the existence of political checks and politically motivated interference in the military chain of command was not unique to communist political systems; however, the extent to which such interference occurred was. In communist Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union, even relatively low-level appointments were vetted by civilian authorities of the Party. To be sure, much of this process was often rather pro forma (for the lowest-level positions), but as the rank and importance of a posting rose, the process became more detailed and intrusive than anything comparable in other political systems.

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Ultimately, the nomenklatura system involved the Communist Party, the political departments of the armed forces, and the various security services. By requiring most senior military personnel to be members of the national Communist Party, the Party could demand a certain level of political loyalty. Operating from within the armed forces, the Main Political Administration (MPA) supplemented this control through political education and a process whereby political officers prepared annual reports on military personnel in their units. Finally, the extensive security services monitored the activities and attitudes of military personnel. In the end, a military promotion or posting would go forward only if the individual received the support of the local Party cell, the political officer, and the security services. Of course, Communist Party interference in military affairs extended far beyond the issue of promotions and postings. A certain amount of political direction is both necessary and desirable (these are civilian regimes, after all), but in the Eastern bloc everything from military doctrine, the procurement of weapons systems, the deployment of units, and the construction of facilities within the state to training regimens was subject to partisan political dictates to a far greater extent than is legitimate in liberal or even authoritarian societies. Although not exempt from politically motivated interference and legitimate levels of political direction, the armed forces in liberal societies enjoy a greater degree of independent and professional competence than is found in communist states. In fact, in liberal societies institutional mechanisms (e.g., transparent civil service procedures) are frequently designed to minimize partisan political interference in areas of defense decision making. In addition to manipulating personnel and the policy-making process, the communist regimes of Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union employed other mechanisms to control the armed forces. Large paramilitary forces, for example, were created as counterweights to the regular armed forces. Composed of social elements supposedly more loyal to the regime, and afforded considerable social prestige and resources, these paramilitary forces were expected to come unfailingly to the side of the regime in the event of widespread social agitation or—more importantly—in the event of opposition arising within the regular armed forces. Paramilitary forces—including citizen militias and (especially) interior ministry forces—would typically employ volunteers (or have first call on conscripts), wear special uniforms, enjoy greater official prestige, receive higher pay and greater benefits, and sometimes employ newer military equipment (albeit of a lighter caliber than regular military units). The most extreme example of the preference for paramilitary over regular military units was Nicolae Ceausescu's neo-Stalinist Romania, where the regular armed forces were virtually supplanted by paramilitary forces in the context of the nation's system of territorial defense. Finally, the employment of military personnel in nonmilitary tasks acted as a control mechanism. Military personnel were often used as agricultural laborers at harvest time and sometimes deployed in the construction of infrastructure projects. These projects were often resented by military leaders because they

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took time away from training—an important consideration in the case of conscript armies. These activities were also perceived by members of the regular forces to be a somewhat degrading exercise in social engineering. Ostensibly designed to build class solidarity between the army and the workers, these tasks increased the power and authority of the communist elite by denigrating the social prestige of the regular armed forces. The Warsaw Pact and Other Direct Soviet Control Mechanisms For the states belonging to the now-defunct Warsaw Pact, an entirely separate level of control mechanisms existed. In the German Democratic Republic, Poland, Hungary, Czechoslovakia, and Bulgaria—collectively the non-Soviet Warsaw Pact, or NSWP, states—the control mechanisms exercised by the national communist authorities were supplemented by a series of Soviet control mechanisms.22 At the top, the Soviet Union exercised considerable influence over their political elites. As a result, changes in Moscow (e.g., Khrushchev's de-Stalinization campaign, Brezhnev's conservative retrenchment, and even Gorbachev's reform movement) tended to be mirrored in Warsaw, Prague, and the other East European capitals. Building on these close political ties, the Soviet leadership enjoyed a considerable degree of influence on the national nomenklatura systems. Close ties between the Soviet and East European communist parties were paralleled in the close ties that existed between the Soviet and East European security services and MPAs. Additionally, most high-ranking NSWP military commanders spent at least some time at Soviet military academies. In the end, individuals reaching the highest ranks or serving in the most sensitive posts in East European military establishments were vetted—to one degree or another—by Soviet authorities as well as by the national authorities. It was unlikely that any individual could reach the highest ranks without the acquiescence of Moscow. Another mechanism of Soviet control could be found in the way NSWP military formations were integrated into the military structures of the Warsaw Pact. East European military formations trained to operate as integral components of larger Soviet formations. They were not trained or organized to fight as autonomous national formations above a certain level. In the event of a war against NATO, East German divisions, for example, would operate "sandwiched" between Soviet Army divisions; there would be no single, cohesive, East German corps. Polish, Hungarian, and Czechoslovak formations were also integrated in larger Soviet formations or assigned to secondary theaters.23 In a similar manner, military exercises focused on cooperation between East European and Soviet military units. Because the USSR feared a concerted East European revolt against its rule, Warsaw Pact military exercises followed a definite pattern. For example, Polish units would never train with Hungarian units, but with Soviet formations. Hungarian units would train with Soviet formations. Polish and Hungarian units might train together with Soviet military

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formations, but bilateral, intra-Eastern European maneuvers that excluded the USSR were never allowed.24 Moreover, when individual Eastern European officers were sent on exchange programs, they almost invariably served in Russian military units and only rarely in other Eastern European formations—a pattern replicated in other Warsaw Pact activities.25 Shared military procurement programs represented yet another means of Soviet control. Weapons systems, spare parts, and munitions were largely designed and produced in the USSR. In the event of hostilities (either between the Warsaw Pact and NATO or between the Soviet Union and one of its client states), control of the resupply of spare parts and munitions would provide the Soviet authorities considerable leverage. Finally, some military operations fell under the direct purview of Soviet military personnel—even though they employed NSWP forces. Specifically, the commander in chief of the Soviet Air Defense Forces was also commander in chief of the Warsaw Pact Air Defense Forces, authorized to issue direct commands to the national air defense forces of Warsaw Pact countries. Individual national governments would be informed of these orders, but their consent was not required, nor, it appears, could they countermand these orders. Moreover, the Soviet air defense commander's orders were to be immediately complied with even if time or other constraints prevented consultation with national authorities. This complex command arrangement represented a real diminution of national autonomy in military affairs and constituted a most overt example of Soviet control over individual Eastern European military units.26 Communist-Era Control Mechanisms: An Evaluation Civilian oversight of the armed forces in communist Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union constituted an example of what Huntington labels "subjective control." Nevertheless, communist civil-military relations—particularly in the Soviet Union—seem to represent something of an exception to Huntington's argument that these political systems faced a dilemma when constructing their military establishments. The Soviet Union was after all a military superpower. The Soviets, therefore, appear to have created a defense establishment that was more powerful than the corresponding civilian institutions without negative political consequences. Of course, neither the Soviets nor their client states were able to resolve entirely the tension between "Red" and "expert" in the long term (i.e., creating a military establishment composed of loyal communists versus a military meritocracy imbued with technical skills).27 Political reliability remained a problem, and the communist authorities were constantly on the lookout for signs of "Bonapartism" (Marx's term for the rise of a military strongman). The relative success and stability of communist civil-military relations in the short and medium terms was due largely to the communist efforts to penetrate all corners of the armed forces—and society, for that matter—to a degree unimaginable in even the harshest authoritarian regime of other kinds. Civil-military relations in

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the totalitarian societies of Eastern Europe, in other words, were quantitatively different than those found elsewhere, even if—in the post-Stalin era—they gave the appearance of following the path taken in authoritarian societies. At the same time, indications of the dilemma facing the communist authorities in the long term could be observed during the severe crises that periodically rocked the region. For instance, communist governments tended to deploy paramilitary forces (such as interior ministry units) as shock troops against their domestic opponents, while regular army troops—if they were used at all on such occasions—were typically deployed in a support or secondary capacity. Polish authorities, for example, employed this tactic when they suppressed striking workers in 1970 and 1976, and also when martial law was imposed in 1981.28 Similarly, the suppression of demonstrators in the Romanian city of Timisoara in December 1989 was led by Securitate (interior ministry) forces, with regular army units initially being used only to contain the demonstrators.29 The employment of these tactics is not surprising; such a division of labor between state security and defense institutions can be found in most countries. What is surprising and indicative is the degree to which the communist authorities limited the participation of their conscript armies in the suppression of serious threats to the status quo. Of course, regular army troops were used on some occasions to suppress antiregime demonstrators on behalf of their communist masters. However, despite enormous efforts to reengineer socially the armed forces and (especially) the officer corps along socialist lines, the political reliability of the regular armed forces in these instances must have disappointed their political masters. In 1956, units of the Hungarian military refused government orders to assist the Soviet military in suppressing the revolutionaries, and—in a few instances—individual soldiers and small units actively joined the revolutionaries.30 In 1968, an unsteady Czechoslovak army was kept in its barracks while the Soviet army and its Warsaw Pact allies (less Romania) suppressed the "Prague Spring."31 In addition, Polish authorities went to great lengths to disguise regular army complicity in the bloodshed that accompanied the 1970 and 1976 revolts, in an effort to preserve the corporate identity of the armed forces and protect its privileged position within Polish society.32 The nationalist credentials of the Polish army were among its greatest strengths, and such cachet would not last long if the military were seen to have Polish blood on its hands. Finally, Eastern Europe's armies made virtually no effort to preserve the communist system in any meaningful way during the "Velvet Revolutions" of 1989. Significantly, the Romanian army, the only army to fight at all, fought mostly on the side of the rebels.33 In the Soviet Union, elements of the army did move to preserve the ancien regime in 1991, but the Moscow putsch was a farce. The scale of the attempted coup and the enthusiasm with which it was prosecuted were vastly less than might have been expected, given seven decades of propaganda, political indoctrination, purges, secret police monitoring, material rewards, and so on. Most of the Soviet Army remained neutral during the crisis,

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and some elements even joined the crowds guarding Boris Yeltsin and the Russian legislature. POSTCOMMUNIST CIVIL-MILITARY RELATIONS More than four decades of communist rule in Eastern Europe and more than seven decades of its dominance in Russia were finally and irrevocably broken in 1989, when Poland's Tadeusz Mazowiecki became the region's first noncommunist prime minister. Shortly thereafter, communist leaders across the region began to fall, and soon even the Soviet Union would find itself relegated to the "dustbin of history." In the aftermath of these changes, Europe's postcommunist governments began the long and difficult process of reorganizing their societies along new lines. Civil-military reform was one obvious priority. The collapse of communism in Eastern Europe and the expressed desire of a number of these new regimes to join the NATO alliance presented postcommunist policy makers with difficult choices. Communist-era control and oversight mechanisms had to be dismantled and new mechanisms put in their place. But what form should these new mechanisms take? To what degree would democratic systems of civil-military relations be created? To what degree would Eastern Europe and the former Soviet Union be influenced by the West and by Western models of civil-military relations? Most postcommunist governments sought to create systems of objective civilian control as part of their general programs of distancing themselves from their totalitarian past. With a few relatively isolated exceptions (e.g., Belarus), the intrusive systems of subjective control that had marked the communist era were equally unacceptable to the new civilian elites and the military establishments. For nations seeking NATO membership, civil-military relations would have to be restructured along lines acceptable to the Western alliance. This meant the establishment of democratic civilian oversight mechanisms. Even where NATO membership was not contemplated—in fact, in virtually all of Eastern Europe and most of the former Soviet Union—postcommunist civilmilitary relations would largely be modeled on Western lines. To be sure, there would be new wrinkles (e.g., several East European states reestablished the prewar post of "commander in chief between the ministry of defense and the chief of general staff), but declaratory policy—if not actual reforms in all cases—would generally follow patterns found in the West. What is to be Done? For nations seeking to reform their national civil-military relations along objective lines—with the goal of joining the NATO alliance, in the context of NATO's Partnership for Peace (PfP) program, or as part of their own national agendas—a number of steps are necessary. In particular, they must undertake a

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whole series of political, legislative, economic, social, and structural reforms. The following is something of a reform "checklist." Constitutional Reforms • Establish clear lines of civilian authority (e.g., systems of parliamentary or presidential oversight) • Institutionalize specific civilian oversight mechanisms (e.g., legislative or presidential defense committees and similar oversight bodies) • Pass legislation defining the constitutional authority and responsibilities of key institutional players in times of peace, war, or emergency (e.g., the president, prime minister, minister of defense, minister of the interior, the parliamentary speaker, the legislature) • End the Communist Party's special status in the armed forces (and society). Administrative Reforms • Improve the legislature's interest and expertise in military issues, as well as the commitment of parliamentarians to defense oversight • Establish the "rule of law" (i.e., transparency) in military affairs and otherwise depoliticize military and defense policy making • Establish clear rules limiting political activity by military personnel or on military installations • Replace the nomenklatura with transparent civil service procedures • Depoliticize and professionalize the civil service (for instance, most civilian bureaucrats should be members of a meritocracy, not partisan political appointees) • Supplement defense administration by increasing the flow of information between the military and civilian oversight organizations. Economic

Reforms

• Provide adequate resources to the armed forces, the national defense ministry, and civilian oversight committees • Depoliticize military procurement programs • Provide adequate accounting of defense expenditures to both the government and legislative oversight committees.

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Institutional or Structural Reforms • Establish "national" defense priorities (e.g., all-around defense capabilities) in place of "socialist internationalism" • Participate in PfP and other confidence-building activities (in part to gain experience in various systems of civilian control) • Prepare to undertake new security missions (e.g., peacekeeping) • Reorganize paramilitary forces along nonpolitical lines • Reform or eliminate the MP A • Reform the military's higher education system for officers and NCOs • Reorganize the security services on professional lines (to investigate security threats, not political activity) • End or minimize the use of military personnel in nontraditional roles (e.g., as agricultural labor battalions) • Reestablish "national" military traditions (such as uniforms, insignia, terminology). Societal Reforms • Establish good relations between the military, the civilian authorities, academics, the media, and other interested parties • Improve media coverage of military affairs and encourage open and in-depth public debate on military issues • Teach defense management studies (e.g., policy analysis, governance, and organizational leadership) at military and civilian educational institutions • Improve security and conflict-studies programs at universities and research institutes. Additional Reforms for Prospective NATO Members • Contribute positively to the system of collective defense34 • Contribute positively to the process of consensus building within the alliance (including any future rounds of enlargement)

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• Allow NATO forces to enter national territory or airspace for maneuvers and training, crisis management, or even on a permanent basis (as needed) • Support current nuclear deterrence policies35 • Demonstrate a commitment to peaceful resolution of internal and cross-border ethnic disputes, as well as outstanding territorial issues • Demonstrate a "commitment to promoting stability and well-being by economic liberty, social justice, and environmental responsibility"36 • Pursue objectives of standardization and interoperability in terms of doctrine, policies, training, and equipment • Implement (over a period of time) the more than 1,200 agreements and policies to which NATO currently adheres • Focus standardization and interoperability efforts (at least initially) on certain dedicated units • Dedicate resources to the defense establishment sufficient to allow it to perform alliance-related tasks • Contribute resources and personnel to NATO's joint institutions. Of course, this reform checklist constitutes only a rough guide. The states of Eastern Europe and the former Soviet Union are employing different solutions to the specific problems they face. Moreover, every country is reforming at its own pace, as determined by national political, social, and economic factors, as well as by the specific legacies of their communist past. Variations also can be found among states seeking invitations to join NATO. As NATO's own proposals put forth, "There is no fixed or rigid list of criteria for inviting new members to join the alliance."37 No particular system of democratic civil-military relations has been put forth a priori for the new regimes to follow; in some countries (e.g., Poland and Hungary) this ambiguity led to considerable political debate as proponents of competing oversight models vied for supremacy.38

A FINAL NOTE The collapse of communist rule in Eastern Europe and (later) the Soviet Union came as a nearly total surprise to Western academics. Relatively few predicted the disintegration of the Soviet system, and fewer still expected this decline to be as precipitous as it was or that it would occur in our lifetimes.39 Perhaps most surprising, few scholars anticipated that the Soviet system would (with apologies to Dylan Thomas) "go gentle into that good night." Given their past history (such

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episodes as the Warsaw Pact intervention in Czechoslovakia in 1968 and Poland's martial law government of 1981-83), it was generally assumed that the Leninist armies of Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union would be ordered to the defense of the system and that any attempts to bring change would be met by considerable violence. The communist governments had surely seen to it that the Soviet Army and its Eastern European counterparts would obey any such order to defend the status quo. Decades of propaganda, political indoctrination, secret police monitoring and investigation, the nomenklatura, the training at Soviet military academies, interpenerration by Communist Party organizations, material rewards (in some cases), and material deprivation (in other cases) must certainly, it seemed, have created compliant tools of reaction. As one scholar described it, the army in a Leninist state was "an administrative arm of the Party."40 In the event of systemic challenges to the ancien regime, it was thought, the process of decay would be as violent as that which was subsequently observed in Romania in December 1989 and (to a lesser extent) in the Soviet Union in August 1991. Of course, as history actually unfolded, and for the most part, orders to support the regimes never came, and the armies (except those of Romania and Russia) stayed in their barracks or supported the opposition. It is in this surprising context that the new postcommunist governments of Eastern Europe and the former Soviet Union have embarked on the long and difficult road toward civil-military reform. For the most part, these states have dismantled the intrusive systems of subjective control that typified the communist era. In their place these states have set out to construct new systems of objective civilian control and oversight—patterned largely upon Western civil-military models. But as will be demonstrated in the following case studies, some states have moved farther in this direction than others; some still have a lot of work to do. The record of the last decade, in other words, is quite mixed. Only three states (Poland, Hungary, and the Czech Republic) reformed their defense establishments sufficiently to be invited into the NATO alliance during the first round of expansion. It remains to be seen how many states will ultimately follow. NOTES 1. Claude E. Welch, Jr., "Civil-Military Relations: Perspectives from the Third World," Armed Forces and Society 11:2 (Winter 1985): 186. 2. Welch, for example, notes how the principle of civilian control survived nearly two centuries of military interventions in ancient China and numerous coups in Latin America. See Welch, "Civil-Military Relations," 186-90 and R. D. McKinaly, "Professionalization, Politicization, and Civil-Military Relations," in The Perceived Role of the Military, ed. M. R. van Gils, Contributions to Military Sociology 1 (Rotterdam, Neth.: Rotterdam University Press, 1971), 252. Obviously a great number of military interventions and military coups do not fall into this category, but some cases nevertheless do. For an excellent (albeit somewhat dated) study, see W. R. Thompson, The Grievances of Military Coup-Makers (Beverley Hills, Calif: Sage, 1973). 3. S. E. Finer, The Man on Horseback: The Role of the Military in Politics, 2nd ed. (Boulder, Colo.: Westview, 1988), 5.

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4. Jean Jacques Rousseau, The Social Contract, Book I, chap. 3, cited in Finer, The Man on Horseback, 15. 5. Carl Joachim Friedrich, Man and His Government: An Empirical Theory of Politics (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1963), 232-46. 6. In the aftermath of a coup, military rulers who intend to hold on to power permanently must move quickly to change their claim to power. In other words, such individuals must legitimize their rule on the basis of something other than brute force. Consequently, sham elections and similar highly symbolic activities frequently follow a military takeover. 7. Samuel P. Huntington, The Soldier and the State: The Theory and Politics of CivilMilitary Relations (Cambridge, Mass.: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1967). The following sections (except where noted) are based on Huntington, 30-39. 8. See, for example, Gwynne Dyer, War (New York: Stoddart, 1985), 68-69, and Brian M. Downing, The Military Revolution and Political Change: Origins of Democracy and Autocracy in Early Modern Europe (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1992), 56-139. 9. Although frequently ascribed to Napoleon Bonaparte, this axiom was in fact penned by Voltaire in a letter to Monsieur le Riche on 6 February 1770. To Napoleon, more accurately, is attributed the proverb, "Providence is always on the side of the last reserve." See John Bartlett, ed., Familiar Quotations: A Collection of Passages, Phases, and Proverbs Traced to their Sources in Ancient and Modern Literature, 16th ed. (Boston: Little, Brown, 1992), 266n7. 10. It may be something of an exaggeration, but for Huntington the term "civilmilitary" relations in this sense does not exist in earlier historical periods. There was, in effect, no "military" existing apart or separate from the "civilian" authorities prior to these reforms. See Huntington, The Soldier and the State, 19-20. 11. The following sections are based on Huntington, 80ff 12. Within six months of the end of the American Revolution, the Continental Congress reduced the American regular army to only eighty officers and men. Only after World War II did the peacetime strength of the American army increase to more than twenty-five thousand men. See Zbigniew Brzezinski and Samuel P. Huntington, Political Power: USA/USSR (New York: Viking, 1964), 331-65. 13. As will be discussed in more detail in the following section, communist civilmilitary relations—particularly in the Soviet Union—represented something of an exception to this rule, at least in the short and medium terms. 14. Huntington's Soldier and the State focuses primarily on the military "half of the civil-military equation, but the civilian component is an equally important part of the social contract. 15. Eric A. Nordlinger, Soldiers and Politics: Military Coups and Government (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice Hall, 1977), 13. Emphasis added. 16. Huntington, The Soldier and the State, 84. 17. See Kenneth W. Kemp and Charles Hudlin, "Civil Supremacy over the Military: Its Nature and Limits," Armed Forces and Society 19:1 (Fall 1992): 9-10. Just such a situation very nearly happened in Hungary in 1990 under that nation's confused and incomplete transitional constitutional arrangements. The cabinet wanted to use the army to break a strike whereas the president had already ordered the troops to remain in their barracks. A crisis was avoided only when the cabinet backed down and further conflicts were only avoided by a ruling of the Constitutional Court.

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18. See ibid., 17-19. For an evaluation of Darlan's actions, see in particular Winston S. Churchill, The Second World War, vol. 2, Their Finest Hour (New York: Bantam Books, 1962), esp. chaps. 9-11. 19. The case of Poland is typical. For a history and analysis of Polish civil-military relations during the communist period, see Teresa Rakowska-Harmstone, "Poland," in Warsaw Pact: The Question of Cohesion—Phase II, vol. 2, Poland, German Democratic Republic, and Romania, ed. Teresa Rakowska-Harmstone, Christopher D. Jones, John Jaworsky, and Ivan Sylvain, OREA Extra-Mural Paper 33 (Ottawa: Department of National Defence/Operational Research and Analysis Establishment, 1984), 1-271; George C. Malcher, Poland's Politicized Army: Communists in Uniform (New York: Praeger, 1984); and Andrew A. Michta, Red Eagle: The Army in Polish Politics, 19441988 (Stanford, Calif: Hoover Institution Press, 1990). 20. See Cynthia Enloe, Ethnic Soldiers: State Security in Divided Societies (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1980), and Teresa Rakowska-Harmstone, "Nationalities and the Soviet Military," in The Nationalities Factor in Soviet Politics and Society, ed. Lubomyr Hajda and Mark Beissinger (Boulder, Colo.: Westview, 1990), 72-94, and in particular, Teresa Rakowska-Harmstone, "The Union of Soviet Socialist Republics," in Warsaw Pact: The Question of Cohesion, Phase II, Vol. 3, Union of Soviet Socialist Republics; Bulgaria, Czechoslovakia and Hungary-Bibliography, ed. Teresa RakowskaHarmstone, Christopher D. Jones, John Jaworsky, Ivan Sylvain, and Zoltan Barany (Ottawa: Operational Research and Analysis Establishment, 1986), 1-290. 21. In democracies, for example, only the highest military commands (e.g., the chief of the Defense Staff, services heads, and senior commanders) are directly appointed by the civilian authorities. However, even in these instances a democratic government must undertake this activity in accordance with regularized and transparent rules and norms (i.e., using the same professional criteria used to determine senior civil-service appointments). 22. For a variety of historical reasons beyond the scope of this project, Yugoslavia, Albania, and Romania (for the most part) escaped the imposition of direct Soviet controls. Instead, the communist parties of these three states relied solely upon national mechanisms to control the armed forces. 23. Bulgarian units, on the other hand, existed on the periphery of the East-West frontier and, due to an absence of Red Army formations, would have operated independently. For details, see Michael Sadykiewicz, The Warsaw Pact Command Structure in Peace and War (Santa Monica, Calif: RAND, 1988). 24. See, for example, Christopher D. Jones, "Warsaw Pact Exercises: The Genesis of a Greater Socialist Army?" in Warsaw Pact: The Question of Cohesion—Phase II, vol. 1, The Greater Socialist Army: Integration and Reliability, eds. Teresa RakowskaHarmstone, Christopher D. Jones, John Jaworsky, and Ivan Sylvain, OREA Extra-Mural Paper 29 (Ottawa: Department of National Defence/Operational Research and Analysis Establishment, 1984), 235-67. 25. See Christopher D. Jones, "Agencies of the Alliance: Multilateral in Form, Bilateral in Content," in Warsaw Pact: The Question of Cohesion—Phase II, ed. Rakowska-Harmstone et al., 1:165-234. 26. See Sadykiewicz, The Warsaw Pact Command Structure in Peace and War, 12. In NATO, by way of contrast, SACEUR (Supreme Allied Commander Europe) answers to the national representatives of the North Atlantic Council. Moreover, as an intergovernmental and not supranational organization, NATO members retain full sovereignty over their armed forces (i.e., they can supercede SACEUR's orders by issuing orders through the national command structure). Even in the case of NORAD

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(North American Areospace Defence Command), both Canadian and American authorities retain final command authority (i.e., command authority is only delegated to the NORAD commander in event of a surprise attack). 27. See, for example, Ellen Jones, Red Army and Society: A Sociology of the Soviet Military (Boston: Allen and Unwin, 1985). To this day this issue is, however, sharply debated. See for example the competing descriptions of Soviet civil-military relations presented in the following: Roman Kolkowicz, The Soviet Military and the Communist Party (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1967); William E. Odom, "The PartyMilitary Connection: A Critique," in Civil-Military Relations in Communist Systems, ed. Dale R. Herspring and Ivan Volgyes (Boulder, Colo.: Westview, 1978), 27-52; and Timothy J. Colton, Commissars, Commanders, and Civilian Authority: The Structure of Soviet Military Politics (Cambridge, Mass.: Cambridge University Press, 1979). 28. See especially Michta, Red Eagle, 67-70, and Timothy Garton Ash, The Polish Revolution: Solidarity (London: Granta Books, 1991), 244-83. 29. See especially Nestor Ratesh, Romania: The Entangled Revolution, Washington Papers 152 (New York: Praeger, 1991), 17-44, and Martyn Rady, Romania in Turmoil: A Contemporary History (London: I. B. Tauris, 1992), 83-121. 30. See especially Ferenc A. Vali, Rift and Revolt in Hungary: Nationalism versus Communism (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1961), 306-18. 31. After a failed effort to intervene on behalf of hard-line elements within the government early in the crisis, neutrality was probably the most the communist authorities could have expected of the Czechoslovak army. See for example Jiri Valenta and Condoleezza Rice, "The Czechoslovak Army," in Communist Armies in Politics, ed. Jonathan R. Adelman (Boulder, Colo.: Westview, 1982), 140-44. 32. For an excellent history of this exercise in myth making, see Roman Laba, The Roots of Solidarity: A Political Sociology of Poland's Working-Class Democratization (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1991), 88-90. 33. For more details on the role of the East European armed forces during the revolutions of 1989, see Zoltan D. Barany, "East European Armed Forces in Transitions and Beyond," East European Quarterly 26:1 (Spring 1992): 1-30. 34. The most detailed list of accession criteria can be found in the Study on NATO Enlargement (Brussels: NATO Integrated Data Service, September 1995), chap. 5, sees. 68-78. 35. Prospective states were, for example, required to accept nuclear weapons on their territory if deemed necessary by the alliance. At the time of this writing, such deployments have not taken place, nor are they anticipated. 36. These seemingly odd requirements for an ostensibly military alliance indicated new members were expected to become full partners, not only in the Western military alliance but in the Western political, social, and economic systems as well. 37. Study on NATO Enlargement, chap. 5, part A, sec. 70. 38. See, for example, Mark Yaniszewski, "Postcommunist Civil-Military Reform in Poland and Hungary: Progress and Problems," Armed Forces and Society 28:3 (Spring 2002): 387-88. 39. Writing in 1984, just one year before Mikhail Gorbachev came to power in the Soviet Union and just five years before the noncommunist government of Tadeusz Mazowiecki came to power in Poland, Samuel Huntington (in an otherwise prescient article) wrote: "The likelihood of democratic government in Eastern Europe is virtually nil." Samuel P. Huntington, "Will More Countries Become Democratic?" Political Science Quarterly 99:2 (Summer 1984): 217.

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40. This was the position articulated by William E. Odom. Odom, "The Party-Military Connection," 12-26, and "The 'Militarization' of Soviet Society," Problems of Communism 25:5 (September-October 1976): 34-51.

Part II

NATO Accession States: The First Round

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3

Civil-Military Relations in the Czech Republic: Ambivalent Reformers, Immature Structures David J. Betz

Over the last decade, the Czech Republic has made substantial progress in democratizing its political institutions and implementing free market reforms, progress that was acknowledged by NATO with the admission of the Czech Republic to the alliance in March 1999, and by the European Union (EU) Commission, which recommended in 1997 that negotiations begin with the Czech Republic on the question of joining the EU. Notwithstanding these achievements, the reform of the Czech Republic's national security structures is far from complete. In fact, the pace of civil-military reform has suffered, and continues to suffer, from persistent political neglect. The crux of the problem of civil-military reform in the Czech Republic is not the intransigence of the military elite; rather, the deficiencies of the national security system are, in the main, attributable to the civilian side of the civilmilitary equation. The Czech political elite has treated the reform of national security structures with ambivalence and lack of interest. As a result, while the formal constitutional and legislative mechanism of democratic civilian control is in place, the reform of the defense establishment's deeper structures has stalled. Ironically, the achievement of NATO membership may be contributing to the persistence of the problem, as politicians are now turning their attention to the goal of joining the EU at the expense of continued reforms in the defense sphere. Civil-military relations in the Czech Republic are bedeviled by the same fiscal constraints that have complicated reform of the armed forces in other postcommunist states. However, persistent attitudinal obstacles that diminish the

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political will to implement substantive change further complicate reform. Ten years after the fall of the Berlin Wall, high-level civilian decision makers are still weakly represented in the Czech Ministry of Defense. The legislature has proven inadequate, due to lack of political unity, lack of interest, and lack of expertise, to the task of providing substantive oversight and guidance to the military. The media is poorly prepared to act as a forum for debate on defense issues, which it tends to handle clumsily. In short, as Otto Pick, deputy foreign minister of the Czech Republic has noted, "The military doesn't interest anyone in this country."1 BACKGROUND Politics and Civil-Military Relations The early stage of transition in the Czech Republic differs from the experience of the other new NATO members in several respects. First, the fall of the communist regime was swift and complete in Czechoslovakia rather than gradual, protracted, and brought about by compromise, as it was in Poland and Hungary. As a result, Czech transition was not accompanied by the type of concessions to the former regime that led to the intense struggle for control over the military between presidential and parliamentary forces seen in Warsaw and, to a lesser extent, in Budapest. From the beginning, political power in the Czech Republic and, therefore, authority over the military has been centered on the parliament, with the president playing mainly a symbolic role. Under the Czech constitution passed in December 1992, the president is elected indirectly by the legislature for a five-year term and is the commander in chief of the armed forces. As such, the presidency is vested with certain broad competencies, such as the right to appoint and dismiss the military high command. Effective power over the military, however, resides in the legislature and the minister of defense, who must countersign presidential directives before they carry the weight of a legal order. Although the presidency is largely ceremonial, President Vaclav Havel has tried to use his position and popularity to influence the debate on national security issues from time to time. However, the president has only a small military office, headed by a national security advisor, and plays a minimal role in the day-to-day management of the armed forces.2 The basic institutional design of the Czech system of civilian control was described in the Presentation Document to the Partnership for Peace Program signed in Brussels in 1994. It states: The Czech Republic is putting the finishing touches to its system of democratic control of the Forces, the fundamentals are however given. They correspond with the means of control common in highly developed democracies. The president of the Czech Republic is the commander in chief of the Czech military forces. The president is an element of the executive power, elected by the parliament. The Department of Defense is presided over by a civilian Minister of Defense, a minister of the Czech government. The government is the supreme body of the executive power, responsible to the parliament. The governmental advisory council responsible for the

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military affairs, the former National Defense Council, is now undergoing a transformation process. The Parliament exercises its control over the military forces by its approval of the budget, it enacts regulations binding on the Department of Defense and checks its implementation. The Parliament is given right to declare war if the country is invaded or if it is necessary for the proper fulfillment of its international obligations as part of combined defense against invasion. The military forces of the Czech Republic are depoliticized, no political activity is allowed.3 Throughout the 1990s, Czech politics have been quite unstable, reaching impasse on a number of issues. For instance, political battles over the Senate mandated by the 1992 constitution caused that body to remain unoccupied for two years. Scandals over privatization, campaign finance, and kickbacks have also plagued both government and opposition parties. Elections in 1998 failed to resolve these problems; the legislature is still highly fractured, with both the center-right and left-left proving unable to maintain stable coalitions. This political instability is widely recognized to be a major factor underlying the poor performance of the Czech economy; it has also helped to slow the pace of civilmilitary reform. Following elections in June 1998, Vaclav Klaus's Civic Democratic Party (ODS) relinquished government to the Social Democratic Party (CSSD), under Milos Zeman. Though his party had won only sixty-three of two hundred seats (compared to the CSSD's seventy-four seats), Klaus could still conceivably have formed a coalition government and retained the premiership. However, rather than reenter an unstable alliance with his fractious former coalition partners, Klaus chose to allow Zeman to form a minority government under terms of an "opposition agreement." The CSSD took over government but it has suffered a fundamental weakness in that it has depended on the support of the opposition to such an extent that, according to some analysts, "it rules at the pleasure of former Prime Minister Klaus's Civic Democratic Party."4 Making matters worse, and in contrast with most other postcommunist states, politics in the Czech Republic continue to be dominated by intellectuals, who tend to lack the pragmatism and skill at compromise that make for efficient government. In consequence, important issues of state, including the need to provide leadership in the area of national security, have often been encumbered by endless debates in lieu of tough policy decisions.5 A second major difference between transition in the Czech Republic and the other new NATO members is that on 25 November 1992, following the breakdown of power-sharing talks between Prime Minister Vaclav Klaus in the Czech lands and the Slovak leader, Vladimir Meciar, the Czechoslovak federation was formally dissolved. After the "Velvet Divorce," new constitutional arrangements and legislative arrangements for the management of the country had to be established in the Czech Republic. This process was greatly facilitated by the fact that Klaus's parliamentary coalition had a reasonably stable majority in parliament at the time and was able to advance most of its legislative agenda. In the military sphere, the split of the

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Czechoslovak armed forces in a two-to-one ratio in favor of the Czech Republic was carried out in an orderly manner and without major discord. In interviews, however, Czech military officials repeatedly underlined their perception that as a result of the Velvet Divorce they were not just reforming a part of the old Czechoslovak army but were building a completely new Czech national army, for the first time in history. A Troubled Economy Initially, the Czech Republic was something of a postcommunist economic success story. Unfortunately, the quarrelsome political climate soon so undermined economic reform that the positive economic indicators of the early 1990s soured to a considerable extent in the latter half of the decade. Unemployment, for example, rose from an average of 4.8 percent in 1997 to 9.0 percent in 1999. Worse still, foreign debt—once one of the lowest per capita in Eastern Europe—has risen dramatically, causing concern in the International Monetary Fund (IMF) about management of the Czech economy, while the balance of trade has also slipped into the negative.6 Management of the Czech economy has also come under increasing criticism from organizations such as the EU and the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD) in the last few years. Although it was invited to negotiate admission to the EU in 1997, on 4 November 1998 the European Commission released a highly critical report on the Czech Republic's unpreparedness for joining the EU. The report called for more substantive reforms in many areas, including the justice system, the environment, industry, agriculture, human rights, state administration, and internal markets. In some areas the Commission claimed that there had been no progress at all since its last assessment in June 1997. For example, the overall public administration, legislation on intellectual property rights, antitrust legislation, justice reform, and citizenship laws were all criticized. The report also called for large-scale reform of the financial sector. The country needed to improve corporate governance, enterprise restructuring, and institute more transparent and effective anticorruption measures.7 The Geostrategic Environment The collapse of communism followed by the Velvet Divorce left the Czech Republic in a very favorable geostrategic position. The new state contained no sizeable minority populations, and no sizeable Czech populations resided outside its borders. Moreover, since 1999 the Czech Republic has been surrounded by other NATO member states (Poland and Germany) or by neutral/Partnership for Peace (PfP) states (Austria and Slovakia). Only to the east does Slovakia pose a potential security concern but in the context of postcommunist Eastern Europe and Slovakia's own aspirations to integrate with NATO, this is a very remote threat. The Czech Republic now enjoys perhaps the smoothest relations it has ever had with Germany. The only significant irritant in the relationship in the 1990s

