“To Provide and Maintain a Navy” Is Not Enough: Making the Case for American Sea Power Requires More
The MOC
By
Dr. James W.E. Smith
November 21, 2024
In 1944, Admiral William S. Pye made what in retrospect seems an extraordinary claim: his recommendations for educating future American naval officers assumed that the U.S. Navy would exist in the immediate future. His comments felt disconnected from reality: American naval power had reached its zenith, had rebuilt itself materially and professionally, and was on the path to victory over Imperial Japan in the Pacific—why would it cease to exist? But Pye’s claim reflected a growing feeling in the officer corps that post-war, the U.S. Navy might come under sustained political attack for various quarters in government that were anti-naval power. This fear stemmed from a broader debate that had taken form after the attack on Pearl Harbor in 1941, a ghost that had haunted the shape and scope of the U.S. Navy since its founding: the reorganization of national defense.
Chief of Naval Operations, Admiral Ernest J. King and Secretary of the Navy James Forrestal were faced with handling the question of how a unified defense department might work. Forrestal was deeply concerned for the future of American naval strategy and the Navy itself. He felt that the legal mandate in the U.S. Constitution that “The Congress shall have Power . . . To provide and maintain a Navy”represented the ground floor of American navalism—climbing to higher levels required articulating a national maritime strategy to justify budgets, missions, and the Navy’s independence. Even at the zenith of American naval might in 1945, the perennial question of “why America has a navy” was being raised by factions within the government with a political interest in reorganizing defense. This debate was usually led by those who viewed the world through the sole lens of land wars and who had limited interest in learning about America’s extensive maritime borders and waterways. Forrestal—a politician and a civilian—read the political winds better than naval personnel, who as seagoing professionals naturally struggled to communicate in the political vernacular. He foresaw the significant and hostile change that a unified ‘Department of Defense’ would bring to the Navy’s standing in national defense. This could only be countered by sustained communication and education to what naval power had to offer the American people.
Forrestal studied British navalists, concluding that keeping difficult questions about the role and function of a navy at bay was a greater challenge in the United States than in Britain. Whereas British navalists could always refer to the country’s island geography and sea dependency, neither the U.S. Navy nor Forrestal could use the same arguments to convince a continent-spanning superstate of the importance of naval power. As the British populace and politicians interacted less with ships and the sea over the latter twentieth century, their awareness of and interest in those things faded. After 1964, even the fact that Britain was an island was no longer a sufficient argument to combat oceanic ophthalmia and the increasingly common, extremist views propounded by land-focused tacticians. They eventually won out against the strategic orthodoxy proven by historian Sir Julian Corbett, who had analyzed history to show how Britain could maximize its influence and protect its home through a non-optional, unique British way of war and peace, of which maritime strategy was at its core.
America was never born a seapower state nor did it posses an inherent maritime culture; those had to be built through the hard work of the nation’s citizens and sailors, something which took time, experience and repeated foreign policy interactions. Intent to be a maritime power circa 1783 was no guarantee of success, and the country’s development into the twentieth century’s dominant naval power was far from an easy or linear process. All of this was because American naval power served a continental superpower—a nation predominantly a vast landmass—which made it more difficult to communicate why investment in the navy was a priority when most Americans took their homeland security for granted. Being a continental superpower meant the predominant bias towards viewing the world through the narrow lens of “land-think” was a powerful hurdle for the arguments of American navalists to clear.
Despite this, the process over the 1800s and 1900s eventually produced the world-spanning navy that won the Second World War; however, America’s ingrained landward bias still resulted in Forrestal facing that American sea power might be on ‘life support’ as of 1947.
The constitutional instruction that the Congress must “provide and maintain” a Navy was little help to him and offered little protection.
Before him lay an age of spaceships, unparalleled computing power, aircraft, the mass destructive power of nuclear weapons, and lightspeed communications around the world via the seabed and satellites. The unique culture of American navalism had long thrown smoke grenades in front of arguments that called the purpose of the Navy into question, but due to the trauma of total war, futuristic technology, and transforming geopolitics, that smoke was now clearing. These new circumstances forced the U.S. Congress to ask:
What is a navy?
What is the Navy for?
