Strategic Facts as a Comprehensive Model for Defence Analysis

ABSTRACT

This article explores the new research area of so-called strategic facts by examining the theoretical interaction between political and military elements in the context of defence. The research methodology uses a systems-thinking approach to conceptual interpretation. Specifically, the article references the work of French philosopher Émile Durkheim and his notion of social facts. The study concludes by suggesting that it is possible to compile an explanatory framework of the political-military nexus at the strategic level of defence by applying strategic facts as a model for defence analysis. It is also possible to identify strategic facts in the area of “defence as politics.” Further research into this topic would be useful.

KEYWORDS:

• Strategic facts
• systems-thinking
• defence analysis
• defence as politics
• political-military nexus
• political philosophy

Introduction

In recent years, Henrik Breitenbauch and André Ken Jakobsson (2018) have identified a new area of research – the study of defence planning as a strategic fact. They explore this theme in the opening article of a special issue of Defence Studies journal.¹ Other writers in the same issue shed more light on what defence planning as a strategic fact can bring to our understanding (see, e.g. Christiansson 2018; or Mattelaer 2018). As the analytical basis for their search, Breitenbauch and Jakobsson used the concept of defence planning as a strategic fact, such that the findings and implications drawn by the other authors validate their approach. Notwithstanding, there is a lack of clarity about what actually constitutes a strategic fact as a concept. To borrow terms used by Weber (2021, 2) and Barthes (1972, 10), it seems that the notion of defence planning is accepted as a “natural fact” and goes without saying. However, is this really the case?

What makes defence planning a natural fact? Moreover, is it either useful or relevant to speak of a concept of strategic fact? Is defence planning the only strategic fact, or are there more, and, if so, what connects them? Finally, and in a broader sense, what does the concept of “strategic facts” (plural) mean for defence studies? Since “defence studies is a multi-disciplinary field,” answers to such questions would be more than welcome (Galbreath and Deni 2018, 1).

Perhaps a useful starting point is Weber’s theory of myth and myth function in International Relations (IR):

An IR myth is an apparent truth, usually expressed in slogan form, that an IR theory relies upon in order to appear to be true. … An IR myth is what helps make a particular view of the world appear to be true. The myth function in IR theory is the transformation of what is particular, cultural, and ideological (like a story told by an IR tradition) into what appears to be universal, natural, and purely empirical. It is naturalising meanings—making them into common sense—that are the products of cultural practices (Barthes 1972). Put another way, the myth function in IR theory is making a “fact” out of an interpretation. (Weber 2021, 2, 6–7)

Weber demonstrates “how these transformations from cultural meanings into naturalised facts occur in our everyday encounters with IR theory” (Weber 2021, 7). For example, she demonstrates how Waltz’s ([1954]2001) myth of “international anarchy is the permissive cause of war” transforms the notion of “international anarchy” into a fact. Or how Kegley’s (1993, 1995) argument that “there is an international society” also turns the notion of “international society” into a fact. According to Weber, “cultural practices will always mediate our encounters with so-called ‘facts’ of international politics” (Weber 2021, 7). Arguably, Weber’s interpretation finds an echo in matters of defence. For example, this analogous approach may explain how Eisenhower’s (1958, 818) statement, “plans are worthless, but planning is everything”² transforms the notion of “planning” into a fact. Or, more recently, according to Breitenbauch and Jakobsson (2018), how defence planning has become an apparent strategic fact. These transformational processes are not covered within the scope of this article; however, it is enough to accept that, broadly, “facts” exist, why they exist, and what causes “facts” to emerge.

This article considers the meaning of strategic fact(s) in the context of defence analysis, although it goes further than Breitenbauch and Jakobsson (2018) by expanding their theses, calling for a closer look at the teachings of Émile Durkheim. Hence, it invites researchers to study and apply the concept of “strategic facts” at the macro level espoused by Breitenbauch and Jakobsson who call for “academic debates on theoretical approaches, methodologies, and empirical experiences” (2018, 253, 257, 258). Checkland’s ideas on system thinking support their view, i.e. the “notion of ‘the adaptive whole’ is considered as the central image in systems-thinking”³ (1999, 49). If defence politics is studied as a system of strategic facts, then it is essential to define other strategic facts and their “place” among other strategic facts in the reality of defence. This accords with Durkheim, who was writing towards the end of the nineteenth century: “there exists a whole range of gradations which, without any break in continuity, join the most delineated structural facts to those free currents of social life which are not yet caught in any definite mould” (Durkheim [1895] 1982, 59). In short, this article aims to conceptualise a fragment of the “defence world” – the reality of the political-military nexus, guided by “polemical narrowness, … rigidity, … single-minded and systematic exploration” (Lukes 1982, 18). The intent, therefore, is to demonstrate that defence planning is not the only strategic fact to consider in defence affairs, but strategic facts should be considered as a comprehensive model for defence analysis.

This article is structured around three objectives. Section One briefly reviews the current models for defence analysis. Section Two clarifies the concept of “strategic facts” as a model for defence analysis and provides an explanatory framework of the political-military nexus. Section Three lays out the strategic facts that coexist in “defence as politics”³ (Taylor 2018). Finally, the article concludes with a short discussion on the findings of the study and advocates for further research.