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centered on the role of Sudeten Germans in the Czech-German Discussion Forum (which was intended to foster better Czech-German relations, in part by compensating Holocaust survivors and other victims of Nazism).8 Relations with the other new NATO members are also good. Initially, the Czech Republic under Prime Minister Vaclav Klaus sought to approach EU and NATO membership independently of its neighbors. Rather arrogantly, Klaus shunned them on the grounds that the Czech Republic belonged to the West rather than to Central Europe. Klaus's reasoning at the time was that the Czech Republic was so far ahead of its neighbors that its entrance into such Western organizations as NATO and the EU could only be slowed down by associating with these lesserdeveloped countries. However, as it became obvious that the West neither considered the Czech Republic an exceptional case nor was willing to give higher priority to the Czech Republic than to the larger and more geopolitically important Visegrad states like Poland and, to a lesser extent, Hungary, Czech authorities finally began to coordinate their efforts with those of the Poles and Hungarians.9 Relations with Slovakia have been more strained. The Czechs have criticized Slovak language policies and the treatment of minority groups. As well, the authoritarian nature of Slovak politics under Vladimir Meciar drew rebuke from Czech officials. For their part, the Slovaks have seen Czech pressure as unwarranted intervention in their internal affairs, and this has occasionally resulted in sharp disagreements. In addition, there was a problem of residual compensation claims by both sides stemming from the 1992 breakup of Czechoslovakia. However, the absence of an ethnic factor in Czech-Slovak relations has muted conflict. Slovaks are the largest minority ethnic group in the Czech Republic but they only constitute 3 percent of the population; likewise, Czechs amount to only 1 percent of the Slovak population.10 External Influences on Reform From Operation Desert Storm in 1990, to which Czechoslovakia contributed a battalion of special NBC-warfare-protection troops, to Operation Allied Force in 1999, to which the Czech Republic contributed a field hospital and transport aircraft, the Czech Republic has sought to play a role in United Nations (UN) and NATO operations. In view of its size and military capacity, the Czech military's contribution to NATO/UN activities, especially in the former Yugoslavia, has been significant. It was an active participant in UNPROFOR, sending a nine-hundred-man battalion to the Serb Krajina region of Croatia in 1992. Another Czech mechanized battalion of six hundred men, as well as transport aircraft and helicopters, formed part of the SFOR/IFOR contingent in Bosnia-Herzegovina. The considerable effort and expense of these operations is a sign of the high priority placed by Czech political leaders on achieving full integration with Euro-Atlantic security structures. Notwithstanding some criticism of Czech performance in the former Yugoslavia, the military received generally positive assessments from NATO in the period leading up to full membership. In early 1998, NATO officials

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reported that the Czech Republic had completed approximately 70 percent of the force goals of NATO membership. In other words, NATO requirements regarding troop size, weapons, and interoperability were well on the way to being met.11 In addition, NATO secretary general Javier Solana announced during a visit to the Czech Republic that the alliance was "very satisfied" with the state of Czech preparations for NATO membership, specifically mentioning that the level of interoperability was "very good."12 Shortly after accession, a report adopted by the Defense and Security Committee of the NATO Parliamentary Assembly praised the progress made by the three new members, noting, in particular, that the Czech Republic had declared 78 percent of its forces available for NATO missions.13 NATO has exerted a powerful influence on the reform of the Czech defense establishment. The anticipated benefits of NATO membership helped boost military morale through a long period of extreme fiscal tightness and probably spurred the military leadership to relinquish control of the defense policy process to civilian authorities with relatively few objections (at least public ones) at an early stage in transition. At the same time, the desire to join NATO forced political leaders, who otherwise exhibited little concern for or interest in military reform, to pay attention to defense and security issues. Politicians grasped that ignoring the defense sector might complicate the Czech Republic's chances of becoming a NATO member, and, therefore, the political elite were compelled to come to terms with the fact that the transformation of the defense sector could not be separated from the transformation of society as a whole. More practically, the participation of Czech forces in operations abroad with the UN and NATO have helped build public support for the military and encouraged public interest in security and defense issues. Operations of this type are seen by the military as an important source of "good news stories" that keep the military in the public eye.14 Operations abroad also improve morale within the military, as soldiers on operational deployment with the UN have better pay and allowances than usual, and NATO exercises give soldiers access to more intensive and interesting training than is possible at home. Training opportunities offered by NATO countries were a key interest of the Czechs through the 1990s. Above and beyond the value of the actual subject matter of the training program, the simple exposure of defense officials who lacked direct experience of defense management in a democratic context to new ways of thinking and new methods of operation was considered useful in itself.15 Since security concerns do not rank highly among public priorities, political rhetoric for NATO membership in the 1990s stressed the "civilizational" rationale of Czech accession, while deemphasizing the security rationale, the costs, and the obligations of membership.16 Couched in civilizational terms (i.e., that the country is a democratic, responsible member of the Euro-Atlantic community and should naturally be a part of its key security organization), membership in NATO appealed to Czechs, who see their nation as being historically and culturally a part of the West. In the words of Vaclav Klaus, "For us, NATO membership would mean that we are definitely a part of the Western world."17

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However, due to the country's location in the protected center of Europe and among friendly neighbors, it is difficult for Czechs actually to foresee any major security threats in the near to middle term. Therefore, while integration with the EU is widely approved of in society, support for NATO was always very soft among the public (only in 1997, after a concerted public relations campaign, did it rise above 50 percent), which was skeptical of the security rationale of membership and the costs it might entail.18 With the low priority placed on the security aspects of NATO membership, the focus of Czech defense reform has been to achieve NATO's minimum technical and political standards for admission with the minimum possible expenditure of time, effort, and money. As a consequence, reforms have tended to be shallow and formulaic rather than substantive and innovative, initiated because NATO requires them, not because they are seen as intrinsically necessary or worthwhile. In short, much of the reform of national security structures has been cosmetic and rhetorical; the formal structures have been brought into line with prevailing democratic norms but the long-term commitment to implement change in the deeper, informal structures is absent. The Armed Forces and Society The Czech military has a mixed record in its society, and that record is rooted deep in history. Until the last decade, Czechs had virtually no experience of a truly national army; rather, the armed forces had always been a semi-alien branch of an imperial army (i.e., the army of the Hapsburgs or, after World War II, the Soviet Army). There was a brief positive experience of civil-military relations in the interwar period, when Czechoslovakia was a lone democratic state surrounded by more or less hostile fascist or authoritarian neighbors. However, the interwar Czechoslovak army is remembered today in a rather negative light. Although well prepared, well armed, and supported by society, the Czechoslovak military was ordered not to resist the occupation of the country by Nazi Germany in 1938. Similarly, the Czechoslovak armed forces did not resist the armed intervention of the Warsaw Pact in 1968. These historical events, together with the perceived political indoctrination of the military in the communist era, color the attitudes of Czech society toward its military. Moreover, forty-five years of communism had produced a relatively prosperous army that was ideologically separated from its impoverished society, a factor that has also contributed to the ambivalence that Czechs feel about their armed forces. In the early stages of transition, many of the new political elite and members of the Czech public felt that they had good cause to fear that the army might try to reverse the recent democratic revolution by force.19 A presidential commission in September 1990 looking into the role of the military just prior to the November 1989 collapse of communist power concluded that the Ministry of Defense under Lt. Gen. Miroslav Vacek had prepared a series of plans (called "Vina," "Norbert," and "Sasah") to intervene against the opposition forces if the communist regime had asked. For much of the new political elite, this confirmed

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a belief that the military was politically untrustworthy. Although fears of military intervention against the new regime were much overblown and rapidly passed,20 they were replaced by a pervasive indifference toward the military and security issues more generally.21 CIVIL-MILITARY REFORM In the early aftermath of regime change, amid euphoria at being free from Soviet domination (and fear of its resurgence), the immediate objective of reform was to destroy the most destabilizing aspect of the old system of civilian control—the subordination of the military not to the national government per se but to the Communist Party. Once this objective was satisfied, the objectives of reform became more constructive. With the collapse of the Warsaw Pact, Czechoslovakia was able to begin to decide its own national (as opposed to socialist international) security policy and to define its own place in the security architecture of post-Cold War Europe. By the time NATO's Partnership for Peace (PfP) program was announced in 1994, the direction of policy was firmly focused on a "return to Europe," meaning Western Europe and its economic, political, and military institutions. Building a qualitatively new system of civilmilitary relations based on liberal-democratic norms was seen as a precondition of joining NATO, which in turn was seen as a stepping-stone to the EU and the economic benefits that would accrue. Thus, the desire to join Western institutions and, ultimately, to enjoy the same quality of life as the Western nations became the dominant rationale for reform in the military sphere. In general, the goal of destroying the old system was rapidly and thoroughly accomplished through a comprehensive process of depoliticization and by the collapse of the Warsaw Pact. At an early stage in transition, the military acquired the legal character of a nonpolitical, nonpartisan organization under the formal supervision of a democratically constituted legislature headed by a civilian minister of defense. The size (and with it the cost) of the military was also drastically reduced, from 210,000 troops in 1989 to 58,200 by 1999.22 However, the more long-term constructive effort of building a new system of civil-military relations based on the active participation of society in the control of the military—both formally through a proactive legislature and an integrated military-civilian Ministry of Defense, and informally through the activities of academics, nongovernmental organizations (NGOs), and the media—has yet to be realized. Depoliticizing the Armed Forces In late 1989 and early 1990 the political loyalty of the armed forces to the new regime was a major and immediate concern of the transitional government. Under the old system, explicit partisan loyalty to the Communist Party was a fundamental requirement of the officer corps; no other political orientation— including neutrality—was permissible. Accordingly, nearly 100 percent of Czechoslovak military officers were members of the Communist Party or Youth

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Communist League. Both covertly and overtly, agents of the Party penetrated the military and monitored its activities. This system of control, while well established and effective, was fundamentally incompatible with the democratic system that was coming into being. In a still volatile political milieu moving toward liberal-democratic norms of governance, the formal and informal links between the military and a single discredited wing of the political spectrum were inappropriate and potentially dangerous; they needed to be replaced by a system of nonpartisan military loyalty to governmental authorities. The new authorities were able to move rapidly on the task of depoliticization. In December 1989, barely a month after police suppressed a demonstration in Prague (resulting in the creation of the Civic Forum umbrella group of oppositionists), Communist Party of Czechoslovakia (CPC) cells in the armed forces were abolished. Concurrent with the elimination of CPC cells in the army, the new government took steps to eliminate the role of the Main Political Administration (MPA) as the monitor of the ideological loyalty of military personnel. The MPA was transformed into a social and educational entity—the Education and Culture Administration. Initially, the new administration was staffed mainly by personnel from the old MPA, which gave rise to allegations that the army was merely disguising the MPA rather than abolishing it,24 but these personnel were ultimately replaced by others better suited to their new social, counseling, and educational functions. As for the military educational system, this too was depoliticized, and military institutions of higher learning were integrated in the national educational system.25 Czechoslovakia also began Eastern Europe's most comprehensive investigative process of screening military personnel for links to the old order; officers who were found to have collaborated with the security services in the past were forced to retire. This process (known as "lustration"), which began in late 1991 and continued until the mid-1990s, resulted in a substantial and speedy turnover of personnel in the army. For the military's counterintelligence service, this meant that only 117 members of a previously seven-thousand-member service retained their posts (i.e., a total of seventy-three individuals emerged from the process unscathed and an additional forty-four were passed despite some links to the old order).26 Lustration was the subject of hot debate in the Czech Republic, and it produced mixed results. By July 1993, the General Staff had experienced a complete turnover.27 By 1996, the number of generals in the armed forces had declined from 240 in 1989 to only twenty, and ten of these officers had gained their rank after 1989.28 Even accounting for the size of the post-1989 troop reductions and the dislocation associated with the dissolution of the Czechoslovak federation, this represents a considerable turnover in personnel. It had the positive impact of reducing the top-heavy rank structure of the armed forces. On balance, however, the overall impact of lustration on the rank structure was detrimental. Of the 7,125 officers (all those with the rank of colonel or higher) who applied for lustration certificates (i.e., to be retained in service) in 1992, 1,282 were found to have collaborated with the intelligence services and were forced to retire. Of them, 61 percent were under forty years of

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age, and one-third were under thirty. Moreover, many younger officers voluntarily left military service before the purge or refused to sign the new oath. As a result, although the desire was to reduce the number of higher-ranking officers, the actual impact of lustration was to aggravate the increasingly acute shortage of young officers in the lower ranks.30 Thus, by the mid-1990s, the Czech armed forces had been thoroughly purged of officers linked to the old regime. However, the necessity of having put the officer corps through the trial of lustration in order to achieve a politically neutral armed forces is debatable. Neither Poland nor Hungary carried out a similarly rigorous program. Nonetheless, the Czech armed forces were depoliticized, and they have established a professional ethic of political neutrality and civilian supremacy. Parliamentary Oversight of the Armed Forces Formally, the Czech parliament is the most significant player in defense policy formulation and enjoys broad powers of oversight over the armed forces. It makes decisions concerning the declaration of a state of war or emergency, about the deployment of troops abroad, and the stationing of foreign troops on Czech territory. Its Security and Defense Committee discusses the broad aspects of security policy and oversees the activities of the military. Parliament establishes the legislative basis of the armed forces, and it may also establish ad hoc investigative committees as required. The main tool of parliamentary control over the military, however, is its control of the defense budget. A significant role in the oversight of military spending is also played by the General Office of Control, which was established to monitor the implementation of the state budget through audits, with access to all types of information irrespective of secrecy.31 However, Czech legislative oversight and control mechanisms continue to require additional improvements. The lack of expertise in defense issues among parliamentarians is a major factor; it has consistently limited the legislature's capacity to produce high-caliber national security policy documents. Making matters worse, the Security and Defense Committee has no special advisory body, relying instead on the (often scanty) military knowledge of its membership.32 Moreover, the committee is overburdened, with responsibility for oversight not only of the military but also of domestic police affairs33 and the arms trade. Naturally, given the comprehensiveness of its mandate and the dearth of in-house expertise the committee has been unable to perform its assigned roles with great effectiveness. In late 1997, for example, a scandal erupted in which Ministry of Defense officials were alleged to have participated (with Bulgarian arms dealers) in a bid to sell electronic warfare systems to Iraq. In addition, military equipment decommissioned by the Ministry of Defense worth nearly half a million dollars was exported to North Korea without a proper export license, in a deal that involved a Russian co-owner of the export firm and a Communist Party deputy from the Chamber of Deputies. North

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Korea, the People's Republic of China, and Slovakia were apparently the recipients of other illegal transfers between 1992 and 1997.34 Since 1995 the military budget and procurement programs have been subject to oversight under the terms of the Planning, Programming, and Budgeting System (PPBS). Based on the American PPBS, the Czech system seeks to analyze rationally and systematically the military budget in terms of outputs as measured against security requirements over one, five, and ten-year periods, instead of merely absolute levels of military resources (i.e., how many troops, weapons, or facilities can be afforded in a given year's budget). At the same time, the Ministry of Defense for the first time has begun to use a double accounting system and has carried out a general inventory of the actual property of the armed forces. All this contributed to increasing the transparency of the military budget and the ability of parliamentarians to monitor its implementation.35 Despite the introduction of PPBS, however, the overall quality of legislative oversight remains low, making the fiscal powers of the legislature more theoretical than actual. For example, though PPBS involves planning of military spending for the next year, the next five years, and the next ten years, the country as a whole does not have a budgetary plan for the same periods. Military spending plans ten years in advance make little sense if the parameters of the overall state budget for that time are not also known, especially if the country is in the midst of a recession. Moreover, since the Security and Defense Committee makes very limited use of expert advisors, the legislature has proved to be an ineffective evaluator of the relative success of specific military programs in terms of their contributions to overall security goals. It continues to be easier for the Security and Defense Committee to increase or decrease the military budget as a whole than to influence any particular part of the budget. As a consequence, parliament exercises a very blunt tool of civilian control—the absolute level of total military spending—rather than a sharp mechanism of civilian guidance of military spending and prioritization of procurement options. Furthermore, the very slow passage of defense legislation in the Czech Republic through the 1990s is indicative of a legislature that is essentially dilatory on military issues. Until 1998, the only major military policy documents approved by the parliament were the first draft of the National Military Strategy in 1995 and the National Defense Strategy in 1997. Only in 1998, following the NATO Madrid Summit, at which the planned accession of the Czech Republic, Poland, and Hungary was announced, did the Czech legislature seriously apply itself to the task of producing a legislative base for the defense sector. In April 1998, after five years in legislative limbo, the Act on the Security of the Czech Republic was finally passed. Then, in November 1999, a whole package of new laws impacting on the armed forces was passed: the National Defense Act, which specifies the structure of the armed forces, its missions, the status of the conscription system, and plans for military mobilization; the Act on the Armed Forces of the Czech Republic, which defines the various tasks connected with military defense and readiness; the Act on Foreign Armed Forces on the Territory of the Czech Republic and Deployment of the Armed Forces outside

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the Territory of the Czech Republic; the Act on the Career Soldier; and several other acts concerning the military. Perhaps the most significant national security documents approved at this time were the Security Strategy of the Czech Republic1,6 (February 1999) and the Military Strategy of the Czech Republic2,1 (March 1999). Unfortunately, these two policy documents were not only late but of poor quality. The Security Strategy, for example, was reportedly put together over a six-week period of meetings between representatives of the ministries of defense, foreign affairs, interior, and economics. In the end, as one insider described it, what they produced is a "terrible mishmash of inputs with bureaucracies pushing their own agenda. Eventually everyone just got tired and bored with it."38 The Military Strategy is similarly weak; though the importance of NATO in Czech defense is reflected throughout the document, no mention is made of the possibility of Czech participation in the non-Article 5 operations that are at the heart of NATO's new strategic concept. Overall, the products of the Czech legislature in the sphere of defense policy betray an amateurishness and lack of focus that suggest they were drawn up in haste, without full consideration of all the pertinent factors involved, and approved by politicians who were not very much concerned with the quality of the final product. Restructuring and Civilianizing the Ministry of Defense In 1993 the new Czech Ministry of Defense was restructured. It would have four separate departments, each headed by a deputy minister: Foreign Affairs, Finance, Personnel, and the General Staff.39 The first three departments would be responsible for the implementation of defense policy and for fulfilling any administrative duties as specified by law. The General Staff would be responsible for the direct command and control of the armed forces. No strict provision was made as to whether the deputy ministers should be military or civilian (with the exception of the chief of the General Staff, who is the highestranking military officer). In practice, however, deputy ministers have been a mix of military and civilian, with a tendency toward civilians in the top administrative positions. The chief of the General Staff is the direct subordinate of the minister of defense and does not have direct access to parliament or the government, except at the invitation of the minister (although he may brief the president on security matters if invited to do so). In September 1995, a Defense Policy and Strategy Section was added to the Ministry of Defense, taking some responsibilities away from the General Staff. In general, the restructuring of the Ministry of Defense, including the transfer of some functions from the General Staff to itself, was accomplished smoothly, though with certain difficulties imposed by budget shortages. The Czech Republic's first civilian minister of defense after the "Velvet Divorce," Antonin Baudys, stressed that one of his main goals was to turn the Ministry of Defense into an integrated civilian-military institution.40 Since then the ministry has indeed pursued with some diligence the goal of integrating

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civilians in the military bureaucracy: all ministers of defense since Baudys have been elected civilians; as of late 1998 there were 24,504 civilians working in the Ministry of Defense (31 percent of the total); and at least a third of all positions in the ministry are designated as cross-functional (i.e., they may be filled by military or civilian personnel).41 On the other hand, despite some important successes, the task of civilianization has hit some major roadblocks with respect to integrating really influential civilian policy makers in the Ministry of Defense. By late 1998, in the opinion of one insider, there was only one senior civilian bureaucrat in a responsible policy-making position, that being the director of the section for cooperation with NATO.42 The parameters of the civilianization problem are well known: under the old regime the Ministry of Defense was a closed military institution in which civilians had no significant role, and accordingly after the transition there was a great need for civilian bureaucrats in the defense establishment. However, strategic studies, the security aspects of international relations, and defense management were not taught in civilian universities, and therefore the supply of properly trained civilian defense experts was very small. Moreover, since the regime change the attractiveness of a career in the Ministry of Defense in terms of prestige and pay to qualified candidates has also been low, so the supply is increasing at a very slow rate. None of these problems are unique to the Czech Republic; on the contrary, they are consistent across all the postcommunist states. In fact, the Czech Republic had the distinct advantage of being able to draw on a pool of individuals who had been military officers but had been discharged by the communist authorities in the aftermath of the Prague Spring in 1968 to take over "civilian" leadership roles in the new Ministry of Defense. The difference in the Czech Republic is that the political will to finance and implement changes in the educational system in order to produce civilian defense experts for the future, and to fund the Ministry of Defense sufficiently well to attract such experts into careers in defense management, is not in evidence. Indeed, the way in which civilianization has been carried out thus far has had the effect of increasing tensions between civilian and military officials. Installing civilians in the Ministry of Defense merely for the sake of having civilians perform certain tasks has had a tendency to inhibit good civil-military relations, because it has resulted in undertrained and inexperienced civilian personnel being visibly outclassed by their military counterparts. Especially in the early 1990s, many of the new civilian bureaucrats were closely connected to various political parties and movements. This made it very difficult for military officers to tell whether these new officials were joining the ministry as civil servants or as politicians. The professional attitudes of these new officials were often poor, their responsibilities vaguely defined, and their personal political links to the major political parties too obvious to allow positive working dialogues with military personnel. Because of the principle of civilian supremacy, such conflicts are not conducted in the open; rather, they exist in a gray area of friction that hampers effective cooperation between military and civilian officials.43

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It bears repeating that the cause of these difficulties in integrating civilians in the Ministry of Defense is not that the uniformed military opposes en masse the introduction of civilian experts. Though some analysts point to the existence of military elements that continue to "disregard political and societal preferences"44 on matters of defense, the officers interviewed for this study all had a high appreciation for the new skills and new perspectives brought to the ministry by particular civilians, while noting the difficulties involved in the process in general. This statement of one officer was typical of the opinions expressed on the issue: It is very important to understand that most of the civilians in the Ministry of Defense are former soldiers. They understand the military and cooperation with them is very good. After the revolution, though, many places were established for civilians who had no experience of army life. It was very difficult for those people to understand the military and cooperation was not good. Only a few top civilians have proved themselves and are seen in a very positive light. They have joined the club.45 The Czech Republic has not invested much effort in an effective system of educating and training competent civilian experts in security and defense matters, and as a result most civilians are still in purely administrative positions. While civilians are well prepared in some respects—in finance, law, accounting, etc.—they are not as skilled as military personnel in many other respects, particularly in the knowledge of technical issues but also in the security aspects of international relations. As a result, civilians tend to be overwhelmed in policy debates by their more knowledgeable and better prepared military peers. The insufficiency of governmental support for reform is also evidenced by the difficulties of the personnel department of the Ministry of Defense. In the postcommunist era, a career in the military bureaucracy for a young, welleducated Czech is not very attractive financially or professionally, because the Ministry of Defense simply cannot pay as well as the private sector and also because the prestige of a career in the defense establishment is very low. Another factor contributing to the difficulties of civilianization is the fact that the career opportunities of military officers in terms of pay, allowances, and other benefits (such as housing, access to foreign training, etc.) are better than those of civilian personnel. Accordingly, of the qualified personnel whom the Ministry of Defense is able to attract, most choose careers in uniform rather than as civilians. According to one interlocutor a "concerted effort is required to raise the skills of civilian employees."46 Czech authorities have not yet made that concerted effort. Due to the lack of financial support to civilian universities for research on military and security issues, there is little incentive for universities or individual academics to get involved in training civilian specialists. Where the universities have failed due to lack of finance and lack of interest, the Ministry of Defense has taken on itself the task of increasing the skills of its civilian employees and, to a more limited extent, of raising the overall level of public knowledge of defense issues. Civilian employees of the Ministry of Defense now attend

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training courses at the Military Academy in Brno, as do parliamentary advisors on defense, certain municipal administrators, and other government officials. A small Institute of Strategic Studies has also been created at Masaryk University in Brno. Foreign training (such as at the U.S. Army Marshall Center in Garmisch-Partenkirchen, Germany; the NATO Defense College in Rome; the U.S. Naval Postgraduate School in Monterey, California, etc.) has also played a significant role in upgrading the skills of civilian analysts.47 In the short term, the efforts of the Military Academy in Brno may alleviate some of the problems caused by the lack of civilian expertise in the Ministry of Defense. In the long term, however, it may contribute to the perpetuation of the problem. The absence of governmental support for training of civilian experts and the infrequent use of expert advisory committees suggest that politicians themselves do not set much value on civilian advice in defense matters. Yet one of the main reasons for having civilians in the Ministry of Defense is to have the benefit of a diversity of viewpoints on matters of defense and security. If the politicians themselves do not appreciate the need for a diversity of viewpoints, if they are content to leave the responsibility for training civilian experts to the military, in the same school as military officers, using the same methods and with the same professors, the very purpose of civilian cadres in the Ministry of Defense becomes questionable. Since the "Velvet Revolution" most ministers of defense have been members of the junior parties in coalition governments, which implies that the Ministry of Defense is not considered a high-profile post for Czech politicians. The low political stature of ministers of defense has made it difficult for them to gain the respect of the senior military leadership (and presumably to mobilize support for their ministry in cabinet), a problem that is further complicated by the tendency of ministers of defense to serve in the position for only slightly more than a year. As a result, ministers of defense rarely have enough time to acquaint themselves with the problems of their ministry, acclimatize themselves to the military mindset, or to formulate their own visions for how the military should develop. This situation reflects the ambivalence of the government toward the military, an ambivalence that in turn reflects the low interest of the electorate in defense. It was due to this complex of reasons stemming from the ambivalence of the political elite about the military that a coherent security policy in the Czech Republic was absent for such a long time. As a result, the neglected military, left without proper guidance, has had a tendency to make decisions on security policy more or less autonomously and without seriously checking in with public or political preferences. For example, the Ministry of Defense was left to prepare and approve the White Book on the Defense of the Czech Republic on its own, though the document dealt with fundamentally political issues.48 The Military and the Media The relationship of the military with the media is a good indicator of the status of civil-military relations. Perhaps the most important way in which the military and society interact is through the mass media, which, in theory, constitute as a

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forum in which all the main players in society—government, academics, NGOs, and concerned citizens—can publicly debate defense issues. In the Czech Republic, military-media relations have been something of a sore point. According to Petr Necas, chairman of the Security and Defense Committee, the main problem of civil-military relations in the Czech Republic "is no longer a legislative or constitutional matter"; rather, it is a matter of "building up a broad spectrum of linkages between the military establishment and society."49 Military officials have complained that the media tend to focus on negative events and that there has also been a tendency for media outlets to politicize their coverage of military affairs (with their interpretation of events depending upon their respective relationships to the government or opposition).50 Among the military officers interviewed for this research, there was a general feeling that there is a lack of positive coverage of the military in the media. Several interlocutors suggested that the media is obsessively concerned with scandal at the expense of real news and that the press tends to make mountains out of molehills. Said one respondent, "The mass media is not prepared to report objectively on the armed forces; their main interest is in selling stories— scandal—not in the successes of the military."51 At the same time, the military has been guilty of making little effort to get its message across to the public. Indeed, the NATO Assistant Secretary General for Political Affairs, Gebhardt von Moltke, was quite critical of Czech public relations efforts during a 1997 visit.52 In terms of social prestige, the military has made little progress in reversing the poor social image of the armed forces as an institution. Czech political culture continues to accord little social standing to the military. In the opinion of one close observer, the public image of the military was downright unfavorable, and tendencies point to a further decline, creating apprehension in some circles that this "might result in a weakening of informal control of the military."53 Another scarcely more positive estimation held that opinion was improving but at a glacial rate of "maybe one percent a year." Both sides of the issue blame the main elements of the problem on a basic lack of media relations skills in the military and a severe lack of defense knowledge among journalists. For its part, the Ministry of Defense lacks personnel trained to respond well to questions raised by the press. Few senior military men are trained or experienced in dealing with an open media, with the result that they tend to come off very poorly on television and in the press. From a journalist's perspective, there is a sense that the Ministry of Defense has a problem with openness and seeks to control debate rather than allow objective analysis.54 On the other, there are no full-time military correspondents in the Czech civilian media. Thus, the media does not have a substantial ability to analyze defense and security issues or engage the public in knowledgeable debate on these subjects. As a result, there is a lack of an informed public debate on matters of defense. The military is taking steps to address the media-relations skills deficit within the Ministry of Defense. Senior military leaders and military spokespersons now receive training in media relations. However, the level of access to information

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is another issue that requires attention. From the military's point of view, it has taken great strides in becoming more transparent to reporting, and "there is," it believes, "no deficit in information provided to the media."55 There is, however, no Freedom of Information Act in the Czech Republic, and the civil service is not obliged to provide information, even unclassified, to any member of the media. CONCLUSION When contemplating the Czech national security scene it is hard to escape the thought that reading Jaroslav Hasek's classic satirical novel about a Czech soldier in the Great War, The Good Soldier Svejk, may be all that is required to understand the problem. Czechs seem to view their armed forces in a derisory way: as a source of comic inspiration; as a refuge for persons who cannot perform in civilian society; as an economic burden; and as an institution in which service should be avoided or, failing that, endured for the minimum time possible. What is missing in popular opinion is a sense of the military as a fundamentally necessary and valuable societal asset. The words of Otto Pick quoted in the introduction of this chapter bear repeating here: "The military doesn't interest anyone in this country." It might be argued that the wry humor the military inspires in many Czechs is not peculiar to that institution; rather, it is characteristic of a more pervasive Czech attitude toward bureaucracies in general. It might also be argued that blithe indifference to issues of national security ("Svejkism"?) is characteristic of public attitudes in many other long-standing NATO countries as well. Notwithstanding these caveats, Hasek's satire has a considerable resonance for the contemporary observer. In its essence the problem is simple: Czechs do not feel themselves to be under threat; moreover, history suggests that in any event their security depends not on their own actions but on the actions of the great powers. This "secure feeling" factor is one of the main causes of the public indifference to security issues, an attitude that translates to political indifference. Furthermore, there is an overabundance of other problems of consuming interest to the electorate, notably the state of the economy, which pushes defense reform even farther down the list of political priorities. It is necessary, then, to put the problem of Czech civil-military relations in its proper context. The armed forces are not a threat to the existence of democracy in the Czech Republic. To suggest the contrary would be absurd, given the army's history of loyalty to political authorities—democratically constituted or not. The Ministry of Defense, however, still disposes of approximately 2.5 percent of GDP. The problem of civil-military relations, therefore, is not one of civilian control per se; rather, it is a problem of ineffective public administration of an important state body. As the EU pointed out in its criticism of the regulation of the economy, the judiciary, the environment, and so on, this problem has analogues in other sectors of the state bureaucracy. The main difference between reform of the defense establishment and reform in other

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sectors is that the main aim in the defense sphere (NATO membership) having been achieved, the incentive to pursue further reforms is diminished. As a result, the reform of Czech national security structures, which was incomplete when accession to NATO was announced, remains incomplete. On the one hand, as of late 1998 the legal basis of civil-military relations has been in line with democratic norms. On the other hand, the changes in the deeper, informal structures of the defense establishment, changes that would move civilian control of the military from a theoretical and rhetorical statement of intent to a factual, operating reality, have not been made. To say that the years since the end of the Warsaw Pact represent a "lost decade" in terms of the reform of the national security structures would be unjust. Many important and far-reaching changes have been implemented. It is fair to say, however, that more could have been done had there been the political will to do so. For the foreseeable future civil-military relations in the Czech Republic will likely conform to the status quo—within the budgetary limitations decided by the civilian government, the military itself will define the security interests of the state, designing and implementing defense policy without substantial input from an essentially uninterested political elite. NOTES 1. Quoted by Dan Nelson and Marybeth Peterson Ulrich in "Intractable Problems: Armies, National Security and Democratic Transition," paper presented at the International Studies Association conference, Los Angeles, California, March 2000, 14. 2. For a more comprehensive review of Czech national security structures, policy and legislation, see Rene Nastoupil, "Current Czech Defense Policy," Journal of Slavic Military Studies 12:2 (June 1999): 110-22. 3. Czech Republic: Presentation Document for Partnership for Peace, Prague, October 1994. 4. Nelson and Peterson Ulrich, "Intractable Problems," 11. 5. Ibid., 12. 6. Economic data was drawn from the following reports: "Czech Republic Registers Record High Unemployment," RFE/RL Newsline (8 October 1997), www.rferl.org/ newsline/1997/10/081097.asp; "Inflation Rises in the Czech Republic," RFE/RL Newsline (9 October 1997), www.rferl.org/newsline/1997/10/091097.asp; "Czech Foreign Debt Growing," RFE/RL Newsline (1 September 1997), www.rferl.org/newsline/ 1997/09/010997.asp; Michael Wyzan, "Varied Economic Fortunes in Visegrad and the Balkans," RFE/RL Newsline (23 January 1998), www.rferl.org/newsline/1998/01/ 230198.asp; and, Michael Wyzan, "1997: Another Busy Year for the IMF in the PostCommunist World," RFE/RL Newsline (30 December 1997), www.rferl.org/newsline/ 1997/12/301297.asp. 7. Regular Report from the Commission on Progress towards Accession: Czech Republic, (Brussels: European Commission, 4 November 1998), www.mzv.cz/EU/en/ docs/rr98.html. See also: "EU Sets Goals for Applicants," RFE/RL Newsline (6 February 1998): 3; "Czech Republic Admits Problems Adjusting to EU Standards," RFE/RL Newsline (1 April 1998): 2; and, "EU Officials Criticise Czech Republic," RFE/RL Newsline (27 May 1998): 3.

