WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 19 , 2022. THE WASHINGTON POST EZ RE A23
W
hen Gen. David H. Berger,
commandant of the Marine
Corps, announced a r adical
new plan in 2019 to remake
his service, many Marines figuratively
rolled their eyes. For a combat force
proud of its traditions, change can some-
times seem like the enemy.
Two and a half years later, Berger
actually appears to have pulled much of
it of f. The Marine Corps is smaller and
more agile, it has disposed of all of its
tanks and many of its artillery pieces,
and it looks like a force of the future, not
the past. The era of counterinsurgency
wars, along with the doctrine and equip-
ment to support them, is over for the
Marines.
Resistance to change was “less than I
thought it would be,” Berger told me in
an interview last month at the Reagan
National Defense Forum in Simi Valley,
Calif. The key, he said, has been to take
the money and people freed up by
discarding old systems and invest in new
capabilities that can combat a modern,
high-tech rival such as China.
“We cannot afford to retain outdated
policies, doctrine, organizations, or force
development strategies,” Berger wrote in
his 2019 “Commandant’s Planning Guid-
ance.” The heroic tradition of Marines
storming faraway beaches from a few big
amphibious assault ships was “illogical,”
Berger wrote, “given the growth of adver-
sary precision strike capabilities.”
For a Pentagon that has been agoniz-
ingly slow to shed legacy weapons sys-
tems — such as aircraft carrier task
forces and fighter jet wings — Berger’s
rethink of the Marine Corps has been
encouraging. It’s one thing to demand
change but quite another to make it
happen over inevitable objections from
Congress, defense contractors and the
military’s own implacable bureaucracy.
To assess what Berger’s makeover
looks like in practice, I talked with some
of his senior commanders. They tell a
similar story — of getting rid of venera-
ble old systems to make way for newer
ones that are small, elusive and some-
times unmanned.
Maj. Gen. Francis L. Donovan, the
commander of the 2nd Marine Division,
illustrates the transition. His division
fought in the bloody amphibious as-
saults across the Pacific in World War II,
at Guadalcanal, Tarawa, Tinian and Oki-
nawa. They were in the first wave of the
2003 invasion of Iraq and fought in the
bitter battle of Fallujah. The division
motto is “Follow Me,” right out of a John
Wayne war movie.
So, what does change look like for this
fabled division, based at the legendary
Camp Lejeune in North Carolina? First,
the division shrank, from 18,000 Marines
to 15,000. It lost two artillery batteries. It
shed the heavy bridging and engineering
units that had constructed forward oper-
ating bases in Iraq and Afghanistan. It
gave up a tank battalion, losing 44 M1A1
tanks and the Marines who had made
tank warfare their specialty.
“Why would I want a tank, when I can
kill a tank with a loitering [drone]
munition?” Donovan bluntly asks. The
challenge, he says, was providing a
“transition with honor” for Marines who
had devoted their careers to tank war-
fare. The division helped them find new
jobs, transfer to Army tank units or
retire.
How has the Marine Corps rebuilt its
combat capabilities using different weap-
ons and doctrine? I talked with
Brig. G en. Benjamin T. Watson, the com-
mander of the Marine Corps Warfighting
Laboratory at Quantico, Va., and a deputy,
Brig. Gen. Eric Austin, who is director of
capabilities development. (Both were
nominated in December by President
Biden for a second star.)
Watson described a future Marine
Corps with a very different footprint.
Rather than sailing toward beachheads
in big amphibious assault ships, the
Marines of the future will be deployed
forward, in smaller, more agile, harder-
to-find units. Because China can easily
target “stand-off” units stationed far
from potential conflict, these will be
“stand-in” forces that, says Watson, will
be “operating persistently forward.”
If a conflict seemed imminent with
China, say, these future Marines could
move quickly from their forward bases to
seize maritime choke points. They would
operate closely with allies, such as Japan,
with which the Marines just staged a big
exercise called Resolute Dragon 21, and
Australia, where Marines are based in
Darwin on the northern coast.
The warfighting lab envisions littoral
brigades that can operate quickly and
stealthily, with many Marines replaced
by unmanned systems — and using
electronic-warfare tools that can hide
the Marines’ presence and find the ad-
versary. “This is the biggest change in
70 years for the Marine Corps, but we’re
still the Marines,” says Austin.
Berger has forced the Marine Corps to
learn a new vocabulary, and his best
commanders speak the language of
change with passion. But truly reinvent-
ing a combat force won’t be easy, and
some of the new “stand-in” concepts
sound to me nearly as vulnerable to a
high-tech adversary as the old ones. Still,
for a Pentagon where inertia has too
often been a way of life, the Marines are
showing overdue signs of movement.
