America’s post-9/11 conflicts have left indelible imprints on our society and our military. In some cases, these changes were so gradual that few noticed the change, except as snapshots in time.
This is the case with the “Cult of Special Operations Forces (SOF)” that has emerged since 2001, first within the military, and then with society through mass media including popular autobiographies and movies ranging from “Black Hawk Down,” “Lone Survivor” “American Sniper,” “SEAL Team Six: The Raid on Osama Bin Laden” and many, many others. The Cult has metastasized to many broader cultural accoutrements (video games, fashion, veteran culture, etc.).
As with other situations where we see friends proceeding down an untenable path together, America’s relationship with its special operators requires an intervention.
First, to my SOF colleagues past and present, it’s not you…it’s us. Well, it’s mostly us — but a little bit you, too. This is not a screed against SOF; I am an old SOF tribal member, and I have many friends and family members within the community. Our SOF troops are an incredible resource for the country — they are almost invariably brave, patriotic, fit, and spectacularly competent. Regardless of our differing policy views, we should be proud of their professionalism and their many tactical accomplishments over recent decades.
What I am about to say will no doubt anger some of my SOF friends — but mainly because they’ll know that I’m right. In the coming years, we will require an institutional and psychological reset of relations between America and her special operators. The elitism and secrecy of the current “Cult of SOF” is bad for the military, bad for society, and — ultimately — bad for the operators themselves.
SOF and “Big Army”
Until relatively recently, the U.S. military had a problematic relationship with its special forces. The Vietnam experience soured many in the conventional military on the special operators, whom they saw as ill-disciplined and overrated. Others argued that concentrating superior troops and leaders in single units denied the rest of the force the leavening effect that those soldiers could have added to regular formations.
Despite the skepticism of senior leaders, however, SOF expanded on an ad hoc basis in the years following Vietnam, until its tenuous position with the Pentagon changed with the 1986 Goldwater-Nichols Act, which established an overarching Special Operations Command (SOCOM) and strengthened the position of SOF within the defense structure.
The institutional strength of SOF relative to their conventional cousins was subsequently turbocharged by the 9/11 attacks and their leading role in the ensuing Forever Wars.
Today’s operators enjoy a privileged and inverted relationship with their parent services. SOF is now a caste apart, dominating the upper ranks of the military and monopolizing media and cultural attention. The “quiet professionals” many originally envisaged now have a media machine unrivaled across the military. Today’s SOF often treat the conventional military as the minor leagues from which they can selectively draw new talent. This distinction impacts the morale of conventional forces, even if few are prepared to publicly discuss it.
This stratification has impacts beyond hurt feelings, however. Separate chains of command and separate lines of effort can sometimes undermine what should be unified campaign plans. SOF theory begins with the proposition that specially selected and trained small units can have a vastly disproportionate battlefield impact, and this has often been the case. Sometimes, however, conventional units and scarce air assets have had to drastically intervene to pull SOF forces out of untenable situations of their own making, as happened in Mogadishu, and Operation ANACONDA, and elsewhere.
Hellbound and Down 