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8. See Andrew Stroehlein, Czechs and the Czech-German Declaration: The Failure of a New Approach to History, Glasgow Papers 1, University of Glasgow, Scotland (1998). 9. Andrew Stroehlein, "The Czech Republic 1992 to 1999: From Unintentional Political Birth to Prolonged Political Crisis," Central Europe Review 1:12(13 September 1999). 10. The Military Balance 1997-1998 (London: Oxford University Press for the International Institute of Strategic Studies, 1998), 81, 93. 11. "NATO Satisfied with Prospective Members," RFE/RL Newsline (23 March 1998): 3. 12. "Solana Advises against Czech Referendum on NATO," RFE/RL Newsline (5 March 1998): 3. 13. Giovanni Forcieri, "The New Allies: The Czech Republic, Hungary and Poland Entering NATO," Report AS254 DSC/AF (99) 6 to the Sub-Committee on the Future of the Armed Forces, Defense and Security Committee, NATO Parliamentary Assembly, November 1999, 12. 14. Interview with official from the Department of Press and Organization, Ministry of Defense, Prague, November 1999. 15. Interview with official from Personnel and Social Policy, Ministry of Defense, Prague, November 1998. 16. Stephan Lefebvre, "The Army of the Czech Republic: A Status Report," Journal of Slavic Military Studies 8:4 (December 1995): 735. 17. Vaclav Klaus, interview with Vienna ORF television Network, 1830 GMT 16 March 1995, translated from German in FBIS-EEU-95-052 (17 March 1995): 4. 18. See NATO Enlargement: Views from the Continent (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Department of State, Information Agency, 1997). 19. Tomas Zipfel, "The Implications of NATO Expansion for Civil-Military Relations in the Czech Republic," paper presented to the conference on Post-Communist CivilMilitary Relations, University of Glasgow, Scotland, 22-23 March 2000, 1. 20. By spring 1990 only 14 percent of the population thought there was a real danger of military intervention. See Otto Pick, Stefan Sarvas and Stanislav Stach, "Democratic Control over Security Policy and Armed Forces," in Demokratische und zivile Kontrolle von Sicherheitspolitik und Streitkraften, eds. Laurent F. Carrel, Otto Pick, Stefan Sarvas, Andreas Schaer, Stanislav Stach, Zurich Contributions to Security Policy and Conflict Research No. 41, (Zurich: Center for Security Studies and Conflict Research, ETH Swiss Federal Institute of Technology Zurich, 1997), 12, www.fsk.ethz.ch/documents/ beitraege/zu_41 /zu41 _ch3. htm. 21. A substantial percentage of Czechs question the need to have armed forces at all. See Daniel Nelson and Thomas Szayna, "NATO's Metamorphosis and its New Members," Problems of Post-Communism 45:4 (July/August 1999): 37. 22. Figures are from the 1989-90 and 1999-2000 editions of The Military Balance (London: Oxford University Press for the International Institute of Strategic Studies, 1990,2000). 23. On the matter of communist civil-military relations, the best source is Dale R. Herspring and Ivan Volgyes, eds., Civil-Military Relations in Communist Systems (Boulder, Colo.: Westview, 1978). 24. Pick, Sarvas and Stach, "Democratic Control over Security Policy and Armed Forces," 14. 25. That is to say, graduates of military academies would henceforth obtain full academic qualifications in line with the wider governmental regulations on higher education. The faculty members of the military academies would be members of the

60 Civil-Military Relations wider academic community and were expected to cooperate with other universities. Interview by author with official at the Czech Military Academy, Brno, November 1998. 26. James Gow and Carole Birch, Security and Democracy: Civil-Military Relations in Central and Eastern Europe, London Defense Studies 40 (London: Centre for Defence Studies, 1997), 13. 27. Jeffrey Simon, Central European Civil-Military Relations and NATO Expansion, McNair Paper 39, Institute for National Strategic Studies (Washington, D.C.: National Defense University, 1995), 40. 28. Reka Szemerkenyi, Central European Civil-Military Reforms at Risk, Adelphi Paper 306 (London: International Institute for Strategic Studies, 1996), 40. 29.Ibid. 30. J. Oberman, "Czechoslovak Armed Forces: The Reform Continues," RFE/RL Research Report (7 February 1992): 48-49. 31. Zipfel, "The Implications of NATO Expansion for Civil-Military Relations in the Czech Republic," 4. 32. Interview with member of the Parliamentary Defense and Security Committee, Prague, November 1998. 33. Szemerkenyi, Central European Civil-Military Reforms at Risk, 19. 34. See "Czech Defense Minister Resigns Parliamentary Mandate," RFE/RL Newsline (26 February 1998): 2; "Czech Police Detain Russian Co-Owner of Weapons Export Firm," RFE/RL Newsline (3 March 1998): 2; and, "Czech Republic Allowed Illegal Arms Exports to North Korea," RFE/RL Newsline (7 September 1998): 4. 35. Zipfel, "The Implications of NATO Expansion for Civil-Military Relations in the Czech Republic," 6. 36. Security Strategy of the Czech Republic (Prague: Ministry of Foreign Affairs, April 1999). 37. Military Strategy of the Czech Republic (Prague: Ministry of Defense, April 1999). 38. Otto Pick, Deputy Foreign Minister of the Czech Republic, quoted in Nelson and Peterson Ulrich, "Intractable Problems," 15. 39. Interview with official in the Defense Policy Section of the General Staff, Ministry of Defense, Prague, November 1998. 40. Pick, Sarvas, Stach, Democratic Control over Security Policy and Armed Forces, 19. 41. Interview with official from Personnel and Social Policy, Ministry of Defense, Prague, November 1998. 42. Interview with official in the Co-operation with NATO Section, Ministry of Defense, Prague, November 1998. 43. Pick, Sarvas, Stach, Democratic Control over Security Policy and Armed Forces, 19-21. 44. Ibid., 20. 45. Interview with official of the Military Academy, Brno, November 1998. 46. Interview with official from Personnel and Social Policy, Ministry of Defense, Prague, November 1998. 47. Interview with officials from Personnel and Social Policy, Ministry of Defense, Prague, November 1998 and the Czech Military Academy, Brno, November 1998. 48. Zipfel, "The Implications of NATO Expansion for Civil-Military Relations in the Czech Republic," 5. 49. Interview with chairman of the Parliamentary Defense and Security Committee, Prague, November 1998. 50. Szemerkenyi, Central European Civil-Military Reforms at Risk, 61-62.

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51. Interview with officials in the Press Department, Ministry of Defense and the Press and Organizational Department, Office of the Minister of Defense, Prague, November 1998. 52. Gow and Birch, "Security and Democracy," 43. 53. Jiri Sedivy, "Security in Central and Eastern Europe: Problems, Perceptions, Policies: The Czech Republic," Institute of International Relations, Prague, 1997, unpublished manuscript, 12. 54. Interview with representative from The New Presence: The Prague Journal of Central European Affairs, Prague, November 1998. 55. Interview with officials in the Press Department, Ministry of Defense and the Press and Organizational Department, Office of the Minister of Defense, Prague, November 1998.

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4

Hungary: A Corner Turned? James Sherr

The Hungarian People's Army was conceived and developed as a tool of "internationalism" and the defender of a "socialist commonwealth," the aims and policies of which—not to say military doctrines and strategies—were devised outside the country. Its officers were relatively privileged products—and symbols—of a system that defined the "state," the "people," "authority," and "duty" in terms that an unempowered populace accepted with resignation, if at all. The members of the military establishment benefited but also suffered from a system that restricted military-technical knowledge to their own profession,1 yet was so compartmented as to deprive even senior representatives of this profession of the knowledge needed to relate the parts to the whole. In civilian and military spheres alike, information (and open discussion) was confined to what concerned one directly, and not always embraced as much as that. No Hungarian military officer was encouraged to "think strategically," either about military operations themselves—being limited to an operational-tactical competence in the conduct of war—or about the relationship between orders given, the military policy of the state, the needs of the national economy, the demands of society, and the interests of the country he ostensibly served. By the time the NATO Council extended an invitation of membership to Hungary at its Madrid Summit (8 July 1997), this army, renamed the Hungarian Home Defense Forces (HHDF), had been downsized, restructured, and redeployed. It had been subordinated to a new, democratically accountable political authority, and it was becoming responsible for new national and alliance

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tasks. But in composition, capability, training, and ethos, the HHDF was a diminished and cowed Hungarian People's Army. Only slightly before Madrid did it become obvious that Hungary could not join NATO with the army that it possessed. From 1996 onward defense reform became an important issue for the governing Socialist-Liberal coalition. Since the right-of-center Federation of Young Democrats (FIDESZ) government took office in May 1998, reform has become a major priority. Nevertheless, by the time Hungary acceded to membership of the alliance on 12 March 1999,2 the efforts of these governments had merely transformed the HHDF from a superficially reformed institution into a half-reformed one. Recognition of this fact, graphically brought home by the Kosovo conflict, persuaded Prime Minister Victor Orban to embark upon a full Strategic Defense Review in July 1999. This review has formulated a tightly sequenced package of goals, plans, and timetables designed to produce a "modern, NATO-capable, flexible and sustainable defense force" by 2008.3 Yet even those persuaded of this review's forthrightness and seriousness are bound to note that it simply provides a set of military-technical solutions to military-technical problems. Implementation of the review is dependent on achieving a far greater transformation: the acceptance of the review's solutions—and their long-term demands and costs—by Hungary's cross-party political establishment and the electorate to which it answers. Without a broader commitment to defense than that which presently exists in the country—and without a far broader understanding of defense and security issues—successful implementation of the review is unlikely. At this potential turning point in Hungary's defense reform, three questions arise. What practical challenges is Hungary confronting in its effort to create a "NATO-capable" force—and, more importantly, a modern, democratic, and NATO-compatible defense and security system? Is a ten-year record of gradual and often grudging progress primarily a commentary on the shortcomings of the Hungarian political and defense establishment, or is it testimony to the tenacity of the communist legacy and the unrealistic expectations of Hungary's new allies? Does Hungary today possess the policies, the personnel, the will, and the means required to create "armed forces providing reliable defense and contributing to the common security of the Alliance"? THE PROBLEM OF CIVIL-MILITARY RELATIONS IN CONTEXT During the communist era, "civilian control" of defense was at one and the same time pervasive and narrowly focused. In the USSR, the armed forces collectively was accustomed to stand to attention before a closed circle of powerful civilians in the Party's Politburo. Through the Chief Political Directorate of the Communist Party Central Committee and the "special departments" of the KGB, these civilians had mechanisms at their disposal that ensured not only the "reliability" of the armed forces but their total obedience. Paradoxically, the very effectiveness of these mechanisms persuaded the Party

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leadership to entrust the armed forces with a dominant influence in militarytechnical decisions and to accept its monopoly of military-technical expertise.4 In non-Soviet Warsaw Pact countries like Hungary, however, "civilian control" was not narrow—it was absent. In its conduct of military operations (e.g., the crushing of the "Prague Spring"), the Hungarian People's Army answered to commanders who took orders from the General Staff of the Soviet Armed Forces. In peacetime, it was trained, equipped, and deployed according to Soviet (and largely Soviet General Staff) directives. Against this background, the framers of NATO's Partnership for Peace (PfP) gave due emphasis to the need to inculcate postcommunist military establishments with the very different norms of civilian democratic control prevalent in NATO countries. But PfP's prime movers devoted less attention to a challenge of equal importance: remedying the "deformations" of civilians. The experience of Hungary's defense reform to date demonstrates that however successful civilians are at "controlling" the army, they will have no chance of changing it for the better until they acquire the knowledge needed to change it— and until they recognize that a well motivated army is an asset to a democracy, not a threat to it. Unless civilians recognize that their attitudes also bear the imprint of the past, the risk will exist for Hungary (and for NATO) that "reform" and "democratization" will demoralize the army, alienate it, and in simple demographic terms destroy it. Therefore, the measure of progress in civilmilitary relations is not the number of civilians in "control." It is the extent to which the armed forces feel themselves to constitute an integral part of the democratic order, the extent to which civil-military collaboration becomes the norm, the extent to which civilians can bring an informed perspective to military discussion, and the extent to which national defense policy becomes the business of the country as a whole. The establishment of democratic and effective civilian control and the establishment of a national security system are directly and inseparably related. This relationship can be seen at four levels: state policy, law, administration, and armed forces development. First and foremost, it is essential that military policy reflect rather than determine the country's fundamental national interests. The military instrument, and the resources devoted to it, must also reflect the country's democratically established priorities. Even in a mature democracy, these goals are easier to proclaim than they are to achieve. But if they are to be achieved, it is up to the political authorities—and ultimately the country as a whole—to formulate a national security policy and establish an integrated national security system. Only on such a basis will it be possible to define the role of the armed forces and establish a division of labor among various arms of the state. If such a division of labor is to work effectively, the armed forces must understand that there are economic, social, ecological, as well as military aspects of security. In turn, other state institutions (local government, law enforcement, customs, emergency services) must understand that many of their own responsibilities have defense implications. Moreover, the political authorities themselves must decide the appropriate weight that the regular armed forces,

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paramilitary forces, and police should play in the security system, and it is these authorities who must devise a mechanism to coordinate the efforts of those agencies. Clearly, these political authorities require the motivation and knowledge to define the ends and means of security and to relate the parts to the whole. Moreover, if the armed forces are to contribute to this enterprise and not just "work to rule," it is essential that they identify with the political order and its values. The prospects of this will be greatly enhanced if civilians respect the military profession, if they are knowledgeable about defense themselves, and if there is no doubt about their commitment to effective armed forces. Second, it is essential that the process of decision making be codified and transparent. The content of defense policy is bound to change in a democracy, but the system itself must be stable. First and foremost, this requires legislation—clear and authoritative answers to the questions "Who commands?" "Who serves?" "Who allocates money?" "Who spends it?" "Who is accountable for what?" "Who is answerable to whom?" Particularly in societies undergoing rapid transition, there is every risk that vacuums in law and authority will be filled by intrigue and trials of strength. Such trials will invariably politicize the armed forces. The beginning of wisdom is to recognize that the majority of serving officers are not politicians in uniform but military professionals who wish to know "where they stand." True military professionals do not oppose but positively welcome a legal framework that defines their responsibilities. Military politicians, on the other hand, must be identified and removed from military service. Yet even after this is done, the legal framework will achieve its goals only if lawmakers are knowledgeable enough to weigh the alternatives before them and understand their practical consequences. Third, the implementation of defense policy—as opposed to the carrying out of orders in the field—depends upon effective administration. In a democracy, this requires a professional civil service, a corps of administrators whose political neutrality is unquestioned and who are competent and expert enough to execute government policy. The practice of neutrality requires an ethos of neutrality. This ethos and the requisite specialist knowledge will be forthcoming only in a society that accords sufficient value and prestige to public service. Finally, there must be one set of assumptions governing defense, economic, and social policy on the one hand and the manning, structuring, and equipping of the armed forces on the other. An "ideal" structure that cannot be financed is more likely to be a liability than a limited success. Yet resources are not the only issue to be confronted. What is the nature of the likely threat? Is the emphasis to be placed on coalition warfare or self-reliance? expeditionary operations or territorial defense? internal security, border defense, or conventional war? high readiness or mass mobilization? mobility or defense in depth? defense on one axis or several? joint, combined, or independent operations? These choices have clear implications for budgeting, weapons procurement, manning, training, and conditions of service. The wrong decisions in these specific areas will inevitably play back into first-order issues, complicating and even damaging agreed priorities and interests. If the armed forces are to be the tool of policy and not an

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obstruction to it, it is essential that civilians understand the implications of proposals put to them and the practical consequences of their own decisions. No democracy addresses these issues without discontinuities, distortions, and the process that Clausewitz called "friction." But the institutional weaknesses, mental unpreparedness, and intellectual disorientation characteristic of "postcommunism" present a risk that discontinuities will become severe enough to damage both national security and the process of transformation itself. GEOPOLITICAL CONTEXT Of the three states who acceded to membership of NATO in April 1999, it is Hungary whose geopolitical circumstances are the least enviable.5 Indeed, Hungary is the only new member with a potential minority problem—but the fragility of the neighbors where this minority of 3.2 million resides and the salience of the issue in Hungary (whose constitution enshrines the state's "sense of responsibility") risks transforming this minority problem into a geopolitical one.6 In a formal and practical sense, this geopolitical fragility is now a potential vulnerability for NATO as a whole, greatly reinforcing NATO's stake in the stability of eastern and southeastern Europe. Of Hungary's seven neighbors (Austria, Slovenia, Croatia, Serbia, Romania, Ukraine, and Slovakia), it is the latter five whose stability is in question, and it is there that Hungarian minorities happen to be situated. In Ukraine, the condition and civil rights of the 180,000 Hungarian minority is a subject of disappointment but not serious dispute, and relations between Budapest and Kyiv are characterized by a high degree of cooperation. But political instability in Ukraine, not to say Russian pressure upon it, could alter this picture substantially. More problematic is the long-troubled relationship with Slovakia, with its Hungarian minority of 650,000—although the policies of the post-Meciar government and the prospect of Slovakia's integration into NATO now provide grounds for optimism. Historically the most serious problem has been the position of the two-millionstrong Hungarian minority in Romania. The conclusion of the HungarianRomanian Basic Treaty (September 1996), the Romanian elections of November 1996, and a growing web of military cooperation have largely transformed the climate since tensions spilled over into ethnic clashes in 1990. But however dramatic Romania's change of direction, it is not necessarily deep, because the center-right's election victory left a polarized electorate in its wake, a polarization profoundly amplified by the Kosovo conflict. There is a strong chance that Romania's exclusion from the "second wave" of NATO enlargement could reconsolidate discontented forces. But the greatest vulnerability at present and for the foreseeable future is the implicit hostage status of the 350,000 Hungarian minority in the Vojvodina region of Serbia (and to a lesser extent of the smaller minorities in the Slavonia and Baranja regions of Croatia). Despite plausible apprehensions, Hungary's participation in IFOR/SFOR did not endanger this expatriate population. Yet

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NATO's intervention in the Kosovo conflict (Operation Allied Force) has sharply exposed the predicament inherent in Hungary's policy—a policy based on the premise that "the situation of national and ethnic minorities cannot be considered an exclusively internal affair,"7 yet a policy that by virtue of this premise risks provoking hostility to Hungary, as well as Hungarians living outside it. It was on the basis of these concerns, as well as more classic ones, that the National Assembly adopted the following principles in 1993: (1) defense of the country in event of total war, (2) defense in event that conflicts in adjacent countries encroached upon Hungarian territory, (3) defense against belligerents crossing Hungarian territory in order to attack a third party, (4) defense from regional and local attacks, (5) conduct of United Nations-mandated peacekeeping operations, and (6) maintenance of general deterrence. There is a widespread conviction that Hungary cannot assume these burdens alone, and it is an open secret that NATO membership is intended to lift as many of them as possible from Hungarian shoulders. The 1998 "principles" adopted by the National Assembly places far less emphasis on national, and a far greater emphasis on collective, defense than its 1993 predecessor. Yet well before the adoption of this document, Hungary's political and defense establishment grasped that NATO was determined to remain an alliance of "producers" and not simply "consumers" of security. It was to meet this expectation—as well as national requirements—that Hungary, in addition to its five-hundred-personnel contribution to IFOR/SFOR, granted facilities on its territory for transit-country and host-nation support. The Operational Group (OG HHDF) established in December 1995 and subsequently (September 1997) the Operations Control Center were set up not only to coordinate Hungarian forces and observers but to manage a program encompassing the leasing of installations at Taszar (U.S. Air Force), Kaposujlak (U.S. Army helicopters), Kaposvar (U.S. small-arms range), Taborfalva (U.S. heavy-weapons training), and Pecs (deployment center for the IFOR/SFOR Nordic Brigade). The support of Hungary's government for Operation Allied Force—in the face of considerable public concern—therefore continued a trend that was well established. Because the trend was in fact established, Hungary was surprised to discover in summer 1997 that NATO considered its efforts very far from adequate. In no uncertain terms, Hungary was put on notice that NATO would insist not simply upon support from its new members but on concrete measures that would make their armies NATO capable. This insistence and the sharp exchanges that arose in connection with visits from U.S. Europe Command and the Office of the Secretary of Defense appeared to signal a belated elevation of military entry requirements into the alliance. This perception, not to say pressure, has played a decided role in reform efforts to the present day. By the same token, the belatedness of this pressure explains why many first-order questions were deferred until the present Federation of Young Democrats-Hungarian Civic Forum (FIDESZ-MPP) government took office in May 1998.

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DEFENSE REFORM SINCE 1989 Of the two broad dimensions of reform, legal and institutional, it is the latter that demands more sustained attention and unity of effort. Perhaps unsurprisingly, it is also the latter that has received less attention throughout the postcommunist world. Despite early successes in demilitarizing the political system and at least some progress in depoliticizing the armed forces, Hungary was without a coherent strategy for institutional reform until the summer of 1998. It is in the area of legislation that greatest progress has been made since 1989. Nevertheless, even now the full legislative framework is not complete. Hungary's democratically orientated defense reforms date from the roundtable agreements at the close of the communist era in 1989. But it was the election of the first postcommunist government (March-April 1990) and the December 1990 package of reforms that conclusively eliminated the influence of the Hungarian Socialist Workers Party (and the Central Committee's Political Directorate) from the armed forces and brought servicemen within full coverage of human rights legislation (thanks to which Hungarian servicemen, unlike many of their NATO counterparts, have access to a civilian civil rights commissioner as well as civilian courts). Assisted by the 1989 Conventional Forces in Europe accords, force reductions were also accomplished (from 155,000 to a hundred thousand by December 1992)—and far more easily than many suspected. With the swift collapse of the command-administrative system, the militarization of the economy (which had been the least extensive in the Warsaw Pact) was swiftly rendered moot. In fact, the momentum of demilitarization soon reached the danger point, with defense spending falling to 1.4 percent of GDP in 1995 and 1.2 percent in 1996. Nevertheless, measures to subordinate the armed forces to civilian authority and neuter their political influence proved more problematic. Before 1989 the Ministry of Defense (MOD) incorporated the Defense Staff, and the minister constituted the highest-ranking figure in the Hungarian People's Army. But for the fact that this minister was a serving officer, the arrangement, at least on the surface, resembled mainstream Western practice. Apparently unmindful of that fact, the country's transitional authorities in 1989 believed that the integration of MOD and the Defense Staff represented a dangerous concentration of power. They therefore separated the army's political and administrative component (the MOD) from its operational elements (the Defense Staff, army headquarters, and subordinate commands). Yet because they also mistrusted executive power, they proceeded to divide civilian power as well, designating the president as commander in chief, with operational control over the forces, and granting the prime minister and cabinet authority over a vastly diminished MOD, which was now confined to unspecified administrative functions. The new arrangement, which made the commander of the Hungarian army ("chief of defense") directly accountable to the president, had three unintended effects. It placed the defense minister and the government itself outside the operational chain of command; it created two parallel structures, multiplying incentives for intrigue and foiling attempts at transparency;8 and most

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paradoxically of all, it left the president notionally supreme but in practice (in the defense minister's words) "the figurehead on the army's body." Fortunately, the illogic of the army's dual subordination swiftly became apparent. At the height of the nationwide taxi strike of October 1990, the president and prime minister issued contradictory instructions to the armed forces—a state of affairs that prompted the resignation of the commander of the HHDF in April 1991.9 On 23 September 1991 the Constitutional Court redefined and diminished the president's authority. The Court concluded that because Hungary was a parliamentary republic, executive power resided in the government and not the president, whose role was "titular" rather than operational. While the president retained his right to appoint senior commanders, these appointments would not take effect unless they were countersigned by the executive. The Court also found in favor of the supremacy of the defense minister over the commander. These prerogatives were further refined by the National Defense Act of 1993, which granted the president the right to ask the government for information concerning any aspect of military policy, structure, or operations. On the other hand, the 1994 defense reforms removed the president's appointment initiative, limiting him to approving appointments proposed by the minister of defense. When a coalition of left-wing parties came to power in May 1994, two fundamental controversies were still unresolved. The first concerned the president's remaining prerogative to declare a state of war, exigency, or emergency. According to a 1989 constitutional amendment, the president could exercise this authority only when the National Assembly was not in session. Even in this extreme case, employment of the armed forces would have to be sanctioned by the National Defense Council—a body largely subservient to the president in 1989 but subsequently widened in composition to include the prime minister and cabinet, commander of the HHDF, speaker of the National Assembly, and the heads of all parties represented in the legislature. Recognizing that the arrangement could prove unworkable in practice, the new government eventually secured an additional constitutional amendment, Article 19E, authorizing the government "in accordance with the defense plan approved by the President" to order the employment of the armed forces when the National Assembly was not in session, subject to its review and endorsement within thirty days. The second controversy, the separation of the MOD from the Defense Staff, is one that the Constitutional Court deliberately left open. While declaring the minister supreme over the commander, the Court ruled that the separation of the structures on each side was not a constitutional issue. Only after the Hungarian Socialist Party-Alliance of Free Democrats coalition came to power in May 1994 was a plan tabled for the merger of the MOD and Defense Staff. Yet the plan was defeated by right-right parties on the grounds that it was poorly prepared. Nevertheless, FIDESZ was determined to merge the two structures. Following their accession to power in May 1998, the new FIDESZ-MPP

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government set about drafting a revised plan. Two years later there was still no agreement as to how the merger was to be accomplished. Despite this deadlock, the Socialists and Liberals instituted a number of defense reforms, reducing the armed forces from a hundred thousand to sixtytwo thousand, reducing the term of conscription from twelve to ten months, converting the Defense Staff into a NATO-compatible structure, establishing a centralized Logistics Command for both the army and air force, and taking the first substantial steps to rationalize the structure of the latter service. After years of steady reductions in the defense budget, the government also committed itself to an annual increase in spending of 0.1 percent of GDP, with effect from 1997. Despite these measures (most of them concentrated in the government's final two years), in overall terms the content of defense policy from the collapse of the Hungarian People's Republic to the Madrid Summit had been negative: dismantling the former system of authority, demilitarizing the political order and resubordinating the structures inherited. While resolving several fundamental issues of subordination and control, Hungary's political authorities failed to articulate a positive agenda conducive to the creation of new and effective armed forces. Legislation did not adequately define basic principles of national security, let alone provide security and defense blueprints precise enough to guide armed forces development. FIDESZ brought an entirely new sense of purpose to this enterprise. Yet since their accession to power, one could still debate whether the results have been commensurate with the effort. EVOLUTION OF THE FIDESZ GOVERNMENT REFORMS The preceding Socialist-Liberal government of 1994-98 had made substantial efforts to strengthen civil, democratic control and establish a comprehensive framework to underpin it. Over the course of this government, the National Assembly's Defense Committee steadily expanded its prerogatives and secured progressively wider access to data and documents. By the time the government left office, the mechanism of oversight also included the Constitutional Court (established in 1990), the Parliamentary Commission for Human Rights (1995), the Ombudsman and Deputy Ombudsman, the State Audit Office (1995, reporting to the National Assembly), and the government's analogue to the State Audit Office, the Government Supervisory Office. On coming to power in May 1998, the Orban government rightly concluded that while these oversight mechanisms had done much to extend civilian, democratic control, they had done little to coordinate defense policy. Thirteen months later, at the conclusion of NATO's bombing campaign in Kosovo, the government drew an equally damaging conclusion—that its own efforts had done nothing to provide Hungary with the armed forces it required. Therefore, the efforts of FIDESZ should be considered in two stages.

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Defense Reform from May 1998 to Kosovo Victor Orban's efforts, culminating in the establishment of a National Security Cabinet (NSC), reflected two concerns: the need for the armed forces and Ministry of Defense to be integrated into a wider national security system, and the absence of higher-level coordination of national security and defense. Even before establishing the NSC, the prime minister set up several other mechanisms designed not only to strengthen his own authority but ensure that higher-level coordination worked its way through the relevant government bureaucracies. Between August 1998 and August 1999, two separate staffs of defense specialists were attached to the government. The smaller of these formed part of the Foreign Affairs and Defense Secretariat of the Cabinet, headed by Zoltan Rockenbauer, one of five state secretaries subordinate to the prime minister. This entire secretariat numbered sixteen people, including the fourperson defense section headed by Reka Szemerkenyi. The more substantial body was the thirty-strong defense staff in the Office of the Prime Minister, headed by Dr. Bela Gyuricza, a retired two-star general, serving with the rank of state secretary and national security advisor. Apart from his own staff, Gyuricza directed the work of three secretariats: Security and Defense Strategy (headed by Peter Siklosi), Defense Coordination and National Security (General Nemeth), and National Security Information Analysis (Mr. Lohn). To Gyuricza fell the principal task of providing high-level direction, integration, and oversight of defense policy. Not surprisingly, his prerogatives touched off a power struggle within the government. Apart from Dr. Gyuricza, a second high-ranking official, Administrative State Secretary of the MOD Tamas Wachsler, became the direct channel of prime ministerial authority in the Ministry of Defense. His position and his extremely vigorous performance realized Orban's intentions, strengthening the linkage between the prime minister, MOD, and National Assembly (thus reinforcing the standing of the prime minister's parliamentary state secretary). But in this first period, the primary driving force within the MOD itself—and the second mechanism of coordination at working level—was the International Branch of the MOD, headed by Dr. Istvan Gyarmati, who served with the rank of ambassador. Subordinated to Gyarmati were four departments: Defense Planning and Policy (headed by Zoltan Martinusz), Euro-Atlantic (Dr. Dezso Kiss), NATO (Ms. Zsuzsa Vasoczki), and Bilateral (Brigadier Saras). This system's merit lay in the fact that through Gyuricza's office a mechanism had been established that provided transparency, coordination, and the timely exchange of ideas and information across most of the security community. At working level, three interdepartmental working teams were set up: (1) Siklosi (head of Gyuricza's secretariat for Security and Defense Policy) plus Martinusz (MOD) plus Iklodi (MFA); (2) Siklosi plus Gyarmati (MOD and Martinusz's superior) plus Joo Rudolf (Under Secretary for Security Policy, MFA and Iklodi's superior); and (3) Lohn plus the heads of the five intelligence and security services.10 These teams in turn provided the nucleus for broader

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consultations extending to the National Assembly, the Institute of Strategic and Defense Studies, and the growing network of nongovernmental organizations. Backed by this strong and focused structure, the Orban government turned its attention to three key areas of activity. The first of these was law and regulation. At the time the government came to power, there was virtually no normative base for force planning and development. With NATO accession imminent, the need to knit together the first principles of defense policy with middle-range and more detailed frameworks became critical. At the top of this normative hierarchy, the government drafted a document on Basic Principles of Security Policy, intended to provide an overarching legal framework for the next ten to fifteen years. This legally binding document gained parliamentary approval with wide cross-party support on 29 December 1998. The second block of issues was to have been addressed by a document on national security strategy, a far more detailed executive framework document not requiring parliamentary approval. Completed in draft form in May 1999, it was overtaken by—and in large part incorporated into—the subsequent Strategic Defense Review. The third block of issues was to have been addressed by a still more detailed executive framework document on national military strategy, originally scheduled for completion by autumn 1999. The substance of this document swiftly became a bone of contention between the MOD (which originally had custody over it) and the Defense Staff (which acquired custody over it) and hence became hostage to the interminably vexing question of the merger of these two bodies. But all told, the government realized the better part of its legislative and regulatory programs. By the time of NATO accession, the National Assembly approved not only the Basic Principles but the government's first "NATO legal package": the Washington Treaty and other basic NATO documents, status of forces agreements (SOFA), as well as amendments to laws on defense, military service, and national security. In equally important spheres, success eluded the government. The first of these—the perennial "sexual question" according to Bela Gyuricza—was the merger of the MOD and Defense Staff. During this first stage, and indeed since, every formula for accomplishing this objective, long accepted in principle by both institutional parties, has stumbled at the same hurdle—subordination of the chief of the Defense Staff (CDS). Although a consensus already existed to abolish the post of chief of defense (a post held by the CDS since 1997), and the principle of "shared authority" between the CDS and minister was accepted in 1998, two key issues have remained a subject of bitter dispute. Half by design, half by default, the system established since 1989 had created a strong chief of defense and a weak minister—who, as noted above, originally found himself effectively outside the chain of command. Gen. Ferenc Vegh, an able and energetic CDS by any standard, recognized the untenability of these arrangements and, despite the reservations of many of his deputies, conceded the logic of his subordination to the minister of defense. The obstacle lay in the fact that under the system put in place by FIDESZ, the minister's deputies and department heads answered to him through the administrative state secretary. To

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State Secretary Wachsler, the incorporation of the CDS into this system—and within his own purview—was fundamental to effective civilian control. To General Vegh, it was an operationally nonsensical solution devised to gratify the ambitions of a particular state secretary. The second, related issue was the subordination of the Defense Staff. Although the minister accepted that the CDS should retain operational authority over the armed forces, he also insisted that the CDS should lose his staff, which would henceforth report to the state secretary. From the operational point of view, this was doubly nonsensical, and General Vegh resigned in spring 1999. The final area of concern to the government, force development, proved equally problematic until the pressures of the Kosovo conflict overcame much of the bureaucratic stalemate. Indeed, what progress had been achieved before Kosovo was also the result of external pressure—NATO's deadlines and planning framework—rather than the government's own efforts. In response to NATO's deadlines, forty-five "target force goals" were signed in June 1998. However, they provided limited guidance on force structuring and force development. Until the launch of the Strategic Defense Review, two variants of force development were under consideration. The first and more radical was developed by the Siklosi-Martinusz team. On the assumptions (a) that a highlevel of professionalism but a small force was required to meet national and alliance tasks (e.g., peace support) and (b) that general war would be preceded by lengthy strategic warning, this team proposed the establishment of two separate structures. The first would be a small, standing force of professionals (Rapid Reaction Force), able to respond rapidly to limited border incursions and IFOR/SFOR-type deployments. The second would be a large reserve force formed on the basis of universal six-month conscription. This would be sufficient to provide rudimentary training for a cohort that would complete its training only when mobilized during the warning period prior to a general war. In its initial form, this variant raised numerous questions about the relationship between the peacetime and wartime command structure, the formation of a noncommissioned officer (NCO) corps, the professional standing component of reserve formations, the structure of arms, and concepts of operations. The Defense Staff was not only mindful of these gaps but skeptical as to whether the government plan could address them. Its own plan called for a single, largely voluntary but mixed conscript/professional force. Albeit more conservative and complicated than the government's variant, the military insisted that once in place, its plan would prove to be a more sustainable and operationally sound structure. At the conclusion of Operation Allied Force, Hungary volunteered a contingent of three hundred men for KFOR. To the astonishment of the government and the MOD alike, it took six weeks to identify and assemble a contingent of servicemen with the requisite qualifications. This discovery was the impetus for Hungary's first systematic attempt to reconcile force structure, economic resources, alliance commitments, and national interests.

