For defense issues, as for foreign affairs in general, 1989 was a curious time. The year began with the defense debate that wasn't and ended with the debate that was, with visions of a "peace dividend" dancing before Washington's eyes. In between, it was business as usual at both ends of Pennsylvania Avenue. The Bush team tinkered at the edges; Congress indulged in its own intramural politics, and the defense budget was caught squarely in the middle.

Defense strategizing flourished as a cottage industry during the transition between the Reagan and Bush administrations. Budget deficits, and fears that much of what the Pentagon had already ordered could not be paid for, left the sense that the Reagan Administration had too long deferred essential choices about military strategy. Faced with a Chinese menu of choices, the old administration had opted for them all; then when money tightened after 1985 it just stretched out the courses.

Yet what money-or the lack thereof-could not accomplish in President Bush's first year, a slackening geopolitical threat will do in the second. The string of incredible events in Eastern Europe has only given credibility to U.S. intelligence estimates of a less menacing Soviet Union. The reduced Soviet threat, combined with pressure from budgeteers, prompted Secretary of Defense Dick Cheney to try to head off the defense debate for 1991. The Pentagon was told to plan for a budget cut by several percent and to look for continued savings-as much as $180 billion during 1992-94.1

In the coming year, the politics of the debate will be sharper all around. Cheney's dramatic cuts merely trimmed earlier hopes, not current budgets. For the next several years the "peace dividend" will be much smaller than enthusiasts hope, and earning it will require departures from customary congressional habits. To arrive a decade from now at a defense budget half the current size will require radical restructuring of the military. America must now address the awkward question of how to organize its defense if deprived of the Soviet threat that has driven it for forty years.


President Reagan's unprecedented peacetime military buildup ended in 1985; budgets have been declining in real terms since. Real spending is about half again larger now than in 1978 and about equal to the peak of spending during the Vietnam War in 1968. As a portion of GNP, defense spending rose from under five percent in 1978 to more than seven percent in 1985; it is over five percent now, but has never neared the postwar peaks reached in the mid-1950s and the late 1960s.

Even as budgets declined, however, the Pentagon went on projecting optimism. The first Bush budget, that for 1990, emerged from Congress as a one-percent decrease in real terms from 1989. Yet Pentagon planning at the time still assumed increases above inflation of 2.3 percent, one percent, two percent, and two percent for the years 1991-1994, respectively.

The cries of pain from recent declines in military spending have not been more audible partly because the checks the United States actually wrote for defense-outlays, in budget language-turned downwards only starting in 1988. The buildup gave pride of place to new weaponry, whose share of the budget (including military construction) grew to 48 percent from 38 percent. But money appropriated in one year for a new weapon is not all spent that year, causing actual spending to lag behind appropriations as the budget grows and declines-the "stern wave" in Pentagonese.

That stern wave now constrains budget-cutters. By 1987 as much as 40 percent of the total budget was set aside for weapons contracted in previous years. Add to that about 45 percent of the budget reserved for salaries and pensions. The result is a budget cluttered by commitments past and present, leaving little room for maneuver. Any deep reductions in spending, therefore, will require cutting personnel or canceling contracts, not very attractive alternatives either financially or politically.

Given the emphasis on weaponry, the forces themselves did not grow much during the buildup, except for the navy. The United States has about the same number of weapons as a decade ago, but of much higher technology and per-unit cost. Taxpayers seem to be paying more and more for the same, but the pattern can be fairly seen as a reflection of the deep, if implicit, preferences of the services. Given a choice between more but cheaper or fewer but more costly and advanced, the latter wins almost every time. This preference creates its own stern wave. Despite the hopes of a decade ago, the rule is the more advanced the weapon, the more expensive it is to operate.

President Reagan achieved two of his grand budgetary aims: Defense spending grew and discretionary domestic spending declined. Domestic spending did not decline absolutely, but relatively, from nearly six percent of GNP in 1980 to under four percent in 1988. Entitlements like Social Security and other mandatory spending have not changed much over the last decade, hovering around ten percent of GNP. As the deficits have mounted, servicing the debt also has constrained spending choices; interest consumed 1.5 percent of GNP in 1978 but twice that in 1988.