The teaching of Durkheim ([1895] 1982) emerges as a natural choice for this study and guide point in pursuit of our objectives, especially the second objective. The main argument behind this methodological choice relies on Durkheim’s notion of social facts and Breitenbauch’s and Jakobsson’s (2018) indirect call to use the concept of “strategic facts” based on the social facts image. Acceptance of these basic rules for social facts defined by Durkheim ([1895] 1982) underpins the requirements of this research. The first requirement is the need to interpret “phenomena as a function, not of an idea of the mind” (Durkheim ([1895] 1982, 75). One important question is: what kind of manifest and latent functions do the “facts” perform in a system (Macionis 2018, 42)? The second rule is directly related to the “facts” themselves. To correctly classify the “facts” the author had in mind, it is necessary to “crystallise” the essence of their “morphological” nature, which forms the “substrate of collective life” (Durkheim[1895] 1982, 57–58). Structural facts are of great interpretive importance, as they are the main elements that define the essence of social phenomena (Lukes 1982, 5, 18). In short, the correct naming of “fact” matters because it determines the definition and interpretation of social reality. The third rule is to justify our understanding of the phenomenon by explaining the reality of the internal structure (Durkheim [1895] 1982, 135). To paraphrase Durkheim, a “theory of defence politics must first of all show what these forces are, of what they are made and what their origins are”³ (Lukes 1982, 8). Seen from this perspective, “an interpretive search to understand the meanings of strategic facts attached to actions becomes more important than a scientific search for an explanation”³ (Lowndes et al. 2018, 10). Thus, Durkheim’s image of social facts is used to define and explain the meaning of strategic facts by interpretive search.

Where Durkheim’s idea of social facts becomes a methodological basis, the structural-functional approach or structural-functional analysis (systems theory) has great validity (see, e.g. Fisher 2010; Britannica, The Editors of Encyclopaedia n.d.; Sciulli and Gerstein 1985). Taking this approach has particular appeal if we consider that the most common defence analysis models are a legacy of the Talcott Parsons AGIL⁴ scheme. However, the methodological choice can just as easily turn the other way if the systems-thinking approach is chosen (see, e.g. Checkland 1999). Here, the compelling argument is the analytical limitations of contemporary, defence analysis models used to explain the processes of the political-military nexus. These limitations are explored in Section Two. Another argument for taking a systems-thinking approach is the tendency of the structural-functional approach to broad social problems (Macionis 2018, 43). “Originally, structural functionalism (a holistic approach) was seen by many to be an appropriate starting point. Functional action … was considered in this approach as part of a structure … that could explain political actions”³ (Keman 2016, 80). In addition, functionalism can be associated with the traditional institutional approach by “assuming that particular institutions are present because they help the political system work well”³ (Marsh and Stoker 2010, 15; Lowndes 2018, 56). On the other hand, “classic sociological theories of functionalism … have very different assumptions and can explain or make sense of different aspects of the same social phenomena”³ (Ben-Ari 2014, 308). However, the core concepts of classic functionalism theories are “in harness, structure and system” (Vincent 2015). Here, the main question is what particular aspect – function, institution, structure or system – plays the principal role in the foundation of the approach? The fundamental focus on the aspect of the system is said to be a viable methodological choice.

For these reasons, the author has adopted the core ideas of system thinking, as defined by Checkland, who asserts:

First, for an observer to choose to see some complex entity as a whole, separable from its environment, it must have properties which (for that observer at least) are properties of it as a single entity: so-called emergent properties. These properties make the whole entity ‘more than the sum of its parts’ (Checkland 1999, 50).

Based on the requirements of emergent properties, there is a fundamental interest in finding a “code” that presupposes the existence of a system. Another rule is that the system must be regarded as a layered structure, bearing in mind that “wholes having emergent properties may well have smaller wholes with their own emergent properties” (Checkland 1999, 50). The last two requirements ask to describe the “processes of communication and control” (Checkland 1999, 50), although this study will not follow the last two rules due to the lack of interest in justifying the existence of a particular system. Instead, the focus will be on strategic facts. There is, however, a further limitation, because according to Checkland’s classification, this study is considered the “study of wholes designed and made by human beings (‘designed systems’)” (Checkland 1999, 50–51). Thus, the author’s study is based on observations and interpretations rather than empirical research.

General limitations also apply to this study, one of them being the concept of “defence” as a direction of the struggle. While defence may be violent and/or nonviolent, this study regards defence as the latter and will not touch upon matters of defence in wartime. Nor will this study explore defence in IR or the security dimension based on the concept of “defence as security” (Dönges and Hofmann 2018), or examine fields of “defence as management”³ (Mahnken 2018) as well as “defence as warfighting”³ (Schmitt 2018). Thus, our focus will be on the interpretation of the political-military nexus at the domestic level, with particular emphasis on the political aspect.

Finally, this study must be credible at every level. Ultimately, as Lukes observes, one “will have to face the question of how to evaluate success at interpreting the meaning of actors’ interpretations” (Lukes 1982, 14). Lukes provides an answer, i.e. “the fact that particular interpretations or readings only make sense within a total interpretative framework, which is, in turn, made up of particular interpretations” (Lukes 1982, 14). For this reason, the explanatory frameworks will be provided at the end of each analytical section.

Section one: Current models of defence analysis

Before research commenced, it was important to ascertain why analytical constructs should play a vital role in conceptualising political and military ties. Cambridge University Press (n.d.) holds that analysis is “the act of studying or examining something in detail, in order to discover more about it.” Hence, the analytical model chosen must reflect the main parts of the object under analysis, i.e. “the products of cultural practices” or naturalised meanings by “making specific understanding into common sense”³ (Weber 2021, 2, 6–7). Various analytical constructs allow the observer to study objects under analysis, as well as inform them about the constitution of the phenomenon under the framework of “common sense.” In this way, analytical constructs become “facts” that reflect a particular view of a specific part of social reality. These arguments justify the approach chosen. Finally, since the defence of the state (the defence phenomenon) is the object of study, then the most common defence analysis models are of particular interest. By exploring models of defence analysis, they demonstrate what part of the political-military nexus can or cannot be explained.