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The Strategic Defense Review By the time the Strategic Defense Review (SDR) was launched, the government's decision-making structure had been somewhat streamlined. The death of Bela Gyuricza led to the consolidation of his staff with that of the Foreign Policy and Defense Secretariat (since January 2000 headed by its former deputy head, Reka Szemerkenyi). Moreover, in spring 1999 Prime Minister Orban finally fell out with the widely respected, politically nimble, but independently minded Istvan Gyarmati. After a brief interlude, Gyarmati's former subordinate, Zoltan Martinusz, became State Secretary for International Policy at the MOD. But the principal beneficiary of Gyarmati's departure was the administrative state secretary, Tamas Wachsler, who has gradually asserted his authority over defense reform. Wachsler not only proposed the SDR but persuaded Orban that he was ready to fight for it and lead it. On the surface, the review is the product of a balanced civil-military effort— an SDR Steering Group of senior civilians and military officers, headed by Wachsler, and an MOD Defense Reform Working Group, led by the CDS. But in practice the former body established the main principles and directions of the SDR (approved by the National Security Cabinet on 29 October 1999), and the latter was confined to the task of preparing an Implementation Plan (approved 16 March 2000). Moreover, through his deputy, Karas (Deputy State Secretary for Economic Affairs), Wachsler has effectively widened his sphere of authority within the staff of the HHDF. Although the SDR has received much media publicity and comment, the process has been criticized in the armed forces for being strictly top-down, involving few senior military participants, and lacking virtually any consultation with opposition members of the Parliamentary Defense Committee. Despite the bureaucratic bloodletting that the process produced, there was broad agreement on two points from the start. First, Hungarian forces would need to meet NATO's needs and requirements. Five missions were defined by the government: • Contributing to operations on Hungarian soil alongside NATO allies • Creating limited expeditionary military capabilities to meet Article 5 contingencies • Integrating Hungary's air defense into NATO Integrated Air Defense • Active participation in crisis response operations under the auspices of NATO, the UN, the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe, the Western European Union, and the EU • Creating forces able to respond to natural and industrial catastrophes. Second, the criteria of force structuring would have to shift from functional to operational characteristics: training, deployability, readiness, and sustainability. The gap between the current structure of the forces and that sought can be

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76 measured by the implementation:

eight-year

schedule

drawn up

for

the

programmers'

Stage 1, "Reposture and Rebuild" (2000-2003): reducing force levels and raising welfare standards and conditions Stage 2, "Refurbish and Train" (2002-2005): increase RRF capabilities and introduce NATO-compatible training Stage 3, "Sustain and Modernize" (2005-2008): modernize hardware and systems and professionalize the forces. Five principles are to guide the implementation of these stages: • Force reductions. The number of servicemen should be reduced from sixty-one thousand to forty-five thousand by the end of the first stage, seventy military units should be regrouped into twenty garrisons (and forty deactivated), and twenty-five to thirty bases closed. • Increased defense budgets and defense economies. Budgets should gradually rise to 1.61 percent of GDP on the basis of moderately optimistic assumptions about economic growth. During the first stage, most of the budget should be allocated to welfare improvements; during the second and third stages the budget priority will shift to readiness and modernization, respectively. • Modernization and streamlining of the command-and-control system. The post of Chief of Defense should be eliminated. The minister will direct the CDS (senior military commander), who in turn will command military units through the service staff. • Changes in force structure and operations. Divisions will be restructured into brigades. Training and operations should become increasingly joint. • Technical and infrastructure improvements. PROGRAM OR ASPIRATION? The SDR "Highlights" document submitted to NATO is detailed and substantiated, containing not only a current and projected inventory of peacetime/wartime authorizations but clear illustrations of what has been decided and what remains to be done. Work on the SDR has been accompanied by a still-ongoing study of the costs of manpower, forces, and facilities, as well as analysis of the military value of each component. Yet the review's seriousness does not guarantee its successful implementation. Doubts arise because of three provisional but acrimonious areas of concern, as well as three long-term ones. The first provisional concern—the long-standing "sexual question"—is the integration of MOD and HHDF. Since Gyarmati's departure, Wachsler has succeeded in achieving a large measure of integration through the back door. At

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least one deputy to Laszlo Fodor, the chief of General Staff, has referred to Wachsler's Deputy State Secretary Karas as his "real boss." But is this an example of progress or the classic postcommunist syndrome, whereby personalities matter more than institutions and back channels count for more than the chain of command? If Wachsler or Karas are replaced by weaker figures, the question will be thrown open again: Who is answerable to whom? The second concern—equally long-standing—is how the envisaged force is to be manned. As of March 2000, this was still under discussion. Wachsler, supported by several civilians in Szemerkenyi's secretariat, has proposed a refinement of the two-tier structure originally formulated by the SiklosiMartinusz team in 1998. Under this scheme, professionals will make up twentyfive thousand of the forty-five-thousand-strong force. The balance will be recruited on the basis of six-month conscription, down from the current nine months, but with a further twist: conscripts will have the right to buy themselves out of service after two months. This proposal might well square the circle between the numbers problem and the growing demand for the total abolition of conscription, advocated forcefully by the Alliance of Free Democrats (now in opposition). But it is also seen by the parliamentary left as socially inequitable and by the military as yet another example of Wachsler's lack of operationalmindedness. The third concern, least apparent but most serious, is the failure to elaborate mechanisms for bringing the program to fruition. Twenty-five to thirty bases are to be closed, but how are they to be closed? Instead of devising and implementing plans for their deactivation, many base commanders, like Warsaw Pact commanders of the past, sit and wait for orders. These commanders, moreover, have never been part of a mobility culture and have no experience of such restructuring. Many of them have served out the bulk of their careers in one region and believe it is their right to stay there. If and when the orders come, in what spirit will they be implemented and with what results? In the former Soviet Union, base closures have not produced economies and rationalization but confusion, waste, and environmental desecration. Is this to be Hungary's future, too? Concerns of this kind point the way to more deeply embedded ones. Weak Institutions Despite the trend to coherence under FIDESZ, the fate of Gyuricza's staff, the battle over the administrative state secretary's prerogatives, and the struggle over the subordination of Fodor's deputies illustrate the extent to which structures are still being designed around people rather than functions. Even those institutions that are integrated pro forma do not behave as integrated institutions in practice. Today Hungary's MOD lacks a well-developed committee system straddling the different administrative blocks. In the United Kingdom, most defense policy is made by such committees—interdepartmental (and civil-military) in composition, with access to all data bearing on their respective areas of functional

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competence. Thanks to this system, policy is at least as much the product of ideas from below as of decisions from the top. But in the absence of such a system, blocks can become compartments, and areas of relevance to the whole can be hidden from almost everyone. It is therefore not surprising that Wachsler is concerned to establish who controls Fodor's J4 (Chief of Logistics), a branch that controls over 40 percent of MOD finances. Neither is it surprising to find in other areas that intrigue often takes precedence over teamwork, that information is a strategically guarded commodity, that openness is treated as a threat to survival, and that control over policy matters more than its substance. These practices, staples of the communist institutional culture, still survive at the working level in Hungary. A Half-Reformed Officer Corps By any measure, Hungarian officers are becoming more accustomed to working in a NATO environment and thinking along NATO lines. Out of an officer corps numbering 7,100, a thousand have attended courses in the West. Hungary's own officer education system was thoroughly modernized in 1996. The two officer training establishments (Zrinyi Miklos National Defense University and Bolyai Janos Military Technical Academy) have received accreditation from the Ministry of Education and also provide degrees for civilians in national security studies. Western concepts of leadership are emphasized, as well as English language training. Each academy is well supported by a scholarship program and reserve officer program. Most impressively, 90 percent of officers now possess bachelor of arts degrees. The weaknesses of the system are threefold. By several accounts, the curriculum has become too academic, the result being that the officer corps is divided between those educated under the narrow and very specific militarytechnical curriculum of the old system—by NATO criteria ww-educated—and a younger contingent, largely free of these influences but below NATO standards in military-technical proficiency. The other shortcomings are more serious. The first of these is the fact that 20 percent of those who obtain their degrees—an increasing number of them with master of arts degrees—fail to serve. Although this is a less catastrophic depletion rate than that prevalent in the former USSR, it is still unacceptably high. Hungarian law does not oblige graduates of (taxpayer-funded) military academies to enter the armed forces, and a disturbingly large proportion now take advantage of this legal liberty. The third and more long-term problem lies in an institutional culture still dominated by senior officers, the greater proportion of them products of a Warsaw Pact education. To their widespread irritation, younger Western-educated officers find, and roundly complain, that their postings fail to reflect their qualifications and that opportunities for advancement are stifled. According to Istvan Gyarmati (former state secretary of MOD), as of November 1998 there was still no

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approved scheme for retiring officers whose qualifications and performance were deemed unsuitable. The unsuitability is not only deeply felt but is all too visible in a military system that still resolves around patron-client relationships, in which cronyism is prevalent, and where, at best, promotion is earned by qualifications and seniority rather than by merit. Hungary has pledged to abandon this long-life career model in favor of a NATO "up or out" merit system, but without a "renovation of cadres" the pledge will remain a declaration. .

Absence of a Proper NCO Corps The absence is most apparent in terms of numbers—nine thousand NCOs in an army still sixty-one thousand strong. But it is most telling in training and qualifications. Only 5 percent of Hungarian NCOs speak a foreign language, only half of them have a secondary school diploma, and only one-third of them have any military qualifications. This remains a Warsaw Pact NCO contingent in all but name. Even with Herculean effort, it is unlikely to become a NATOcapable NCO corps until the three stages of defense reform are close to completion. Fortunately, the problem is recognized, and efforts are under way to remedy it. Yet the efforts thus far—establishing three NCO schools, one per service—will be too modest to transform today's one-to-one officer-to-NCO ratio to the one-to-three ratio sought within a reasonable period of time. Deficiency of Civilian Expertise and Meaningful Civilianization The principals within the military educational system (most impressively, Professor Ferenc Gazdag of Zrinyi Miklos) have undertaken impressive initiatives to incorporate civilians into bachelor of arts and master of arts courses largely designed for officer candidates. In many cases, the qualifications of civilians are open to question. To this day, the bulk of civilians in defense institutions are "experts" appointed from within political parties or at least by them. They are politicized by definition and are threatened with demotion or dismissal not only with each change of government but every change in the balance of the governing coalition. The fragility of coalitions combined with Hungary's peculiar literalism about "democratic control" means that parties have a "legitimate" right not only to stake a claim to ministries but to a given proportion of departmental posts within them. This threatens to make a shambles of administrative as well as operational coherence. To judge from their behavior, many political parties are quite prepared to see the pendulum swing from the closed, military monopoly of the old system to a "democratic" MOD sensitive to every twitch in the political barometer. What is totally missing from this conception of "democratic control" is stability, let alone the means of achieving it—a professional and professionally neutral civil service.

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CONCLUSIONS Following an unavoidable period of demilitarization and a debilitating period of drift, a critical mass of Hungarian decision makers began to address the first principles of national defense in 1996. Their efforts in the last years of the Socialist-Liberal coalition and the first years of FIDESZ were deliberate but early steps in the pursuit of serious goals that have only recently been defined with coherence and precision. The approach to NATO membership and its immediate aftermath have had a deeper impact on the depth and tempo of these changes than many realize. Contrary to the expectations of many Atlanticist Hungarians, the military and civilian components of Hungary's defense system have discovered that membership of the alliance is an undertaking, not a solution. At the working level, membership is institutionalizing pressure for change rather than lessening it. This institutionalization—present in questionnaires, demands for Target Force Goals and Target Force Programs, and joint planning sessions of SFOR, not to say joint operations in Kosovo—is the greatest foil to the iron law of inertia that still reigns in much of the Hungarian defense establishment. These pressures have created the momentum we have described, moving first-order questions to the foreground, providing challenges for the capable, and exposing those who are not up to the task. Even a seasoned pessimist is bound to concede that there has been considerable progress since 1996 and that there is likely to be considerably more before the eight year program of "rebuilding," "refurbishing," and "modernization" runs its course. Yet the stark fact is that without changes in Hungary's political culture and a transformation of its defense and security culture, this well-crafted program will fail to meet its objectives. For all the pressures of NATO integration, and for all NATO's comprehensiveness, the alliance has only partially addressed these challenges. From the outset, PfP and bilateral programs "in the spirit" of PfP have attached disproportionate importance to the integration of armed forces, specifically, in Central and Eastern Europe. Yet the problems are much wider. As Reka Szemerkenyi observed some years ago, "There are no programs designed for increasing the expertise of civilians in defense and military matters. As a result, the civilians are losing their comparative advantage originating from before 1990. . . . Instead of closing up the gap between civilians and the military[,] . . . the expertise gap is only deepening and consolidating."11 In fact, the problems might be even wider than Dr. Szemerkenyi suggested. If the "expertise" of civilians is important, are their attitudes not equally important? To a large degree, the attitudes of Hungary's political establishment were formed during the communist period. Much of today's political class bears the imprints of its intellectual, dissident, and anti-military past. Even the most defenseminded civilians suffer from a temperamental schizophrenia, politically wedded to a program of producing "NATO capable forces" yet instinctually wedded to a military policy of demilitarization. The resolution of this contradiction is an obsession with "control," an obsession that not only takes precedence over operational considerations but unwittingly thwarts the emergence of cooperative practices and genuine civil-military collaboration. What incentives now exist for

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choosing a military career in Hungary? Potentially they are vast for a country that in all but name is a frontline state. Were the military establishment well led and well regarded, the challenge, responsibility, and training associated with a military career would more than compensate for its disappointing material rewards. Yet officer candidates will not be attracted to the present demoralized and stigmatized military establishment even if its budget is trebled. Today, unsympathetic civilians are as responsible for this demoralization as the still conservative, unreformed, and top-heavy military establishment. Will NATO's preoccupation with "civilian, democratic control" assist or hinder Hungary's emergence from this state of affairs? Many of the West's more influential experts in civil-military relations share the moral commitments of Hungary's political establishment, commitments that have arisen in response to analogous evils: militarism, fascism, and National Socialism. To be sure, the residues of Hungary's totalitarian past are not only pervasive but subtle, and many Hungarian democrats—as habituated to "bureaucratic struggle" as any communist insider—are not free of them. Yet of equal import is the revolutionary immaturity of Hungarian democracy. In one respect at least the consequence of revolutionary immaturity, communist or democratic, is the same: ideology trumps professionalism and thwarts the emergence of the mature administrative culture that Max Weber termed "legal-rational." The challenge for Hungary as for other postcommunist countries of Central Europe is to create a national security system that is embedded in the liberal democratic order, that serves this order, and is stable and effective. This demands a set of balances and restraints—not to say a level of trust and consensus—that is not yet present. Hungary no longer suffers from an absence of civilian, democratic control. It suffers from an excess of politicization and political interference in what should be a politically neutral and national endeavor. If Hungary aims to implement its defense program by 2008, it will need to grasp this challenge well before then. NOTES 1. As noted by Lt. Col. Laszlo Kelemen, senior legal advisor to the Hungarian MOD, "Before 1989, only professional soldiers were eligible to work in defense administration. Anyone who wanted to work for the MOD had to join the military as a professional soldier." Lt. Col. Laszlo Kelemen, "Civil Control over the Military: The Hungarian Experience," in Conference on Civil-Military Relations in the Context of an Evolving NATO, 15-17 September 1997 (Budapest: Ministry of Defense, Ministry of Foreign Affairs, 1997). 2. The exchange of accession documents preceded by over a month NATO's formal welcoming of the Czech Republic, Hungary, and Poland into the alliance at its 23 April 1999 Washington summit. 3. As summarized by Brig. Gen. Zoltan Szenes, former Hungarian military representative to NATO, currently Assistant Chief of Staff RHQ AFSOUTH, Naples. 4. This, of course, was not true under Stalin. Moreover, the Khrushchev era was characterized by numerous—and in the eyes of the military, capricious and damaging— interventions into military-technical policy. This "amateurism" and these inconsistencies

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and "hare-brained schemes" were a major reason that Khrushchev was ousted in October 1964. His successors placed a high premium on continuity, "professionalism" and "stability of cadres"—not only in the military sphere but in others where Khrushchev had upset established bureaucratic interests. 5. Only those of the Czech Republic could be described as enviable. Poland faces at least two abnormal neighbors, Kaliningrad Oblast (part of the Russian Federation) and Belarus, and a still fragile neighbor, Lithuania, a country that has not yet acquired the means to restrict the operations of Russian organized crime on its territory or across it. 6. The constitution, as amended in May 1995 proclaims: "The Republic of Hungary bears a sense of responsibility for what happens to Hungarians living outside of its borders and promotes the fostering of their relations with Hungary." 7. "Resolution 94/1998 (XII. 29.) OGY of the National Assembly on the Principles of the Security and Defence Policy of the Republic of Hungary." More than once, the resolution notes that "Hungarian foreign policy focuses on its neighbourhood . . . and the welfare of the Hungarian communities living abroad." 8. In the words of Lieutenant Colonel Kelemen, "When in 1993 I visited NATO headquarters, a procurement officer told us about his visit to Budapest. He said that during his stay . . . he was unable to figure out who was responsible for a certain area. In the MOD he was told to go to the HHDF Command, and in the Command he was told to go to the MOD." Kelemen, "Civil Control over the Military: The Hungarian Experience," 159n55. 9. General Kalman Lorincz's resignation was rejected by the president, prime minister, and defense minister. 10. These are the Military Intelligence Office, Military Security Office (military counterintelligence), Information Office (analogous to MI6), National Security Office (analogous to MI5), and National Security Service (analogous to GCHQ and NSA). The establishment of a separate military counterintelligence office was an example of postcommunist change. Like other Soviet and Warsaw Pact military establishments, the Hungarian People's Army had no right to conduct its own counterintelligence, military counterintelligence being the responsibility of "special departments" subordinate to the state security service. 11. Reka Szemerkenyi, "Western Policies and Civilian Control of the Military in Central Europe," in Conference on Civil-Military Relations in the Context of an Evolving NATO, 52, 54.

5

Postcommunist Civil-Military Relations in Poland Piotr Dutkiewicz

Since the end of the Cold War, a rapidly growing number of academics and practitioners have become interested in the broadly defined area of civil-military relations. This interest has been motivated largely by the goal in postcommunist states of replacing the authoritarian model of rule and governance with a democratic one as well as by the emergence of a "nontraditional" role for the armed forces, changing security threats, and a new international environment in established democracies. This chapter is primarily concerned with the postcommunist transfer of liberal-democratic civil-military norms to Poland in the last decade. The chapter begins with a review of the process of civil-military reforms in Poland, followed by an examination of its political and legislative framework. It will conclude with a review of the weaknesses of civil-military relations in Poland and some recommendations for improvement. THE PROCESS OF CIVIL-MILITARY REFORMS IN POLAND Civil-Military Reforms until 1995 Despite the fact that Poland experienced rule by military figures at several points in its modern history, a political culture based upon a civilian oversight model and yet supportive of the military has shaped Polish civil-military relations since 1989.1 Even so, when communism collapsed in Poland in 1989, the reform process initially was complicated by the fact that the transition from

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communism occurred earlier in Poland than it was to in the rest of Eastern Europe. As a result, the negotiations between the leaders of the Solidarity trade union and the communist regime occurred in the absence of any delineated tolerable limits for internal and external communist powers. An added complication was the very real possibility of Soviet intervention. Postcommunist civil-military relations in Poland in essence began in December 1990, with the election of Lech Walesa as president. Among other policies of Walesa and his allies was the wish to move the country out of the grip of the Communist Party and to establish effective democratic civilian control over the armed forces. While communist deputies continued to hold control over the Sejm (the lower house of the National Assembly), the fact that a noncommunist president had significant powers in the field of military affairs became a source of strength for the political forces seeking to make the transition from communist rule. Moreover, Walesa used his position to maximize his authority and increase the level of democratic control over the military—albeit democratic presidential control, which conflicted with the view of democratic parliamentary control of the military. Thus, during the first years of Poland's postcommunist period, the government was ideologically divided between a reformist president and a communistdominated parliament. As a result, a long-lasting conflict was generated over which civilian authority was to control the armed forces: the president or the legislature (the Sejm and Senate) and cabinet (prime minister and defense minister). Neither free and multiparty elections in 1991 and 1993 nor the control of the legislature by Walesa's Solidarity party settled the dispute. Instead, matters intensified with the entry of the Polish military command on the side of the president, in contrast to the ideal of democratic civil-military relations according to which a professional and truly neutral military is supposed to await the resolution of civilian disputes and accept whichever vision prevails. Indeed, the military command's entry was stimulated by factors unique to the Polish case, such as the bitterness and length of this debate, the historically proactive nature of the military leadership, and the pro-military national political culture. Moreover, given that the military leadership was willing to accept democratic control in order to replace the highly unpopular penetration model of communist civil-military relations, such an alliance was not surprising, considering that the most objectionable aspects of this model—Communist Party cells, the Main Political Administration (MPA), the highly politicized military education system, and the employment of military personnel in such nontraditional roles as agricultural labor—ceased only with the ascension of Lech Walesa to the presidency. Thus, the armed forces owed a political debt to Walesa. As well, the military remained sensitive to the prospect of being controlled by a fractious and politically divided Sejm; in this respect, it saw the option of democratic parliamentary civilian control as less attractive than control vested solely in the person of the president, especially one who had already shown himself to be sensitive to the concerns of the armed forces. In this respect, Walesa appeared more willing to grant the armed forces command a

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greater degree of professional institutional autonomy than was the legislature, which in contrast appeared to be inclined to micromanage military affairs. Thus, an informal alliance was formed between Walesa and his allies and top military leaders, the effect of which was to antagonize the proponents of democratic parliamentary civilian control. With this combination of elements in the background, tensions between the president and the legislature reached their height in September 1994, when Walesa with his aides tried to involve the armed forces directly in a political dispute. Walesa wanted the defense minister, Vice Adm. Piotr Kolodziejczyk, a former ally of the president, removed in light of his conflict with the president over the issue of civilian oversight. The military commanders, including the chief of the General Staff, the commanders of the various military districts, and the commanders of the service branches, were asked by the president at a luncheon whether they still had confidence in the defense minister; all but two of the officers agreed that Kolodziejczyk should be removed, and Walesa expected him to resign in the face of what had amounted to a vote of no confidence.2 Both Walesa's request and the response of the officers were improper in terms of the ideals of democratic civilian control. Faced with such an obviously "political" demand, all of the officers should have abstained from the vote (as two of them did); according to the standards of civilian oversight, the removal or appointment of a defense minister is not the prerogative of officers. A Sejm subcommission investigating this event condemned Walesa and called for the installation of a system of democratic parliamentary civilian oversight; the same investigation concluded that the generals had behaved with reasonable correctness, given the circumstances in which they found themselves.3 Nonetheless, this "Drawsko Affair" (as these events came to be known, after the luncheon's location at the Drawsko Pomorskie military training grounds) brought relations between the president and parliament to a new low, highlighting the desperate need for the resolution of the festering issue of civilian control over the military. During this period of "dual authority," civil-military reforms in one sense were limited to the passage of relatively minor reforms.4 For instance, the 1967 Defense Law was not completely amended, due to the political impasse that dominated relations between President Walesa and the new Sejm Thus, the roles of the National Defense Committee, the president, and the defense minister were not formally changed but remained somewhat ambiguous. The institutional position of the National Security Bureau in the Polish defense policy-making structure was also left unclear. Moreover, each authority competed to develop plans to reconstitute a Polish National Guard and reorganize the General Staff. In another sense, despite the early political difficulties, the country managed to complete several important reforms of a legislative or administrative nature. The first stage involved the elimination of communist control mechanisms. To this end, the MPA was transformed (and ultimately disbanded) between December 1989 and April 1990. Secret police monitoring of the military was also brought under the rule of law and became far less pronounced—that is, the focus shifted from "political" crimes to legitimate national security concerns. Paramilitary and

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militia units, originally intended to act as politically reliable counterweights to the regular armed forces, were greatly reduced in size. The leadership of the armed forces was depoliticized, and many high-ranking communist officers were retired. Finally, military educational institutions were reformed; a curriculum emphasizing the rule of law, democracy, and nontraditional military operations such as peacekeeping, as well as traditional military subjects, replaced a curriculum emphasizing Marxism-Leninism and socialist internationalism. Poland's defense doctrine was the next item to receive attention in the reform process. To this end, a 1990 resolution was signed by General Wojciech Jaruzelski as president of Poland and passed by the National Defense Committee (still dominated by communists but including the noncommunist Prime Minister Tadeusz Mazowiecki). This document represented an early example of the reorientation and renationalization of Poland's defense doctrine,5 the main features of which included the following: • Defensive orientation • Smaller military forces • Redeployment of troops6 • Rethinking of Poland's relations with the rest of Europe • Smaller budgetary resources.7 Another tentative effort to establish a system of democratic civilian oversight occurred in late 1990, when the democratically elected, postcommunist legislature passed laws governing the state border and the organization and utilization of the Border Guard service. The transparency explicit in this legislation—rules of engagement governing the use of force and the degree of force the border guards could employ—represented an important early step toward the establishment of a system of democratic civilian oversight over Polish security affairs. Further codification of Poland's democratic control and oversight measures over the military were triggered by Poland's NATO pitch and its 1994 participation in NATO's Partnership for Peace (PfP) program.8 The political forces in Poland appeared to require the discipline of international negotiations and external political pressures to impose some order on their own political squabbling, which was otherwise showing itself to be counterproductive. Indeed, the issue of "proper" civil-military relations became one of the key criteria used by NATO for evaluating potential members. Western politicians and experts sent clear messages to Polish authorities that a situation as ambiguous as that in Poland might harm its interests in joining NATO. Such "conditionality" triggered within Poland an emphasis on sharing all the values stressed by NATO and on most of the reforms that more deliberately addressed civil-military relations in the second half of the 1990s. As one senior official pointed out, "The

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sole condition which will determine the accession of Poland to NATO is her willingness to accept and implement all the obligations which this entails, including civilian control over Polish armed forces."9 The Political Structure and Legislative Framework The era of dual authority finally ended with the election of Aleksander Kwasniewski as president in late 1995. A reformed communist, Kwasniewski was able to come to an agreement with the reformed communists in the Sejm over the future direction of Poland's system of civilian oversight. This new era of agreement was marked by the eventual passage in 1997 of a new constitution regulating the principles of democratic civilian control of the military in Poland. The constitution notes explicitly the principle of political neutrality of the armed forces, stating that they are subject to civilian democratic control. It outlines as the sole task of the armed forces the protection of the "country's independence, the indivisibility of its territory as well as ensuring the security and intractability of its borders." The constitution confirms the military's allegiance to the tripartite rule of power—the president, the government, and parliament. It also defines the separation and complementarity of two main executors of state power over the armed forces—the president as the supreme supervisor ("supreme guardian of sovereignty and security of the state and of the integrity and inviolability of its territory") and the Council of Ministers, which ensures internal security and public order as well as external security of the state. This division is intended to separate the strategy-making and constitutionalsupervisory functions of the president from the administrative and policy-making functions of governmental structures (subordinated to the Council of Ministers). In essence, the new constitution redefined the role of the president as a central office of the state. In many ways, it was specifically designed to attack the political prerogatives enjoyed by the former president and leave the position of president in a much weaker institutional position vis-a-vis parliament. As the commander in chief of the Polish armed forces, the president appoints the chief of General Staff and the commanders of the land and air forces, and the navy. In peacetime, he exercises this supervision over the armed forces through a civilian minister of national defense; in wartime, he appoints the supreme commander of the armed forces. The president's other roles affecting the military and defense include: • Watching over the constitution and sovereignty, security, as well as integrity and indivisibility of the national territory • Forming the National Security Council, an advisory body for defense and security issues • Deciding, on the prime minister's motion, on mobilization in case of extreme threat

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• Convening the Cabinet Council—the Council of Ministers, chaired by the president— to consider important issues and reconcile different opinions • Determining the main direction in the development of the armed forces and their preparation for defense • Coordinating the preparation of a defense strategy. At the same time, the new constitution removed the special restriction on the prime minister's prerogative to appoint certain ministers—defense, interior, and foreign affairs—which earlier had to be done in consultation with the president. Moreover, the constitution passed the president's authority to perform "general leadership" over defense issues to the Council of Ministers. The National Security Council consists of the president, the prime minister, the speaker of the parliament, the minister of defense, the minister of home affairs, the minister of finance, the minister of foreign affairs, the chair of the National Bank, and the head of the National Security Bureau (the executive body of the National Security Council). The constitution provides for three "extraordinary situations" with respect to which the constitutional authorities have unrestricted discretion in imposition, performance, and implementation: • Martial law (imposed by the president in cases of an external threat, aggression, and obligations resulting from an alliance on the motion by the Council of Ministers and when the Sejm is not in session) • A state of emergency (imposed by the president in cases of threat to the constitution, security of citizens, and public order; on the motion by Council of Ministers • A natural catastrophe (imposed by the Council of Ministers). All these situations are constitutionally supervised and controlled by the Sejm, which can overrule the constitutional authorities. The Sejm may also repeal decrees that the president might have issued during martial law, when the Sejm is unable to convene. There are concerns that further legislative changes are still urgently required to clarify and specify the legal transformation of the Polish defense system, delineating the respective competencies of the principal players—the president, prime minister, and parliament. Primary in this regard is the draft Law on Competencies of State Organs in the National Security System of Poland, which is expected to clarify and develop such issues as: • The division of responsibility between the Council of Ministers and the president • The functional meaning of the term "supervision over the armed forces" (president) and "general leadership in the field of defense" (Council of Ministers)

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• The activities and interdependencies among state organs working during peacetime, extraordinary situations, and wartime • The responsibilities and subordination of the supreme commander of the armed forces, appointed during war time by the president but working within the Ministry of Defense (MOD). The main legislation that governs the role of the minister of defense is the 1995 Law on the Duties of the Defense Minister.10 This law makes the minister of defense the individual who "exercises overall control of national defense" and explicitly extends this control to include the Polish General Staff.11 In effect it makes the defense minister responsible for issues related to universal military duty, managing troop cadre, overseeing Military Police activity, administering financial, material, and technical matters in the armed forces, and managing the MOD's finances. This law ended a previously existing dualism of civilian and military structures of authority within the MOD. Under its provisions, the civilian minister of defense heads the entire defense establishment, and the General Staff becomes an integral part of the MOD, no longer answerable to the president. Thus, the chief of General Staff, commander of the armed forces in peacetime and the highest-ranking officer on active military service, as well as the commanders of the armed forces, are subordinated directly to the minister. The Military Information Services (for military intelligence and counterintelligence) and the National Defense Academy are also under the minister's control. For persons on active military service, the minister's decisions have the power of a military order. Responsibility for liaison with parliament rests with the deputy minister of the MOD. Indeed, it is clear from various sources that the Polish parliament is now an active and effective participant in a substantial range of executive decisions on matters of defense. For instance, between 1993 and 1997, twenty-one major laws that related directly to defense and the armed forces were enacted by the Sejm, including consideration of the defense budget. The primary role in this regard is played by the defense committees of the Sejm and the Senate. Parliament's primary future tasks concerning the military appear to include sensitizing other parliamentary committees having to deal directly or indirectly with matters related to defense and security, as well as educating parliamentarians on military matters so that they can be real and effective interlocutors with the military. The Law on the Duties of the Defense Minister also reformed the organizational structure of the Ministry of Defense. Many redundant and overlapping components within the ministry were either eliminated in their entirety or merged with other administrative entities. The ministry, which had been composed of fifty-two organizational units, was reduced to thirty-two departments, administrations, offices, and sections.12 The other significant reform covered by this legislation was the reorganization of the top military command structure, including the creation of a new Ground Forces Command, and removing the army from the direct supervision of the General Staff.13

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Drafts of certain new laws currently under parliamentary debate may give additional, positive input to civil-military relations—for instance, a Law on Military Information Services (their current status is regulated by different laws from 1967, 1990, and 1991); a Law on the Military Gendarmerie (their current status is regulated by communist-based laws from 1963 and 1967, and a MOD ruling from 1992); a Law on Civil Defense; and a Law on a Restructuring Fund of the Military and Aviation Industry. Thus, the Polish armed forces were significantly transformed. In 1989 a force of 412,000 regular military personnel, the Polish military now numbers only 240,650.14 The reduction had a number of administrative, personnel, and other ramifications.15 For instance, there is now a fourth military district (the Krakow Military District) in eastern Poland,16 giving the nation a measure of "all-around" defense that previously did not exist.17 The army has reorganized its divisional and regimental structures into a system of divisions and brigades (in order to match NATO practice), and several offensive-oriented capabilities (such as numerous combat-bridging units) that used to be part of Poland's Warsaw Pact commitment have been curtailed to levels more suited to present needs. This restructuring was driven by several key documents. The first was the report prepared by the Inter-Ministerial Commission for the Reform in the Organization of National Defense in 1991. Two other documents published in 1991 created a framework for Polish defense and security policies, the "Assumption of the Polish Defense Policy" (approved by the president) and "The Security Policy and the Defense Strategy of the Republic of Poland" (adopted by parliament's Defense Committee). In addition, the transformation of the Polish armed forces is also being carried out according to a fifteen-year program called the "Framework Program for the Development of the Armed Forces in the Years 1998-2012." Adopted by the government in September 1997, the plan is intended to modernize the armed forces.18 The main areas of the transformation directed by the "Armia 2012" program include the creation of small, mobile, more professional, and cheaper armed forces with an improved level of operational readiness; the organization of rapid reaction forces; and the development of an entirely reformed air defense system. Civil Society and Military Relations One aspect of control common to all democracies is the need for informed national debate on defense matters. The underlying requirement is a sufficient number of defense and national security experts, external to the armed forces and government, who can catalyze interest and discussion of defense issues in the media and on the national level. They are also of value in providing independent advice that parliamentarians require in order to discharge their responsibility of oversight of national security policy and to scrutinize and control defense budgets in an effective manner. In Poland such nationwide debate on defense matters is lacking, but an abundance of evidence from public opinion polls and parliamentary debates

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indicates strong support for NATO enlargement. Overall, the military in Poland enjoys a high level of prestige in society. NATO's invitation to Poland in 1997 to join the alliance led to an increase in support for NATO: in spring 1997, 90 percent of Poles believed that Poland should seek integration with NATO, while 47 percent of respondents thought that it was necessary to obtain membership as soon as possible. For the majority of respondents (61 percent), accession to NATO is much more important than good relations with Russia.19 Military Education The system of military education and training in Poland is undergoing significant restructuring. At present, it is composed of four military academies, four higher officers' schools, eleven warrant officers' schools, and fifteen noncommissioned officers' professional schools. Military education is integrated into the overall civilian educational system, with full compatibility of educational degrees. There are some very interesting (and unique in Central Europe) educational initiatives that may help to fill the gap in the neglected area of preparing civilian cadres for military structures (mostly in the MOD). In August 1994 the National Security Bureau's Department of Analysis and Forecasting developed a concept of educating senior-year university graduate students, as well as participants in one-year postgraduate studies, in the area of defense and security, having in mind the needs of the MOD and other governmental organizations. In 1995 the National Security Faculty was formed at Warsaw University as a tripartite joint venture, involving Warsaw University, the National Security Bureau, and MOD. The Faculty's Program Board, which provides general supervision and guidelines, is composed of these three organizations. AREAS OF WEAKNESS As one analyst has described the state of democratic civil-military relations in Poland, "To say that civil-military relations in Poland have come a long way since the collapse of communism would be an understatement. In short, Poland has moved from a unitary party-state, in which the military was one of the most politicized and tightly controlled of all the state organs, to one in which the trappings of democracy are evident everywhere."20 If "democracy is not as firmly implanted in Poland as many as in the West would prefer, . . . there is little doubt that the Poles have satisfied NATO's demand that the military must be under the effective control of civilian authorities."21 Nevertheless, the political and legislative structure of democratic control over the military in Poland was not achieved without difficulty. Indeed, while "the fact is that significant progress has been made in the period since the collapse of communism,"22 political constraints on democratic civil-military reforms came to be replaced by more practical limitations—time, money, and expertise. For instance, the Law on the Duties of the Defense Minister had its critics for having

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"seriously weaken[ed] the role played by the Chief of the General Staff. In addition to making him subordinate to the Defense Minister, the General Staff becomes only one of five departments within the MOD (the others are finance, parliamentary and social affairs, logistics and defense policy)."23 Moreover, the work of the various security and defense oversight agencies has suffered from a lack of coordination, and legislative committees—one of the most important sources of civilian legislative oversight—have been few in number, understaffed, and underfunded.24 At the same time, some areas of legislation have become complicated and tedious; for example, new statutes were required for each of the numerous departments, administrations, sections, and offices of the MOD. Likewise, the regime regulating interaction between the MOD and parliament is considered overregulated, decentralized (funded as it is by both institutions), and confusing. For instance, there are fourteen categories of parliamentary procedural documents to which the MOD is obliged to respond in a strictly prescribed manner. It has been suggested that the regime should be simplified and replaced with a single normative regulation by the minister of defense that establishes the participation and the duties of MOD representatives in their work with parliament.25 Likewise, the 1967 Law Concerning the General Duty of Defending the Republic of Poland needs to be significantly updated, as noted by the former Polish defense minister, Stanislaw Dobrzanski. Although amended in 1991, the law has remained a relic of the communist era. In addition, laws are required on the imposition of states of emergency and martial law among other outstanding areas. As a result, the process of bringing Poland's defense standards and procedures into conformity with those of NATO has been laborious and slow. One result has been the relatively small share of the standards and procedures being turned over to the Polish military and defense personnel. According to former Deputy Minister Andrzej Karkoszka, only a small proportion of needed reforms in Polish defense regulations have actually been carried out. The Sejm has also been experiencing frequent difficulties in grappling with the communist past. Lustration laws26 have been repeatedly held up by political squabbling; a renewed effort in 1996-97 was unsuccessful, undoubtedly due to the ambivalence of many Poles toward the past and a perception of the 1981 declaration of martial law as a necessary evil. Moreover, it is significant that no charges relating to the 1981 events have been brought forth against General Jaruzelski or his top advisors. Related to the pace of the reform efforts (and possibly compounding its negative effect), proposals have been made to rotate top military commands and postings to reduce the possibility of "empire building" within the military administration.27 Opposition to such proposals have arisen from fears that they would not only be personally disruptive to the individuals affected, but also undermine the "institutional memory" of the military's top command.28 It was concluded that the policy would reduce the armed forces to the lowest common denominator of civilian inexperience and inadequate training.29