The budget deficit for fiscal year 1989 was about $160 billion, or about three percent of GNP, half the proportion for 1983. Depending on what one wants to prove, it thus can be seen as still a very large number or as much smaller than it was, and judged accordingly. Many analysts still exhort the president and Congress to attack the deficit, raising taxes if need be. Those making best-case arguments make clear that, contrary to popular images, the medicine need not be all that painful; the prescription is not for belt-tightening, just for several years of no new loosening.2 President Bush, however, has not taken that advice; "no new taxes" has become the glue for the Republican coalition. He means to let the deficit take care of itself. If he is lucky and makes it through his first term without a recession, his hopes may come true. In a second term there would be more money to spend, all the more if defense can be cut deeply.


The timing and theatrics of the presidential transition in 1989 frustrated a debate on defense. Reagan's team presented the budget for 1990 two weeks before Bush's inauguration. The new administration thus found itself with limited room for maneuver. Then Bush's first choice for secretary of defense, John Tower, hung in limbo for weeks. When Secretary Cheney finally arrived, he had lost valuable time. If the budget process were not to be brutalized completely, he had to submit his revision almost immediately, well before much of his team had even run the gauntlet of White House clearance and congressional confirmation.

The timing of the budget put the lie to any pretense that major defense choices might be propelled by the new administration's National Strategy Review 12; that review was far from complete when the revised budget was submitted in April. In any event, the review was not meant to presage sweeping change. The president himself wrote of it: "I don't expect this to invent a new strategy for a new world." It did not. In fact, the watchwords of the review-"containment plus"-sounded like a call to increase defense spending rather than to cut it.

When Secretary Cheney finally did make choices on defense, Congress responded in its usual way, saying it preferred other choices. Cheney proposed that $10 billion (roughly what the Benelux countries spend per year on defense) be cut from the Reagan request for 1990, to $296 billion from $306 billion, a one-percent decline in real terms from 1989. He called for clear decisions on weapons, trying to stanch the usual temptations to defer or stretch out procurement, but made relatively few such decisions himself.

If there was an underlying strategy to Cheney's proposal this year, it favored strategic programs. He continued all of them-the small new Midgetman ICBM, the MX missile in the so-called rail garrison basing, and the B-2 Stealth bomber-though in reduced portions. His proposed funding for the Strategic Defense Initiative (SDI), though less than Reagan's, still was a fifth larger than in 1989.

What changes Congress then made were driven mostly by money constraints and constituency politics, all the more so because the new administration's decisions were not convincing in broad strategic terms. For instance, support for the B-2 bomber collapsed when members began to ask not whether it was needed, but only whether it could be afforded and whether it would work. When Congress learned, allegedly for the first time, in September 1988 what each bomber would cost, legislators were aghast. The cost of the program, over $8 billion per year in the early 1990s, was more than the entire defense budget of any Warsaw Pact nation save the Soviet Union and East Germany. The B-2 seemed the result of a too hasty strategic buildup by the Reagan Administration.

The Senate Armed Services Committee, led by Senator Sam Nunn (D-Ga.), was inclined to defer to the president. Its House counterpart, chaired by Representative Les Aspin (D-Wis.), made more changes, pushing the budget in the direction of conventional forces. Aspin, less in control of his committee than Nunn, was tugged from right and left. In a coalition of convenience between the left, which opposed more money for nuclear weapons, and the right, which preferred the MX to the Midgetman, the House cut money for the latter entirely.

In conference, the two houses shaved their differences over strategic programs in favor of the Senate's plan, and hence moved closer to the administration. SDI took its first budget cut, but still was authorized $3.8 billion. For all the shock of the B-2's cost, it was allocated $4.3 billion, about midway between what the administration wanted and what the House voted-evidence for the aphorism that presidents get the strategic weapons they want, with subcontracts in many districts playing a supporting role.

At the same time, the administration and Congress traded accusations over responsibility for the logjam in strategic arms control. The administration argued that congressional reductions in strategic weapons would undercut its bargaining hand in Strategic Arms Reductions Talks (START). Meanwhile members of Congress, especially Democrats, said they needed clear guidance from the president about which systems to protect.

Congressional politics muddied what few clear decisions Secretary Cheney made on conventional weapons. The House restored one year's funding for the navy's F-14D, whose production the administration proposed to end. Both houses restored money for the one new weapons start Cheney proposed to eliminate, the V-22 Osprey tilt-rotor transport for the marines. Those restorations were testimony to the difficulty of eliminating weapons whose contracts, hence jobs, are spread across key congressional districts.

