Who's Afraid of Norway?
By MATTHEW BRZEZINSKI - NEW YORK TIMES MAGAZINE
Anyone who says America's European allies have no stomach for action has never flown with Norway's defense minister, Kristin Krohn Devold. I might give her this compliment, if only the helicopter we're in weren't plummeting backward.
Moments later, we are racing at treetop level toward a Norwegian military base, from which a contingent of mine-clearing troops is about to be dispatched to Iraq, and Devold encourages her pilots to show me what they can do. The chopper banks wildly, veering to the right and left, so that in one instant I am looking straight down at the ground and, in the next, straight up at the sky. The trees are never more than a few yards beneath us.
In military jargon, this form of flying is known as terrain masking, and it is extremely dangerous because the margin for pilot error is measured in a few feet. The tactic is used in hostile territory to fly below radar and avoid enemy fire.
That the Royal Norwegian Air Force -- 36 helicopters, 57 F-16's and a half-dozen C-130 cargo planes -- is even practicing offensive maneuvers with the defense minister on board says a lot about the aspirations of both this tiny nation and its ambitious defense chief. After all, Norway has a population no bigger than those of Brooklyn and Queens put together; its 20,000 soldiers couldn't fill the ranks of the New York City Police Department.
So why do top Pentagon officials, including Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld, spend so much time conferring with Devold, praising her initiatives and quietly promoting her candidacy to take over the North Atlantic Treaty Organization?
As it happens, small nations like Norway have been assuming disproportionately large roles in global affairs since 9/11, one of the many unexpected consequences of the new new world order. ''During the cold war, when there was a bipolar massing of vast military establishments, the contribution of small nations was negligible,'' explains Loren Thompson, a military observer at the Lexington Institute in Washington. ''But today the nature of the threat is so different and diffuse that a country with special competencies or positioning can have huge leverage.''
Put more simply, size doesn't matter as much in today's localized and technologically driven armed conflicts. What does matter is speed and the ability to bring narrowly defined skills to the front lines. And this is where small countries like Norway or the Netherlands or future NATO members like Latvia come into the geopolitical picture. The evolving nature of conflict presents opportunities for Davids to fight alongside Goliaths, if they bring the right slingshot.
Devold was among the first Europeans to spot this trend, and the openings it presents to motivated, if marginal, powers. ''We want to be relevant,'' she declares, as our chopper swoops over a wheat field, startling a herd of cows.
To make Norway as attractive a Pentagon partner as possible, Devold has spent heavily and cut radically; hence her insistence that our airborne taxi do double duty as a tactical training exercise to save fuel and pilot time. ''We have some of the best pilots,'' she shouts appreciatively over the roar of the chopper's turbocharged engines. It's an American-made Bell 412, a modern version of the venerable Huey popularized during the Vietnam War. I nod weakly, trying not to encourage any further demonstrations of the craft's maneuverability. As if on cue, the pilots oblige us with a series of harrowing missile-avoidance moves known as tail-ons, during which the chopper's airframe shudders violently and we find ourselves suddenly falling -- actually falling -- backward.
The civilian official next to me has turned green. Devold, meanwhile, gazes dreamily out the window, her paratrooper boots propped leisurely on the chopper's deck, a huge smile on her face.
All across Europe, heavy armored divisions, air-wings, artillery, infantry and naval flotillas are still largely deployed to repel Red Army invaders. On both sides of the old Iron Curtain, outdated military equipment turns to rust. Moscow can't afford to maintain its forces or to pursue imperial ambitions. And the Europeans are too preoccupied with pressing issues like European Union expansion.
To make matters worse, these great idle armies were never designed to fight anywhere but the European theater. The non-American part of NATO has virtually no transport capacity to get to distant wars, rendering the firepower it does have almost useless in the current threat environment.
''NATO's challenge,'' says Michele Flournoy, a former senior Pentagon official who now follows military affairs at the Center for Strategic and International Studies in Washington, ''is to transform itself into an alliance that can project power.''