DAVID IGNATIUS
The Marines
establish
a beachhead
for change
A
s President Biden enters the
second year of his presidency,
he must articulate to the Amer-
ican people what our covid-19
strategy will be going forward.
Year 1’s covid-19 agenda was clear:
vaccination, vaccination, vaccination.
In many ways, Biden was extraordinari-
ly successful. His team secured supplies
and scaled up distribution so well that
vaccines were widely available just
months into his administration. But
muddled messaging failed to fully make
the case for vaccines, and the narrow
emphasis led to underinvestment in
other crucial tools, as evidenced by the
recent dramatic but completely pre-
dictable testing shortage.
Year 2 begins this week, yet Biden
still has not laid out his covid-19 plan.
He needs to do it urgently. Specifically,
what’s the goal for the United States? Is
it to reduce infections or to return to
pre-pandemic normal?
If the goal is to keep infections at bay,
we are looking at another year of much
the same. Biden must convince Ameri-
cans that it’s worth staying the course
as his administration seeks new ways to
increase vaccine uptake and persuade
states and locales to maintain mask
requirements. The goal will be sup-
pressing infections to a low enough
level that covid-19 can be contained
through testin g, contact tracing, isola-
tion and quarantine.
The upside to this path is that it
would save lives. The downside is that
the United States would be in perpetual
pandemic mode, with vi rtually all deci-
sions being made through the prism of
coronavirus transmission. For vacci-
nated Americans who are now at low
risk from covid-19, another year of
continued sacrifice would be a h ard
sell, especially when the deaths pre-
vented are — for the most part —
among those who choose to remain
unvaccinated.
If Biden’s goal were, instead, to move
on from the pandemic, his course of
action would be very different. New
infections would still be tracked and
reported, but they wouldn’t factor into
decisions about additional restrictions.
The only two metrics that matter would
be whether vaccines still work to
protect against severe illness and
whether hospitals become over-
whelmed. We wouldn’t test asymptom-
atic individuals unless they are medi-
cally vulnerable. And we would end
isolation and quarantine.
Biden would also announce a rapid
off-ramp for masking. Yes, vaccinated
people may still get breakthrough in-
fections, but chances are they will be
mild, and we don’t require masks to
prevent the cold, flu and other respira-
tory infections. At the very least, a
“return to normal” approach would
mean that workplaces and schools
where everyone is vaccinated should
make masks optional. By finally getting
behind proof of vaccination as part of
removing masks, Biden can both incen-
tivize vaccination and increase compli-
ance should indoor masking have to
return because of hospital capacity.
There are many who would angrily
oppose this second strategy, including a
large proportion of Biden’s base who
see controlling covid-19 as their most
important objective. They would be
right to point out that this path would
result in more infections and covid-
r elated deaths, and it entirely ignores
the specter of long covid. This path
would also need to be accompanied by a
heavy emphasis on treatment, so that
immunocompromised people can
emerge from lockdown, too.
Of course, the major advantage of
this strategy is that it stops further
societal disruption and essentially ends
the pandemic. Covid-19 changes from
an existential emergency into some-
thing more akin to the flu: No one
wants to get it, but most people also
won’t change their lifestyles to avoid it.
Which goal Biden chooses will deter-
mine how the administration directs its
efforts. For example, Path One depends
on a massive ramping up of tests so that
everyone can get tested twice a week;
Path Two would need far fewer tests but
a far greater investment in tre atment.
Path 1 requires paid leave and other
incentives for isolation; Path 2 empha-
sizes rapid booster deployment if vac-
cine effectiveness wanes.
To b e sure, there are many unknowns
that could derail either strategy, such as
the possibility of new variants. But the
same could be said about any crisis, and
indecision, itself, is a decision, too.
Biden’s approach to the pandemic thus
far has been mostly reacting to situa-
tions rather than anticipating what’s
ahead. His approval ratings on manag-
ing covid-19 are dropping because, I
believe, the public is confused about
where we are and because Biden has
not been able to explain what’s happen-
ing and what course of action he has
chosen.
The American people need to hear
from our president about what’s ahead.
After the omicron surge recedes, are we
in for another year that’s more of the
same? Or will we turn the page on this
pandemic? Biden needs to pick a lane,
and then — confidently and boldly —
lead us through it.LEANA S. WENWe need
to hear
Biden’s Year 2
covid strategy
T
he rule is simple: Anyone who
travels to Australia has to be
vaccinated against the coro-
navirus.