Most of the arguing was over weapons, and the forces themselves were only trimmed. Each of the services is to shrink by a few thousand people. Congress reduced the ceiling on American forces in Europe by 14,500, the number manning the Pershing II and cruise missiles withdrawn under the Intermediate-range Nuclear Forces (INF) Treaty. The army is to remain the same size at 18 divisions, ten heavy and eight light. One of 15 navy carrier battle groups, the Coral Sea, will be withdrawn, and the air force had already decided in 1988 to reduce from 37 to 35 wings.


Most of 1989 meant business as usual among the military branches, trimming here and there while hoping for better in the future. Pentagon reform aroused one set of hopes, Mikhail Gorbachev and arms control another, grander set. Judging from the past, however, neither reform nor arms control will save money, not soon anyway. But again, Gorbachev and present events in Eastern Europe may not respect past form.

Saving money through reform is a cherished quixotism. For example, closing redundant bases should have been a way to save billions of dollars. However the Pentagon's recent Base Closure Commission produced savings of much less, about half a billion dollars per year, and none to be realized soon. The commission was to serve as a hand-tying device, but domestic politics inhibited reform nonetheless. No member of Congress, whatever his views on defense, likes to lose a base from his district. The services know that, and when asked for major reductions, they-being no fools-naturally propose large base cuts. Moreover, major savings from base closings can ensue only if the forces occupying the bases are taken out of service, not simply moved elsewhere.

The nation is far from achieving the requirements for reform: providing stability by budgeting for defense in at least two-year cycles, committing to major procurements for more than one year at a time, dramatically reducing time and paperwork needed to develop and produce a new weapon (now 8-12 years), introducing more modern manufacturing technology and investment incentive into the defense industry, and using cost competition more judiciously. Quality suppliers with proven track records deserve precedence over those who are skillful at "buying in" or who provide shoddy products cheaply.

The United States spends upward of $100 billion on new weapons and equipment, and unquestionably much of this money is spent poorly. Reagan's last secretary of defense, Frank Carlucci, estimated that $15 billion per year could be saved by reform, and his undersecretary for acquisition put the figure two to three times higher. The Cheney Pentagon has built on the reforms outlined by the Packard commission in 1985. For instance, after Congress created an undersecretary of defense for acquisition, the Reagan Pentagon left power dispersed to the services and the new undersecretary powerless. Cheney's management review, by contrast, sought to make the service secretaries accountable to the undersecretary on procurement issues.

The impediments to reform are legendary, however, and it is tempting to dismiss entirely the prospect of real reform of the system. Certainly reform will not save much money in the short run, and in many ways, the current process is seriously obsolete. The reforms needed are thus basic and sweeping, and must run to the very culture of our system.

It is also tempting to suspect that politicians and the public like this system the way it is. The nation pursues social policies through the defense budget, for reasons that are more sensible than the results they produce. If a weapon is to be built at all, then Congress prefers it be built everywhere, even if the cost is higher. What this system implies is a preference for accountability over efficiency, and the two often conflict. Thus the first response to revelations about a thousand-dollar toilet seat is new layers of oversight and paperwork that virtually ensure the next toilet seat will cost even more.

Moreover, the obstacles to reforming procurement are a part of the larger obstacles to military reform in general. The military services are powerful institutions, tightly linked to supporters in Congress and society. Those institutions do some things well. What they do not do well, however, is to cooperate closely with one another-in operations or in buying weapons. In one attempt after another since the services were joined in the Department of Defense in 1947, the nation has sought more unified military assessment and action, and less reflection of parochial interests. The Goldwater-Nichols reorganization of 1986, which created the undersecretary for acquisition, is the most recent example, but in procurement policies the verdict is not yet in.

History also counsels caution about the other set of hopes, reducing defense costs through arms control. Arms control does not save money, and often it costs money. New systems sometimes are justified as compensation for those withdrawn, making new spending the price of treaty ratification. For instance, while nuclear forces consume only a small part of the defense budget, a START treaty like the one now under negotiation could save $2 billion in the short run, and much more over time, by cutting warheads a third or more. Yet the long-term savings would depend on what was thought necessary in the wake of the agreement. If, for instance, it then were deemed safe to reduce SDI to, say, an annual billion-dollar research program, several billion dollars could be saved quickly. On the other hand, an agreement whose ratification heightened concern over the vulnerability of land-based missiles might actually cost money, if the treaty's price were accelerating deployments of mobile missiles.