Devold, one of only two female defense ministers among the 19 NATO nations (Michele Alliot-Marie of France is the other), has been determined to do just that, initiating a shake-up of the Norwegian military establishment shortly after taking over the armed services in late 2001. The timing was right. Sept 11. had woken many Europeans from their post-cold war torpor, oil prices were high and Norway, one of the world's major exporters of crude, was flush. Her first major battle was to sell officers and politicians on the ideas that the best defense is a good offense, that military spending must be stepped up and that Europe needs to embrace the notion that security is no longer just about territorial defense.
It's not that different from corporations adjusting to shifting market conditions, says Devold, who is fond of American business jargon: streamlining and downsizing, resource pooling and benchmarking, competitive advantage and niche are a few of her favorite M.B.A. expressions.
For countries like Norway, it's counterproductive to mimic America's across-the-board capabilities. How many $124 million FA-22 fighter planes or $2 billion B-2 Stealth bombers can they afford anyway? The alternative is to focus on a few specialized fields. In Norway's case, it's mine-clearing and mountain reconnaissance, where the Norwegians, by dint of tradition and technological expertise, enjoy a competitive advantage over their larger allies. ''Identify what you are good at, and concentrate on it,'' Devold explains. ''That way you can play with the big boys even if you are small.''
According to Gen. Joseph W. Ralston, who retired earlier this year as supreme Allied commander, Europe, Devold is ''right on target.'' Other small countries are also establishing their niches. The Czech Republic used the expertise it gained as a detection specialist for chemical and biological agents in the Warsaw Pact to contribute to the invasion of Iraq. (That's why there were lots of Czechs in wraparound shades roaming Kuwait with high-tech sniffer devices.) Latvia has developed know-how in the field of live ordnance disposal, thanks to the mess the Soviets left behind when they pulled out of the Baltics.
''Even with a military budget of over a billion dollars a day, the U.S. can't cover every contingency,'' Thompson says. ''It's impossible. So there's an opportunity for small countries like Norway, or Israel, or even Oman.''
To be sure, small countries also rose to prominence during the days when the hammer and sickle flew over the Kremlin and Washington and Moscow used the globe as a chessboard. But the pawns of the cold war -- Afghanistan, Vietnam, Korea, Cuba to name a few -- invariably paid a heavy price. Today the cost of playing on the world stage can be far cheaper for those who make the right moves.
[T] he new military base in Rena is only a few minutes by helicopter from the Olympic installations at Lillehammer, where Norway won a shockingly disproportionate number of medals during the 1994 Winter Games. Norway's mountaineering traditions, coupled with its harsh climate, have also helped steer Devold's decision to specialize in producing crops of hardy commandos who thrive in rugged, high-altitude terrains.
Like most Norwegians, Devold loves the outdoors. Snowboarding is her true passion. She hits the slopes at least 40 times a season with her husband and two children. ''It's the only time I get to spend with the whole family,'' she says. ''I bought my daughter a board for her seventh birthday, and she's getting quite good,'' Devold adds. ''I take her down the expert runs now.'' At Lillehammer, I ask? ''No,'' she says. ''I prefer the hills in western Norway. They're much steeper.''
The Rena base, still under construction, is an integral part of Devold's plan to overhaul the military. From the air, the giant yellow Volvo earth-movers plowing its roads and runways look like Tonka toys. Scaffolding shrouds some of the low-slung computer complexes, and building materials lie scattered in small neat piles around ''little Baghdad,'' a mock village being erected for urban-warfare instruction.
When complete, Rena will satisfy what Thompson calls the three T's of a successful modern military: technology, training and tactics. It is the combination of those three criteria that allows relatively small forces like the Israeli I.D.F. to rout numerically superior adversaries. To pay for Rena, and to free up money for investment in the new areas of specialization, Devold has closed a third of Norway's bases and cut military personnel by a fifth. ''We don't need blanket coverage of the country any longer,'' she says. ''It just eats up money.'' Most countries, including the United States, have also ramped down since the cold war. But precious few outside of the United States have balanced the cutbacks with injections of fresh capital. Norway's military budget is up 8 percent, which combined with the cuts in fixed costs will enable Devold to increase investment by 30 percent.
