CIVILIAN CONTROL of the armed forces is a hallmark of a mature democracy. Among the grievances of America’s founders was Britain’s deployment of troops without the consent of local elected leaders; they believed that maintaining civilian control of the armed forces was an essential bulwark against tyranny. Donald Trump’s tumultuous tenure as president, including its chaotic final months, seems to have tested this tradition. Mark Milley, America’s top military official, is set to appear before Congress this week—a central question will be whether he broke the chain of command. In “Peril”, a book published on September 21st, Bob Woodward and Robert Costa, both journalists, made the striking claim that General Milley called his Chinese counterpart, first in October and then in the final days of Mr Trump’s presidency, to reassure him: “We are not going to attack or conduct any kinetic operations against you.” He also is said to have made senior American officers promise to consult him if an increasingly erratic Mr Trump asked them to launch a nuclear weapon. If what Messrs Woodward and Costa have reported is accurate, did General Milley violate the military chain of command?
Though the president regularly seeks the counsel of others, the constitution vests him with sole direct command of America’s armed forces. America has had brushes with over-zealous generals, but most have been slapped down. Harry Truman relieved General Douglas MacArthur during the Korean war for publicly criticising the president and trying to escalate the conflict. Fear of nuclear war led John F. Kennedy to consolidate that power in the hands of the president.
Orders flow from him, through the secretary of defence, to the relevant commander, and onward until an operation is conducted. This ensures that the two most senior decision makers, the president and the defence secretary, are both civilians with democratic legitimacy. The chain of command also provides a way to resolve disputes; disgruntled soldiers send their complaints up the chain, beginning with a superior officer. Soldiers are subject to the uniform code of military justice (UCMJ), the law governing their conduct. If soldiers believe an order would violate the UCMJ, such as by committing a crime against humanity, or believe the order was not properly scrutinised, they can speak out and ask for clarification from above.
Crucially, the chairman of the joint chiefs of staff, General Milley, sits outside this chain. Appointed by the president to a single four-year term, his job is not to make decisions but to advise the president and secretary of defence, laying out the costs and benefits of each option. And, in one sense, that is as true of atomic weapons as ordinary ones. The chairman would usually be consulted on a decision as momentous as nuclear use, but he is not an integral part of the nuclear chain of command. His role is to transmit presidential orders—and he can be bypassed if a president so wishes. If General Milley insisted on his inclusion, he may have overstepped his brief.
His conversations with General Li Zuocheng of the People’s Liberation Army are another matter. It is not unusual for a chairman of the joint chiefs of staff to speak to friends and foes alike. General Milley’s predecessor even created a “joint strategic dialogue mechanism” with his Chinese counterpart in 2017 to improve communication in a crisis and reduce the risk of misunderstandings. Many such conversations take place in the open: on September 22nd General Milley was pictured in Helsinki alongside General Valery Gerasimov, his Russian counterpart.
General Milley’s calls to General Li on October 30th and January 8th have been portrayed as the actions of a rogue general subverting an elected president. More recent accounts suggest that it was Mark Esper, the then (civilian) secretary of defence, who first directed his office to reassure China that America was not seeking war. General Milley’s subsequent calls were reportedly co-ordinated with the Pentagon’s civilian leadership and included representatives from the State Department. Thus the process may not have been out of the ordinary, even if General Milley’s alleged message on the first call—a promise to forewarn the Chinese of attack—was.
In practice, the machinery of American national security is always evolving. Under Barack Obama, the national security council (NSC), a body which sits in the White House and co-ordinates among different agencies and departments, often had a role in reviewing military operations and even tactics. Mr Obama’s final defence secretary, Ash Carter, sought to limit its role, telling American commanders that they should not accept calls from members of the NSC without his permission. Early in his tenure, Mr Trump delegated authority to the Pentagon, giving them more control over deployed troop levels. When Mr Biden assumed office, he tightened the rules on drone strikes, requiring the armed forces and the CIA to seek permission outside of declared war zones.
On balance, it appears the general stayed within the bounds of his position, but the controversy will have a wider impact on civil-military relations in America. President Joe Biden has affirmed his confidence in the chairman, but Republican lawmakers—many already angry with the general’s public defence of “critical race theory” in June—are demanding his resignation. He will be grilled by Congress on September 28th. His successors may be put on an even tighter leash by the White House.