Hopes for a peace dividend notwithstanding, the direct savings from conventional arms control will be slight. President Bush's Conventional Forces in Europe (CFE) proposals, which call for a cut of 30,000 American troops from the present level of 305,000, would save at least $1 billion and perhaps several billion dollars per year, but only if the forces were then eliminated from the force structure.3 Moreover, verifying compliance with the treaty will cost money, certainly a good deal more than the annual $150 million estimated for the INF treaty.

Over time, much more money would be saved if Bush's proposals were accepted and Warsaw Pact forces reduced to parity with NATO. NATO could reduce war reserve stocks, readiness, deep-strike capability and new weaponry in general, and move toward lighter infantry forces. These savings, however, would depend on reshaping American forces to reflect the reduced risk of a surprise attack, and so would not come soon.


The real hopes for reducing the American military thus emanate less from reform and arms control than from the 1989 developments in Eastern Europe and the policies of Gorbachev. The Soviet leader has begun some highly publicized troop withdrawals from Eastern Europe. He said Soviet defense spending would be cut, and the CIA believes it has been cut, from a whopping 15-17 percent of GNP to 14-16 percent. Much of Eastern Europe is at least equally eager to reduce its spending on defense.

As the countries of the East reform and open their systems, the idea of a massive Warsaw Pact attack through central Europe seems less credible, and a surprise attack appears all but incredible. This threat of attack has driven America's defense planning and dominated its budgets for forty years. By September, however, American intelligence was challenging the customary view that the United States could count on only a two-week warning for attack, suggesting it would have a month or longer.

Before the hopes of recent months, critics argued that the United States was "overstretched" and needed to reduce its foreign commitments or interests. But if it chose, the United States could afford its current defense expenditures and seriously address its budget deficit at the same time. Moreover, it is mistaken to argue, as is so often done, that there is or should be a direct correspondence between American commitments and its forces. The better question is the degree of risk the United States is willing to take that its commitments will be challenged.

Caution is appropriate for today's fond hopes for arms control or reform in the East because defense is one area of public policy where time horizons are, implicitly at least, long. Weapons chosen today will still be in service thirty years from now. Caution is all the more appropriate since there is still more talk of change than actual change in Soviet military deployments and outputs. There is, however, wide agreement that the immediate future will put less pressure on America's commitments. Eastern Europe aside, the United States will require military measures to deal with threats to its interests in the Third World, but Soviet influence is likely to loom less large there as well.

Over the long run any Soviet government will face the imperative of structural reform. Those in the United States who are pessimistic about Soviet domestic reform should be optimistic about the American military future; the longer reform is deferred, the sharper the choices facing Soviet leaders. Conversely, optimists about Soviet reform can be pessimistic about the American military; the more successful Soviet reforms, the more economic space it will have to sustain a large military.

Thus a cautious baseline for the future, one that bets hopes as well as fears, is to look for the following:

-a relative relaxation of pressure on American commitments in the short run;

-the improbable but not impossible reversal of the current course of reform in Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union;

-a sharply reduced need for military instruments to counter the Soviet threat, perhaps justified more by the consequences of reform in the Soviet system than by anything else.


The year's dizzying events in Eastern Europe, plus the budget crunch, make a defense debate in 1991 inevitable. Hence a careful evaluation of current American military structure in light of constrained resources and changed climate is timely; it is also necessary to shape an American defense prepared to face an uncertain future, but a defense budget capable of being sustained.

The cautious approach to the future suggested above leads to a strategy for cutting American defense spending, one that commands support from defense professionals across several administrations-for instance, Lawrence Korb and John Lehman, who served the Reagan Pentagon, and William Kaufmann, who wrote posture statements for a half dozen defense secretaries.4 For the next half decade, this strategy would limit cuts in U.S. forces themselves at the price of slowing the modernization of their weaponry and unbalancing their readiness.

This strategy turns around what became conventional wisdom after the "hollow army" debate of the 1970s. At that time, because of budget cuts from provisions, pay and perquisites, recruits were of low quality, skilled servicemen left the forces, and readiness and morale suffered for want of ammunition and spare parts. America's forces have rebounded over the last decade. To take just one indicator of their quality, 91 percent of army recruits had high school diplomas in 1987, in contrast to 49 percent in 1980.