Norway is now second only to the United States in NATO in per capita spending on defense. But even with the military, there is resistance. Officers have lost commands, and others have resigned, complaining that they didn't sign up for the new proactive role Devold has envisioned for Norway. ''Many of my colleagues say they joined the military to defend Norway,'' explains Gen. Sverre Diesen, commander of Norwegian land forces, ''and not to embark on foreign adventures. We're trying to explain to people that security problems are becoming globalized. Osama bin Laden doesn't just hate America. He wants to destroy the entire Western way of life. So we, too, have interests in places like Afghanistan. I don't need to wait for someone to blow up the train station in Oslo to see that.''
Of course that danger might increase significantly if Norwegian commandos were seen as American proxies, a prospect that officials here privately acknowledge. Al Qaeda has already named Norway as a target, and the recent bombing of the Jordanian embassy in Baghdad was a reminder of what can happen if countries are perceived as catering to American interests.
Devold goes to great lengths to get her message across to the rank and file, like diving out of planes with the Special Ops and leaping into frozen lakes with the infantry. ''My ground rule,'' Devold says, stepping off the chopper, ''is whatever they do, I should be able to do.''
Making our way past ''little Baghdad,'' we come to a series of large modern buildings constructed of pale Scandinavian pine and brushed aluminum. They house what must be some of the world's largest video games. Walls are draped with digital maps and row upon row of oversize monitors that stream figures, charts and graphs. But it's the tank combat simulation center that really catches my eye. The size of a small basketball arena, it contains eight actual turrets surrounded by 360-degree projection screens. Here skirmishes are fought and tactics practiced to the sounds of pitched battle, with bullets whizzing, shells screaming and gears grinding.
After I try my hand at driving a Leopard tank in a simulator (I crash instantly), Devold insists on going for a spin in the real thing. As we step outside, 40 tons of steel rumbles into the parking lot, black clumps of asphalt flying as the vehicle comes to a dead stop. We shinny ourselves down inside, and as we drive off, Devold shouts instructions in Norwegian, no doubt exhorting the driver to step on it.
Our destination is a company of mine-clearers. As a leader in the field, the Norwegians have had plenty of hands-on experience in places like Bosnia and Kosovo. NATO, in fact, sends trainees to Norway. Most recently, Norwegian engineers helped sweep air bases in Afghanistan. Some of them will be flying to Basra the next day to join up with the British in southern Iraq, and Devold wants to make certain they do Norway proud. ''Hey,'' she says. ''It's not much fun if you are the last one picked to play on the team.''
Britain is a good example of how some countries far larger than Norway look to the military to define a role for themselves in the American-dominated world order. To keep a hand in the great game they once ran, the British spend more on defense than almost any of their European neighbors. British leaders also appear more inclined to use force than the majority of their counterparts across the channel, and they have put their armed forces and intelligence services at Washington's disposal.
France also has a colonial past and a history of not shying away from armed conflict. But the French detest the notion of playing second fiddle to Washington, and they have adopted the opposite tack from the British. Though they also have maintained a strong military, Paris has built up both nuclear and rapid-reaction forces as a means of independence from the U.S. security umbrella. ''The French take their military very seriously,'' General Ralston says, ''because they want to be perceived as global players.''
A third reaction to rising U.S. hegemony comes from Belgium and Germany, both of which slashed defense spending in the years before 2001 and then sided with the French to oppose the war in Iraq. ''Some countries,'' says a U.S. official, ''are getting a free ride.''
Meanwhile, newcomers like Poland have stepped forward to fill the void left by ''old Europe.'' Like Norway, Poland is remaking its military to better slot into American-led alliances. Warsaw recently signed a $3.5 billion deal to acquire F-16's that will be compatible with U.S. hardware, and, more important, found favor with the Bush administration by volunteering to lead a large stabilizing force to Iraq. The mission will free up thousands of American troops to focus on the hunt for Saddam Hussein and his supporters, and Washington gratefully offered to pick up $240 million in support costs.