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Military restructuring also exposed several areas of weakness for the Polish defense establishment. For instance, during the downsizing of twenty-one thousand of the armed forces by 1999-2000, the reduction of a significant number of the officers, including senior ones,30 raised several important issues: What would be the mechanism of their dismissal? Would reduction be used for the elimination of the "critics" of the arrangements in civil-military relations? How would new dismissals/nominations reflect the complex relationship between the president and the prime minister? How would the dismissed officers be reincorporated into civilian life (which de facto might influence the activities of the Association of the Reservists and Veterans)? How could a proper professional career structure, based on merit, be set up and implemented? (For instance, there are examples of officers trained in the West who subsequently were unable to find a position according to their qualifications.) Restructuring aside, other problems also need to be addressed: "moonlighting" (after-hours civilian jobs); mismanagement and theft in the army; personnel, structural, financial, and other problems, including the length of military service; the need for professionalization; the introduction of an alternative service; and low morale and living standards; and others.31 The Military Budget Among the principal obstacles for the transformation of the armed forces have been budgetary constraints. Poland is feeling pressure from the International Monetary Fund (IMF) to keep a balanced budget, and from NATO to fulfill its military obligations. Such conflicting pressures are currently causing budgetary problems that affect the implementation of the military reform program and obviously limit many activities of the armed forces. Moreover, some concerns have been voiced that budgetary constraints are restricting the training and operational capacity of the air forces and the navy.32 Hovering around 2.3 percent of GDP in the late 1990s, Poland's military budget has been reasonably strong.33 Although low by NATO standards (where the average is close to 3 percent of GDP), the budgetary situation is relatively stable. However, in real terms the situation is more bleak, as is the prospect for the next decade.34 In 1999 Poland spent eight U.S. dollars per capita for defense, while the NATO average was 440 dollars.35 In 1999, based on a breakdown of the military budget into its constituent elements, it was concluded that despite a generally stable context there were serious budgetary problems in specific areas. For instance, military research and development was virtually nonexistent, and the percentage of the budget allocated for procurement between 1995 and 1997 was very low—11.7 percent of total defense expenditures in 1995, 14.4 percent in 1996, and 20.6 percent in 1997, compared with the 30 percent of the military budget that typically is spent on procurement in NATO countries. Additional problem areas included spare parts for Poland's aging military hardware. For example, in 1996 Krzysztof Wegrzyn, undersecretary of state at

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the Polish defense ministry, estimated that only 25 percent of the demand for spare parts was being met. In the case of major weapons systems, only a modest program was practical at this time. Poland manufactured an upgraded version of the Russian T-72M1 main battle tank—the PT-91 Twardy (i.e., Hard)—for the Polish and export markets; however, it was expected that the army would be able to purchase only fifteen to twenty of these tanks in the succeeding five years (a number that did not allow economies of scale).36 The purchase of domestically produced Huzar combat helicopters and the Grom/Loara antiaircraft/ antihelicopter missile defense system has also been announced, but details regarding these programs (such as delivery dates and series runs) are unclear. Ideally, the Polish air force would like to replace its Soviet-era fighters with American fighters (F-16s or F-18s), as much of the existing inventory (especially the MiG-21s and MiG-23s) is expected to become worn out or obsolete early in the new century.37 In addition, the government has barely managed to find the money necessary to retain its contract soldiers. "By 1998, the army was reporting that there were very few conditions for contract service. This is a major problem since the army said it would need at least 20,000 contract soldiers once service time was reduced by one year."38 Therefore, a transition to a fully volunteer armed force appears highly problematic in this budgetary context. Moreover, due to budgetary constraints some projects—such as the development of a Polish-Ukrainian joint peacekeeping battalion and other PfP exercises—have been delayed or reduced in scope. The Polish army has been able to afford live-fire exercises only with obsolete equipment and older stocks of ammunition, which it is not concerned about replacing. In some cases, the armed forces have had to generate revenue by leasing military training facilities to their NATO allies. "Given the West's reluctance to admit Poland as a full member, Kolodziejczyk pushed bilateral agreements with NATO countries as a means of gaining Western support and as a vehicle for trying to get financial assistance for modernization of Polish forces."39 The future seemed grim.40 Thus, while Poland's economic performance has not been entirely disastrous, its weakness has affected military reforms. Even so, there is hope that the situation is only temporary. Indeed, Poland is widely considered a success story of postcommunist economic transition. After a period of difficult and harsh reform (the so-called shock therapy) early in the transformation process, its economy has become one of the strongest in Eastern Europe.41 In fact, Poland has enjoyed strong capital inflows and has not needed loans from the IMF to support its balance of payments accounts.42 Moreover, Poland's foreign direct investment ($6.6 billion [U.S.] in 1996 for a total of $20.6 billion since 1989) is the highest among Eastern European countries.43 The present principal challenge for Poland's authorities is "to ensure that the incipient recovery is transformed into lasting high growth."44 In the late 1990s, unemployment grew steadily, causing significant social problems (impoverishment, reduced access to education, crime, etc.). At between 13.6 and 15.9 percent (January 2000-April 2001), Poland's unemployment rate has been rather high by Western European and North American standards.45 Moreover,

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even though the national debt declined significantly between 1995 and 1998,46 the situation with regard to the federal budget has been rather tight, and for that reason the government under Jerzy Buzek (1997-2001) labeled its first budget the "austerity budget." Notwithstanding these challenges, accompanying this economic growth has been Polish economic integration with Europe. In fact, exports from Poland to the European Community/Union increased from $3,467,000,000 in 1988 to $8,446,000,000 in 1992, while exports to other Central and Eastern European countries decreased from $2,366,000,000 to $709,000,000.47 Poland is also among several postcommunist states invited to enter into talks to join the European Union (EU). While many reforms remain to be undertaken before Poland will meet the EU's membership criteria (especially those involving the integrated European currency), EU membership is expected to be offered to Poland sometime in the mid-2000s. Indeed, as a sign of its economic readiness for EU membership, Polish officials have also announced that they will not be requesting "transition periods" to implement many of the EU's policies should membership be forthcoming.48 Nonetheless former defense ministers have maintained that there is little the Polish military could do to modernize antiquated equipment until the economy improves.49 There are preliminary signs of such improvements. In 2000 Poland's living standards were rising quickly, and opinion polls showed that Poles were dropping their gloomy outlook on life as membership in the EU drew closer. However, only one year later, in 2001, the situation was changing: "Today . . . things couldn't look gloomier for Poland."50 The country's "Eastern European tiger" status had been taken over by Hungary, with the Czech Republic and Slovakia catching up fast and virtually every indicator suggesting that Poland was on the verge of an economic crisis.51 "Civilianizing" Civil-Military Relations Another problem area has been the speed with which Poland has attempted to "civilianize" the operations of the MOD. Efforts to inject civilians into ministry staff positions merely for the sake of having civilians perform certain roles frequently resulted in undertrained and inexperienced personnel being outclassed by their military counterparts.52 This situation resulted in tension between the two sides and prevented the development of the mutual respect necessary for good civil-military interaction.53 In some instances (such as the case of a former deputy minister of defense, Danuta Waniek), the placement of politically reliable civilians into positions of authority evoked ominous memories of the MPA. Part of the problem has been recruiting well-trained civilians for careers in the military structure. At the moment, a military career for a young, well-educated Pole is not attractive financially nor professionally. Furthermore, candidates for such jobs are not prepared to be professional partners to their military counterparts. For instance, in 1999 there was not a single graduate of the National School of Public Administration (a main source of young cadres for

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careers in the civil service in Poland) in the MOD. The Bureau for Parliamentary Affairs in the MOD, which was established in 1994 and provided specific expertise, was disbanded in 1997 and has not been replaced. As a result, Poland lacks a sufficient number of civilians, with "instant" expertise and management skills, in defense administration, though in recent years civilians have become more visible in the MOD. Moreover, civil-military relations are largely interpreted by many experts and practitioners from a narrowly defined civil-military "control" perspective, wherein the principal task of civilians is to "control" rather than cooperate with the armed forces in creating an effective democratic order and an integrated national security and defense policy. This interpretation has had a twofold result. First, since this is a view largely found among military personnel and senior officers who have been slow to accept the principles of civilian oversight, it has not only tended to restrict cooperation between the military and civilians, but has linked progress in this area to the replacement of senior officers who were trained during the communist era.55 Second, the response among the military to this narrow and seemingly vindictive civilian "control" has been to close ranks and create sophisticated smokescreens, leading to an atmosphere of uncertainty and the psychology of a besieged fortress. In the view of some military personnel, while civilians in the Ministry of Defense and parliament may be trained in general strategic studies and the broad area of security, they lack the specific professional knowledge of military structures, training, regulations, military planning, procurement, and military customs needed to engage constructively in discussion with the military. One author considers that the Polish government must face the problem of "the need for greater civilian involvement in the military-political arena." As long as, in essence, military expertise remains in military hands, "it will be hard to convince senior military officers to take civilians and their ideas seriously."56 Such an environment has created an adversarial relationship between civilians and the military, the nature of which has been attested to both by military personnel regarding the presence of civilians in the MOD and by civilians concerning senior officers and their understanding of civil-military relations.57 The high profile of the issue of civil-military relations, as well as awareness of the relevant literature (particularly among those in frequent contact with Western military and civilian establishments) and constant official Western requests over the years for reports on that issue, have created fatigue in Poland. As a result, a "proper answer culture" has developed, by which "on paper" it may appear that Poland has surpassed many of the Western countries themselves in norms of democratic civil-military relations, whereas compliance is actually marked by predominantly formal or nominal "mimicry" or "imitation."58 There also has been confusion among Polish military personnel about civil-military standards to be met for NATO membership, given that the "Perry principles" (named after William Perry, former U.S. secretary of defense) had been predominantly political in nature and originally emphasized democracy, free trade, and

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civilianization of the military rather than military interoperability and capability.59 Moreover, as noted, the high level of prestige in society enjoyed by the military in Poland has not produced open public debate over military issues. Part of the problem has been the shortage of senior military officers with training or experience in dealing with the open media. At the same time, a deficit of military expertise among civilian journalists has hampered that important element of active democratic civil-military relations. As a result, negative media coverage of aspects of military life (e.g., alcoholism), training (such as initiations for new conscripts imposed by older soldiers), discipline (for instance, cases of thefts of pistols and rifles by soldiers) dominate media coverage of military issues, thereby sidelining (or replacing) more important debates about the financial, social, and military implications of current policies and defense budgets, and about social and professional problems in the armed forces. With a few exceptions, the current media coverage is somewhat artificial, aimed (aside from exposes) mainly at supporting official policy of security/defense priorities such as NATO enlargement. CONCLUSIONS Since 1989, Poland has made major advances in defining the relationship between national, political, and military institutions according to Western democratic institutional and legal standards. While there remain some shortcomings, the situation is neither unexpected nor impossible. For instance, that there are areas (like policy planning and procurement) where civil-military relations are still underdeveloped or misunderstood by both civilians and the military is an entirely natural phenomenon, given the rapid transition to democratic institutions in Poland. Moreover, since policies and proposals aimed at improving the quality of democratic civil-military relations in Poland have been forthcoming, the content and quality of these relations can be expected to change. The Polish armed forces define themselves and operate within a prescriptive constitutional and legal framework. Existing laws specify the role of the armed forces and the relationship of defense with parliament and other key government institutions. The defense responsibilities of the president, prime minister, and defense minister are all clearly codified in law and in the constitution. However, regulations defining relations among key players themselves are underdeveloped or missing. This area still requires legal and procedural intervention. Parliament is an active participant in a substantial range of executive decisions on matters of defense, including the defense budget. Parliamentary oversight of defense issues is appropriate and effective. There is, however, ample space for improvement by the standards of mature NATO members, particularly in the area of greater transparency of defense issues and of the defense budget (e.g., publication of the budget by category and content would aid understanding as to how defense money is being spent). The legislative branch would also be able to

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exercise control more effectively if its members were better educated in defense and military matters and had better access to independent expert advice. Overall, the national debate on defense issues is relatively weak, focusing almost entirely on NATO enlargement at the expense of debate on the national security concept, the role of the armed forces in a modem society, existing internal problems of the armed forces, and issues related to military spending and budget. Here an improvement might be achieved by enhancing communication between MOD and the media. Also, a proper delineation of legally defined responsibilities and patterns of communication among main stakeholders—MOD, parliament, the president, and the prime minister—is clearly required. The relationships within the existing structure are tentative, in the absence of laws and regulations providing precise and unambiguous direction. There is a lack of effective liaison between civil and military institutions (such as between MOD and the parliament). This relates not only to the lack of an institutionalized liaison body (like the U.S. Defense Department's congressional liaison), but also to a general lack of deep military expertise among civilian authorities, which is essential if they are to formulate informed policy arguments and decisions. There is also no well-established, genuinely independent civil service, capable of providing stability and continuity in the area of military policies and programs. The introduced Law on Civil Service is a very positive step toward remedying this shortcoming. As these and other recommendations and proposals for improving the quality of democratic civil-military relations in Poland are considered and implemented, Poland will not only increase its distance from its communist past, but also reaffirm the dramatic and historic steps it has taken toward joining the democratic family. NOTES This chapter draws significantly from the author's report on Poland, Report on Specific Problems of Civil-Military Relations in the Czech Republic, Poland and Hungary, edited by Harald von Riekhoff and Natalie Mychajlyszyn (Ottawa: Carleton University, 1999). Mark Yaniszewski's substantial research contribution to the report is also gratefully acknowledged. Parts of the chapter also contributed to the project, The International Diffusion of Liberal-Democratic Norms: The Case of Civil-Military Relations, directed by Professor Albert Legault, Laval University, Canada. 1. In addition to the Jaruzelski regime, which ruled Poland under martial law in 1981, modern Poland has experienced three other periods of military government. Between 1926 and 1935, Poland was ruled by Gen. Jozef Pilsudski. A former socialist politician, wartime commander of the Polish Legion, and commander of the Polish forces during the Russo-Polish War of 1919-20, General Pilsudski seized power from a democratically elected (but ineffective) civilian government in a violent coup. Upon Pilsudski's death in 1935, Poland was ruled until 1939 by a military junta known as the "Government of the Colonels," a nationalist and semi-authoritarian regime.

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2. Minister Piotr Kolodziejczyk did not resign but, as a result of Walesa's actions, lost for a while effective control and oversight over the military. 3. The subcommission's findings can be found in Paul Latawski, "In Defense of Presidential Prerogative," Transition 1:8 (26 May 1995): 40-43. 4. For instance, the Sejm passed the following laws: On the Establishment of the Day of the Polish Army, On the Military Oath, On the Insignia of the Armed Forces of the Polish Republic, and On Retirement Benefits for the Career Military. 5. On the early development of Poland's defense doctrine see Jeffrey Simon, Central European Civil-Military Relations and NATO Expansion, McNair Paper 39, Institute for National Strategic Studies (Washington, D.C.: National Defense University, 1995), available at www.ndu.edu/ndu/inss/macnair/mcnair39/m039ch04.html. 6. Efforts at implementing the defense doctrine in a way that reflects Polish society's attitudes about the military have included the relocation of 55 percent of the armed forces along the western border (down from 75 percent in 1993) and 45 percent in the east (up from 25 percent 1993). The relocation involved significant costs. For more details, see Simon, Central European Civil-Military Relations and NATO Expansion, 11. 7. Ibid., 76. 8. During this time, Poland continued to participate in the CSCE (Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe), the CFE (Conventional Forces in Europe), and Open Skies processes. For Poland's international military agreements see Leonard Lukaszuk, "The International-Law Context of Poland's National Security and Defense," Mysl Wojskowa, no. 1 (January-February 1995): 5-14, translated as "Impact of International Pacts on Defense Policy," FBIS-EEU, 95-059 (28 March 1995): 14-17. As far as Poland's participation in the PfP program is concerned, Poland signed the Framework Document on 2 February 1994 and agreed to its Individual Partnership Program on 5 July 1994. "Focus on NATO: Partnership for Peace Participants (as of 30 April 1995)," NATO Review 43:3 (May 1995): 5. 9. Report on Specific Problems of Civil-Military Relations in the Czech Republic, Poland and Hungary, 47. 10. For the text of this law see "Law Dated 14 December 1995 Detailing Duties of the Minister of National Defense," Dziennik Ustaw, no. 10 (30 January 1996): 159-61, translated as "Law on Duties of the National Defense Minister," FBIS-EEU, 96-120 (30 January 1996): 1-4. For detailed discussion of these laws, see Dale R. Herspring, "CivilMilitary Relations in Post-Communist Poland: Problems in Transition to a Democratic Polity," Communist and Post-Communist Studies 33 (2001): 93. 11. "Law on Duties of the National Defense Minister," Articles 1.1 and 1.2. 12. In addition to the minister of defense, the "civilian" side of the Ministry of Defense consists of fourteen departments, two offices, fourteen administrations, and one independent section. The departments are: the Administrative Coordinating Department, the Department of International Security, the Budget Department, the Department of Armament and Military Equipment Supply, the Economic Department, the Department of Infrastructure, the Department of Cadres and Military Education, the Inspection Department, the Legal Department, the Department of Research and Project Implementation, the Socio-Educational Department, the Department of the Defense System, the Department of Foreign Military Affairs, and the Department of Cooperation with NATO. The fourteen administrations that in essence constitute the General Staff of the Ministry of Defense are: the Administration of Command, the Administration for Materials, the Administration for Mobilization and Recruitment, the Administration for Territorial Defense, the General Administration, the Operational Strategic Admin-

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istration, the Organizational Administration, the Administration for Logistics Planning, the Administration for Programming the Development of the Armed Forces, the Administration for Reconnaissance and Radio Electronic Warfare, the Administration for Troop Training, the Technological Administration, the Administration of the Communications Troops and Information Science, and the Administration of the Military Health Service. In addition, the Ministry of Defense also encompasses the Offices of Press and Information, the Office of Complaints and Interventions, and the Topographical Section. 13. The various operational commands of the armed forces (including the commands of the ground forces, the air force and air defense forces, and the navy) also are directly subordinated to the minister of defense, essentially bypassing the Polish General Staff. Also directly subordinated to the minister of defense are: the Headquarters of the Military Police, the Inspectorate of the Military Information Service together with the units subordinated to it, the National Defense Academy, the editorial staffs of Polska zbrojna and Zolnierz wolnosci (an illustrated magazine), the Central Military Library, the Museum of the Polish Armed Forces, the House of the Polish Armed Forces, the Representative Artistic Ensemble of the Polish Aimed Forces, the Central Military Archives, the Printing House of the General Staff, military retirement offices, the Central Clinical Hospital, and the Staff of the Civilian Defense of the Country. 14. Figures are from The Military Balance: 1999-2000 (London: Oxford University Press/International Institute for Strategic Studies, 1999) and various other editions in that series. 15. For more details, see Herspring, "Civil-Military Relations in Post-Communist Poland," 80-81. 16. According to The Military Balance: 1999-2000, 68, the military districts are Pomerania, Silesia, Warszaw and Krakow, while another source states "in 1988 it was announced that the four military districts . . . would be replaced with only two—the Pomeranian and Silesian Military Districts." Herspring, "Civil-Military Relations in PostCommunist Poland," 81. 17. For more details see Herspring, "Civil-Military Relations in Post-Communist Poland," 76-77, 81. 18. See "Wywiad Prezydenta RP Aleksandra Kwasniewskiego dla 'Polski Zbrojnej' 08.10.1999 roku" (in Polish), available at www.prezydent.pl/nowosci/krajwy99.html. 19. Rzeczypospolita, 29 May 1997. 20. Herspring, "Civil-Military Relations in Post-Communist Poland," 71-72. 21.Ibid. 22. Ibid., 94. 23. Ibid. 24. The principal oversight agencies have been the Council of Ministers, the Defense Affairs Committee of the Council of Ministers (KSORM), and the minister of defense. 25. Report on Specific Problems of Civil-Military Relations in the Czech Republic, Poland and Hungary, 51. 26. The laws were designed to screen out individuals with ties too close to the former communist regime or who had been during that time in government, the armed forces, the security services, or other important institutions. 27. See Pawel Swieboda, "In NATO's Waiting Room," Transition 2:8 (19 April 1996): 52-53; Beata Pasek, "Poland Strengthens Civilian Control over Army," OMRI Daily Digest (21 November 1996): 2.

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28. This accusation was frequently repeated by the left against former chief of staff Wilecki. Report on Specific Problems of Civil-Military Relations in the Czech Republic, Poland and Hungary, 44. 29. Ibid. 30. See Herspring, "Civil-Military Relations in Post-Communist Poland," 80. 31. Ibid., 80-83. 32. Report on Specific Problems of Civil-Military Relations in the Czech Republic, Poland and Hungary, 47. 33. Calculations are based upon figures presented in The Military Balance, 1997/98, 37, 90-92. Also see Herspring, "Civil-Military Relations in Post-Communist Poland," 86. 34. Herspring, "Civil-Military Relations in Post-Communist Poland," 86. 35. Ibid., 84. 36. For more details on the PT-91 "Twardy" program, see Jan Sek, "Poland Develops Long-Range T-72 Tank for Domestic and Export Markets," Jane's International Defense Review 26:6 (June 1993): 489. 37. Report on Specific Problems of Civil-Military Relations in the Czech Republic, Poland and Hungary, 45. 38. Herspring, "Civil-Military Relations in Post-Communist Poland," 83. 39. Ibid, 88. 40. Ibid, 79. 41. Since 1996 Poland's economic output has expanded at rates of 6 to 7 percent yearly. OECD Economic Surveys, 1999-2000: Poland (Paris: Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development, 2000), 9. 42. See also Concluding Statement of the IMF Mission to Poland, 23 May 2001, available at www.imf.org/external/country/pol/index.htm. 43. According to the OECD, total foreign direct investment was $30,651,000,000 (U.S.) at the end of 1998. OECD Economic Surveys 1999-2000: Poland, 10, 34, and 195. 44. Ibid, 23-24. 45. Polish Official Statistics: GUS, available at www.stat.gov.pl/english/index.htm. 46. At the end of 1998 gross external debt was $42.7 billion (U.S.). OECD Economic Surveys, 1999-2000: Poland, 7. 47. Jennifer Shea and Christof Stefes, "EU Integration of the Visegrad Countries," available at www.wws.princeton.edu/~jpia/July96/shea.html. 48. Report on Specific Problems of Civil-Military Relations in the Czech Republic, Poland and Hungary, 35. 49. Herspring, "Civil-Military Relations in Post-Communist Poland," 83. 50. Polityka, 10 November 2001, available at polityka.onet.pl. 51. "Whatever Happened to Poland?" Jane's News Briefs, 9 August 2001. 52. Part of the problem has been that Western assistance during the transition from communism has focused more heavily upon the "military" side of the civil-military equation. This has placed the civilian component of the ministry at a disadvantage relative to the military component. For a discussion of the weakness of the civilian component within the Polish Ministry of Defense, see Reka Szemerkenyi, Central European Civil-Military Reforms at Risk, Adelphi Paper 306 (London: Oxford University Press/International Institute for Strategic Studies, 1996), 71-73. 53. Chris Donnelly, "Defense Transformation in the New Democracies: A Framework for Tackling the Problem," NATO Review 45:1 (January 1997): 18.

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54. Report on Specific Problems of Civil-Military Relations in the Czech Republic, Poland and Hungary, 48. 55. For more details see Herspring, "Civil-Military Relations in Post-Communist Poland," 80. 56. Ibid, 95. 57. Report on Specific Problems of Civil-Military Relations in the Czech Republic, Poland and Hungary, 45-46. 58. See Piotr Dutkiewicz and Sergei Plekhanov, "The Politics of 'Mimicry': CivilMilitary Relations in Eastern Europe," Etudes Internationales 31:2 (June 2002). 59. Joe Biden (chair of the U.S. Senate NATO Observer Group), Discussion on Protocols to the North Atlantic Treaty of 1949 on Accession of Poland, Hungary, and the Czech Republic, remarks to the U.S. Senate, 27 April 1998, available at www.fas.org/man/nato/congress/1998/s980427.htm. For discussions of these issues see Hearing on NATO Enlargement, Senate Committee on Armed Services, 23 April 1997, available at www.fas.org/man/nato/congress/1997/s970423t_smith.htm.

Part III

NATO Candidate States

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6

Civil-Military Relations in the Baltic Republics Harald von Riekhoff

Unlike their Western counterparts, which could enjoy the postcommunist peace dividend, the three Baltic republics were saddled at the fall of the Soviet Union with the reverse task of rapidly constructing a national defense system from little more than a zero base. During the communist era, few Baltic nationals had been attracted to a professional career in the Soviet military. Those who had served as Soviet officers or noncommissioned officers (NCOs) generally did so in the support services rather than in combat arms. In departing, the Soviet (and later Russian) armed forces effectively dismantled most of the military installations in the region; consequently, on achieving full political independence in 1991, the Baltic republics could neither draw on a large reservoir of trained professional military personnel nor utilize a properly functioning infrastructure and stocks of available military equipment. Inherited Soviet military doctrine and practices were unsuitable for the new defense tasks as well as politically suspect. Public support for the nascent national armed forces was low. The security challenges that confronted the reborn Baltic states, therefore, were immense. The situation was further exacerbated by the fact that they had no external security guarantees to compensate for their military weakness. Paradoxically, these military birth traumas were not without their advantages, from the perspective of shaping civil-military relations in a new and fragile democratic environment, for the fledgling military—a melange of ex-Soviet officers, returning emigre professionals, and newly trained indigenous officers— had neither the strength nor cohesion to mount an effective opposition to military

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and political reform, and they did not carry sufficient weight to become an attractive target for politicization. With few minor exceptions, the militaries in the Baltic states have managed to preserve their political neutrality in the face of considerable political turbulence much better than they could have done as a powerful interest group, which might easily have been sucked into the vortex of domestic politics. The success of the three Baltic republics in creating entirely new military establishments in a single decade, and this under conditions of domestic political strain and a modicum of material resources, is by any standards an impressive achievement and one that has received proper international recognition.l During the first phase of development—that is, between 1991 and approximately 1995—most energy was devoted to creating the physical and organizational foundations of a national defense force, together with drawing up the legal and constitutional framework necessary to ensure proper democratic civilian control over the armed forces. In the second phase, after 1995, the emphasis shifted to bringing existing military strategy and force structures into line with a recently formulated long-term national security strategy that was driven by the goal of meeting NATO membership criteria. Despite these serious efforts, however, there remains a sizable gap between the present small forces and the projected strengths of fully mobilized forces that are to be mounted in the event of war. Estonia has 4,800 active troops and eight thousand frontline reserves but plans to mobilize forty thousand in case of war. Latvia's current force strength consists of five thousand regulars and 14,500 frontline reservists, with plans to mobilize fifty thousand in case of war. In Lithuania there are 12,700 regular forces, 10,200 frontline reservists, and ambitious plans for the mobilization of 138,000 in ten years' time.2 The three Baltic republics pursue the same goal, which is to develop "democratically controlled and accountable, well-administered, well-led and adequately equipped self-defense forces, built on conscription, mobilization, and total defense of the North European model."3 The aim of this chapter is to assess what was attempted and achieved toward realizing this particular goal during the first decade following independence. THE GEOPOLITICAL CONTEXT After independence, Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania, all of them small states (with populations of 1.45, 2.45, and 3.7 million, respectively) located on the periphery of Europe next to an internally unstable and potentially hostile Russian neighbor, found themselves in an unenviable strategic situation that was exacerbated by the absence of effective international security guarantees. None of the Baltic states has the capacity to mount an autonomous self-defense; each created instead a "training-mobilization" army instead of a "standing force" army.4 Each state's army consists of lightly armed defensive forces, composed of a small core of regular forces and conscripts supplemented by a large reservoir of trained reserves that can be mobilized for total territorial defense in the event

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of a foreign invasion. The Baltic concept of territorial defense is derived from the Finnish and Swedish models. According to Maj. Gen. Ants Laaneots, chief of the Estonian General Staff, "Total defense embraces the idea that military defense of a small country is able to achieve its goals only when the entire population participates in it with all available means."5 The aim of territorial defense is to offer active resistance during the first phase of a war and then to fall back on guerilla tactics and passive resistance after foreign occupation. Both Scandinavian and NATO experts have declared the territorial defense concept to be suitable for the Baltic context; the concept enjoys general public support and has historical precedents in the Baltic states. Nonetheless, it is not without its critics. To implement the concept requires high standards of discipline, training, and armament in the reserve component. Robert Vitas (writing specifically of Lithuania) poses the question of whether the model of Sweden—a very wealthy, ethnically homogeneous, and stable democracy—is applicable to the Baltic republics, where conditions are far less favorable. He warns that "groups of civilian volunteers with weapons who embrace a political orientation will not build . . . statehood, and could easily destroy it."6 The political landscape in the Baltic republics is characterized by considerable volatility. Each country has about a dozen political parties. National elections, though peaceful and orderly, have registered a considerable swing in the popularity of individual parties. The political pendulum has been most extreme in the case of Lithuania, where dissatisfaction with the reform program of the center-right coalition, which had governed since independence, led to a 1992 surprise election of a reform-communist government. After 1996, the political pendulum returned to the original center-right position. This trend was reinforced by the 1998 presidential election of Valdas Adamkus, a Lithuanian emigre who had spent most of his life in the United States. The volatility of the Baltic electorate is partially the product of public frustration with the economic reform programs of the governing parties and partially a reflection of the nature of the political parties, which are built around the personalities of individual leaders rather than ideologies or policies. The fluctuation in election outcomes has been exacerbated by a frequent reconfiguration of governing coalitions between elections. Such volatility by itself is not incompatible with democratic norms, provided that the electoral process is orderly and voter participation remains high, and it can be observed in several Western countries. But it impairs long-term policy planning and structural reforms, including in the defense sector. The defense portfolio in the Baltic republics is not a particularly prestigious or popular one and thus often falls to minor coalition partners with little influence on cabinet decisions. Latvia, to give but one example, had ten changes of defense ministers during the first decade following independence, hardly an enviable achievement, and the record of musical chairs in Estonia or Lithuania has not been much better. It is inevitable that political conditions of this kind should have a negative impact on the creation of credible defense establishments and the reform of civil-military relations.

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On the security front, the Baltic states find themselves in the unenviable situation where an independent national defense is clearly insufficient, where formal security arrangements with Russia are politically unacceptable, and where for long NATO membership remained an uncertain prospect. In the face of this dilemma, intra-Baltic cooperation has been an appealing interim option. But Baltic security cooperation has not been unproblematic; it serves as a temporary Ersatz until more robust international security arrangements can be established.7 The Baltic reluctance to enter into any formal security pact with Russia is selfevident—the Lithuanian constitution, in fact, explicitly forbids such an arrangement with the former Soviet Union—and President Boris Yeltsin's offers in 1997 and 1998 of unilateral security guarantees were immediately rejected. Neither the Baltic governments nor their publics at large regard today's Russia as an explicit security threat; nevertheless, Russia remains a very real security concern, given the unresolved historical legacy, the gross power imbalance, the problematic presence of large Russian ethnic minorities in Estonia and Latvia, and Russia's hegemonic "near abroad" assertions.8 Even beyond Russia, the entire geostrategic region of the Commonwealth of Independent States (CIS), is, as noted by one observer, "still characterized by shortages of democracy and stability, unpredictable political development, high-level militarization, absence of democratic control mechanisms over the armed forces, and hot spots of military conflict."9 The citizenship status of the large Russian minority population in the Baltic states has been a particularly vexing problem in bilateral relations, and it also remains one of the most controversial and potentially destabilizing issues in domestic politics. It is much less of an issue in Lithuania, where the nonLithuanian minority population is smaller and not dominated by a single (Russian) minority, as in Estonia and Latvia. Also, from the outset Lithuania has adopted more liberal laws, granting citizenship to all permanent residents. After independence, Estonian nationals constituted merely 61.5 percent of the overall population; in Latvia the figure was even lower, at 52 percent, the remainder mostly ethnic Russians. The Baltic political parties to the right have advocated extremely restrictive citizenship and language laws that would in essence confine citizenship to those who held it in 1940 and their immediate descendants. In contrast, political parties on the left favor an open policy that would accord citizenship to all Baltic residents. Several draft citizenship laws in Estonia and Latvia have met with virulent attacks from Russia and demands for sanctions. They have also encountered criticism of a more measured kind from the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE) and the Council of Europe. In fact, Latvia was refused entry into the Council of Europe on account of the discriminatory quota system contained in its 1994 draft citizenship law.10 Latvia has been the principal target of Russian threats and pressure targets, and it is also the most vulnerable of the Baltic republics; its Russian minority is the largest, its state structures are weakest, and its economy is most narrowly based. The citizenship laws that were eventually adopted—and in the case of Latvia, further liberalized by a 1998

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national referendum—offer citizenship to those who meet a five-year residency requirement and demonstrate proficiency in the official language. In principle, this compares with the norms generally practiced in Western democracies, even if certain controversies emerge in the day-to-day administration of these laws. The fallout of the citizenship issue for civil-military relations is indirect but not insignificant. Unlike issues of foreign policy—such as NATO and European Union (EU) membership or participation in international peace-support operations, on which a very broad interparty consensus has emerged in all Baltic states—language and citizenship politics in Estonia and Latvia have remained emotionally charged and politically divisive issues. There has been some negative spillover into civil-military relations, making political parties less willing to compromise and cooperate on matters dealing with defense reform. It should also be noted that restrictive citizenship laws reduce the pool of available army conscripts and thus impact directly on national defense preparations. The Western powers tend to regard the Baltic republics as a quasi-unit, a perception that is reinforced by the degree of intra-Baltic cooperation that has developed since they regained their independence. In historical and cultural terms, diversity rather than unity has been the prevailing Baltic experience. Estonia and Latvia, though ethnically and linguistically distinct, have a common Protestant, Nordic heritage and a long historical affiliation with Germany and Scandinavia. In contrast, Lithuania is a Central European country, with a dominant Catholic, Baroque culture and close historical ties with Poland. In the period immediately following independence, the Baltic republics sought to overcome their initial isolation and vulnerability by initiating a variety of intra-Baltic cooperative ventures in the political, economic, and security spheres. Three major consultative organs were created: the Baltic Assembly, which twice a year brings together twenty parliamentarians from each state for discussion and debate; the Council of Ministers, intended to direct intergovernmental cooperation and coordination; and the Baltic Council, a joint session of the Baltic Assembly and Baltic Council. Despite the initial euphoria about Baltic cooperation and talks of a possible confederation, however, the concrete results have been modest in scope. While an element of cooperation has continued, one can observe a parallel centrifugal tendency to recreate historical links, as each Baltic country searches for special partners outside their immediate group. In the defense and security sphere, Estonia has forged particularly close working relations with Finland and the other Scandinavian countries. Lithuania, for its part, leans increasingly toward Poland, all the more as Poland is now a NATO member; this is manifested by the creation of a joint Lithuanian-Polish peacekeeping battalion (LITPOLBAT). It has not been as easy for Latvia to find an identifiable partner, although Germany appears as a likely, and in view of their close historical ties, a logical candidate for this supporting role. The 1997 EU decision to include Estonia, but not the other two Baltic states, in the next round of EU accession negotiations was badly received in Riga and Vilnius, and it underlined the limits of Baltic cooperation. The intensified efforts