The lesson learned in the hollow-army period was that if budgets had to be cut, so should the size of the forces themselves. Now, however, the opposite course seems wiser-force structure should be maintained as a hedge against an uncertain future. The hedge cannot be sustained indefinitely, for it would mean leaving weaponry in service longer and longer, but deferring major cuts in forces until the second half of the 1990s would provide time for arms control to bear fruit and for better assessment of change in Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union.

To avoid a return to the hollow army, one place not to cut defense budgets is pay and perquisites. That admonition probably also runs to military retirement provisions. Ironically, another way to avoid the hollow army is to allow readiness to be deliberately unbalanced. Some units should be reduced to cadres while others are kept very ready, thus retaining visible standards and, it is hoped, mitigating ill effects on morale. The assumption of increased warning time allows for more use of "round-out" units, capable of being brought to full strength in a crisis. History suggests, and military commanders agree, that smaller readier components to be rounded out are preferable to larger units at low readiness and low morale.

Shifting toward reserves or round-out units may be a more limited course for the air force or navy, however, both of which argue-with some merit-that their operations depend on experienced people who are already in short supply. Morale can be maintained in other ways as well. Surely today's frantic operating tempo is unnecessary given the relaxed pressure on American interests; the recent spate of navy accidents suggests that the tempo is unwise as well as unnecessary.

If forces need to be cut, however, the place not to cut soon is American forces in Europe, given the uncertainties that accompany all the good news from that region. If CFE talks in Vienna succeed, those forces can be cut then. In the meantime, if force cuts are required abroad, Asia-oriented elements are the first candidates (the army division in Hawaii or U.S. ground forces in Korea, as politics permit). In order to save money, however, these troops must then be eliminated from the force structure. Further short-term cuts can be taken in the navy and in U.S.-based army and air force units by switching them from active forces to the reserves or National Guard. Also, cutting another carrier battle group or two seems attractive given the price of new carriers ($3 billion to $4 billion each) and the lack of tactical aircraft to arm them.

Since the American military has just completed as expensive a weapons modernization program as any in its history, deferring the next round of new weaponry presents little risk. Doing so is the only way to get big savings soon-on the order of $35 million apiece for deferring new army helicopters (LHX); $100 million each for the advanced Stealth fighter (the air force's ATF and the navy's ATA); $1 billion for each new destroyer (DDG-51); and $1.5 billion for attack submarines (SSN-21). Weapons thus deferred could be kept in the research and development stage as a hedge against future needs. The price tag for the next round of new systems is more than $100 billion, so savings could run to $20 billion a year by 1992.

First candidates for deferral should be systems whose development has been troubled, where the technology has been pushed too fast, or where near-term deployment seems unwise. SDI and the B-2 are two such candidates in the strategic realm, and advanced tactical fighters in the conventional. The rationale for the B-2 is weak in any case. It is a nuclear system, pure and simple, and is too valuable to risk for any conventional purpose. It also seems too valuable to risk against mobile nuclear targets, even if it could be made to hit them. As technology improves, stand-off systems should be able to carry out the same mission anyway.

The new C-17 transport plane does not suffer from the same technological concerns as the B-2, but there seems little need to rush into its expensive deployment. It is intended to respond on short notice to Soviet attacks in Europe, a mission that seems less plausible. In the area of weaponry, however, as elsewhere in the defense program, what makes strategic sense may not accord with the institutional interests of the services. For example, the air force might opt to stop buying effective current-generation aircraft like the F-16 in hopes of protecting its access to advanced new starts.

In the strategic area, if arms control cannot save money, it should at least try to avoid spending it. With Gorbachev in the Kremlin, the "bargaining chip" rationale, proceeding with new systems only to trade them away, is weak. It is better to defer deployment of some new strategic systems, again keeping them in development as a hedge. For example, building more Trident submarines would only create more warheads than the United States could sensibly accommodate under a START agreement.

It is also time to rethink the case for mobile land-based missiles. Mobility has been a redress for vulnerability, but that option is one we may come to regret. It is expensive-about $30 billion for the Midgetman-and a high price to pay to remain disadvantaged in competition with the Soviet Union, which will retain the advantages for mobile missiles of larger territory and more secretive governance.