The constitution alone could not answer these questions. After all, any self-respecting lawyer or politician often leaves just enough leeway in law for reasons well intended, or sometimes not, should a change be required later. Educating elected national leadership and engaging in public relations is a necessity for the U.S. Navy to avoid stagnation and irrelevancy. Only once Americans understood their vast coasts and waterways, let alone that trade was mostly carried by sea and was vital to world security, prosperity, and stability—along with the fact that the American military could not go anywhere in force bar by sea—could any progress be achieved towards promoting U.S. sea power to a domestic audience.
On becoming the first Secretary of Defense in 1947, Forrestal would try to balance tri-service needs under increasingly difficult circumstances as interservice rivalry tore at the understanding of national strategy of which naval power is part. For all the doldrums, the task of rebuilding the U.S. Navy, and communicating its value before Congress was not a futile one. A hostile anti-naval political culture created the necessary environment for a period of profound intra-service reflection that generated luminaries and patriots––civilians and military alike––who understood the need for the Navy to have a voice in national strategy making. New technologies like nuclear power were embraced, pushing the limits of technology and human achievement from the seabed to space. This became fertile ground to embed a message of the importance of sea power in the American psyche. This experience was in stark contrast that the Royal Navy struggled without the British Admiralty to communicate its role and therefore saw British national maritime strategy all but evaporate.
If American naval power is to see another century, it must gather the best minds, seek and train the best Sailors and Marines, reach for space, take risks and sometimes “throw out the book” promptly on ideas that have not worked. But to do so, the U.S. Navy can only turn to history to learn from those who have gone before them and what worked before. Anyone who cares for the Navy’s future must exercise constant vigilance. Education about the Navy and its importance is a perennial task, and advocates must present a clear, concise, and coherent message to the nation.
Dr. James W.E. Smith is the Laughton-Corbett Research Fellow at King’s College London. In 2021, James completed a 15-year study into the relationship between the higher organization of defense and its relationship with national strategy making in the U.K. and U.S.
The views expressed above are those of the authors alone and do not necessarily reflect the views of any current or former employer, nor do they express an official view of the U.S. government.The views expressed in this piece are the sole opinions of the author and do not necessarily reflect those of the Center for Maritime Strategy or other institutions listed.
Center for Maritime Strategy
By Dr. James W.E. Smith
In 1944, Admiral William S. Pye made what in retrospect seems an extraordinary claim: his recommendations for educating future American naval officers assumed that the U.S. Navy would exist in the immediate future. His comments felt disconnected from reality: American naval power had reached its zenith, had rebuilt itself materially and professionally, and was on the path to victory over Imperial Japan in the Pacific—why would it cease to exist? But Pye’s claim reflected a growing feeling in the officer corps that post-war, the U.S. Navy might come under sustained political attack for various quarters in government that were anti-naval power. This fear stemmed from a broader debate that had taken form after the attack on Pearl Harbor in 1941, a ghost that had haunted the shape and scope of the U.S. Navy since its founding: the reorganization of national defense.
Chief of Naval Operations, Admiral Ernest J. King and Secretary of the Navy James Forrestal were faced with handling the question of how a unified defense department might work. Forrestal was deeply concerned for the future of American naval strategy and the Navy itself. He felt that the legal mandate in the U.S. Constitution that “The Congress shall have Power . . . To provide and maintain a Navy” represented the ground floor of American navalism—climbing to higher levels required articulating a national maritime strategy to justify budgets, missions, and the Navy’s independence. Even at the zenith of American naval might in 1945, the perennial question of “why America has a navy” was being raised by factions within the government with a political interest in reorganizing defense. This debate was usually led by those who viewed the world through the sole lens of land wars and who had limited interest in learning about America’s extensive maritime borders and waterways. Forrestal—a politician and a civilian—read the political winds better than naval personnel, who as seagoing professionals naturally struggled to communicate in the political vernacular. He foresaw the significant and hostile change that a unified ‘Department of Defense’ would bring to the Navy’s standing in national defense. This could only be countered by sustained communication and education to what naval power had to offer the American people.