For the Poles, the close military ties provide an opportunity to repay a debt of gratitude to Washington for its support during Communism, and a chance to move up in the world. On a recent trip, President Bush skipped the usual Western European capitals but made sure to stop over in Krakow to thank Poland's president, Aleksander Kwasniewski, for standing with the U.S. (The United States Embassy was reportedly instrumental in brokering billions of dollars of investment in Polish industries by Lockheed Martin as part of the fighter deal.)
Farther afield, Japan is also considering taking a greater role in military affairs. Tokyo recently agreed to send a contingent of troops to Iraq, a move that would have been unthinkable only a few years ago. Like Germany, Japan is still haunted by the legacy of being the aggressor in World War II, and its constitution expressly forbids anything other than a purely defensive military posture. But regional unrest -- in the form of a defiant North Korea, a mixed relationship with South Korea and the great unknown of China next door -- is forcing Japan to change that position. Younger generations of Japanese are increasingly worried about relying on the U.S. for their security. There is even talk in Tokyo of rewriting the constitution to allow for the deployment of nuclear weapons, though that is very unlikely to happen any time soon.
''It's only natural to see the Japanese exit their isolationism,'' Ralston says. Eventually Germany will, too. The re-emergence of these traditional powers is very unlikely to threaten U.S. hegemony. But it might give them the confidence to say no to the United States more often.
For now, though, gearing your military to Washington's needs appears to be the quickest route to advancement in global affairs. For Devold, it could also translate into a greater personal role on the world stage. Word inside the Beltway is that she is Rumsfeld's choice to succeed Lord Robertson of Britain as NATO's secretary general when he steps down in December.
Some in the European press agree: ''The Bergmanesque Kristin Krohn Devold is high in the stakes to take over NATO,'' according to The Guardian. ''The problem,'' notes the London paper, ''is to find a non-American (they run it anyway), a non-Brit (we've just had Lord R.), a non-Frenchman (prickly and not in the military command) and someone whose country was neither too enthusiastically for or against the recent war.''
Norway fits the criteria perfectly. It refused to be part of President Bush's so-called coalition of the willing because, as a small nation, it strongly supports of the sanctity of the United Nations. But Norway also did not align with the Franco-German opposition camp, which sparked a near-mutiny in NATO by initially turning down Turkey's request under Article 4 of the alliance charter for assistance in the event that the Iraqi conflict spilled over its border. ''That was just plain stupid,'' says Devold of the refusal. ''Article 4 is the bedrock of NATO. It's our Bible. You don't flaunt it.''
The fracas over Iraq and Article 4 pushed NATO as close to the brink as it has ever been. And a subsequent row over a Belgian law allowing U.S. officials to be prosecuted for war crimes has only exasperated trans-Atlantic tensions. Rumsfeld warned the Belgians that NATO headquarters in Brussels might be moved to another country if they didn't back down.
None of this bodes well for the future of NATO as an egalitarian institution, especially as it comes at a time when the alliance prepares to welcome seven new members from the defunct East bloc. The addition of eager-to-please new members like Bulgaria and Romania will enable Washington to relocate troops from places like Germany to bases closer to Balkan and Central Asian hot spots, and to further alienate the former front-line nations of Western Europe.
Whoever next runs NATO will have to reel in the French, coax along the Germans and get everyone comfortable about the connection between America's interests and their own. Some observers have begun to play down Devold's chances, in part because she's too closely aligned with Washington. Whether she gets the job or not, the statements coming from her ministry suggest that Norway has made up its mind. ''NATO shouldn't be about defense of territory any longer,'' one of her generals told me. ''It should be about the defense of values.'' Donald Rumsfeld couldn't have said it any better.
Matthew Brzezinski, a contributing writer for the magazine, is working on a book about homeland security. |