Defence is a complex phenomenon, and today’s defence politics has a much wider scope, such as state identity, human security, or even values (Dönges and Hofmann 2018). When practical matters confront defence politics, such as formulating a specific defence policy or strategy, things become even more complex. Arriving at a satisfactory, unambiguous explanation is difficult if we consider the many processes that underpin defence. In this regard, several explanatory and simultaneously analytical models are useful. For example, the most common defence analysis models are 1) PMESII⁵, 2) S=E+W+M⁶, and 3) Defence Lines of Development (DLODs). These three models will be discussed below briefly; however, it is worth mentioning that several other models used in defence will not be explored in detail. It is enough to say that the named, more practical models commonly used in the military field, are the concepts of: fighting power (AJP-01(E) 2017, 1-16–17); combat power (ADP 3-0 2019, para. 5); or METT-TC⁷, known as mission variables. Another compelling alternative is Huntington’s (1957) or Janowitz’s (1960) classical theories of civil-military relations, which justify the existence of the political-military nexus.

The first model, PMESII, is an analytic model widely accepted and used for various defence needs (AJP-01(E) 2017, 1-5). It has different shapes, such as PMESII-PT⁸ (US case) (ADP 3-0 2019, 1-3), DIME/PMESII⁹ (Hillson 2009; Hartley 2015) or other alternative variants. Regardless of the different options, in the NATO context, PMESII is used to describe the “operating environment” and its relationship with the “instruments of national power” (AJP-01(E) 2017, 1-5). While PMESII is used to describe the operating environment – a set of interrelated elements relevant to military activities, it also lets us define the essential functions of the state. In other words, the model manifests Buzan et al.’s (1998) call to embrace “security” as a new framework for analysis. The strength of PMESII is its ability to explain the reality of defence in a broader security agenda. According to Dönges and Hofmann, “the thematic areas that could pose threats to security and defence were broadened beyond the military landscape and have increasingly encompassed environmental, economic, societal and political dimensions”³ (Dönges and Hofmann 2018, 31). It is hardly surprising that the PMESII model is used in various defence scenarios (UK MOD 2017, 39) and computer simulations (Hillson 2009). Therefore, we can conclude that PMESII is a reliable interpretation in describing the totality that makes up the realm of state and the “defence as security.” However, the PMESII model does not easily fit the defence analysis at the domestic level, especially in the realms of “defence as management” or “defence as warfighting.”

Another widely accepted analytic model describes the reality of defence through expressions such as “ends,” “ways,” and “means” (Taylor 2018, 5). This explanatory trinity is simple enough and widely used in various strategic documents, and for different reasons. According to Lykke, the S=E+W+M is a “general concept that can be used as a basis for the formulation of any type of strategy”³ (Lykke 1989, 3). It can be used to describe defence policy and the defence strategy realm (Taylor 2018, 5; JDP 0-01 2014, 8). It can also describe national strategy processes (Correia 2019, 37–38). However, it is used primarily to describe the military strategy (AJP-01(E) 2017, 3-2–3; (Lykke 1989, 2001). In fact, Lykke’s conceptualisation has shaped the attitudes of generations of officers, politicians, and bureaucrats towards strategy or policy, and as a result, has significantly impacted conceptual changes in the world, going far beyond matters pertaining to defence (Berkebile 2018). Notwithstanding, Lykke’s model was recently criticised for its interpretation of design by Berkebile (2018), and also Meiser (2016) for its validity. Meiser’s firm belief is that Lykke’s model is fundamentally flawed and reflects only the conceptual idea of a “(bad) strategy.” This would seem to make sense because the mathematical concept of the S=E+W+M model promotes the mechanics of action far from the essence of strategy. According to Mahnken, “strategy is distinct from a plan, although one is often mistaken for the other. The plan is a strategy in the absence of an adversary. The plan involves employing the resources at one’s disposal to achieve one’s aims; strategy involves competing with a particular adversary. Whereas plan may be generic, strategy cannot be”³ (Mahnken 2018, 137). Meiser’s main criticism is that the Lykke’s model does not focus on competing against a particular adversary, pays close attention to outcomes and resources, and “avoids critical and creative thinking” (Meiser 2016, 90). In addition, the framework is generic in nature. If Lykke’s model can theoretically explain the reality of various strategic processes (as is done in the context of NATO (AJP-01(E) 2017, 3-2–3) or the UK (JDP 0-01 2014, 7–8)) nonetheless, it has little impact on explaining the practical reality of defence, such as defence planning. Moreover, there is little chance of it being emplaced in various defence studies or analyses.

Perhaps the conceptual answer to Lykke’s flawed model (and the evolving post-Cold War order) can best be seen in various capability management frameworks, each with their own analytic models. Today, the best-known frameworks encompass various analytic models such as TEPIDOIL (UK case), DOTMLPF (US case), DOTMLPFI (NATO case) (Taylor 2018, 10–11; Andersson 2020, 8–9). Other variants exist worldwide (see, e.g. Correia 2019, 26), with their own particular defining name. The version of the British Defence Lines of Development (DLODs) offers the most accurate concept (UK MOD 2020, 21). DLODs is “a checklist of the ‘ingredients’ of capability … used for managing the introduction of equipment into service” (Taylor 2018, 10). DLODs also lays out a specific approach to the defence capability portfolio – a set of essential elements. So, “the common aim is to obtain a holistic view of capability development,” which is directly connected to the capabilities-based planning (CBP) methodology, which is widely used in defence planning (Andersson 2020, 8–9). Recently, there has been intense debate about the reliability of CBP methodology (Pietrucha 2015; Balasevicius 2016; Hicks 2017), which replaced threat-based planning (TBP) used by NATO between 1960 and 2000. Consistent with recent criticism of CBP methodology, it can also be reasonably explained why NATO is rediscovering the geospatial domain in defence planning (Mattelaer 2018). The CBP disconnection from geospatial, local and enemy variables, which are essential aspects of the tactical assessment of any military action, renders this methodology flawed in the presence of explicit threats (Balasevicius 2016, 7, 10). Moreover, a strong focus on top-down defence planning driven by high-level capability aims (Balasevicius 2016, 5) and a clear interest in development by “breaking the dictatorship of the present” (Stephan De 2011, 23), leaves little room for the sustainment of current defence capability and a proper understanding of the past.