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by all three states to seek NATO membership following the 1999 Washington summit, together with the 1999 Helsinki summit decision to include all three in the next round of EU accession negotiations, revived intra-Baltic cooperation somewhat. Estonian, Latvian, and Lithuanian defense establishments have since collaborated in preparing their annual NATO Membership Action Plans (MAP), by which candidate members report national progress in meeting NATO's accession criteria. But even in these joint endeavors one can observe occasional dissent. Estonia and Latvia favored a common NATO accession strategy for all three, while Lithuania has been more ambivalent and sought to gain unilateral advantage from its superior defense planning and reform efforts. In 1999 Latvia's foreign minister, Andris Berzins, criticized the Lithuanian government for seeking "to jump the NATO queue," an attempt that in his view was counterproductive and risky, as it would have sent the wrong signals to Moscow.11 By undertaking cooperative defense efforts, the Baltic states have sought to convey the message that they are not merely security "consumers" but can also be effective "producers" of security. The following are some of the principal Baltic cooperative defense measures that have been undertaken; it should be noted that third parties participate in most of these ventures and were frequently instrumental in their creation. The Baltic Security Assistance Management Group (BALTSEA), established in 1997, aims to coordinate the security and defense assistance programs of fourteen Western countries in the Baltic states. These foreign assistance programs, however well meant, have often been random, short term, poorly suited to the Baltic security context, and competitive rather than cooperative in nature.12 The Baltic Battalion (BALTBAT) was founded in 1994 for the purpose of preparing the Baltic states for future participation in international peace-support operations. Several Western countries, headed by Denmark, have assisted the project with equipment and training. BALTBAT's headquarters are in Adazi, Latvia; it has training bases in each country, with each member contributing a national company. A BALTBAT company has served with IFOR and SFOR in Bosnia as part of the Danish battalion, with members taking turns in providing the principal contingent at half-year intervals. There are plans to upgrade BALTBAT from a peacekeeping battalion to a full-strength infantry battalion, capable of performing all kinds of peace-support and enforcement tasks beyond the narrow scope of traditional peacekeeping. The results of this Baltic participation in peacekeeping missions have been remarkably positive, not the least because of its constructive impact on civil-military relations and the enhancement it brought to the popular image of the armed forces. "The project became a channel for the Baltic states to acquire Western military equipment, including weapons and communication means; to spread the knowledge of the main operational language of the NATO integrated military structure; to introduce NATO-compatible procedures; and learn Western military culture."13

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The Baltic Air Surveillance Network (BALTNET) is an integrated air surveillance system that connects national radars and covers the entire territory of the three states. Norway took the lead in its foundation. It became operational in 2000 and is NATO interoperable by concept and design. The Baltic Naval Squadron (BALTRON) is a combined naval squadron, inaugurated under German leadership in 1998, which performs mine-clearance operations, environmental protection, and search and rescue, and serves as a naval component in international peace-support missions.14 The Baltic Defense College (BALTDEFCOL) opened in 1999 in the Estonian university town of Tartu. Its aim is to train much-needed staff officers from the three Baltic states "for future service in their national ministries of defense, national and international (e.g., NATO or [peace-support operation]) headquarters from the regiment/brigade level upwards, as defense attaches or military academy instructors."15 The staff course is for a full year and can accommodate eight officers per country, plus a few officers from participating Western nations. The importance of the Baltic Defense College for civil-military relations can hardly be overestimated. The shortage of trained staff officers was identified by most interlocutors for this study as a major bottleneck in the development of a constructive working relationship between the national defense staffs and civilians in the ministries of defense. Also, the Defense College plans to organize brief training courses for civilians, and the standard curriculum will include courses on civil-military relations. Finally, the work of the Defense College and its publications (e.g., Baltic Defense Review) have raised the level of public awareness and informed discourse on Baltic-related security matters. It thereby fills a void that has previously impeded the growth of democratic civil-military relations in the Baltic republics. THE EVOLUTION OF CIVIL-MILITARY RELATIONS IN THE BALTIC REPUBLICS If one were to construct a crude balance sheet of achievements and shortcomings in the realization of the elusive principles of civil-military relations, the Baltic republics deserve high scores on a number of dimensions. One is the creation of democratic political institutions, whose impact is felt at all levels of society, including the military. The deep-rooted Baltic reaction against the unhappy experience of Soviet rule tends to reinforce the fundamental commitment to democratic principles among civilians and military alike. The delicate international security position in which the Baltic republics find themselves tends to strengthen democratic principles, inasmuch as their national security demands close cooperation with democratic states in Western Europe and North America, which they seek to emulate. Also, the three countries have performed well in establishing, in their respective national constitutions and in subsequent laws and statutes, formal civilian authority over the military. The goal of NATO membership, which has been pursued with single-minded determination, acts as a powerful catalyst not only in enhancing the professional

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standards of their armed forces but also in enforcing civilian control over their militaries in order to meet NATO membership criteria. On the negative side of the ledger one must list inadequate allocation of resources for national defense in all three Baltic republics. The situation is more than a reflection of the enormous economic hardships that have confronted these countries since the restoration of independence. It also denotes a political situation marked by frequent changes of government, a general lack of public interest in matters of defense, and an absence of popular support for adequate defense spending. For most of the first decade following independence, the Baltic republics allocated on average approximately one percent or less of their GDPs to defense. This is entirely inadequate when compared to the NATO average of three percent, all the more so as the Baltic states faced the task of creating viable defense forces rather than merely maintaining and modernizing existing ones. The Latvian record of defense spending is the worst among the Baltic republics. Drastic defense cuts in 1997 and 1998 reduced defense expenditures to 0.067 percent of GDP, giving Latvia the rather dubious distinction of having the lowest defense budget in all of Europe. Not only was defense spending insufficient to meet obvious defense needs but the frequent slashing of budgets already approved by the national legislatures brought waste, by the cancellation of ongoing programs, and created a general climate of uncertainty that discouraged any serious long-term defense planning. The budgetary situation has improved somewhat since 1999, and with it the capacity for long-range defense planning, both as a result of the economic recovery and the desire of all Baltic republics to meet NATO's two percent guidelines. In spring 1999 a group of visiting NATO military specialists and American politicians made it clear that Latvian defense spending had lagged behind Estonian and Lithuanian efforts, which had been quite modest themselves, and warned that "there will be no free lunches en route to NATO." The reform of the Latvian armed forces would have to be paid for by Latvia herself, and NATO expects defense spending from 1.5 percent to 2.0 percent of GDP from prospective alliance members.16 Lithuania, which has led the Baltic states in defense spending both in absolute and relative terms, was the first to reach NATO's 2.0 percent target, in its $300 million (U.S.) defense budget for 2001. Although both Estonia and Latvia plan to realize the 2.0 percent target, many critics consider the Latvian projections quite unrealistic and doubt that the NATO target can be met before 2005.17 A second major problem in establishing effective civilian authority over the military stems from underlying force structures. All three Baltic republics have adopted similar three-tiered national defense structures, consisting of small cores of regular forces and conscripts, much larger voluntary reserve forces—8,500 in the Estonian National Defense League (Kaitseliit); sixteen thousand in the Latvian National Guard (Zemessarg); and twelve thousand in the Lithuanian National Volunteer Defense Force (KASP)—plus paramilitary forces like border guards under the control of the ministers of interior during peacetime. Ministers of defense are responsible for any military training that the latter units receive

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and would assume overall control in case of war or emergency.18 While the voluntary reserves form the largest component in this tripartite structure and enjoy considerable grassroots political support, their training and equipment have been deficient, and for much of their existence they have not been fully integrated into the overall military command structure. A certain amount of rivalry between regular armed forces and reserves is normal, and possibly even productive, in all systems. In the case of the Baltic states, however, this friction was intensified by the fact that the national guards predated the formation of regular armed forces and had played a significant role in the struggle for independence. Therefore, they tended to view the regular forces as latecomers and rivals, and because of the inclusion of former Soviet army officers in the regular forces, to regard them with a degree of suspicion. Officers of the regular forces, in turn, resent the prominence accorded to paramilitary and reserve units within the overall defense structure and, not without justification, regard them as military amateurs. The early years of independence witnessed a series of incidents involving national guard members—shootings, clashes with local police, acts of insubordination, and even minor mutinies against political authority. These acts received wide media coverage and contributed to a generally negative public image of the military. Occasionally members of the reserves with strong political connections engaged in partisan political activities and thereby violated the cardinal principle of military neutrality. Activities of this kind were particularly pronounced in 1993, when members of Lithuania's ferociously nationalistic National Guard felt betrayed by the shift of political power to the left and tried to oppose the election of a former Communist Party secretary, Algirdas Brazauskas, who was running for the presidency as head of the leftist Democratic Labor Party. Some National Guard members proclaimed themselves as the nation's army, protector of the nation's interests, thus implying that the interest of the state and the nation do not always coincide.19 If the incomplete integration of the national reserves into the overall military command structure undermined national defense preparations and impaired effective civilian control at the top, the problematic relationship between regular armed forces and voluntary reserves has eased substantially during the last few years. The occurrence of disciplinary incidents and partisan political activities by members of the reserves has declined markedly. The professional standards of the Baltic reserves have improved as the result of several factors, including assistance from foreign countries (in particular from the United Kingdom and the Michigan National Guard to Latvia and the Pennsylvania National Guard to Lithuania), the deployment of regular personnel with the reserves, and improved equipment. In addition, all three Baltic states have made efforts to integrate regular forces and reserves into common command structures. Lithuania led the way in 1993, when Defense Minister Linas Linkevicius moved to bring the voluntary reserves more firmly under the authority and direction of the Ministry of Defense. In part, this was accomplished by recreating the pre-World War II position of

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"commander of the armed forces," with authority to coordinate all of Lithuania's military and paramilitary forces.20 Integration into a single command structure with a uniform set of regulations moved rather slowly, and it was not until 1998 that a satisfactory solution was found, by which the Voluntary Service of National Defense was reorganized to become the National Defense Volunteer Forces and was integrated into the overall structure of armed forces.21 Estonia's 1995 National Defense Act placed the Defense League under the direct control of the minister of defense and integrated all paramilitary forces into one overall defense structure. Latvia has been somewhat slower in achieving the same integration. Initially it found itself with two distinct defense forces, subject to different rules and regulations and subordinate to two different institutions: the National Guard subordinate to the president, and the fledgling regular defense forces, navy, and air force subordinate to the minister of defense. Integration of the regular and paramilitary forces was achieved in stages. In 1998, all Latvian land forces, including the Latvian Peacekeeping Battalion (LATBAT) were placed under the command of the National Guard. Finally the 1999 Law of Armed Forces created the same rules and regulations for the regular forces and the National Guard. Despite some of the problems briefly touched upon here, it would be a mistake to regard the reserves as fundamental impediments to the emergence of satisfactory democratic civil-military relations. To take the example of Estonia, Kaitseliit members are organized along county lines and thus have close ties to their communities. This makes them collectively a natural and very useful link between the military and civil society.22 The Kaitseliit's educational program stresses the intellectual, social, and spiritual development of its members and thus serves as a valuable instrument of democratic socialization. The third problem relates to constructing a cooperative partnership between civilian authorities and the military in the Baltics. The relationship between these two institutions is never automatic or easy, even in mature democracies, and a certain degree of creative tension is inevitable and not necessarily unproductive. In the case of the Baltic republics, this tension is complicated by the sheer novelty of the association and the absence of precedents. Moreover, it is strained by the shortage of professional military personnel and experienced civil servants with the necessary skills to address and resolve these problems. Soviet-trained members of the Baltic officer corps have been particularly sensitive on the issue of civilian control, as they are inclined to equate some of its forms with the allintrusive political control of the military by the Communist Party. The legacy of the Soviet bureaucratic mindset further impedes the creation of an effective civil-military partnership. In its final report, the International Defense Advisory Board to the Baltic States (IDAB) spoke of the "Soviet legacy, which left behind it the imprint of a culture demanding conformity not initiative, control not delegation, compartmentalization not cooperation, and secrecy not transparency. The habits ingrained by fifty years of such a regime

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have proved hard to shake off." Constructive civil-military relations require proper interagency communication and collaboration at all levels. But this goal is obstructed by a culture of excessive secrecy and vertical decision making, whereby government agencies conceive of power in terms of hoarding, rather than sharing, information, and wherein all decisions have to be referred to the top of the hierarchy. The IDAB, despite its generally warm praise for the defense efforts and achievements of the Baltic republics, found at the heart of governance a lack of effective coordination and warned that it "could have serious adverse effects if the system were put under strain, either through the heightening of external risk or through major civil emergency."24 Constitutional and Legal Basis for Civil-Military Relations Although there are obvious differences in specifics and nuances, the Baltic republics have followed basically the same route in establishing firm legalconstitutional bases for placing their fledgling armed forces under the authority and control of legitimate government agencies. All three have not only formally adopted the principle of democratic civilian control of the military but also afforded that principle broad support, within the military and society at large. Democratic civilian control over the national armed forces is exercised through a tripartite structure, consisting of the president, the cabinet, and parliament. The respective authority of these institutions depends on the specific context (peacetime or wartime), the issue (such as defense planning or force deployment decisions), and the country in question (for instance, the peacetime authority of the Latvian prime minister over defense is defined more explicitly than in Estonia and Lithuania, where presidential prerogatives are somewhat stronger). After the restoration of their independence, the Baltic republics either restored their interwar constitutions, as did Latvia in a gesture of historical piety, or modeled their revised post-Soviet constitutions along the lines of the interwar constitutional order. The latter had been derived from the French Third Republic—which, in retrospect, was perhaps a less than felicitous choice, in view of the political turmoil that plagued the Third Republic and the tendency of the original Baltic constitutions to lapse into benign personal dictatorships before long. The new constitutional order of the Baltic republics is of a hybrid nature that incorporates elements of the weak presidential system of the French Third Republic, together with a Westminster-type parliamentary system, and in the case of Estonia also borrows certain features of the German system. Overall, the general political trend has been to move toward a Westminster system. This was confirmed by the 1998 decision of the Lithuanian Supreme Court that Lithuania was a parliamentary democracy rather than a presidential one. The impact of this shift on civil-military relations has been to establish parliament and the cabinet, rather than the presidency, as collectively the principal authority for defense policy making, at least during peacetime conditions.

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Latvia The tripartite exercise of civilian authority over the military can be traced to the Latvian constitution and the Latvian Defense White Paper 2000, which, in essence, also reflects Estonian and Lithuanian constitutional provisions.25 Article 42 of the Latvian constitution designates the president as the supreme commander of national armed forces, with authority to appoint a commander in chief in times of war. Article 43 gives the president the power to declare war, on the strength of a prior decision by parliament. Under emergency conditions such as war or a foreign invasion, the president's executive power is greatly enhanced, allowing him or her to declare a state of war or order mobilization, even prior to a decision by parliament (Article 44). (Given the small size and vulnerability of the Baltic republics, the need for rapid executive emergency decisions is readily apparent, and this is reflected in similar provisions in each.) The president also commissions and promotes all officers and appoints the peacetime commander of the armed forces, subject to parliamentary confirmation. In discharging his or her defense responsibilities, the president is assisted by the National Security Council (National Defense Council in Estonia, and State Defense Council in Lithuania), an important advisory body that includes the president, the prime minister, and the ministers of defense, foreign affairs, and interior, as well as representatives from parliament. The National Security Council is not a decisionmaking agency in the strict sense but an advisory body that "evaluates the security situation of the state and society, and advises on the means and methods of neutralizing possible threats."26 Under normal peacetime conditions, the president's executive power in military affairs is rather restricted and is exercised more by indirect means, such as personal charisma and delicate persuasion, than by direct executive orders, as all presidential decrees have to be countersigned by the prime minister or the minister concerned (Article 53). In emergency situations other than foreign attack, such as domestic disturbances endangering law and order, it is the cabinet rather than the president that is authorized to take the necessary emergency measures. Further, the cabinet organizes the execution of laws relating to defense, approves the "State Defense Concept," and draws up the "State Defense Plan." The minister of defense, who by law in all Baltic states must be a civilian, is politically responsible to parliament and subordinate to the prime minister. The minister of defense "draws up defense plans and executes them in the military sphere; organizes conscription; concludes international agreements on military issues; . . . [and] is responsible for ensuring democratic civilian control of the armed forces."27 Parliament, which in formal terms is the supreme civilian supervisory agency, provides the legitimacy and rationale for civilian control. As in most Western democracies, parliamentary control of Baltic defense is problematic in practice and at best partial; moreover, it is exercised largely through the parliamentary committees on defense and finance. Formally, parliament "adopts the necessary legislation; decides on the state's defense budget; decides on the participation of NAF [National Armed Forces] units in international peacekeeping and security

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operations outside Latvia; . . . [and] determines the size of the NAF in peacetime."28 The interwar Latvian constitution, which had been reincorporated in 1992, was amended in 1998 in order to incorporate certain provisions for basic civil rights that had been adopted in a national referendum of that year. A number of additional laws and provisions have been adopted that have further specified the role of the armed forces and the respective responsibilities of the different branches of government in exercising control over them. In particular, the responsibilities of the minister of defense, which had not been defined in the constitution, have had to be specified. The 1997 Law of National Security clarified the responsibilities of the presidency, parliament, cabinet, and the National Security Council in times of peace, emergency, and war. The 1997 Security Concept of the State of Latvia defined not only conventional military threats facing Latvia but also such unconventional security threats as international crime, failure to integrate society, illegal mass immigration, refugees, and ecological disasters. The 1999 Law of National Armed Forces sought to achieve a better integration between regular armed forces and the National Guard by placing both entities under the same set of rules and regulations. In 1999, the Ministry of Defense produced a Military Defense Strategy that for the first time since independence provided a comprehensive, long-term and realistic defense plan for budgetary purposes. This was followed in 2000 by the publication of a Defense White Paper intended for public information and discussion. Estonia The Estonian constitutional and legal provisions governing civilian control over the armed forces closely resemble those of Latvia, as outlined above, and need not be spelled out in detail. The general political trend in Estonia has been to move closer to a British-type cabinet government, with a corresponding diminution of the power of the president, as a strong and assertive presidency does not work well under a British style parliamentary system.29 The center-right coalition under Prime Minister Mart Laar that came to power in March 1999 sought to move the Estonian system of government to conform more closely to the Westminster model by reducing the president's role in defense to a more formal-symbolic one, while retaining certain emergency powers as a concession to Estonia's strategic vulnerability. The most important acts relating to civil-military relations in Estonia, other than the 1992 constitution, are the Regular Armed Forces Service Act of 1994, which regulated conscription, and the 1994 Peace-Time National Defense Act and the 1995 War-Time National Defense Act, which managed to place the National Defense League under the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Defense. In May 1996, the Estonian parliament (Riigikogu) approved the Guidelines of Estonian National Defense Policy, which had been prepared by the defense ministry. The Guidelines explicate the underlying principles of Estonian defense

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policy and will serve as the basis for future defense policy planning and programs. Planning will be on a five-year, rather than the previous one-year, cycle. The Guidelines also tightened civilian control over the organizational structure of defense, mobilization, as well as education and training of service members.30 Lithuania The legal-constitutional basis of civil-military relations in Lithuania closely resembles those of the other two Baltic republics. The post-independence constitution provides for civilian control over the armed forces through the same tripartite structure, consisting of the president, assisted by the State Defense Council, cabinet, and parliament (Seimas). The Lithuanian constitution of 1992 stipulates that the main issues of national defense shall be considered and coordinated by the State Defense Council and that the government, the minister of defense, and the commander of the armed forces shall all be responsible to parliament, thus establishing the formal supremacy of parliament in defense matters. The constitution also stipulates that the minister of defense must be a civilian.31 The Lithuanian constitution itself does not, however, provide sufficient guidelines for civilian control of the military; for instance, the responsibilities of the minister of defense are not clearly defined beyond that the incumbent must be a civilian. The actual mechanism for effective national defense planning and civilian control over the armed forces was created by several laws and provisions adopted during the latter 1990s. Most important among these were the following: the Law on the Fundamentals of National Security of December 1996, which sets out the functions of a democratically elected civilian government with respect to defense and the armed forces; and the Law on the Organization of the National Defense System and Military Service of May 1998.32 The latter codifies the basic principles of the Lithuanian national defense system as set out in the constitution. It stresses Lithuania's desire to participate in Western defense structures and specifies the role and responsibilities of the armed forces and paramilitary forces. It also provides for the political neutrality of the armed forces, decreeing that servicemen cannot be members of political parties or organizations, that they cannot engage in political activities, and that they cannot publicly disagree with official policies adopted by parliament, the president, or the government. In accordance with the constitution and the 1996 Law on the Fundamentals of National Security, the president, and the Seimas take decisions on mobilization, declaration of war, and deployment of armed forces in the event of armed aggression. The president or the minister of defense may issue orders to the armed forces to assist in domestic rescue operations or natural disaster relief. Only parliament has the right to decide on the deployment or use of armed forces outside Lithuania—as, for example, in peacekeeping missions.

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In 1997 a team of NATO military experts headed by U.S. major general Henry Kievenaar responded to a Baltic request for an overall assessment of the defense reforms that had been undertaken by the three republics, including reforms of civil-military relations. The resulting report, which contained a judicious mixture of praise, encouragement, and criticism, has acted as a powerful catalyst for more comprehensive defense planning and reform in all three Baltic republics. The report praised the overall progress that Lithuania had made since independence, but identified four priority areas for future action: improvement in the quality of life for military personnel; upgrading command, control, and communication (C3) measures; creation of an air defense system; and development of light infantry forces with integrated anti-armor capability. The report also argued that Lithuania, as well as the other Baltic states, needed to develop a more comprehensive military strategy. In response to the Kievenaar recommendations, the Lithuanian Ministry of Defense produced a comprehensive Defense White Paper in 1999.33 It outlines the basic principles of Lithuanian defense policy, explains how civil-military relations function in Lithuania, and projects future force strength and structures. In October 2000, the Lithuanian government approved a document entitled "National Security Strategy of Lithuania" that covers military, economic, political, and other security issues for a projected ten-year period.34 PROBLEMS IN THE IMPLEMENTATION OF CIVIL-MILITARY RELATIONS With the formal and legal framework for the democratic control firmly in place, the task now facing each of the Baltic states lies in implementation, incorporation into routine practice. One can identify at least four distinct problem areas in the implementation process: clarifying the somewhat tenuous relationship between president and government; developing a constructive working partnership between the ministries of defense and the defense staffs; achieving an effective supervisory role by parliament; and generating sufficient public interest and support for national defense. Shaping President-Government Relations Regarding Defense A certain degree of tension and rivalry should be considered normal, and not necessarily dysfunctional, in managing the relationship between the branches of government that share responsibility for defense. In the case of the Baltic states, friction and rivalry have been accentuated by the novelty of the relationship and the ambiguity arising from a hybrid constitutional order that combines a presidential form of government with a Westminster-type parliamentary system. In Estonia there exists a "two-pillar" command structure, with an operational chain headed by the president and an administrative chain headed by the defense minister. The latter does not form part of the normal operational chain of command, which runs from the president directly to the military hierarchy.35 This provides a potential source of friction in relations between the government and

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the president, and it can complicate policy coordination. In Lithuania, as in most Nordic countries, there exists a simplified single chain of command, but according to the Law of Defense Organization, the president and minister of defense together constitute the national command authority, and both have operational and administrative control over the national armed forces. This overlap in jurisdiction could create problems if the two political figures belong to different political parties, have personality clashes, or pursue conflicting policies. The authority of the Baltic presidents in the defense sphere derives from several sources: their titular status as supreme commanders of their respective armed forces, with powers to nominate the commanders of the armed forces and other senior military commanders; their emergency powers to declare a state of war and order mobilization in the event of a foreign attack; the influence they gain from chairing the National Security/Defense Council; and the general prestige of their office, combined with personal leadership and charisma. All Baltic presidents have taken very seriously their responsibility for national defense. Their formal titulary roles as supreme commander of their national armed forces has allowed them to foster close personal contacts with military personnel and to shape the public discourse on defense issues. For instance, Estonian president Lennart Meri initially maintained very close working relations with officers of the defense staff and at lower levels. (According to officials in the Estonian Ministry of Defense, this has been somewhat curtailed, as the government was uneasy lest such personal intimacy between the president and military undermine the authority of the minister of defense and the cabinet.) Likewise, during the period of sharp budgetary cuts, Larvias's President Guntis Ulmanis publicly advocated for increased defense spending and improved working conditions for the military. He also tried to use the prestige and visibility of his office to raise public awareness and general interest in defense matters. The presidential appointments of the armed force commander and other senior military officers are done in consultation with the government and require parliamentary approval. The Baltic presidents enjoy considerable latitude in the appointment and removal of senior officers. In 2000 President Meri removed the acting armed forces commander, apparently without prior consultation with the National Defense Council, and later that year replaced the armed forces commander. In 1998 Latvian president Ulmanis twice in quick succession removed the two most senior officers, under quasi-crisis conditions. In spring 1998 the president dismissed the army commander for showing poor political judgment by appearing in uniform at a ceremony commemorating members of Latvia's World War II Waffen SS. The incident received highly unfavorable publicity in the West and, understandably, in Russia. In the fall of that year, President Ulmanis demanded the resignation of national armed forces commander for improper private use of public defense funds. In the first instance, the president acted on the recommendation of the National Security Council. In the second case there had been no recommendation by the National

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Security Council, but the presidential decision was applauded both by the government and the public and had been expected following incriminating findings by a commission of inquiry. Both instances demonstrate that presidential authority over defense policy is rather flexible and tends to be enhanced under conditions of uncertainty, crisis, or emergency. In 1999, Lithuanian president Adamkus was embroiled in a lengthy dispute over the appointment of a new armed forces commander. The division, which reached a stalemate, was strictly speaking not just between the president and the minister of defense but between the former (favoring one candidate) and the cabinet, the minister, and parliament (all promoting another one). Ultimately the president resolved the impasse by appointing a compromise candidate acceptable to all parties—a former senior vice minister of defense, John Kronkaitis, a retired American army colonel who, in a surprising career move, had returned to his homeland to don a Lithuanian uniform and take very effective charge of policy planning and programming in the Ministry of Defense. In discharging their defense and security responsibilities, the Baltic presidents are assisted by the National Defense Council (National Security Council in Latvia; State Defense Council in Lithuania). The council functions as a very important agent for making defense policy and exercising civilian authority over the military. It is interesting that a similar institution does not exist in all Western democracies. The Security/Defense Council is chaired by the president, and this role enhances the latter's influence on defense issues, as he or she can shape the agenda, guide discussions, and affect policy recommendations. The council is the only institution that combines all branches of government except the judiciary—the president, relevant members of the cabinet, parliamentary representatives, and the commander of the armed forces. This diverse membership gives the council considerable legitimacy and de facto influence, even without formal law or decision-making powers. The Security/Defense Council advises the president on important defense and security issues, and thus ensures that the incumbent is properly informed and remains involved in defense deliberations rather than being relegated to a purely ceremonial role. The council also serves as an important instrument of policy coordination between different agencies and as a consensus-building mechanism. While the council's recommendations are not legally binding, they carry considerable weight and often predetermine final decisions made in other fora. While the overall structure and role of the council is comparable in the three Baltic republics, there naturally exist certain nuances. The Estonian National Defense Council has a limited role, fulfilling protocol functions and advising the president on defense and security issues, as well as expressing opinions on proposed defense plans. Moreover, according to analysts in the region, the Estonian president is rather constrained in using the council as a policy-making instrument. The Latvian National Security Council does not have the authority or power of cabinet; it meets quarterly to be briefed by the minister of defense and to deliberate on important defense issues. But it does serve as a valuable tool for consensus-building, as it cuts across different branches of government. As a

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result, Security Council recommendations carry considerable weight, but they are not binding and must await further action by cabinet or parliament to take effect. The Lithuanian State Defense Council appears to be more influential and active than its counterparts in Tallinn or Riga. Even though it is not an executive body and cannot make formal decisions, on a de facto basis it exercises more real influence on defense policy than does the cabinet. Senior officials of the defense ministry in Vilnius expressed the view that it is the State Defense Council rather than the cabinet that in reality draws up the state defense budget and handles most of the principal defense-related decisions, which in Estonia or Latvia would be dealt with by cabinet. A few generalizations on the bureaucratic politics of defense policy can be made. First, while there has been occasional tension between Baltic presidents and their governments over defense issues, it has never reached crisis dimensions such as occurred in Hungary and Poland in the immediate postcommunist period. Second, the general trend of politics has been to move away from a presidential system of government to a Westminster-type parliamentary system, which has tended to weaken presidential power and diminish institutional rivalries. The 1998 ruling by the Lithuanian Supreme Court affirming that Lithuania is a parliamentary rather than a presidential democracy reinforced this trend. According to officials in the Lithuanian parliament and Ministry of Defense, this court ruling came as little surprise to informed political observers, as it merely stated the obvious. While this ruling may help to avoid a future impasse between the presidency and the government, it had no immediate results. Contrary to the logic of the decision, the public criticized President Adamkus for not taking a more assertive role in defense matters rather than for exceeding his authority. Third, if we were to design a scale of the influence that the Baltic presidents exercise over matters of defense, the Lithuanian president would probably score highest—in part this can be attributed to the fact that he or she is the only president who is directly elected—and the Latvian president would rank lowest. Several of the peacetime powers of the Latvian president have recently been shifted to the prime minister, and there are plans to transfer the chairmanship of the National Security Council from the president to the prime minister as well, thereby further circumscribing presidential leverage. Finally, personal leadership and charisma, attributes that are difficult to quantify, can enhance a president's influence on defense issues beyond what is constitutionally and legally prescribed. To take just one example, Estonia's President Meri has managed to be more influential and interventionist in the defense sphere than one would expect from a strict interpretation of his constitutional role. He succeeded in stretching his formal authority because of his long tenure in office—he is the only Baltic president who has served continuously since independence until his retirement in 2003—and his enormous personal prestige. It was Meri who concluded the delicate negotiations with President Yeltsin on the withdrawal of all Russian forces from Estonia in 1994, and his diplomacy and personality are widely credited with having preserved a

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modicum of normalcy in Estonian-Russian relations during the difficult transition period. Toward a Constructive Working Relationship between the Ministry of Defense and the Defense Staff The three Baltic republics have established ministries of defense that are headed by civilian ministers and are staffed essentially by civilian defense officials. The ministries of defense in the Baltic republics formulate and implement defense policy, and create the necessary security structures. In turn, the defense staff assists the Ministry of Defense in strategic planning, the management of military personnel, and the preparation of military regulations. "As a general principle, the role of civilians within the ministry of defense is to provide continuity in policy formulation and execution and to provide a depth of expertise in policy and administrative matters. It is not to provide military advice or to conduct military operations, as these functions are properly the responsibility of professional military officers."36 In any mature democracy, the task of forming an effective and constructive working relationship between a predominantly civilian ministry and the associated or, as in the case of Lithuania, integrated defense staff requires a delicate and skillful balancing act. As regards the Baltic states, the challenge of creating a constructive working relationship has been complicated by the novelty of the task; by the extreme shortage of experienced defense bureaucrats, on the one side, and of trained staff officers, on the other; and by the tension between young reformers and more senior officers, who frequently are of a more conservative Soviet mindset. Defense staffs were created almost immediately after the Baltic states gained their independence. Thus, they were already entrenched when ministries of defense were formed, and they tended to view the latter with a certain suspicion as unwelcome competitors in the political sphere and as unqualified amateurs in the professional domain. At the time of independence, there was a virtual absence of qualified Baltic civilian defense bureaucrats. In recruiting their civilian staff, the fledgling ministries of defense thus had to rely very heavily on recent university graduates, who, for all their infectious charm, energy, and optimism, had little or no practical government experience and in most cases no matching academic background in defense or strategic studies. The quiet "civil war" that ensued for a while between the civilian officials in the ministries of defense and the military on the national defense staffs was fueled by differing perceptions of their respective roles and by the lack of material and (qualified) human resources. It is a tribute to the sense and sensibility of both parties that this brief "civil war," a term used frequently by our interlocutors to describe that phase, soon gave way to what might be styled "peaceful coexistence," and it has more recently acquired elements of a constructive partnership. In its final report, the IDAB paid tribute to the heroic work of Baltic civilian defense officials, "a small group of admirable young men

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and women, who struggle to keep on top of the problem at hand." The same is true of the quality and commitment of younger officers. Both are operating under much poorer conditions than their Western counterparts, and they are hampered by the "impermeable 'permafrost' layer of older men, especially in the officer corps, lodged between the [political] leaders at the top, who wish to speed up modernization, and those below, who actively desire it."37 The relative success in moving toward a more constructive civil-military partnership was aided by several factors: the novelty of the entire experiment prevented a confrontation of rigidly entrenched doctrines or ideologies; the relative youth of most of the civilian and military players encouraged flexibility and adaptability; the small size of the two institutions in all three Baltic states fostered personal ties that facilitated informal accommodation much more effectively than larger and more traditionally oriented institutions could have; and, finally, Nordic and Western partners provided advice, assistance, and stimulus designed to achieve a more constructive partnership. Estonia The Estonian General Staff was created in December 1991 and now has ninety-two officers; the defense ministry emerged five months later with an initial staff of twenty-five, which has grown to a hundred, all of them civilians. Unlike Lithuania, where there are relatively few civilians working for the General Staff, civilians are quite numerous on the Estonian General Staff. When the Ministry of Defense was established, it took over many of the functions that had previously been exercised by the General Staff. This loss of turf was naturally resented by the latter, the members of which complained of unwarranted civilian intrusion. The new ministry, as a latecomer with only twenty-five, mostly inexperienced, officials, was at an initial disadvantage in the resulting tug-of-war. The initial period was marked by considerable bickering and tension between the two institutions, with officials of the ministry complaining that the General Staff did not provide them with the necessary information and did not carry out all their orders. The conflict over who had ultimate authority over defense procurement decisions was particularly protracted and bitter. Unlike Lithuania, Estonia has undertaken no formal integration of the General Staff and the Ministry of Defense. But even without a formal integration of the two central institutions, a generally satisfactory working relationship has developed between them since the initial period of friction. The Ministry of Defense has grown in strength and is gradually acquiring its own brand of bureaucratic professionalism. Many of the recent university graduates entering the Ministry of Defense have studied defense and security subjects at foreign universities in Finland, Germany, the United Kingdom, or the United States. Given their small size, ministry officials and General Staff officers have come to know each other intimately. The respective responsibilities of civilians and military have also been more clearly delineated. In 1995 the first Estonian armed

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forces commander was forced to retire prematurely because of irregular military procurement practices. Following this incident, the battle over responsibility for procurement appears to have been resolved, with the General Staff specifying military needs and the ministry evaluating procurement plans from the perspective of economic and administrative considerations. Similarly, the defense budget process represents a dialogue between the General Staff, which identifies military requirements, and the ministry, which decides on resource allocation. The recent comprehensive defense plan, which operates on a fiveyear, rather than the previous one-year, cycle, was prepared by the Ministry of Defense with participation by the General Staff; it is a testimony to the effective collaboration between the two institutions. Practical cooperation between the defense ministry and the General Staff has been hampered by the extreme shortage of trained Estonian staff officers, as the partnership depends on qualified personnel on both sides. This problem has been particularly acute in Estonia, which took over fewer officers from the former Soviet army than did Latvia or Lithuania. The shortage of trained staff officers has also delayed the implementation of the goal of transforming the Estonian General Staff into "a joint staff responsible for strategic planning and development, C3, and general personnel matters of the EDF [Estonian Defense Forces]."38 The creation of the Baltic Defense College will ease the problem somewhat, as it will graduate staff officers and civilian personnel capable of serving in national headquarters, the Ministry of Defense, and international units. Latvia The situation in Latvia has been roughly comparable to the Estonian experience. There now exists a close working relationship, but no formal integration, between the Latvian Ministry of Defense and the General Staff. The former has a staff of 128, all of them civilians, plus fourteen military attaches. The latter has 130 members, including some civilians.39 The shortage of human and material resources has been particularly troublesome in Latvia, which has also taken longer to build a professionally staffed Ministry of Defense than have the other two Baltic republics. The Latvian Ministry of Defense was originally formed out of remnants of the former Public Security Department, taking over its assets and employing most of its staff. During the period between 1996 and 2001, the civilian staff of the defense ministry twice was completely restructured, with much of the staff being dismissed each time. The first reform occurred under former Defense Minister Jundzis (1996-98). In 1999 Defense Minister Girts Kristovskis, following the advice of the IDAB, undertook another thorough restructuring of the ministry and the General Staff. The accompanying uncertainty does little for morale, at least in the short run. Salaries for General Staff officers are even lower than those of corresponding civilian officials; this has created friction and resentment between the two branches. Continuity in office, one of the principal sources of bureaucratic expertise and influence, is much longer for members of the General Staff than

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for officials of the Ministry of Defense. This is the reverse of what is normally encountered in Western defense systems, where bureaucrats outlast (or outsit) their more mobile military partners. Apart from these organizational "purges," recent university graduates who are recruited to the defense ministry tend to gravitate toward other government departments or move to the more lucrative private sector. All of this tends to sap the professional expertise and influence of civilian officials in the Latvian defense ministry. The areas of friction between members of the ministry and the General Staff are specific practical issues, such as insufficient transparency by the military in dealing with civilians at all levels, rather than over fundamental ideology or the underlying principle of democratic civilian control, which is unchallenged. Lithuania Unlike its Baltic neighbors, Lithuania has formally integrated its Ministry of Defense and the Defense Staff. The decision to integrate was taken by the Lithuanian government in 1996, and the process has now been completed. The practical difficulties of institutional integration, which are perhaps inevitable in any system attempting it, were compounded by the shortage of qualified personnel, the lack of advance planning, and the forced speed with which integration was pursued. The idea of integration was politically driven, and initially it met with considerable skepticism on the part of the military. An additional irritation arose from the practice of assigning military ranks to civilian officials to boost their salaries and benefits at a time when the civil service was still in its infancy. Most of these nominal officers have now reverted to civilian status, and the former practice is being discouraged. At present, most positions in the Lithuanian Ministry of Defense, from desk officers to directors of departments, are open to both civilian and military personnel. The personnel policy of the ministry aims to achieve a balance that will make the best possible use of available human skills. Military personnel are working in most sections of the defense ministry—for example, in resources and programs, acquisition, communication and information, personnel, and finance. The current balance of personnel in the Ministry of Defense consists of 52 percent military and 48 percent civilians, and the trend is toward a significant increase of civilian experts in the area of defense policy making.40 With a few exceptions, most positions on the Lithuanian defense staff are occupied by military personnel rather than civilians; however, certain defense staff positions, such as the inspector general of the armed forces, can be held by either a military or civilian, although most of the staff in that case would be military personnel. To make a broad generalization, one finds a more equal proportion of military personnel serving in the Lithuanian Ministry of Defense than in either the Estonian or Latvian ministry. Formal integration has no doubt been a major factor in encouraging a greater mix of personnel in the defense ministry. Conversely, the proportion of civilians serving on the General Staff is higher in Estonia and Latvia than it is in Lithuania.