It is now time to restructure the thinking behind strategic arms control, a course attractive to some in the Bush Administration. The preoccupation with numbers has long been excessive, even if it seemed imperative given public attitudes. Now, however, fears of nuclear war have receded; no doubt the current absence of concern is as unwarranted as the anxieties of a half decade ago. But arms control has returned to where it ought to be-second place to political change.

The emphasis should be placed not on grand agreements but on the systems that are most destabilizing-the land-based missiles with multiple warheads. The United States has tried that approach before and the Soviet Union has resisted. This time, however, improving superpower relations might give both the luxury of time. As both shift slowly toward single-warhead systems, the United States might be willing to live with some period of vulnerability for its land-based missiles, especially if total numbers of missiles are large. After all, America has lived with vulnerability for a decade, and a bolt-from-the-blue Soviet nuclear attack must be reckoned still less thinkable now than ten years ago.

The strategy outlined here is driven by the budget and permitted by events set in motion by Gorbachev. It is a strategy for cutting what the United States can safely do without, at least in the short term. Beyond the next decade and a half, however, there will be the opportunity for serious thought about what weapons the United States should have in the international environment it will confront.

President Bush found it necessary to use force-in Panama-before the end of his first year in office. As with many conflicts likely to come, it was a challenge not connected to the Soviet Union. Throughout the postwar period, however, America has treated most Third World contingencies as lesser cases of the Soviet threat. That practice, if ever tenable, seems less so now.

The nature of conflict is changing. Traditionally minor powers are gaining some very sophisticated weapons. Naval forces designed for high-tech warfare on the open ocean do not seem appropriate for messy and strictly limited action in the Persian Gulf, where the United States suffered for want of minesweepers and patrol craft. An operation as small as the Grenada invasion, despite its success, was poorly implemented and the United States will not always be able to count on so large a margin for error.

The prospect of deep spending cuts and the imminence of these "special operations" and "low-intensity conflicts" has forced the Pentagon to contemplate changes in the very nature of service missions. Should the army be weaned from its preoccupation with Europe and heavy forces? If so, will the United States end up with two marine forces, and will both be too heavy to move and too light to fight? Has the United States fumbled toward the right navy for the wrong reasons-not pressing the Soviet Union in the far north but showing the flag in the south? If so, are six carrier task forces enough, or are there other, cheaper ways to demonstrate and sometimes apply force?

On historical precedents, those questions will remain unanswered. Indeed, by those precedents American defense spending will turn up again soon. Of the seven periods of real decline in defense spending since 1950, only one-that following the war in Vietnam-lasted more than four years. The fifth year in this current period of decline is 1990. However, international events do not seem likely to produce a shift in public and congressional sentiment in favor of increased military spending. The Pentagon itself has ceased to count on it.

Whether the continuation of Gorbachev's policies and tight budgets will be enough to overturn "business as usual" in both the administration and Congress remains to be seen. The services' response to Cheney's request for cuts of $140-$160 billion in the years 1992-94 was predictable, calling for deep cuts where Congress would be most likely to object. Cheney will need to guard from the services the programs he wants, no easy task in a Pentagon whose central policy institutions are weak from a decade of the services' primacy.

Senator Nunn and especially Representative Aspin will have to keep their committees together, caught in the crossfire between those on the left wondering what happened to the peace dividend and those all across the spectrum lamenting the cuts that have to be made in weapons built in their districts.

The real challenge will be to turn international opportunity and domestic constraint into a chance to save money in a sensible way and to do something that has been left undone for too long-matching defense spending with military strategy.

1 Yearly budgets are for fiscal years, and values, unless otherwise indicated, are in 1989 dollars.

2 For instance, Francis M. Bator, "Must We Retrench?" Foreign Affairs, Spring 1989.

3 Much depends on assumptions about other savings that might accompany the cuts. The lower figure is a simple doubling of the Congressional Budget Office's estimate for the savings from withdrawing the INF treaty-related 15,000 troops, the higher based on other plausible assumptions.

4 William W. Kaufmann and Lawrence J. Korb, The 1990 Defense Budget, Washington: The Brookings Institution, 1989; and John Lehman, The New York Times, March 26, 1989.

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  • Gregory F. Treverton is a Senior Fellow and Director of the Europe-America Project at the Council on Foreign Relations.
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