Nevertheless, CBP methodology, and especially DLODs, has strong points. The two reflect a systematic idea of defence development (Stephan De 2011, 23) and encourage investment in the acquisition of “major new equipment” (NATO 2014, para. 14) and defence innovations, as in the case of the EU (EDA 2020). CBP has a significant positive impact on the defence industry and on the economy. In other words, CBP made defence just another “economic playground” (Cordesman 2019, 32). However, this “economic playground” is burdensome, according to Correia, especially for small powers (Correia 2019, 37–39). As Meiser points out, “the American way of strategy is the practice of means-based planning … focused on aligning resources with goals”³ where defence “problems could be solved with massive funding or expensive solutions” (Meiser 2016, 90–91). However, with more limited means, it places greater demands on the strategist to contrive creative ‘ways’ to overcome these limits” (Hoffman 2014, 476). In other words, defence planning based on available resources is a constant reality in small power politics. The diminishing edge in resources, at least in the field of defence innovations, is also becoming an increasingly important issue in great powers politics (Christiansson 2018, 268, 273). DLODs are those essential elements that enable going “from marginal to systemic defence planning” (Stephan De 2011, 25). Therefore, we may conclude that various DLODs are reliable systematic models for developing defence capabilities; however, DLODs has limitations that prevent them from being included in a broader defence analysis that encompasses the whole of the “defence as management” agenda. In short, DLODs are directly and strongly connected to the military element, combat power and warfighting functions (Andersson 2020, 7–8).

In summary, Section One emphasised the “place” of these three models in defence reality (Figure 1). For visualisation purposes, an explanatory matrix is provided. On the one hand, based on the writings of Taylor (2018), Mahnken (2018) and Schmitt (2018), the reality of defence emerges in three closely underpinned shapes – “defence as politics,” “defence as management,” and “defence as warfighting.” On the other hand, the reality of defence emerges in “defence as security” (Dönges and Hofmann 2018). In short, this broader defence agenda is a typical reality of a “two-level game” – “the entanglement of domestic and international politics” (Putnam 1988).

Figure 1. An explanatory matrix of the “place” of defence analysis models.

Source: Compiled by the author based on Taylor (2018), Mahnken (2018), Schmitt (2018), Dönges and Hofmann (2018) and Putnam (1988).

Typically, PMESII, S=E+W+M and DLODs models are used to analyse defence. The first model, PMESII, is reliable for describing essential state functions. It is used for defence analysis in the broader agenda of “defence as security” or “defence as politics.” However, PMESII is rarely used to analyse defence affairs at the domestic level. Another model, S=E+W+M, is highly influential and, at the same time, controversial. Although the S=E+W+M model can be found globally in various strategic documents and doctrines, the model is rarely found in defence analysis. It is more theoretical than a practically applicable model. Finally, DLODs models, along with CBP methodology, are standard in contemporary defence analysis practice. DLODs reflect a systematic idea of defence capabilities, are widely used in strategic management, as well maintaining a close relationship to warfighting. However, DLODs serve more as a tool in defining the “defence capabilities” rather than as a model helping to explain the political-military processes. Moreover, CBP focuses on top-down defence planning, driven by high-level capability aims. CBP also has a significant impact on defence development and defence innovations policies but, in return, crushes the processes of present needs. Thus, neither PMESII nor S=E+W+M nor DLODs are able to explain the defence phenomenon comprehensively. Can strategic facts be used as a comprehensive model to explain defence affairs? The initial answer is yes, and further arguments are given below.

Section two: Strategic facts as a model for defence analysis

There are differences in each of the models of defence analysis reviewed. For example, PMESII and various DLODs models reflect the reductional nature, typically expressed by acronyms. In contrast, the S=E+W+M model reflects the conceptual personality of the graphical model associated with the simple “three-legged stool” analogy (see, e.g. Lykke 1989, 6). Although models based on planning or design are helpful, however, “they are cognitively different. Planning applies established procedures to solve a mostly understood problem within an accepted framework. On the other hand, design inquiries into the nature of a problem to conceive a framework for solving that problem. In general, planning is problem-solving, while the design is problem setting”³ (FM 3-24 2006, 4-2). In other words, a “frame” of the specific analytical construct sets limitations on their scoping and application, as was shown in the previous section. Despite their merits, it is argued that discussed models are static, have weaknesses, and there is little room for improvement (Zweibelson 2015, 26). Since they are fundamentally flawed in being able to comprehensively explain the defence system or its part, there is a compelling need for a new model. The model of strategic facts is preferred because the nature of strategic facts is neither reductional nor conceptual, but philosophical.

Unlike the models discussed above, that of strategic facts is based on the systems thinking approach, characterised by raison d’être, sui generis, equilibrium and adaptive whole settings (Durkheim [1895]1982; Checkland 1999). These characteristics can explain why the philosophical model of strategic facts is so powerful. Due to their nature, strategic facts can evolve by emplacing new “facts” in a “system of systems” through philosophical reasoning and logical judgement or empirical argumentation (Ackoff 1971). It is a dynamic model – self-constructive, self-reconstructive and ultimately self-destructive. It is a never-ending process of evolution driven by itself. Hence, it is important to discuss the morphological nature of the central concept of “strategic facts” in more detail, because Breitenbauch and Jakobsson (2018) do not explain the concept of “strategic fact.” Accordingly, Section Two will first explore the meaning of “strategic” followed by the concept of “strategic facts” in the light of Durkheim (1895] 1982). Finally, the analytical power of strategic facts will be demonstrated.