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Our civilian interlocutors in Vilnius gave a generally positive assessment of the present working relations between the Lithuanian military and defense officials. Most of them believe that the problems of integration, which had been considerable at the outset, are now manageable and are essentially of a practical, rather than ideological, nature. The military people whom we interviewed also readily conceded that there were practical advantages to integration: the close working relationship between civilians and military at all levels facilitated consensus building; it avoided duplication of scarce resources; civilian defense officials were often more experienced and adept in interbureaucratic bargaining than the military; and the Ministry of Defense was now able to attract young university graduates with technical, administrative, or security policy expertise. This growing talent pool in the Ministry of Defense ultimately worked to the benefit of the military as well. Achieving an Effective Supervisory Role by Parliament Effective democratic control means more than proper control of the armed forces by the executive branch; it also involves scrutiny by parliament and civil society at large. Parliamentary oversight does not mean that every aspect of defense policy is necessarily directed by parliament but that the policy is transparent and that the government is held accountable. Some areas of defense policy, such as intelligence operations, are legitimately kept secret, and here parliamentary scrutiny may be restricted by law or convention. The national parliaments of the Baltic republics provide the legal foundations for their national defenses. They produce the necessary legislation, authorize defense appropriations, determine the size and structure of the armed forces, rule on all foreign deployments of national forces, maintain the power to declare war or a state of emergency, approve the appointment of senior military officers, debate defense policies, and have the authority to conduct ad hoc inquiries of complaints or irregularities. While they certainly discharge their formal obligations in the defense sphere, however, the Baltic parliaments can hardly qualify as models in the exercise of effective civilian control over armed forces and defense policies. Still, it should be noted that there exists among most mature Western democracies a certain degree of democratic parliamentary deficit in the effective supervision of defense. If the Baltic republics are no exceptions in this regard, they do operate under some particular constraints that compound the inherent problem of adequate parliamentary supervision. In comparing the records of parliamentary supervision of defense in the Baltic republics with that of mature Western democracies, the balance sheet is by no means entirely one-sided. On the one hand, Baltic parliaments and their respective defense committees have been at a clear disadvantage with regard to available personnel, material resources, experience, and ability to conduct a thorough scrutiny of proposed defense budgets. In addition, lack of transparency and inadequate programming skills by their ministries of defense have compounded the problem of parliamentary oversight. Widespread public apathy

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concerning national defense issues has also tended to weaken parliamentary resolve and influence in that particular sector. On the other hand, the Baltic legislatures exercise a variety of functions in the defense sphere that their Western counterparts do not fulfill or exercise in a more selective or perfunctory manner. Parliamentary approval of senior military appointments, which is needed in all three Baltic republics, is not a requirement or custom in all Western democracies. The Baltic legislatures have also been more scrupulous in demanding parliamentary authorization of all foreign deployments of their national forces, even very small peacekeeping contingents, than has been the practice in most Western democracies, which can take such decisions by executive decree. Given their vulnerable collective position, there is a general reluctance to strip their homelands of any available means of defense; consequently, the legislatures of the Baltic states have very jealously guarded their right to approve the deployment of any forces for foreign missions. In addition, Baltic parliaments, or their defense committees, have often been quite insistent upon parliamentary authorization of even relatively routine administrative decisions, such as locating a military airfield at the airport in Riga, a decision that would normally be taken by executive decree in most Western democracies.41 Parliamentary defense committees, especially in Estonia and Lithuania, have developed the interesting practice of visiting military units or their commanders in the field in order to investigate complaints or irregularities. Officially there exists no military ombudsman in the Baltic system. By their investigative role, the parliamentary defense committees have collectively come to exercise some of the functions that one would associate with the office of a military ombudsman such as it exists in countries like Germany. Despite political volatility and a fragmented political party system, the Baltic republics have managed to build a high degree of consensus on the basics of their national defense policy. This political consensus has generally helped to facilitate parliamentary oversight over defense policy, particularly in the work of parliamentary committees on defense. Such consensus did not exist at the outset. Urbelis and Urbonas draw attention to the bitter clashes that occurred in the wake of national independence between former Lithuanian communists and opposition parties over policies toward the military. Similar, though less ferocious, conflicts could also be observed in Estonia and Latvia. In each country, clashes of this kind took place not only among rival political parties but between members of the parliamentary defense committee, who sought to micromanage defense policy on virtually all issues, and with the ministry of defense, which tried to thwart this troublesome intrusion.42 Since 1994, all major political parties in the three Baltic republics have come to agree on the superordinate goal of EU and NATO membership. This overall agreement has generally tempered political divisions over defense policy. The most powerful instrument of parliamentary supervision of defense policy derives from the control of the budget. But as David Betz argues in his chapter on civil-military relations in the Czech Republic, parliamentary control of the defense budget remains at best a blunt tool of civilian control. As in the Czech

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Republic, the parliamentary defense committees of the Baltic states are visibly overburdened and lack expertise and resources. Their difficulties have been further compounded by a general lack of transparency on the part of their military and governments. Faced with these impediments, their parliamentary defense committees are in a position to increase or, more likely, decrease the overall defense budget but generally lack the means to influence effectively any particular component of that budget. Parliaments and parliamentary defense committees in the Baltic republics have been even less successful in overseeing the actual implementation of defense budgets. The introduction of Planning, Programming, Budgeting System (PPBS) of defense budgeting in the late 1990s, which was expertly assisted by the United Kingdom, has improved budgetary transparency in the Baltic states and has thereby enhanced the ability of parliaments to monitor the implementation of defense budgets. Estonia The defense committee of the Estonian parliament, the Riigikogu, has seven members, who operate by consensus 99 percent of the time despite their different party affiliations; actual voting is rare. Committee members take their responsibilities seriously; tenure on the committee tends to be long and eagerly sought after. Budget figures that are presented to the committee by the Ministry of Defense tend to be rather brief and aggregated, which makes a detailed scrutiny difficult, all the more so as the committee operates with the help of a full-time research staff of only three persons. The parliamentary defense committee has the right to call witnesses, including serving military. It investigates all matters in its jurisdiction and is the most active and intrusive among Estonia's parliamentary committees, on account of its zeal at investigating complaints and irregularities. Members of the defense committee who were interviewed voiced criticism of the poor quality of parliamentary questions and debates on defense issues. They attributed part of the blame to the military and the Ministry of Defense for not making available more pertinent information. Latvia Parliamentary direction and control over Latvian defense policy has been far from satisfactory and remains problematic despite some recent improvements. Overall, Latvian parliamentarians are motivated more by commercial and financial interests than by concerns for defense and security issues. Thus, while the Latvian Saeima has taken considerable interest in promoting Latvian entry into the EU, as this would have significant economic consequences for the country, it has not been similarly engaged in reforming the military to qualify for NATO membership. The Saeima's Committee on Defense and Interior consists of only three members, with responsibility for defense as well as internal security affairs. Its members are patently overworked and understaffed. The committee

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examines the defense budget but devotes insufficient time to this task; moreover, committee members complain that the budgetary information provided by the ministry is not detailed enough to allow for a thorough examination. One senses a considerable degree of accumulated frustration on both sides: the military and defense officials point to a decade of parliamentary indifference and grossly inadequate defense budgets; parliamentarians, in turn, complain of insufficient transparency in dealing with the military and defense ministry. Defense Minister Kristovskis, who has been in office since 1998, has undertaken a series of broad defense reforms, including the creation of a separate office of state auditor to oversee defense expenditures and ensure discipline and control over financial affairs. Officials of the Latvian Ministry of Defense have admitted that in the past there has not been sufficient transparency on the part of the government and the military in making information available to parliamentarians. But they point out that since 1998, the Latvian defense ministry made a concerted effort to increase the information base available to members of parliament and to domestic, as well as foreign, analysts by the publication of works like the Defense White Paper 2000 and the detailed annual "Report of the Minister of Defense to the Parliament [Saeima] on the State of Defense Policy and Armed Forces Development." The complaint about the lack of transparency, while justified in the past, is thus rapidly losing credibility. Lithuania The Lithuanian parliament has been the most active among Baltic legislatures in providing oversight as well as general direction over national defense policy. The Lithuanian Seimas has significant influence in enacting laws on defense and security and in overseeing the government in this area, as well as approving the annual defense budget. In a resolution of April 1999, the Seimas set ceilings for the number of troops and military units of the Lithuanian armed forces: the land forces shall consist of no more than two brigades, four separate battalions, and a training regiment; the National Volunteer Defense Force is to be composed of ten territorial defense formations.43 The Lithuanian parliament holds regular debates on a variety of defense topics, such as the role of the defense staff, the state of defense preparedness, and procurement policies. Parliament has also sought to take a lead in raising the level of public awareness and interest in matters of defense and national security. Seimas members have been particularly concerned by low public support for NATO membership, particularly in light of its impending accession in 2004.44 The Lithuanian Parliamentary Committee on National Security consists of a chairman and six members and deals with all matters concerning national defense and border security. All major political parties are represented on the committee. Despite the variety of political orientations, the committee operates consensually and with impressive confidence and vigor. Indeed, the 1998 Kievenaar Report, which assessed the ability of the Baltic republics to cope with the obligations as NATO members, had special praise for the good, consensus-

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based working relations between the Lithuanian Ministry of Defense, parliament, and the rest of government on defense policy and defense spending.45 The committee on national security cooperates with the defense ministry in the preparation of the defense budget, which is now presented in a format that provides for a detailed breakdown by specific programs. The committee on national security was the first among Lithuanian parliamentary committees to insist on having budget proposals presented according to specific program categories, a format that creates greater transparency and has now been adopted by other government departments as well. It took the national security committee four years to achieve this objective, which has significantly enhanced parliamentary control over government spending. Since 1998, the committee on national security has also been able to dispatch state auditors to verify the actual implementation of the defense budget. Parliamentary supervision of defense spending has thus been significantly strengthened at both ends of the budgetary process. Creating a Favorable Society-Media-Public Opinion Nexus The ideal type of democratic civil-military relations would entail an engaged and well informed public, which is at one and the same time supportive of legitimate national security needs but vigilant in assessing government performance in the defense sphere. In the Baltic republics the societal prerequisites for a successful civil-military relationship have remained somewhat problematic. Baltic society displays an unfortunate mixture of apathy toward and disinterest in defense and security issues, as well as a high degree of distrust of government institutions. Estonia's President Lennart Meri has publicly bemoaned the fact that "the pillars of state are weak." He points to the poor administrative capability and official arbitrariness in Estonia, which has produced general public disenchantment with politicians and bureaucrats alike.46 In a recent Latvian opinion poll, almost 90 percent of the Latvian population expressed distrust of their government. The situations in Estonia and Lithuania are only marginally better, with one in three among their populations trusting their parliaments, governments, or prime ministers. There are a few exceptions to this general climate of distrust, one being the person of President Meri, whose popularity rating during 2000-2001 increased from 58 percent to 62 percent.47 In the immediate postcommunist period, public attitudes and accompanying media reports of the Baltic armed forces tended to be critical, even hostile, with a morbid fascination with scandal, corruption, and disciplinary problems within the military. A large segment of the public regarded their national armed forces as relics of the occupying Soviet Army, institutions that appeared to threaten, rather than defend, the fragile national independence. Also, there was a general belief that the Baltic states were too small and too poor to sustain the burden of a viable national defense. The Baltic governments have not been unaware of this dilemma, as the above statement by President Meri clearly indicates. In July 1999, the Latvian

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parliament took the significant step of approving the "Declaration of Work of the Cabinet of Ministers," a comprehensive shopping list for the improvement of the Latvian armed forces. It announced the creation of a public relations and information office in the Ministry of Defense responsible for informing the general public about the armed forces, and it made provisions for broadening military education in all institutions of higher learning and in secondary schools. These efforts are intended "to promote good citizenship and familiarize young people with overall national security responsibilities."48 Members of the Lithuanian parliamentary committee on defense have also recognized the fundamental weakness of constructing a properly functioning democratic civil-military relationship in the absence of sufficient public interest and support. To improve public interest and support for the military, the committee has taken the initiative of introducing military and security studies to the university curricula. Many university students now opt for these courses, which are taught either by regular faculty or by officers of the National Voluntary Defense Force. Aside from broadening public interest and understanding of defense issues, the military studies program at universities is intended to produce graduates with backgrounds in defense and security studies and who can be recruited to fill staff positions in the Ministry of Defense. Given the pressing resource shortage and the present inability to finance a standing force army, all Baltic republics have opted for military conscription to create the necessary reservoir of trained reserves. Conscription also serves the important secondary purpose of exposing young people to the military and of training them to be better citizens by providing general education in civics, politics, history, and law in addition to standard military training.49 From a public relations perspective, however, conscription is at best a two-sided undertaking. For one, conscription has not been a popular measure with the Baltic general public. A 1998 comprehensive public opinion survey over all three Baltic states showed that only 24 percent of the Estonian public favored conscription over a standing-force army; the results were almost identical for Latvia and Lithuania.50 Also, the poor living conditions and the practice of hazing—the latter an unfortunate legacy of the Soviet army—which conscripts encountered even after independence, contributed to the negative popular image of the military. It has taken considerable time and effort by the militaries, the ministries of defense, and parliamentary committees to eradicate this negative attitude and create the basis for more solid public support of the military. In recent years, living and working conditions for the military have been improved; moreover, conscripts have been treated in a more humane manner, not terrorized. Conscripts are an effective link between armed forces and society, and they have spread the word about improved conditions and correct treatment. This has helped foster a more positive public image of the armed forces. Another sign of growing public support is the enhanced social prestige of the military. Estonia, which initially had to rely almost solely on conscripts, now draws a large proportion of its new soldiers from volunteers. Urbelis and Urbonas note that Robert Vitas's earlier conclusion that the Lithuanian military suffered from an

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overwhelming lack of prestige, while true for the initial years, could not be confirmed by more recent opinion polls in which the armed forces ranked relatively high among state institutions.51 A very brief reference to some Baltic public opinion surveys on defense and security may be of interest here. As was observed above, there is little public support for conscription, nor is there any strong support for an increase in the size of the armed forces. In its comprehensive poll of March 1998, Baltic Surveys, a Lithuanian-British public opinion and market survey, found that only 21 percent of Lithuanians, 25 percent of Latvians, and 34 percent of Estonians supported an increase in the size of their armed forces.52 A Saar poll of December 1999 indicated that only 16 percent among Estonians supported current government plans to increase defense spending to the level demanded by NATO.53 In contrast, a recent Latvian survey registered only a slim majority of 51 percent among Latvians in favor of increasing the defense budget. It should be kept in mind that Latvia's defense budget had been the lowest among the Baltic states and that this had generated wide international publicity and criticism. As regards to the nature of the threat, 23.6 percent among Estonians, 45.9 percent of Lithuanians, and 47 percent of Latvians perceived no threat of an external attack; however, many perceived internal threats like political instability, terrorism, crime, or environmental disasters as more real than the threat of an external attack, with 62 percent of Latvians, 45 percent of Lithuanians, and 35 percent of Estonians holding such views.54 It is interesting to observe that Estonia, as the smallest among the Baltic states, naturally worries most over external threats but, as the wealthiest among the group, shows less concern for internal threats and social upheaval. Baltic membership in NATO, which has had top priority with their governments, is not accorded the same significance by the public. NATO membership received bare majority support in Lithuania and Estonia, with 58 percent and 55 percent, respectively, in favor, and it fell short of a majority in Latvia, with only 46 percent favoring NATO membership.55 Public support for NATO membership does, however, seem to be gradually increasing. A Latvian survey in 2000 found that 53.4 percent of Latvians endorsed NATO membership for their country; moreover, this support increases to 62.5 percent if only persons holding Latvian citizenship are included.56 It should be noted that low public backing for NATO entry may be more a matter of general lethargy than active opposition to alliance membership. So far, international peacekeeping has come to enjoy greater popularity than NATO membership. While supporting the underlying principle of peacekeeping, public opinion was initially skeptical about a direct Baltic participation in peace-support missions. Lacking the bare necessities of a national defense, such external commitments were seen as a luxury that could be ill-afforded. Recent participation by Baltic soldiers in various peacekeeping missions in the Balkans has, however, turned out to be a major, and perhaps unexpected, public relations bonus. The peacekeeping experience of the Baltic military has enhanced their professional status. It has also received favorable comments from foreign sources and in the Baltic media.

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A recent Latvian opinion survey showed a 61.1 percent approval rate for Latvian participation in international peace-support missions in the Balkans.57 No discussion of public opinion of military and security issues would be complete without reference to the role of the media. The media/public-opinion relationship is clearly a symbiotic one, and it has generated an ongoing debate among analysts whether media merely report and reflect the state of public opinion or whether media coverage actually forms public opinion. In all Western democracies one witnesses a certain amount of friction and distrust in relations between governments and the media. The former are inclined to criticize media coverage of foreign and defense policy issues for being inadequate, unprofessional, sensational, or biased, while the latter tend to complain of lack of transparency and manipulation on the part of governments. The Baltic states have not been immune to this particular debate. Here the problem has been compounded by the relative inexperience on both sides and the critical lack of resources that prevents the Baltic media from employing defense specialists or posting foreign correspondents. Notwithstanding certain nuances, the general picture encountered in all three capitals is the same. Governments decry the shortage of professional, quality media reporting on defense and security issues and the predilection for sensationalism and trivia in the choice of topics. Media, for their part, complain of the lack of transparency by the military and ministries of defense and contrast this unfavorably with the greater accessibility to information provided by their foreign ministries, a comparison that is not uncommon in Western democracies. Despite these mutual reservations, both sides readily admit that there has been a substantial improvement in media-government relations in recent years. While still deficient in resources, media have been able to give a more comprehensive and better factual coverage of defense issues, and they rely on foreign sources, including Baltic expatriates abroad, to compensate for the absence of foreign correspondents. Parliamentarians and government officials in Estonia and Lithuania who were interviewed expressed the view that media coverage of defense topics, while not particularly sophisticated, was now generally adequate, constructive and devoid of the bias and sensationalism that had characterized media reporting in the immediate post-independence phase. Many of their journalists had spent time abroad, which had broadened their understanding of international issues. In comparison, the Latvian government's assessment of media performance on defense issues tended to be much more critical. Former Latvian defense minister Talvas Jundzis has described the relationship between government and media as "very friendly," but his optimistic view does not seem to be widely shared.58 Some officials of the Latvian Ministry of Defense privately concede that part of the blame for the strained relationship rests with their military. The latter had been the source of several scandals and thus should not be surprised if these received negative media exposure; moreover, the military had not always practiced glasnost (openness) in dealing with civilians, including media personnel and parliamentarians.

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The defense ministries and defense staffs of the Baltic states recognize the importance of the media, and each has established a public affairs section to deal with the media and the public. Their ministries of defense have developed very professional websites that provide up-to-date information on defense policy, plans, and force structure. The Estonian Ministry of Defense maintains an open line to the media and holds a regular press seminar once a month. The Estonian military is conscious of the importance of public opinion and has sought to adopt the Danish model of building closer contact between the military and society at the local level. Each military unit is encouraged to appoint its own public relations officer, who is responsible for creating a direct network of contacts with the local population and the media without having to go through central command. The Estonian forces are also following the German model of appointing Jugendoffiziere, young career officers who can work directly and informally with the local media and population. In Lithuania the ministries of defense and foreign affairs provide regular public briefings on issues of defense or the armed forces, and the defense ministry has established a military club where journalists and media personnel can informally meet with officials to discuss current defense topics. It is not uncommon now for senior officers to appear on media, and nongovernmental organizations are increasingly drawn into defense debates.59 CONCLUSION The overall picture of civil-military relations in the Baltic states that has emerged during the first decade of independence is encouraging, albeit not unproblematic. The efforts to create national defense forces from a zero basis have been impressive, and these have advanced in tandem with the establishment of the requisite mechanisms for proper democratic civilian control of the military. "All have published, and endorsed by democratic process in parliament, documents that lay out the rationale for a Western-oriented, democratically directed concept of national security."60 Each Baltic republic has created a comparable system of civilian direction and supervision jointly exercised by parliament, the cabinet, and the presidency. To be effective, the system requires a high level of cooperation among these institutions. The Baltic republics have not witnessed any major crisis in intergovernmental relations over defense issues, such as occurred in Poland and Hungary, but the bureaucratic culture of interagency coordination, which lies at the heart of governance, is not as well developed as in mature Western democracies. In its otherwise very positive evaluation, the IDAB warned that the lack of effective coordination could have serious adverse consequences if the system were to be put under strain as the result of external threats or a domestic emergency.61 The introduction of a Western model of democratic control has received solid public support and enjoys interparty consensus. It has also benefited from concrete and sustained assistance from several Western states. Many of the problems in organizing a system of civilian supervision and direction of national defense, which have been

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outlined in some detail in this chapter, stem from inexperience, the shortage of trained personnel, and daunting material scarcities rather than from any fundamental disagreements with the underlying principles of democratic control. While some of these problems continue, they appear remediable, and most are, indeed, being addressed. There exist, however, two essential fault lines that might disturb the proper functioning of civil-military relations in the Baltic states. The first relates to the uncertainty of NATO membership. The quest for alliance membership has served as a significant engine for change in Baltic defense preparations and has promoted democratic norms in civil-military relations. Continued uncertainty about NATO membership, or an outright rejection, would have created very negative repercussions on Baltic defense preparations and on democratic progress at large, including civil-military relations. With the forthcoming entry of all three Baltic republics into NATO in the spring of 2004, this particular problem appears to have been resolved. The second major problem area derives from the demonstrably high degree of popular distrust of government institutions and general political apathy that includes defense matters. It exposes the fragile democratic foundation in the Baltic republics and demonstrates the need for a comprehensive and sustained information campaign to promote public understanding of the proper role of defense in a democratic society. NOTES I wish to acknowledge the help I received from Professor Mark Yaniszewski, who drafted the background country studies on which I have drawn extensively. I also received valuable assistance and insightful comments from Lt. Col. P. Grant, U.K. defense attache to Finland and Estonia; Mr. Gerald Skinner, Canadian charge d'affaires in Riga; and Gen. Sir Garry Johnson, head of the International Defense Advisory Board to the Baltic States (IDAB). Mr. Tomas Urbonas of the Lithuanian Ministry of Defense acted as my genial host during my visit to Vilnius and answered a barrage of follow-up questions. My research assistant Mr. Andrew Gedris supplied me with enormous quantities of internet material on the Baltic republics. 1. Final Report: Foreign Policy, Security, Integration into NATO, International Defense Advisory Board to the Baltic States (IDAB), February 1999, 6-7. 2. The Military Balance 2000-2001 (London: Oxford University Press for the International Institute of Strategic Studies, 2001), 93-98. 3. Brig. Gen. Michael Clemmesen, "Before Implementation of the Membership Action Plan," Baltic Defense Review, no. 2 (1999): 36. 4. Brig. Gen. Michael Clemmesen, "The Development of Regular Army Officers," Baltic Defense Review, no. 3 (2000): 7. 5. Maj. Gen. Ants Laaneots, "The Defense League and Defense Districts," Baltic Defense Review, no. 3 (2000): 94. 6. Robert Vitas, "Civil-Military Relations in Lithuania," in Civil-Military Relations in the Soviet and Yugoslav Successor States, ed. Constantine Danopoulos and Daniel Zirker (Boulder, Colo.: Westview, 1996), 85.

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7. For the problem of intra-Baltic defense cooperation, see Raimo Varynen, "The Security of the Baltic Countries: Cooperation and Defection," in Stability and Security in the Baltic Sea Region, ed. Olav Knudsen (London: Frank Cass, 1999), 204-22. 8. For Baltic-Russian relations, see Alexander Pikayev, "Russia and the Baltic States," in The Baltic States in World Politics, ed. Birthe Hansen and Bertel Heurlin (New York: St. Martin's, 1998), 133-60; and Arkady Moshes, "Russian Policy in the Baltic Region," in Stability and Security in the Baltic Sea Region, ed. Knudsen, 99-112. 9. Military Defense Strategy of Lithuania (Vilnius: Lithuanian Ministry of National Defense, 2000), 4, available at www.kam.lt/english/Military_Defense.html. 10. Mark Jubulis, "The External Dimension of Democratization in Latvia," International Relations 13:3 (December 1996): 71. 11. FBIS-EEU, document 99-0511 (11 May 1999). 12. Brig. Gen. Michael Clemmesen, "Supporting States Advice and Defense Development," Baltic Defense Review, no. 4 (2000): 7-12. 13. Maj. T. D. Moller, "BALTBAT: Lessons Learned and the Way Ahead," Baltic Defense Review, no. 3 (2000): 38-42. 14. Cdr. Juozas Alsauskas, "The Baltic Naval Squadron: BALTRON," Baltic Defense Review, no. 3 (2000): 33-37. 15. Lithuania's International Defense Cooperation (Vilnius: Lithuanian Ministry of National Defense, 2001), 4, available at www.kam.lt/english/tarptaut.htm. 16. FBIS-SOV, document 99-0428 (11 May 1999). 17. For Estonian budget projections, see Jtiri Luik, "MAP: On the Road toward NATO," Baltic Defense Review, no. 2 (1999): 33, and FBIS-SOV, document 99-1213 (13 December 1999). For Latvia, see FBIS-SOV, document 99-0922 (22 September 1999). For Lithuania, see Giedre Statkeviciute, "The Development of Lithuanian Armed Forces," Baltic Defense Review, no. 1 (1999): 11. 18. Laaneots, "The Defense League and Defense Districts," 94-99; Gundars Zalkans, "The Development of Armed Forces of the Republic of Latvia," Baltic Defense Review, no. 1 (1999): 7. 19. Vitas, "Civil-Military Relations in Lithuania," 84. 20. Ibid, 85. 21. Vaidotas Urbelis and Tomas Urbonas, "The Challenges of Civil-Military Relations and Democratic Control of Armed Forces: The Case of Lithuania," in Democratic Control of the Military in Postcommunist Europe: Guarding the Guards, ed. Andrew Cottey, Timothy Edmunds, and Anthony Forster (Houndmills, Hampshire: Pal grave, 2002), 112. 22. Laaneots, "The Defense League," 94. 23. Final Report, 5. 24. Ibid. 25. For the English text of the 1922 Latvian Constitution, see www.uniwuerzburg.de/law/lg0000_htn; for the Latvian Defense White Paper 2000, see www.mod.lv/english/01minisrija/index.php. 26. Democratic Control over Armed Forces (Riga: Latvian Ministry of Defense, 2000), available at www.mod.lv/english/olministrija/06demokratsia.php. 27. Ibid, 2. 28. Ibid, 1. 29. Douglas Bland, "Discovering Westminster: The Transformation of Civil-Military Relations in Central Europe," in NATO's Eastern Dilemmas, ed. D. Haglund, N. MacFarlane, and J. Sokolsky (Boulder, Colo.: Westview, 1994), 202-205. 30. National Defense (Talinn: Estonian Ministry of Defense, 2000), 1.

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31. Urbelis and Urbonas, "The Challenges of Civil-Military Relations and Democratic Control of Armed Forces: The Case of Lithuania," 115. 32. Ibid, 116. 33. White Paper '99 (Vilnius: Lithuanian Ministry of Defense, 1999), available at www.kam.lt/balta/white_paper.html. 34. Defense Strategy of Lithuania (Vilnius: Lithuanian Ministry of Defense, 2000), available at www.kam.lt/english/Military_Defense.html. 35. Comment by former Estonian defense minister Andrus Oovel, cited in FBIS-SOV, document 98-355 (21 December 1998). 36. White Paper '99, 4. 37. Final Report, 1. 38. Luik, "MAP: On the Road toward NATO," 32. 39. Latvian Defense White Paper 2000, 1. 40. Urbelis and Urbonas, "The Challenges of Civil-Military Relations and Democratic Control of Armed Forces: The Case of Lithuania," 118. 41. FBIS-SOV, document 2001-0303 (6 March 2001). 42. Urbelis and Urbonas, "The Challenges of Civil-Military Relations and Democratic Control of Armed Forces: The Case of Lithuania," 119. 43. Ibid, 118. 44. FBIS-SOV, document 2001-0124 (24 January 2001). 45. White Paper '99, 3. 46. FBIS-SOV, document 99-1104 (14 November 1999). 47. Cited in an editorial article by Arne Zoepf, Baltische Briefe 54:7/9 (July/August 2001): 2. 48. Report of the Minister of Defense to the Parliament (Saeima) on the State of Defense Policy and Armed Forces Development for the Year 2000 (Riga: Latvian Ministry of Defense, n.d.), chap. 4, available at www.mod.lv./english/09inform/4dala.php. 49. Clemmesen, "The Development of Regular Army Officers," 11. 50. "Public Opinion and the Level of Awareness on Security Issues in the Baltic Countries," Baltic Surveys (Vilnius: March 1998), sec. 4.3. 51. Urbelis and Urbonas, "The Challenges of Civil-Military Relations and Democratic Control of Armed Forces: The Case of Lithuania," 122. 52. "Public Opinion and the Level of Awareness," sec. 4.2. 53. Saar Poll (1999), cited in FBIS-SOV, document 99-1213 (13 December 1999). 54. "Public Opinion and the Level of Awareness," sec. 3.2. 55. Ibid, sec. 1.4. 56. Latvijas Fakti, 2000, cited in Latvian Opinion Survey: 2000 (Riga: Latvian Ministry of Defense, n.d.), 5, available at www.mod.lv/english/06darbs/04sab.php. 57. Ibid, 7. 58. FBIS-SOV-97-338 (20 November 1997). 59. Urbelis and Urbonas, "The Challenges of Civil-Military Relations and Democratic Control of Armed Forces: The Case of Lithuania," 122. 60. Final Report, 4. 61. Ibid, 5.

7

Postcommunist Civil-Military Relations in Bulgaria Piotr Dutkiewicz and Plamen Pantev

This chapter examines the case of Bulgaria as a country aspiring to NATO membership and reforming its civil-military relations to fulfill that aspiration. The chapter considers such influential factors as Bulgaria's historical and economic background and geostrategic environment before reviewing its principal civil-military reforms and offering concluding remarks. COUNTRY PROFILE Bulgaria, bounded by the Black Sea to the east, the Danube River to the north, and mountains along its southern and western frontiers, has an area of 111,000 square kilometers and a population of 8.3 million.1 The modern history of the Bulgarian state starts with the 1878 Berlin Congress, when Bulgaria reemerged—after five centuries under Ottoman rule—as an independent country. The form of government was, at that time, a constitutional monarchy, with the ruler coming from the German royal family, selected by the Western powers. Following the decay of the Ottoman Empire, the Balkan countries, including Bulgaria, engaged in wars for national unification or territorial enlargement in 1885, 1912, and 1913. During the First World War, Bulgaria sided with Germany; after being defeated in 1918, it acquired its present-day borders. From 1945 onward, the Communist Party of Bulgaria played a decisive role in the political life of the country, firstly by abolishing the monarchy in the 1946 referendum, and secondly by instituting the first communist-led government in 1947.