Novak Djokovic, the top-ranked
men’s tennis player in the world, was
not vaccinated. He tried to play in the
Australian Open anyway, with a medi-
cal exemption. A standoff ensued, and
some legal wrangling. And finally, at
the last minute before the first round
of the tournament this week, Australia
sent him home.
The dramatic finish was a loss for
Djokovic, who was seeking his
10th Australian Open title.
But it was a v ictory for my team. We
are the Rule Followers, and we needed
a win.
It’s been a tough couple of years.
Rule followers like me masked up,
locked down, sanitized till our skin
cracked, followed the arrows in the
grocery store, stood on social -
d istancing floor stickers, got vaccinat-
ed (when it was our turn and no
sooner), and then, because of all the
people who didn’t follow the rules, did
it all over again. The rules got more
confusing and more changeable, and
still we tried to keep up. We followed
rules even when it felt as if we had to
chase them down.
At best, our cooperation was taken
for granted; at worst, we were mocked
for being “sheep.”
We’re accustomed to the disrespect.
In this country, the term “rule follower”
is itself a gentle insult. I have balked at
being called one: I have smuggled food
into a movie theater! I got a speeding
ticket once!
But it’s true. I would never claim the
express checkout lane before carefully
counting the items in my cart. I wouldnever use my coat to block an open
seat beside me on the train. When
friends ahead of me in line for a show
wave me forward, I decline: That’s
fine. I’ll stay back here.
This attitude might make me cor-
rect, but it does not make me cool, like
the rebels and cowboys, mavericks my
culture adores. America’s iconic big-
screen cops (John McClane in “Die
Hard,” Axel Foley in “Beverly Hills
Cop,” Martin Riggs in “Lethal Weap-
on”) don’t go by the book. Its iconic
big-screen teenagers fake a fever and
skip school, as in “Ferris Bueller’s Day
Off,” which, along with the charming,
rule- breaking Ferris, featured two
kind s of rule followers: the wimp
(Ferris’s sniffling friend, Cameron)
and the rat (Ferris’s vindictive sister,
Jeanie). I still harbor a deep sympathy
for both.
To be clear, the rule-breakers in
these movies aren’t fighting discrimi-
nation or injustice. We’re not talking
Rosa Parks. These characters break
rules because rules are for chumps.
That’s the cultural bias our public
health officials and government lead-
ers have been battling for almost two
years as they try to make rules that
(1) will keep the virus from spreading
and (2) Americans will follow. It’s a
bias that boosted the career of Donald
Trump, whose habitual rule-breaking
was both a satisfying rebuke to the
“elites” and a sign of real-world savvy.
Not paying taxes, Trump said, “makes
me smart.”
For almost two years, rule breakers
have been acting out, throwing tan-
trums and shopping carts, and putting
the entire national covid response at
risk. By rights, rule followers should be
making scenes , too, but we usuallydon’t. At our most ferocious, we might
say to a barefaced stranger, “I have an
extra mask if you need one.” When I
failed to convince my gym that it was
breaking New York state’s mask re-
quirement, I angrily... stayed home.
Meanwhile, California Gov. Gavin
Newsom (D) broke his own rules by
eating with friends at the French
Laundry. Quarterback Aaron Rodgers
called himself “immunized” when he
really meant “unvaccinated,” and
when he got caught (by catching
covid), the National Football League
did basically nothing. The league did,
however, suspend Antonio Brown and
Mike Edwards for using fake vaccina-
tion cards. For committing fraud and
putting their teammates at risk, they
were barred for three whole games.
The hits keep coming. Last month,
we learned that Prime Minister Boris
Johnson attended a party in the midst
of Britain’s 2020 lockdown.
Will he face consequences? I hope
so. Breaking rules doesn’t just disre-
spect authority. It disrespects every-
one who follows the rules. When Greek
tennis player Stefanos Tsitsipas was
asked to comment on Djokovic, he
noted that “not everyone is playing by
the rules,” which made those who did
follow protocol look like fools.
Australians have complied with
some of the strictest covid lockdowns
in the world and got vaccinated in
impressive numbers. An “Australia
Talks” national survey explains why:
“Despite the fact we like to think of
ourselves as larrikins” — that’s Aussie
for Ferris Buellers — “Australians are
actually a nation of rule-followers.” The
vast majority wanted Djokovic booted.
Today, I celebrate with them.
Y ippee-ki-yay, if I may say so.KATE COHENThe Rule Followers
get a victory
LOREN ELLIOTT/REUTERS
Serbian tennis player Novak Djokovic, center, walks in Melbourne Airport in Australia on Sunday.H
ave you ever heard of “5G”?
It’s not a t rick question. Yes,
5G — the long-promised next
step in cellular technology. The
same 5G you could avoid hearing about
only by moving to a hut in the Hima -
layas. And turning off your phone.