To understand the meaning of the adjective “strategic,” we must also explore the concept of “strategy.” Many of the sources suggest a tendency towards “strategy” and “strategic” alignment in military, politics, business or academia (see, e.g. Eisenhardt 1999; Cerami and Holcomb 2001; Dupuy 1993, 5:2573–77). Dictionary definitions seem to align when looking for explanations on “strategy” and “strategic” concepts. Strategy, itself, is strategic – something that is strategic is closely associated with strategy. While the ontological origin is the same, these concepts do not have as much in common as they may first appear.

In the interests of morphological clarity, we should distinguish between the concepts of “strategy” and “strategic.” “Strategy” as a concept does not exclusively belong to actions, processes, actors or objects at the strategic level. No one disputes the importance of strategy in activities, although this does not automatically make them “strategic.” For Dupuy, “strategy is … the ‘design’ and the ‘guiding idea’ for the attainment of … objectives” (1993, 5:2573). In contrast, Henderson holds that “strategy is the management of natural competition” (Henderson 1989, 142), and competition can be more than just strategic. Mahnken’s view is that “strategy involves how to employ the resources at one’s disposal, … in competition with a particular adversary, … to achieve one’s aims” (Mahnken 2018, 137). At every level, all of the actors need to use available resources in competition with an exclusive adversary in order to achieve specific objectives. Strategy is not a unique property of the highest hierarchical actors. Strategy is a concept with a clear function. Strategy is a systemic set of actions designed to win the competition (Henderson 1989). In the explicit form, strategy can be understood as a plan to engage with an adversary – the competition (Mahnken 2018). Thus, competition is an essential condition for a strategy to be called a strategy. In short, the need for a strategy to compete and win is a universal need through all levels of action. Yet, despite their close traditional connection, “strategy” and “strategic” are distinct concepts. Hoffman maintains that “the essence of strategy is making choices, prioritising objectives, and making trade-offs” (2014, 476). On the other hand, the adjective, “strategic” reflects the great importance of an action, process, actor or object. In terms of defence, “strategic” refers to the highest hierarchal position of importance, such as “strategic level” or “strategic management.” Hence, “strategic” defence is always a question of political-military interaction at the highest level.

With this in mind, i.e. the meaning of the adjective, “strategic,” we can now consider the central concept of “strategic facts,” however we first need to examine and reveal the concept of “social facts” in detail. By means of comparison, we can then grasp the essence of strategic facts. Finally, in defining the characteristics of strategic facts in this way, the latter emerges as a comprehensive philosophical model.

According to Durkheim, the concept of “social facts” has different meanings at the individual level versus the social level. Social facts do not include an interpretation of the individual level, and are exclusively limited to phenomena created by human social interaction. Rather, they exist independently of the will of an individual and may not be noticed by an individual. Yet, as Durkheim emphasises, social facts confirm their existence due to the resulting limitation of human activity and choice (Durkheim [1895]1982, 52, 57). The essential feature is that social facts are sui generis phenomena (Durkheim [1995] 1982, 144), so that the interpretation of social facts must: 1) be separated from the individual; 2) influence human functioning and choices; 3) be interpreted in terms of the holistic paradigm. Here, it is useful to note that social facts are not institutions in themselves. On the contrary, institutions are fundamentally necessary for social facts to exist simply because they maintain and create stability in various systems and structures, as well as empowering and restricting them (North 1990). In short, a social fact is an object among other objects in the realm of “system of systems,” where institutions regulate their interaction. Because of the institutions, there is also a certain balance of social reality.

The concept of “strategic facts” (Table 1) can be further clarified, based on the interpretation of social facts. Human interaction loses meaning and significance when we interpret strategic facts. Furthermore, the interaction of various actors, processes and practices become essential in our interpretations. Thus, according to the example of social facts, strategic facts are phenomena created by multiple interactions, processes and practices (Christiansson 2018, 273, 264, 275) that have distinctive dynamics of their own (Breitenbauch and Jakobsson 2018, 257). Strategic facts as social facts are supported by various institutions and have their specific existential meaning – manifest and latent functions (Macionis 2018, 42). Thus, strategic facts emerge as an alternative analytical construct based on the social facts image, at least in the defence field.

Table 1. Comparison of characteristics between strategic facts and social facts.

Strategic facts	Social facts
Has a raison d’être in strategic reality	Has a raison d’être in social life
The essence of existence is the actors’ strategic interaction	The essence of existence is human social interaction
The existence of strategic facts acts as a constraint on the actors’ performance	The existence of social facts acts as a constraint on people performance
Strategic facts are inseparable from the procedural and practical whole (sui generis)	Social facts are inseparable from the social whole (sui generis)
Strategic facts are not addressed at the level of an individual process or practice – it is a matter of management	Social facts are not addressed at the individual level – it is a matter of psychology
All have a common feature – the institutions that enable systems to maintain and ensure equilibrium between different structures

Source: Compiled by the author based on Durkheim ([1985] 1982), Breitenbauch and Jakobsson (2018) and Christiansson (2018).

Having this new model of analysis, we can demonstrate its potential in the defence system. By following the declared rules, the following questions first need to be answered: Why does this defence system exist?; and What makes defence an adaptive whole? To justify the existence of a particular defence system, we should look for common characteristics in IR theories that Weber explored. She concluded that the major IR theories generally recognise the concept of “international anarchy.” Also, most theories agree that the main actors in international anarchy are states, whose ultimate objective is to survive (Weber 2021, 70). Thus, the raison d’être of the defence system is to ensure the state’s survival at a time of international anarchy. But, what about the “code” that presupposes the existence of a defence system? Different forms of power emerge as emergent properties (Paret 1989), namely the concept of “power,” which can explain what makes elements of the state similar and, at the same time, different. Finally, political and military elements’ interest in competitive struggle of an external and internal nature because power – the “code” – allows a definition of the defence system as an adaptive whole. This article will further discuss the nature of internal competition.