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The Bulgarian communist period was characterized by nationalization of the industrial sector, collectivization of the agricultural sector, and a centrally planned economy. Bulgaria became a member of the COMECON and the Warsaw Treaty Organization, and committed itself (in political, security, and economic terms) to the bloc of European communist countries. From the 1970s onward, economic growth slowed, and through the 1980s the whole economy started to show signs of a serious crisis. In 1989, reform-minded communists staged a "palace coup" and removed from power the communist president, Todor Zhivkov, who had ruled for more than thirty years. These Gorbachev-like reformers were trying to reconcile the emergence of a multiparty parliamentary democracy with calls for a radical improvement of the economy, by insisting on moderate economic reform. Since then, Bulgarian political life has seen repeated changes of government and a significant degree of polarization, but also respect for the constitutional order and a virtual absence of violence. The 1990 elections were won by the Bulgarian Socialist Party (BSP), made up of former communists; however, the BSP government was forced by an economic crisis to resign after only a few months in power and was replaced by a "caretaker" government. New elections in 1991 resulted in a coalition government led by the Union of Democratic Forces (UDF), but that was to be replaced in its turn by a technocrat nonparty executive the following year. The 1994 elections gave a majority to a BSP government, which was again forced to resign by renewed economic troubles in February 1997 and was replaced by an interim executive. Bulgaria's president, Petar Stoyanov, elected two months earlier with UDF backing, played a substantial role in bringing the country through the ensuing political crisis to new elections in April 1997, which produced a parliamentary majority for the UDF and its allies. The general elections of 2001 proved to be critical for the future of Bulgaria, which was by then afflicted by an acute political polarization between the BSP and the UDF. In the 2001 elections the Simeon II National Movement (SNM)— the political party of the former king of Bulgaria, Simeon Saxe-Coburg-Gotha— scored an easy victory, obtaining 44 percent of the votes.2 The UDF suffered a serious defeat; Ivan Kostov, the former prime minister and head of UDF, stated that his party had lost due to the unpopularity of its economic stabilization policies and to lack of support for its privatization schemes.3 Summary of the Economic Situation After years of stagnation that followed the departure of the socialist government, the Bulgarian economy has undergone an impressive turnaround. With the backing of the International Monetary Fund (IMF) and other international financial institutions, the Bulgarian government has introduced numerous structural reforms that have resulted in a reduced budget deficit, lower inflation, and a rise in foreign investment. Furthermore, it should be mentioned that despite the unfavorable external impact of the Asian, Russian, and Kosovo

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crises, macroeconomic developments in Bulgaria have remained largely positive since the implementation of the UDF's new economic policies. In April 1997, the UDF government won the preterm parliamentary elections and introduced an IMF currency board system, which succeeded in stabilizing the economy. The triple-digit inflation of 1996 and 1997 gave way to an official consumer price increase of 6.2 percent in 1999. Following declines in GDP in both 1996 and 1997, the economy grew an officially estimated 3.5 percent in 1998 and 2.5 percent in 1999.4 In September 1998, the IMF approved a threeyear extended fund facility, which provided credits designed to support Bulgaria's reform efforts.5 The first stage of the process of privatization, which occurred during Ivan Rostov's regime, focused on enterprises and involved about 63 percent of all state-owned assets. The second phase of the privatization program concerned mainly utilities and infrastructure. Monitoring of some 154 troubled enterprises showed that losses were still substantial, pointing to the urgency of further restructuring. Important reforms of health insurance, social security, and the pension systems continued, further reinforcing the market orientation of the economy.6 The agricultural sector was also liberalized, with over 80 percent of eligible land being given back to its former owners. Overall, as a result of the progress made in privatization and enterprise restructuring, the private sector has raised its share of the GDP to over 60 percent.7 Rostov's prudent policies, international aid, and new foreign investment have been seen as the major factors in the growth of real GDP.8 In 1999, Bulgaria became a full member of Central European Free Trade Agreement (CEFTA), and a free trade agreement, which came into effect in January 2000, was signed with the Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia (FYROM).9 However, the European Union (EU) continues to be Bulgaria's most important trade partner. In the first half of 1998, Bulgarian exports to EU countries represented 50 percent of its total exports, while in the second half of 1999 this share increased to 55 percent. Imports from the EU increased in relative terms at the same rate, from 45 to 50 percent, confirming the rapidly increasing trade integration between Bulgaria and the EU. In its 2001 economic analysis, the European Commission noted continued improvement in macroeconomic development in Bulgaria since its previous report in mid-1998. While it acknowledged Bulgaria's progress, the report stated that Bulgaria was not yet able to cope with the competitive pressure and market forces within the EU in the medium term. However, Bulgaria is now on a fast-track position for membership in the European Union.10 Political Environment In late 1996, mass antigovernment demonstrations led by the UDF and nationwide strikes forced the socialist government to resign. In Bulgaria's presidential elections of October-November 1996, Petar Stoyanov of the UDF defeated his socialist adversary; he began serving a five-year term in January

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1997. A UDF caretaker government under interim prime minister Stefan Sofiansky took swift steps to stabilize the economy. The elections of April 1997 resulted in a victory for the UDF and its coalition partners, who would hold a significant majority of parliamentary seats (137 out of 240). The UDF leader, Ivan Kostov, became prime minister. The priority concerns of the Kostov government were the acceleration of economic reforms, the fight against crime and corruption, and the achievement of greater integration with European institutions. In 1998, the European Commission, in a report on Bulgaria's preparedness for EU membership, assessed that the country met the political criteria. In its 1999 report on Bulgaria, the European Commission noted that the political situation remained stable and applauded the UDF Government for its commitment to both EU and NATO membership. In the spring of 2001 an unexpected shift took place in the Bulgarian political space. Despite the macroeconomic stability of Bulgaria and its relatively solid international standing, the standard of living remained unacceptably low for the vast majority of the population, and unemployment persisted with no significant improvement. In the June 2001 elections, the sixty-four-year-old ex-king of Bulgaria, Simeon Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, became the first monarch from Central or Eastern Europe to become prime minister in his homeland since the collapse of communism. Simeon IPs party, which had been formed only two months before the elections, entered into a coalition with the ethnic Turkish minority's Movement for Rights and Freedoms (MRF) and with it enjoyed a relatively comfortable majority of 141 out of 240 seats in the parliament. The sixteenmember coalition government has included economists with Western European experience, two members of the MRF, and two city mayors from the socialist party.11 Most of the new ministers are technocrats who until recently were little known in the political arena. Forty-three-year-old lawyer Nikolai Svinarov, a close ally of the MRF chairman Ahmed Dogan, was appointed minister of defense.12 Solomon Passy, the foreign minister, is a long-standing proponent of Bulgarian membership in NATO.13 During the transition, in the context of a multiparty environment, Bulgaria has elected two BSP and two UDF presidents: Petar Mladenov (BSP), Zhelio Zhelev (UDF), Petar Stoyanov (UDF), and Georgi Parvanov (BSP). Foreign Policy The end of the Cold War has brought a new geostrategic dimension for the Balkans. The disintegration of the Warsaw Treaty Organization left the peninsula with a security vacuum, and the outbreak of the Yugoslav civil war represented a real threat to regional stability due to the possibility of spillover. Still, Bulgaria maintained good relations with its neighboring states. It has actively supported, and in some cases has led, numerous regional initiatives, such as the so-called Sofia process of regional security and cooperation; the process of economic cooperation in the Black Sea region that led to the establishment of the Organization for Black Sea Economic Cooperation

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(OBSEC); and the creation of the Multinational Peace Force South-Eastern Europe (MPFSEE), with headquarters in Sofia. Bulgaria also signed the Stability Pact for South-Eastern Europe (SPSEE), which aims to establish sustainable peace and good neighborly relations in the Balkans, based upon healthy and functional market economies, the promotion of regional cooperation, and faster integration with the EU.14 After the end of the Cold War, and especially after the UDF government came to power in 1997, Bulgaria normalized relations with Turkey. Bilateral relations had been strained over Bulgaria's expulsion of large numbers of its ethnic Turkish minority during the 1980s.15 Regional cooperation initiatives, such as agreements to combat organized crime and establish (together with Romania and Greece) a joint rapid-reaction force for regional emergency and rescue operations, were launched. Political and economic ties to Romania (which also seeks NATO and EU entry) and Greece have been traditionally stable. A visit by Romanian prime minister Adrian Nastase to Bulgaria in August 2001 showed Romania's willingness to promote in "tandem" with Bulgaria the idea of both countries' joining NATO and the EU. Bulgaria was one of the first states to recognize the independence of its southwestern neighbor, the Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia. In early 1999, Bulgaria resolved a dispute with the FYROM over language, clearing the way for fully normalized bilateral relations.16 Bulgaria is a member of NATO's Partnership for Peace (PfP) and EuroAtlantic Partnership Council (EAPC), of the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE), and of the Council of Europe. It is also an associate partner country of the Western European Union (WEU). Bulgaria has been a member of the World Trade Organization since 1996. It is an associated country of the EU; the six countries to which EU leaders decided, at the Helsinki Summit in December 1999, to open the enlargement process included Bulgaria. THE NEW GEOSTRATEGIC ENVIRONMENT Throughout the entire Yugoslav crisis, Bulgaria reiterated its policy of nonintervention and the right of self-determination for all peoples in Yugoslavia. It recognized the former Yugoslav secessionist republics: Bosnia and Herzegovina, Croatia, Slovenia, and the FYROM. Neutrality and the noninterference in the domestic affairs of other countries, including Yugoslavia, were strategic foreign policies of Bulgaria until 1997. Deviations from this path included the peacekeeping mission to Cambodia and Bulgaria's involvement with NATO's Implementation Force (IFOR) and Stabilization Force (SFOR) in Bosnia and Herzegovina. A shift toward a more vigorous foreign policy aimed at achieving membership in NATO began in 1997 with the election of the UDF president and government.17 Bulgarian decision makers eventually moved toward active cooperation with the North Atlantic alliance. In an effort to draw a sharp distinction with the former government, the interim government under Prime Minister Stefan Sofiansky declared in February 1997 as one of its first acts

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Bulgaria's unequivocal goal of becoming a full member of NATO. Since then Bulgaria has intensified its dialogue with the alliance on prospective membership. 18 The Kostov government and President Stoyanov strongly pressed NATO and its member states to uphold and develop their "open door" policy to additional candidate states. 19 When violence broke out in Kosovo in early 1998, the Bulgarian government initiated a joint declaration on conflict prevention, ultimately issued by countries in the Balkan region. In 1999, the Bulgarian government and the president strongly supported NATO's Operation Allied Force against Serbia, despite domestic disapproval of the air strikes. Disapproval of Yugoslav president Slobodan Milosevic's policy of ethnic cleansing was enough for the Bulgarian government to grant NATO unrestricted use of its airspace. The government later granted NATO troops free passage through Bulgaria for deployment of peacekeeping forces in Kosovo. NATO officials and some of the alliance's member states have highly praised Bulgaria for its support of Operation Allied Force. 20 In a speech given in Sofia in October 2000, George Robertson, NATO's secretary general, applauded the Bulgarian position during the Kosovo conflict: Today, theory has caught up with reality. A common culture is emerging. We could see this most clearly during our Kosovo operation. Despite political risks and economic hardships that entailed, our Partners supported our policy, Bulgaria among the foremost. This support enabled us to prevail. It demonstrated that our Partnership initiatives have truly reshaped Europe: not only have we created a closer military community, but indeed a community of shared values.21 During his first visit to Sofia in November 1999, U.S. president Bill Clinton expressed support for Bulgaria's membership in NATO. 2 2 In April 1999, the North Atlantic alliance endorsed a detailed Membership Action Plan (MAP) for future NATO aspirants and the Bulgarian government presented MAP reports to NATO in 1999 and 2000. Bulgaria has taken part in and has hosted numerous PfP training exercises designed to improve interoperability with NATO forces. Bulgaria has also participated in the Planning and Review Process (PARP) under PfP, working to implement over forty interoperability objectives. Bulgaria has contributed a small platoon and medical facilities to SFOR operations in Bosnia and Herzegovina since mid-1997. In January 2000, the government approved a proposal to contribute a forty-four-person engineering platoon to KFOR, NATO's peacekeeping operation in Kosovo. The Bulgarian forces were attached to the Dutch contingent serving in the southern multinational brigade there. 23 Some one hundred Bulgarian men and women serve with the United Nations police force (UNMIK) in Kosovo and contribute to the preservation of order in the province. The Bulgarian government's position vis-a-vis the latest crisis in the FYROM was clear from the very beginning of hostilities—there was no acceptable alternative to a political solution to the conflict. The Kostov government encouraged increased international involvement, particularly a NATO-KFOR role in the demilitarization and disarmament of the Albanian terrorists, and

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pledged to play a more active role in the context of the SPSEE. Furthermore, Bulgaria reaffirmed its commitment to increase its participation in NATO-led peace-support operations in the region. Bulgaria's position was that the EU, the OSCE, and NATO should lead an international effort in support of the reconciliation of Macedonian society and in order to minimize further destabilization of the region.25 In April 2001, the Bulgarian parliament ratified a unified agreement with NATO for military transit and deployment, building upon two previous similar agreements for transit and the use of airspace. REFORM OF THE ARMED FORCES The Bulgarian armed forces are engaged in a major restructuring process, aimed at creating a higher military capability and achieving NATO interoperability. In the fall of 1991, the armed forces totaled 107,000 (forty-six thousand of them professionals). In February 1998, the Kostov government approved a plan to reform the armed forces over the following twelve years ("Plan 2010"). The parliament approved in April 1998 a new National Security Concept declaring that it had no territorial claims, maintained a defensive military doctrine, and desired to join the EU and NATO. This blueprint sees security in increasingly internal terms, including the struggle against organized crime, corruption, and Bulgaria's low standard of living.26 The overall aim of the reforms has been to create a smaller, more mobile military, compatible with NATO forces and capable of providing initial security in a small or mediumsized conflict within Bulgaria or on its borders. The armed forces were to be reorganized into a brigade/corps structure centered upon a rapid-reaction force and two regular army corps.27 The UDF government approved three stages of restructuring, which envisioned reducing the military to sixty-five thousand personnel by 2010. The first phase was completed in 1997, by when the armed forces still numbered around 107,000.28 The second phase (1998-2000) envisioned the forces' being organized into three corps totaling seventy-five thousand. In 2000 alone, some 5,150 officers were discharged. Most of the initial cuts are being made by reducing the annual number of conscripts from fifty to thirty thousand and by immediately cutting five thousand professionals. The length of compulsory military conscription will also be reduced from eighteen to twelve months. The third phase will reduce the force to sixty-five thousand, with plans to modernize its inventory with the resulting savings.29 Bulgaria spent eight hundred million leva for military restructuring between September and December 1997. The 1998 defense budget of 487 billion leva (roughly two percent of the GDP) allocates some twenty-five billion leva (about fourteen million U.S. dollars) for troop relocation and military reform. For 1999, the government announced, and the parliament later approved, a major increase in the defense budget to about 588 billion leva ($307 million U.S.), an amount representing over two percent of the GDP. This increase was possible due to the fact that unlike Hungary and the Czech Republic, in Bulgaria the military enjoys

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popular support. According to the Ministry of Defense, most of the budget increase aimed to cover personnel and restructuring costs. Almost the entire defense budget was used for basic force maintenance. Resources for the acquisition of new weapons or other modernization measures have not been available for some years. Equipment maintenance, logistical support, and training have also suffered from budgetary cuts to the detriment of the Bulgarian military's state of readiness. The projected defense budget for 2000 was about seven hundred million leva ($350 million) after the country's currency reform, representing another increase.31 In October 1999, the Bulgarian government adopted the so-called Plan 2004, an outline of accelerated structural and organizational reforms for the Ministry of Defense and the armed forces themselves. The goal of these reforms is to achieve a small but combat-ready military. The armed forces would consist of rapid-reaction forces, main defense forces, territorial defense forces, and reserves. The reforms would entail a reduction in the amount of military equipment and the closure of some military bases and military educational institutions. As the General Staff—not the parliament—was to decide which bases to close, political opposition and pressure might alter the plans during the process of implementation.32 These reductions and the privatization of some defense industry sectors are expected to provide budgetary savings and sources of revenue. CIVIL-MILITARY RELATIONS DURING THE TRANSITION PERIOD According to the Bulgarian constitution of 1991, the role of the armed forces is to guarantee the sovereignty, security, and independence of the country and to defend its territorial integrity. According to the same document, the president is the head of the state and the commander in chief of the Bulgarian armed forces. The president, on the advice of the prime minister and the government, appoints, dismisses, promotes, and decorates all high-ranking officers. The constitution states that the government deals with the day-to-day issues of defense. It is responsible for the funding of the army through the state budget, as well as for its administration and auditing.33 Civilian control over defense issues is further strengthened by implementing the mandate of the Consultative Council for National Security, a body that brings together the president, representatives of the presidential administration, the prime minister, the ministers of defense, domestic affairs, foreign affairs, and finance, and representatives of the parliamentary groups and of the General Staff. What is particularly relevant to the civilian oversight over the armed forces in the Bulgarian transition period is that the military budget is strictly controlled by the civilian authorities, as part of the 1998 currency board macroeconomic regulations.34 The level of civilian oversight of the military is increased by the fact that three parliamentary committees (the National Security Committee, the Budget Committee, and the Economic Committee) also examine and audit the defense budget.

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Particularly relevant to civilian oversight is the Law of Defense and Armed Forces, ratified in 1995 and amended in 1997. This law defines the roles and responsibilities of the parliament, the government, the president, the Ministry of Defense, and other state institutions in organizational and managerial issues and matters related specifically to civilian oversight. The law provides for the transparency and details of procedures covering a wide range of topics, such as declarations of war, martial law, mobilization, command, terms of service, and personnel. The 1997 amendments strengthened civilian control over defense issues by stating that all questions relating to the deployment of Bulgarian troops abroad or to the transit of foreign troops through Bulgaria were to be approved by parliament. Mention should also be made of the impact of the new political makeup of parliamentary committees, such as the National Security Committee, the Foreign Affairs and Euro-Atlantic Integration Committee, and the Economic and Budgets Committee after the June 2001 election. They have the right to organize hearings and ask for any relevant information from the government or the chief of the General Staff. The new SNM-MRF coalition currently dominates all standing committees, including those directly related to civilian oversight of the military.35 SNM's election platform outlined its ambition to promote an active process of European integration under the framework of the EU and NATO. In his election speech to the nation, Simeon II made it clear that he supported the existing orientation of Bulgarian foreign policy in actively promoting Balkan cooperation with, and membership in, the Euro-Atlantic political and security organizations. A central piece of his political platform was the implementation of a robust policy for fighting economic crime and corruption, which had plagued the four and a half years of UDF rule.36 He stressed the importance of further democratization and openness in decision-making processes, hoping for a return of "normality and high moral standards" to the Bulgarian political realm.37 Unquestionably, new trends demonstrating further strengthening of Bulgarian civil society have emerged. Particularly visible is the "new civil culture" of the Bulgarian defense community. To a large degree, the existence of an open and active dialogue with civil society was due to a high level of public debate on security issues, especially after the Kostov government made clear its ambition to speed up Bulgarian efforts toward NATO membership. Today, there are a dozen active nongovernmental organizations (NGOs), some of them very influential not only in academic debates, but also in lobbying important issues. Thus, the content of civil-military relations and its significance in Bulgaria changed in an evolutionary way during the decade of 1991-2001. Initially (1991-96), democratic civil-military relations and democratic control of the armed forces were considered indispensable components of putting aside the past, the totalitarian state and society, as well as the Warsaw Pact's Soviet politico-military culture, and of beginning the process of adapting to a democratic state and a market economy. Secondly, Bulgaria's formal application for NATO membership in 1997 catalyzed a major shift in the perception and

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assessment of civil-military relations in the transition period. The whole Bulgarian political spectrum found a common denominator, a basis for national consensus on security and defense issues—joining NATO as a full member. Democratic civil-military relations and democratic civilian control of the armed forces had become basic criteria for joining the alliance. By the end of 2000, Bulgaria had successfully undergone the "first generation of reforms."38 Since early 2001, Bulgaria has been moving along the "second generation of reforms" in the area of civil-military relations. A third main shift in the perception of civil-military relations in Bulgaria is that these reforms are supposed to lead established institutions to more effective operation and procedures in the realm of democratic civilian control of the armed forces and to the eventual acquisition of shared norms and values for civilians and military staff. This shift in attitude became possible because the transition process in the field of Bulgarian civil-military relations started to be perceived as an ongoing process, not one with a clearly defined end. For instance, it has become increasingly clear to political leaders and society that implementation of the MAP obligations or of Plan 2004 and even accession to NATO and the EU are not goals in themselves. Rather, they are milestones on the longer journey toward more security through cooperation and integration, which would provide, at the end of the day, prosperity for the people.39 Bulgarian civil-military relations have been the subject of focused studies by the Bulgarian research community and partners from NATO countries, mainly the United States and the United Kingdom.40 Cumulatively, this body of research is useful for identifying areas of weakness, factors that may be considered disabling for both NATO membership and Bulgaria's domestic stability. Issues Stemming from the Ongoing Transition Process One may say that the culture of public scrutiny over governmental issues is more advanced in the area of civil-military relations than in other areas. Bulgarian citizens have examined less closely monopolistic electricity and heating companies, or even the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, than the country's military and security system, even though democratic control of the armed forces has not yet become a normal component of an encompassing system of public monitoring and oversight of government. Thus, civil-military relations and democratic civilian control over the military will greatly profit once the whole governmental system institutionalizes greater openness and transparency to society. Issues in the Area of the Defense Planning System One of the achievements in the field of civil-military relations field since autumn 1998 has been the establishment of a functioning defense planning system, overcoming such previous deficiencies as disconnects between national security objectives and existing force structures, piecemeal approaches to

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defense planning, short-term thinking, and cultural, perceptual, and educational inadequacies. Consolidation of achievements in this respect is currently the issue at stake, as well as extension to the Ministry of Defense and the General Staff the culture and style of "guidance-management feedback," an approach that the newly established Defense Planning Directorate has already practiced extensively since 1998. Another pending issue is the need for civil servants belonging to this directorate to receive defense resource management training from NATO countries. A third major problem with defense planning is the requirement to plan for a broad spectrum of risks. The real challenge is to acquire and utilize political and economic thinking, alongside strictly military thinking. Determining the proper needs of defense given the competition of other national priorities—education, healthcare, economics, civil society, social activities, etc.—is not an easy task. Increased involvement by experts from the academic community and NGOs may contribute to the improvement of planning by the Ministry of Defense. Issues of a Fundamental Institutional and Legal Nature An irritant in the otherwise rather successful armed forces reform and in civilmilitary relations in general is the persistent domination by the military staff in decision-making processes in military issues. The main stumbling blocks are inadequate level of integration of the General Staff in the Ministry of Defense, and the self-perception of the chief of the General Staff as the most important military assistant and adviser to the minister of defense, the prime minister, and the president. There is a need for the realization that the armed forces should be involved in the proposal stage of military policies and that the civilian leadership should base its decisions on the (military and civilian) expertise provided.41 Further, clearer delineation of the functions of the General Staff and of military professionals will likely have a practical and positive effect. Educational Issues in Civil-Military Relations A large part of the change in the area of civil-military relations in Bulgaria during the last decade has been carried out through various forms of education. More than one thousand officers, sergeants, and civilians have graduated from training courses in NATO countries. Much of the expectation that the deficiencies in these relations will be overcome is linked to appropriate education. Even so, there remain two primary areas requiring continued attention. First, the military must learn and accept the model of democratic civilian control and of a political agenda designed by civilian leaders. Educational programs in the Rakovsky Defense College, for instance, provide constantly improving opportunities for a higher-level education in this area, based on NATO standards, for the Bulgarian military. Second, civilians (politicians, especially members of the government and parliamentarians, as well as representatives of the media and NGOs, etc.) must have an adequate

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understanding of the problems the military is facing. The Bulgarian chief of General Staff is right to claim that politicians and military officers do not always understand each other, "mainly because [the politicians] are not prepared militarily. It is time for them to ask and to start studying with us in the Defense College."42 Expanding military education and training to civilian state employees, parliamentarians, parliamentary staff, journalists specializing in defense issues, and civil servants working with the president's administration can help them better understand military issues. A basic competence for interaction between civilians and the military is needed in order to cope with the rising requirements of the defense and security of the country and of the North Atlantic alliance. Social Consequences of the Armed Forces Restructuring Substantial reductions of the Bulgarian armed forces started in 1996-97.43 There are concerns that a large-scale reduction (particularly in the number of senior officers) carried out by the "civilian" Ministry of Defense may cause a perception within the armed forces that civilians "are not protecting the interests of the military enough." To remedy such perceptions and to prepare officers for an active civilian life, the Ministry of Defense is vigorously engaged in paid retraining programs for dismissed officers (jointly with the Ministry of Labor and Employment Offices). Appropriate policies resulting from international cooperation should reveal appropriate ways in which the military staff can be retrained for civilian jobs or receive financial compensation. Issues in the Area of Procurement Transparency in defense procurement is realized in procurement decisions as well as the process of acquisition decision making. The Law on Public Tenders guarantees transparency in procurement decisions.44 The implementation of the law is controlled by the Audit Chamber, an institution associated with parliament. The major issue that remains in achieving increased transparency and civilian oversight of defense procurement is clarification of the connection between national security goals and acquisition decisions. Another challenge is the strengthening of coherent and all-encompassing program-based defense planning, thus eliminating parallel planning processes leading to uncoordinated procurement decisions.45 Issues Related to the National Intelligence Services The Bulgarian intelligence sector mostly requires stock-taking and sorting out. The issues in this delicate field of national security are many and of a different nature than those of other security areas. For instance, they include the president's control of the National Intelligence Service (NIS) based on the former constitution, in contradiction with the new constitution, which calls for

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the security services to be subordinated to the prime minister. At least three times during the last decade this imbalance caused inter-institutional disputes. Second, there is little regulation of the intelligence and counterintelligence services, though few have raised their voices against this situation. The roles of both the NIS and the counterintelligence National Security Service (NSS) must become subjects of wider public and professional debate. Third, democratic civilian oversight of intelligence activity is very poor. Because of its direct link to the democratically elected president, NIS is not subject to parliamentary oversight. This practice must be terminated to prevent the use of intelligence for domestic political or business purposes. Fourth, a certain degree of professional qualification should be required for the leaders of the intelligence services. The fact that the present NIS leader had never before worked in the intelligence field did not prevent him from rising to the rank of general, with political help. As a result, his authority over this institution has been undermined. A final issue relates to the secret files of former agents who belonged to the communist intelligence services. Unclear and indecisive regulations on their use and access to them have created periodical turmoil, especially before elections. CONCLUSIONS Although Bulgaria has lost seven valuable years before the Kostov government came to power in 1997, significant and irreversible changes in Bulgarian strategic policies have occurred. Openness in defense procedures has increasingly become normal and civilian control over the military is now clearly codified and regulated. The civilian government and parliamentary authorities exercise control over the armed forces, military budgeting, management, and human resources. The government has also established an interdepartmental committee on NATO integration, with significant civilian participation. On the other hand, civilian parliamentary expertise in defense and security issues is considered to be weaker than in other Central and Eastern European countries, such as Poland, Hungary, and the Czech Republic (which are now full members of NATO). Despite the development of key national defense documents such as the National Security Concept, Military Doctrine, and Plan 2004, which stress the importance of strong civilian control over the armed forces, the further cuts in civilian personnel in both the General Staff and the Ministry of Defense outlined in all three documents is a problem. A viable solution may be found in recent initiatives sponsored by NATO, the World Bank, and the SPSEE, which have facilitated comprehensive programs for the reintegration of demobilized military personnel in Bulgaria into civil labor markets. It should be noted that the South-Eastern Europe Defense Ministerial process further strengthened civilian control over security issues in the context of Balkan regional cooperation. A vital factor for consolidation of these new trends in the region is NATO's MAP.46 Additional education for civilians dealing with defense and security issues, starting with parliamentarians, and a more detailed

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procedure of democratic civilian control over acquisition-related decision making are needed in order to achieve a high standard of civilian scrutiny over the military. Finding stable solutions for the organization and functioning of the country's intelligence sector is another requirement to be considered in light of Bulgaria's impending accession to NATO. The problem of civil-military relations, an important part of the transformation of the defense establishment in Bulgaria, has evolved as a meaningful social issue largely due to cooperation with NATO, the WEU, the OSCE, and the EU. These contacts facilitated a new political culture with respect to security and defense issues and have direct impact in the context of active regional cooperation encompassing humanitarian, peacekeeping, and peace-enforcement missions. Indeed, with respect to the latest shift in the Bulgarian political space after the election of former King Simeon II as the new prime minister, there is no indication of changes in the priorities of Bulgarian strategic doctrine and foreign policy, including integration with the EU and NATO. 4 7 The new leading teams in the Bulgarian ministries of defense and foreign affairs have to implement unfulfilled tasks in preparation for membership in Western organizations. However, the biggest challenge for the new government is to cultivate the perception among the broader society that mature civil-military relations and effective democratic civilian control over defense and security institutions are of direct and vital interest to every citizen of Bulgaria. NOTES We would like to thank Dr. Zlatko Izaakovic and Dr. David Betz for their research related to the presented case study. 1. Plamen Pantev, "The Stability Pact for South-Eastern Europe," in Security in the Black Sea Region: Perspectives and Priorities, ed. Anne Aldis (Camberley: Conflict Studies Research Centre, 2001), 28-33. 2. "Ex-King Crowned Bulgarian Poll Winner," BBC News, 17 June 2001. 3. Ibid. 4. PRS Group, "Bulgaria Country Forecast," Political Risk Services 19:2 (October 2000): 54. 5. International Monetary Fund, "Focus on Transition Economies," World Economic Outlook (October 2000): 138-140. 6. Directorate General for Economic and Financial Affairs, European Commission, "Bulgaria," European Economy: Supplement A, Economic Trends 5 (May 2001): 12-15. 7. Ibid. 8. "Bulgaria Country Forecast," 51. 9. George Prohasky, Bulgaria: The New Stability (Sofia: Center for Economic Development), 9. 10. "Bulgaria." 11. "Ex-King Unveils Bulgarian cabinet," BBC News, 22 July 2001. 12. "Dogans' Lawyer Leads the Ministry of Defense," Standard, 27 July 2001. 13. "Ex-King Unveils Bulgarian Cabinet." 14. Bulgaria has been active in promoting initiatives for the development of the region

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and cooperation in the context of the Stability Pact for South-Eastern Europe and the South-Eastern Europe Cooperation Initiative (SECI). 15. Jeffrey Simon, "Transforming the Armed Forces of Central and East Europe," Strategic Forum, no. 172 (June 2000). 16.Ibid. 17. Rick Marshall, "Stoyanov Hails U.S. Action Plan for South-East Europe," USIS Washington File, 11 February 1998. 18. The elements on the fast-track agenda have been related to early implementation of the reforms and modernization of the armed forces, enhancement of democratic civilian control, and improvement of interoperability with NATO forces; training of the military in the responsibilities related to membership, with a special emphasis on language requirements; armaments cooperation with NATO member states; and planning of credible budgeting. 19. Simon, "Transforming the Armed Forces of Central and East Europe." 20. See "Intensified dialogue NATO-Bulgaria," speech by Nadezdha Mihailova, minister of foreign affairs of the Republic of Bulgaria, NATO headquarters, Brussels, 27 April 2000. 21. See "NATO's Partnerships," speech by Lord Robertson, secretary general of NATO, the Atlantic Club of Bulgaria, Sofia, 12 October 2000. 22. Steven Woehrel and Julie Kim, "NATO Applicant States: A Status Report," CRS Report to Congress (Washington, D.C.: Congressional Research Service, 19 September 1999). 23.Ibid. 24. See statement by Nadezhda Mihailova, minister of foreign affairs of the Republic of Bulgaria, EAPC meeting in Budapest, 30 May 2001. 25. See statement by Boyko Noev, minister of defense of the Republic of Bulgaria, EAPC meeting of Defense ministers in Brussels, 8 June 2000. 26. Jeffrey Simon, "Central and East European Security, New National Concepts and Defense Doctrines," Strategic Forum, no. 151 (December 1998). 27. Woehrel and Kim, "NATO Applicant States: A Status Report." 28. See Hristo Hristov, "Bulgarskata Armia: Problemi na perehoda ot naborna kym profesionalna" [Bulgarian Army: Problems of Transition From Conscription to Professionalism], Voenen Zhurnal, no. 3 (1998): 58-68. 29. Simon, "Transforming the Armed Forces of Central and East Europe." 30. Ibid. 31. Woehrel and Kim, "NATO Applicant States: A Status Report." 32. Simon, "Transforming the Armed Forces of Central and East Europe." 33. Woehrel and Kim, "NATO Applicant States: A Status Report." 34. Ibid. 35. "Parliament Approves Standing Committees' Composition Leaders," BTA, 20 July 2001. 36. "Simeon II: I Have Chosen the Most Difficult Road," Standard, 1 April 2001. 37. Kim Traavik, "Towards Harmonized Perceptions and Cooperative Security Studies," presentation to the seminar on Regional Security Challenges and Opportunities in the Balkans, Istanbul, Turkey, 7 April 2001. 38. Dr. Anthony Forster and Dr. Tim Edmunds (Defense Studies Department, King's College London at the UK Joint Services Command and Staff College) write in their research project The Transformation of Civil-Military Relations in Comparative Context about first and second-generation reform issues in the area of the democratic control of the armed forces in Central and Eastern Europe. "First generation" issues include the

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drafting and approval of new constitutions, the allocation of clear lines of responsibilities, and the putting in place of democratic structures. The "second generation" reforms are connected with the effective operation of institutions and procedures as well as the acquisition of shared norms and values of civilians and military (i.e., the changes are more of an attitudinal character). 39. See Plamen Pantev, ed., Civil-Military Relations in South-East Europe: A Survey of the National Perspectives and of the Adaptation Process to the Partnership for Peace Standards (Sofia: Institute for Security and International Studies, 2001), 213-14; Velizar Shalamanov, "Lessons of Transition in Bulgarian Security and Defense," Information and Security: An International Journal 5 (2000): 17. 40. Parliamentary Oversight and Democratic Control of the Bulgarian Armed Forces and MoD, Final Report 3/98 (London: Directorate of Consultancy and Management Services, United Kingdom, 5 October 1998), available at www.md.government.bg; Plamen Pantev, Valery Rachev, and Todor Tagarev, "Problemi na Grazdansko-voenite otnoshenia v Bulgaria" [Problems of civil-military relations in Bulgaria: Approaches to improving the civilian monitoring of the armed forces], Research Studies 2 (April 1996); Plamen Pantev, "National Security: Outlines of a New Concept," International Relations Journal, no. 1 (1991); Plamen Pantev, "The Foreign Policy of Bulgaria in the AtlanticEuro-Asiatic Zone: Formula for Behavior at the End of the Twentieth Century," International Relations Journal, no. 2 (1995); Plamen Pantev, Valeri Ratchev, and Tilcho Ivanov, Bulgaria and the European Union in the Process of Building a Common European Defense (Sofia: Institute for Security and International Studies, September 1996), available at www.isn.ethz.ch/isis; Todor Tagarev, The Bulgarian Military Education at a Crossroads, Research Report 4 (Sofia: Institute for Security and International Studies, 1996), available at www.isn.ethz.ch/isis; Plamen Pantev, The New National Security Environment and Its Impact on the Civil-Military Relations in Bulgaria, Research Report 5 (Sofia: Institute for Security and International Studies, 1997), available at www.isn.ethz.ch/isis; Dimitar Lonchev and Nikolai Slatinski, Biala kniga po vaprosite na grazdanskia kontrol vav vaorazhenite sili, 1990-1997 [White book on the issues of civilian control of the armed forces, 1990-1997] (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Information Service, 1998); Dimitar Lonchev and Nikolai Slatinksi, Demokratichnoto obshtestvo i grazdanskiat kontrol varhu sistemata za natzionalna sigurnost, sravnitelen analiz i kulturni osobenosti [Democratic society and civilian control and the system of national security: A comparative analysis and cultural differences] (Sofia: Friedrich Ebert Stiftung Foundation, 1997); Valeri Ratchev, Ognyan Avramov, and Ivan Krastev, "National Security and the Democratization of CivilMilitary Relations in Bulgaria," Albatros (1996); Jeffrey Simon, "Bulgaria and NATO: Seven Lost Years," Strategic Forum, no. 142 (May 1998); Velizar M. Shalamanov and Todor D. Tagarev, Reengineering the Defense Planning in Bulgaria, Research Report 9 (Sofia: Institute for Security and International Studies, 1998), available at www.isn.ethz.ch/isis; Velizar Shalamanov, "Changing the Strategic Culture: Political and Military Aspects of Defense Reform in Post-Communist Bulgaria," paper presented to the conference, "Postcommunist Civil-Military Relations," Glasgow, March 2000. 41. See a typical discussion on this issue between the chief of the General Staff, Gen. Miho Mihov, in the daily newspaper Novinar, 23 July 2001, 9, and the deputy minister of defense, Velizar Shalamanov, in the electronic journal Mediapool, 1 August 2001, 4. While the basic problems in the area of civil-military relations are rather clear for the Bulgarian political and military leaders, including for General Mihov, he still insists on being the "voice of rationality," obviously, unlike certain "experts," including some

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generals who turned out to be "corrupted and prone to manipulation." Novinar, 23 July 2001,9. 42. Miho Mihov, "I quit the army," Novinar, 23 July 2001, 9. 43. See Roussi Roussev's approach on this topic in Trud, 16 August 2001, 1. 44. The Law on Public Tenders (State Gazette, 22 June 1999) aims, according to Article 2, at increasing the efficiency of using the taxpayers' money through: (1) establishing transparency; (2) implementing effective control of public spending; (3) providing conditions for competition; and (4) stimulating the economic development. This law is supposed to guarantee publicity of the procedure, and transparency; each procurement decision has to be included in the Registry of Public Tenders, which is published in the State Gazette. The registry is available online at www.government.bg/ index.html