Forrestal studied British navalists, concluding that keeping difficult questions about the role and function of a navy at bay was a greater challenge in the United States than in Britain. Whereas British navalists could always refer to the country’s island geography and sea dependency, neither the U.S. Navy nor Forrestal could use the same arguments to convince a continent-spanning superstate of the importance of naval power. As the British populace and politicians interacted less with ships and the sea over the latter twentieth century, their awareness of and interest in those things faded. After 1964, even the fact that Britain was an island was no longer a sufficient argument to combat oceanic ophthalmia and the increasingly common, extremist views propounded by land-focused tacticians. They eventually won out against the strategic orthodoxy proven by historian Sir Julian Corbett, who had analyzed history to show how Britain could maximize its influence and protect its home through a non-optional, unique British way of war and peace, of which maritime strategy was at its core.
America was never born a seapower state nor did it posses an inherent maritime culture; those had to be built through the hard work of the nation’s citizens and sailors, something which took time, experience and repeated foreign policy interactions. Intent to be a maritime power circa 1783 was no guarantee of success, and the country’s development into the twentieth century’s dominant naval power was far from an easy or linear process. All of this was because American naval power served a continental superpower—a nation predominantly a vast landmass—which made it more difficult to communicate why investment in the navy was a priority when most Americans took their homeland security for granted. Being a continental superpower meant the predominant bias towards viewing the world through the narrow lens of “land-think” was a powerful hurdle for the arguments of American navalists to clear.
Despite this, the process over the 1800s and 1900s eventually produced the world-spanning navy that won the Second World War; however, America’s ingrained landward bias still resulted in Forrestal facing that American sea power might be on ‘life support’ as of 1947.
The constitutional instruction that the Congress must “provide and maintain” a Navy was little help to him and offered little protection.
Before him lay an age of spaceships, unparalleled computing power, aircraft, the mass destructive power of nuclear weapons, and lightspeed communications around the world via the seabed and satellites. The unique culture of American navalism had long thrown smoke grenades in front of arguments that called the purpose of the Navy into question, but due to the trauma of total war, futuristic technology, and transforming geopolitics, that smoke was now clearing. These new circumstances forced the U.S. Congress to ask:
What is a navy?
What is the Navy for?
The constitution alone could not answer these questions. After all, any self-respecting lawyer or politician often leaves just enough leeway in law for reasons well intended, or sometimes not, should a change be required later. Educating elected national leadership and engaging in public relations is a necessity for the U.S. Navy to avoid stagnation and irrelevancy. Only once Americans understood their vast coasts and waterways, let alone that trade was mostly carried by sea and was vital to world security, prosperity, and stability—along with the fact that the American military could not go anywhere in force bar by sea—could any progress be achieved towards promoting U.S. sea power to a domestic audience.
On becoming the first Secretary of Defense in 1947, Forrestal would try to balance tri-service needs under increasingly difficult circumstances as interservice rivalry tore at the understanding of national strategy of which naval power is part. For all the doldrums, the task of rebuilding the U.S. Navy, and communicating its value before Congress was not a futile one. A hostile anti-naval political culture created the necessary environment for a period of profound intra-service reflection that generated luminaries and patriots––civilians and military alike––who understood the need for the Navy to have a voice in national strategy making. New technologies like nuclear power were embraced, pushing the limits of technology and human achievement from the seabed to space. This became fertile ground to embed a message of the importance of sea power in the American psyche. This experience was in stark contrast that the Royal Navy struggled without the British Admiralty to communicate its role and therefore saw British national maritime strategy all but evaporate.
If American naval power is to see another century, it must gather the best minds, seek and train the best Sailors and Marines, reach for space, take risks and sometimes “throw out the book” promptly on ideas that have not worked. But to do so, the U.S. Navy can only turn to history to learn from those who have gone before them and what worked before. Anyone who cares for the Navy’s future must exercise constant vigilance. Education about the Navy and its importance is a perennial task, and advocates must present a clear, concise, and coherent message to the nation.
Dr. James W.E. Smith is the Laughton-Corbett Research Fellow at King’s College London. In 2021, James completed a 15-year study into the relationship between the higher organization of defense and its relationship with national strategy making in the U.K. and U.S.
The views expressed above are those of the authors alone and do not necessarily reflect the views of any current or former employer, nor do they express an official view of the U.S. government. The views expressed in this piece are the sole opinions of the author and do not necessarily reflect those of the Center for Maritime Strategy or other institutions listed.