Breitenbauch and Jakobsson argue that “throughout the political-military revolutions (especially in democratic societies), a civilian political power hierarchically comes to dominate the military”³ (2018, 259). “The primacy of politics applies … also to other strategic actors” and “it is axiomatic that policy drives strategy” (Mahnken 2018, 137–39). Thus, the ascendancy of the political over the military is a reality that is solid (Dupuy 1993, 5:2574), although this may not always be the case. According to Paret, historically, “the concerns and methods of political and military power are never easily reconciled” (1989, 252). Another argument is that competition is still active, albeit in different shapes and forms (Feaver 1996). The existence of internal competition allows the explanation that, historically, “holders of political power do not invariably wish to increase the power of the military element” (Paret 1989, 240). Competition may explain why the military is resistive and protects the military domain from more profound civilian intervention (Gerras and Wong 2013).

Moreover, “military power always has political implications,” and those implications are said to appear through the process of governance (Paret 1989, 240). Governance is “the way that organisations or countries are operated at the highest level, and the systems for doing this”³ (Cambridge University Press n.d.). The military element holds an area of governance on how warfighting is waged – the “professional information and knowledge production monopoly on … organised violence” (Breitenbauch and Jakobsson 2018, 259). Warfighting is not just tactics, but also the ideas and activities relating to how organised violence is governed. Finally, warfighting makes it possible to pursue political and military objectives, not limited only by war. On the contrary, the political element has political power directly related to resources and can also be used against the military element (Taylor 2018, 16). Thus, throughout history, there has always been interaction between political and military elements in the competition to increase one’s power at the expense of the other. In short, this brief discussion reflects the argument that “defence as politics” and “defence as warfighting” have their own set of dynamics, are in a state of balance based on competition, and are ultimately connected through the same raison d’être. In this way, they become agglomerations of strategic facts (Figure 2).

Figure 2. An explanatory framework of political-military nexus in the strategic level of defence.

Source: Compiled by the author based on Taylor (2018), Mahnken (2018), Schmitt (2018).

In political-military competition, other intervening actors are often ignored, which is a mistake. A clear example is defence bureaucracies with their central function of bringing together political and military ideas and interests. In the face of political and military competition, defence bureaucracies must deal with policy-making and implementation challenges (Taylor 2018, 13–14). Moreover, the competition is not homogenous (Janowitz 1960, 320). As Taylor points out, there is a diversity of so-called “military tribes,” and if “military figures dominate defence bureaucracies, they may be particularly oriented towards the continuation of the existing structures and priorities because of the frequent conservatism of that group”³ (Taylor 2018, 16). The same applies to another competitive grouping, i.e. “political tribes” with their own ideas and interests (Huntington 1957, 89–90). This explains why defence bureaucracies “require the availability of civilians … who have a significant amount of defence expertise” (Taylor 2018, 13). Hence, bureaucrats need to have considerable political expertise to manage their portfolios. All of the above considerations are essential in order to bring together political and military elements in one coherent process – strategic management. As Mahnken points out, “individuals formulate strategies, but bureaucracies must implement them” (2018, 138). Besides, those responsible for formulating strategies are also experienced and senior bureaucrats, who, typically, influence policy-making. Moreover, defence bureaucracies play an essential role in defence planning, organisation, and execution. Thus, if “defence planning has a dynamic of its own with political effects,” so does the broader concept of “defence as management” (Breitenbauch and Jakobsson 2018, 259; Fayol 1949). This brief discussion supports the argument that “defence as management” becomes another separate agglomeration of strategic facts.

Section three: Strategic facts in the “defence as politics”

The discussion in Section Two justified the existence of three agglomerations of strategic facts: “defence as politics;” “defence as management;” and “defence as warfighting.” Each constitutes the defence system, but can be considered a separate strategic fact, following raison d’être, sui generis, equilibrium and emergent properties settings. However, the justification of one set, the layered structure, is missing. According to Checkland, “wholes having emergent properties may well have smaller wholes with their own emergent properties” (Checkland 1999, 50). In this way, smaller parts must also follow their raison d’être, sui generis, equilibrium and emergent properties settings comprehensively connected to the essence of the higher strategic fact. For this reason, we will explore the system of “defence as politics,” existing at the level of domestic politics (see Figure 1), by showing internal strategic facts and their dynamics.

Like Section Two, this section starts with a discussion of raison d’être, and in this regard, Taylor’s (2018) study serves our purposes. It is universally accepted that explicit politics finds expression through defence policy documents (laws, legal acts or regulations, etc.). The latter serve as sets of ideas agreed upon by politicians, making defence policy akin to an expression of political decisions taken in the defence policy-making process. Hence, as a form of explicit politics, defence policy implies a manifest function – to shape the direction of civilian and military efforts (Taylor 2018, 7–8). Two latent functions become clear in shaping the direction of political will. The first of these functions informs the national public, “neighbours and the wider world” (Taylor 2018, 8–9). The second restrains (what cannot be done) and constrains (what must be done) actions that can be taken in defence (Taylor 2018, 10). Thus, the sum of all named functions allows for defining the essence of their existence.