5G has for years been the enigmatic
subject of countless hours of advertise-
ments from wireless providers and
sma rtphone manufacturers. So why, you
might ask, did the Federal Aviation
Administration only recently jump up
and down, waving its orange-tipped
flashlights, to attempt to halt the Jan. 19
flip of the switch that would finally
acti vate a major part of the long-, long-,
long-promised 5G network?
Chances are you encountered the
term not long after you got your first
smartphone. It ran on 3G and, frankly,
was only smart-ish. It had trouble
streaming a movie and simultaneously
downloading a book while texting a
photo album. Too, too slow. Wireless
marketers were hyping 4G. Meanwhile,
your tech-savvy friend said smugly:
That’s nothing, they’re already working
on 5G.
And they were. It wasn’t a s ecret. A
huge company, Sprint, died on the road
to 5G. Companies paid more than
$80 billion at well-publicized federal
auctions for 5G space on the public
airwaves.
Yet it seems to have caught the FAA by
surprise. The agency threatened flight
cancellations, cargo slowdowns and
s upply-chain snarls worse than the snarls
we’ve already been dealing with. The
concern: Activated 5G spectrum might
interfere with older altitude sensors that
bring aircraft in for safe landings.
We can agree that planes smashing
into the ground would be a bad thing.
But how real is the risk?According to Tom Wheeler, a v isiting
fellow at the Brookings Institution and
former head of the Federal Communica-
tions Commission, whatever small risk
might exist should have been eliminated
long ago. In a r ecent paper explaining
the issue, Wheeler cited various compro-
mises and delays offered by the wireless
industry — all met with last-minute
panic-mongering by the FAA.
At issue: a s weet spot in the radio
spectrum between 3.7 and 4.4 gigahertz.
Here, the wavelengths are long enough
to tr avel a good distance — important for
cellular coverage — but short enough to
hold a lot of data. The space from 3.7 to
4.2 GHz was authorized for 5G, while the
band from 4.2 to 4.4 GHz carries messag-
es to aircraft altimeters. The FAA is
worried about interference where the
bands meet.
Wheeler notes that Boeing, battered by
safety issues, proposed a protective mar-
gin from 4.1 to 4.2 GHz where 5G would
not venture. The FCC, which regulates
the wireless spectrum, agreed, then dou-
bled the margin, limiting 5G signals to
wavelengths below 4.0 GHz.
The FAA and its aviation constituents
said it remained worried that some
altimeters might yet be vulnerable to
interference. Instead of acting during
the long 5G rollout, the agency chose a
flurry of late-stage hand-wringing.
Wheeler counsels: “Clear heads are
needed to separate what is only hypo-
thetical possibility based on worst-case
assumptions” — the FAA’s Chicken Little
scenario — “from what is highly proba-
ble based on real-world use.”
More is at stake than the speed with
which sports fans can gamble on their
phones. High-speed wireless is a major
economic and technical battlefield on
which national security depends. The
United States already lags China inadoption of 5G communications.
Beyond that, the FAA’s foot-dragging
raises a red flag over the agency’s
competence. Demand for space on the
airwaves has been rising steeply for
generations. But now we learn that
countless aircraft may be flying with
crucial safety equipment vulnerable to
interference — and that the number of
vulnerable aircraft is unknown because,
Wheeler writes, the agency has no set
standard for altimeter security.
Admittedly, the FAA is under a lot of
pressure from changing technologies.
Package delivery companies are clamor-
ing for permission to fly drones beyond
the line of sight. Measures are needed to
prevent that same technology from be-
coming a b omb-delivery vehicle for ter-
rorists. Autonomous-flight air taxis and
all-electric airplanes aren’t far behind.
The skies will be as crowded as the
wireless spectrum.
The agency also faces tough nontech-
nical demands, such as keeping up with
pandemic health measures, battling un-
ruly travelers and finding the next
generation of pilots, flight attendants
and air traffic controllers.
Yet if a challenge as slow-moving and
widely publicized as 5G can catch the
FAA unprepared, it’s hard to be hopeful
about smooth landings in these other
areas. On Jan. 18, the Biden administra-
tion announced an agreement for 5G de-
ployment to (mostly) move ahead. But
Jan. 19 should not have become a crisis.
The fact that the date became tangled in
controversy is a flashing warning bea-
con: The FAA needs to improve its
performance. The United States needs
regulators as nimble and relentless as
the innovators who push technology
forward. After all, as our tech-savvy
friends will be happy to tell us:
They’re already working on 6G.DAVID VON DREHLEThe FAA’s 5G freakout raises a big red flag