Another interest arises when we consider raison d’être, and this is the question: What makes “defence as politics” an adaptive whole? What makes them different from others? Here, the classical civil-military relations theories provide the answers. The combination of civic and political traits precisely describes the “code” that allows “defence as politics” to emerge as a separate agglomeration of strategic facts. Huntington (1957) and Janowitz (1960) mostly bring a different civil control approach and lines between civilian and military elements. One thing is evident – both scholars agree that civil and military worlds exist as fundamentally different realms (Huntington 1957, 59–61, 89–90; Janowitz 1960, 276, 285). Although civic-military separation seems sufficient, additional separation is necessary, for example drawing a line inside the civilian realm between politicians and bureaucrats. The main argument is that dealing with defence ideas and defence actions is entirely different. Politics and strategic management occupy entirely different realms, and are concerned with civil actions and military actions, respectively. According to Huntington, “people who act the same way over a long period of time tend to develop distinctive and persistent habits of thought. Their unique relation to the world gives them a unique perspective on the world and leads them to rationalise their behaviour and role”¹⁰ (Huntington 1957, 61). Thus, the emergent property of civic-political can explain why actors under the “defence as politics” realm have a common interest in survival as a meta-group despite their internal competition (Huntington 1957, 89–90).

Before embarking on a discussion of strategic facts, we should define the state of balance between the strategic facts of the “defence as politics” agglomeration. Breitenbauch and Jakobsson (2018) indirectly provide a part of an answer. Defence processes are challenging, but one thing is clear – their evolution is incremental (Breitenbauch and Jakobsson 2018, 260). Therefore, it is argued that the past-present-future incremental link can explain the dynamics of the “defence as politics” area (Christiansson 2018, 274). Also, incrementality is a central feature of any institutional change (North 1990). According to North, even radical change is not as extreme as it may appear:

Although formal rules may change overnight as the result of political or judicial decisions, informal constraints embodied in customs, traditions, and codes of conduct are much more impervious to deliberate policies. These cultural constraints not only connect the past with the present and future but provide us with a key to explaining the path of historical change (North 1990, 6).

In other words, the present cannot escape the past, and the present cannot be easily replaced with the interests and desires of the future. Thus, even drastic changes in defence policy or strategy cannot overcome the power of the defence reality of the present and the past. It means that “defence as politics” evolves according to contextual dynamics regardless of political decisions or efforts. Thus, defence change is inseparable from decisions made in the past and current arrangements, and the state of equilibrium allows us to explain why it is. Further discussion will explore this.

In our examination of strategic facts, remarks made by US General Martin E. Dempsey, in line with the incremental link, reveal at least two of these facts:

The reality of force development is that about 80% of Joint Force 2020 is programmed or exists today. We do, however, have an opportunity to be innovative in two ways. We can significantly change the other 20% of the force, and we can change the way we use the entire force. (U.S. Joint Chiefs of Staff 2012, iii)

Thus, defence sustainment is revealed as a strategic fact, and the aspect of the near future shows defence development as a strategic fact. The work of Stephan De (2011), Gerras and Wong (2013), Chinn and Dowdy (2014) supports the argument that defence sustainment has its dynamics and it is the dominant power, among other strategic facts. On the other hand, the objective superior power of the present may explain why “breaking the dictatorship of the present” is only an illusory effort (see, e.g. Stephan De 2011, 23). For this reason, “studying the preparation of the armed forces of tomorrow is arguably as important as studying the employment of the existing armed forces of today” (Breitenbauch and Jakobsson 2018, 255). Therefore, we should not ignore the power of defence sustainment in the practice of defence politics.

Further, it is argued that defence innovations, despite their similar nature and incremental connection to the future, is a separate strategic fact from defence development. The main argument is that defence development is related to available defence change technologies and equipment. On the other hand, defence innovations are about defence change. These traits can explain why defence innovations have distinct dynamics (Taylor 2018, 15). This twenty per cent change in defence reality requires available technology and equipment; at best, the latest and state-of-the-art technology and equipment are needed. Also, usually, it encompasses more than one strategic cycle. On the contrary, defence innovations are distant future-oriented. Defence innovations are about changing “the way we use the entire force” (U.S. Joint Chiefs of Staff 2012, iii). For these reasons, defence innovations also emerge as a separate strategic fact (Christiansson 2018).

Following the logic of incremental link, defence studies reveal themselves as another strategic fact that, by its nature, focuses heavily on the past. Although it might seem that defence studies as a strategic fact have little to do with politics, it is argued that they have (Popescu 2018, 445). Paraphrasing Durkheim’s ideas, we argue that “the functioning of more advanced defence policies and strategies can only be understood when we are informed about the organisation of less developed defence policies and strategies”³ (Durkheim [1895] 1982, 210). Indeed, it makes political sense because a credible understanding of past defence matters allows one to be better informed about current and future activities (Mahnken 2018, 140). While defence politics may not include defence studies, it is nonetheless political, with its own dynamics. Finally, it can be argued that the existence of defence studies as a strategic fact is reflected in the work of Galbreath and Deni (2018).

In the light of all defined strategic facts, defence resources emerge as a last, but not least, strategic fact. Politics is always crosslinked to the issue of resources (Mahnken 2018, 143), and “the certain policy must support the consistent and relevant prioritisation of resources”³ (Taylor 2018, 16). Besides, the defence resources policy defines, specifies and informs clearly what the appropriate defence functions are and what they are not (Taylor 2018, 9). This is perfectly reasonable because without resources, there can be no activity. Resources are generally treated as financial resources because “money is the soul of war” (Howard 2002, 88). In addition, the actual usage of money as an equivalent to the general term of “resources” is its convertibility to other types of resource feature. This feature of financial resources is the main reason why the level of defence spending in Gross Domestic Product (GDP) is recognised as a critical metric. Thus, the problems of defence politics are not primarily related to a certain level of defence funding, but to the rational and appropriate distribution of resources to defence needs (Taylor 2018, 13–16). In short, due to the central, natural importance, defence resources emerge as a strategic fact that directly impacts every aspect of defence.

Section Three has been the appropriate place to offer a framework that explains the constitution of “defence as politics.” In this case, it will be a reductional one. Here, the central idea is an equilibrium – the incremental link of the past-present-future. In light of raison d’être, emergent properties and sui generis settings, this allows acquired strategic facts to be consistently explained in the SSDI-R analytical framework as follow:

• Defence Studies is interested in defence affairs related to the past;

• Defence Sustainment is interested in defence affairs related to the present;

• Defence Development is interested in defence affairs related to the near future;

• Defence Innovations is interested in defence affairs related to the distant future;

• Defence Resources is interested in defence affairs related to prioritising and distributing available resources.

The brief discussion in Section Three supports the argument that “defence as politics” agglomeration meets the requirement of a layered structure. Moreover, the results also provide a possible analytical alternative for defence studies and a list of strategic facts. Thus, these merits suggest that strategic facts rightly emerge as a comprehensive, essentially philosophical, model of defence analysis.

Conclusions

This article has expanded on the ideas of Breitenbauch and Jakobsson (2018), whilst stepping more assertively into what is meant by strategic facts. By exploring the small part played by other strategic facts in political-military reality, the paper argued that defence planning is not the only strategic fact to be taken into account. Chiefly, the author’s intent is broad – to demonstrate that strategic facts emerge as a comprehensive model for defence analysis. By following the rules of strategic facts, implied by the teaching of Durkheim [1895] 1982) and Checkland (1999), the study demonstrates the power of the model. Different from other models, it follows philosophical rules.

Due to its nature, strategic facts as a model for defence analysis can be self-constructive, self-reconstructive, yet ultimately self-destructive. The study, however, explores only the self-constructive. Despite limitations, the results show more than one strategic fact in the defence realm. In domestic politics, the political-military nexus has at least three agglomerations of strategic facts: “defence as politics,” “defence as management,” and “defence as warfighting.” Through our interpretations, an explanatory framework of the political-military nexus was compiled. Further, the study looked into “defence as politics” to identify strategic facts. Other strategic facts include defence studies, defence sustainment, defence development, defence innovations, and defence resources. It is also assumed that there are more. However, additional studies are required.

Finally, the results reveal what makes strategic facts a natural fact and what connects them. First, strategic facts exist because of the actors’ strategic interaction, making them natural phenomena. Second, strategic facts are sui generis – free from the human or the actors’ will. They show their existence and power by imposing constraints on the actors’ performance. Third, strategic facts of the same realm are interrelated by their common raison d’être, emergent properties and equilibrium. And fourth, because of the layered structure trait, entanglement links spread even deeper into the strategic facts inside. In this way, strategic facts also emerge as a “system of systems” phenomenon. Moreover, the power of communication and control traits, which the article did not explore, cannot also be underestimated. Thus, in light of these results, strategic facts can be reasonably considered a broader concept. Therefore, I suggest embracing strategic facts as an analytical model in further research, at least in the field of defence analysis.

Ultimately, the implications of the study seem promising. Results offer suggestions as to what the concept of “strategic facts” could mean for defence studies in a broader sense. It is assumed that strategic facts are not fixed in one scientific realm. For this reason, might the concept of “strategic facts” be a key to joining scattered elements of defence studies into one coherent system without any break? Furthermore, might defence studies and strategic studies be linked to organisation studies without any break? Finally, does the compiled framework of political-military nexus suggest that defence studies combine IR¹¹, political science, management, and emerging warfare as distinct science? Insofar as defence studies is concerned, answers would be most welcome, and would also build greater analytical clarity into the complex realm of defence. Further studies would be useful, and scholars are welcome to participate in discussions that may follow from this paper.

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Additional information

Notes on contributors

Gintautas Razma

Major Gintautas Razma is currently a senior instructor in Military Studies at the General Jonas Žemaitis Military Academy of Lithuania, and doctoral student in political science at the same institution. His 15-year career in the Lithuanian Armed Forces has laid a solid foundation in management, leadership and warfare. Recognition of his various practical and research achievements and innovations in the military establishment has encouraged him to enter the academic community. The author’s principal research interest is to explain the development processes that pertain to military and paramilitary structures

Notes

1. Defence Studies, Volume 18, Issue 3 (2018). See https://www.tandfonline.com/toc/fdef20/18/3

2. The most common version in public life is “plans are nothing, planning is everything.”

3. The regular text is the original quote, the italics – author’s modifications.

4. “Following Parsons, the AGIL scheme depicts the four functional prerequisites that provide for the long-term continuity of action systems, such as societies. In terms of functional aspects, the acronym stands for Adaptation, Goal attainment, Integration and Latency (or latent pattern maintenance)” (Vanderstraeten 2012, 80).

5. PMESII describes a “number of interconnected elements including political, military, economic, social, information and infrastructure” (AJP-01(E) 2017, p. 1-5). See also ADP (2019, 3-5).

6. “Strategy equals ends (objectives toward which one strives) plus ways (courses of action) plus means (instruments by which some end can be achieved)” (Lykke 1989, 3).

7. METT-TC describes Mission, Enemy, Terrain and Weather, Troops and support available, time available and Civil considerations variables (FM 2014, 10-5).

8. PMESII-PT describes PMESII plus Physical environment and Time elements. This model is typical in the US case (ADP 3-0 2019, p. 1-3).

9. DIME/PMESII describes Diplomatic, Information, Military, and Economic instruments of national power (AJP-01(E) 2017, 1–5) plus PMESII.

10. Huntington initially used this thesis in describing the distinct existence of a military mind. However, this thesis applies to different contexts too.

11. In this context, International Relations is regarded as an independent realm from political science. See discussions of Rosenberg (2016) and Reiter (2015).