Partner surrogate proxy

A U.S. Air University’s Strategic Studies Quarterly paper (PDF) by Maj Shawn T. Cochran, USAF

Security Assistance, Surrogate Armies, and the Pursuit of US Interests in Sub-Saharan Africa
http://www.au.af.mil/au/ssq/
http://www.au.af.mil/au/ssq/2010/spring/cochran.pdf

In the words of a senior US military officer assigned to AFRICOM, the United States seeks to enhance regional military forces because, “We don’t want to see our guys going in and getting whacked . . . We want Africans to go in.” p1

It concludes that the efficacy of security assistance strategy derives largely from how it translates the donor-recipient relationship into a sponsor-surrogate relationship. p2

Until the mid 1970s, US policy makers used the terms military assistance and military aid generically for all transfers of military weapons, equipment,
and training to recipient governments. In 1976, Congress amended the Foreign Assistance Act of 1961, introducing the label “security assistance”
to include military assistance as well as other related programs. The legislation “shifted official terminology to usage of the term security assistance in preference to military assistance to include the political and economic aspects, as well as military aspects, of arms transfers.” Today, the DoD defines security assistance as a group of programs, authorized by law, by which the United States “provides defense articles, military training,
and other defense related services, by grant, loan, credit, or cash sales in furtherance of national policies and objectives.” p2-3

There is no official DoD definition for surrogate force, the second key concept. For many, the term proxy may be more familiar. Within the military
realm, the terms proxy and surrogate are largely interchangeable. The use here of the latter reflects a desire to establish a degree of distance from the related, yet viscerally more contentious, concept of proxy war. Given the African experience, any allusion to proxy war will likely elicit recollections
of how external powers, both in the colonial and Cold War eras, competed by initiating, escalating, and exploiting local conflicts. Today, many who wish to denigrate a given foreign policy in Africa simply apply the label “proxy war” for dramatic effect.


Over the past several decades, the United States has demonstrated a proclivity for the use of both state and nonstate surrogates. p3


For the purposes of this article, a surrogate force is defined as an organization
that serves the needs or interests of a secondary actor—the sponsor—by employing military power in place of the sponsor’s own forces. Implicit within this definition is the requirement for the sponsor to fund, equip, train, or otherwise support the surrogate. The sponsor also must exercise at least some form of control or influence over the surrogate. This control, however, is never absolute. In many cases, it is tentative at best. As Rubenstein explains, “Whereas surrogates may connote subordination and dependence, in practice they cover a range of relationships.”

From a definitional standpoint, there must be some congruence of interests between the surrogate and sponsor beyond financial considerations. This does not preclude differing or competing objectives, but the surrogate does not act solely for monetary gain or purely in response to coercion. Finally, one must recognize that the sponsor-surrogate relationship does not represent a formal agreement and thus differs distinctly from an alliance. p3-4


Proponents of US security assistance cite a number of program benefits.
Most justifications share the common theme of economy of force. Calling for a dramatic increase in security assistance funding during the Reagan years, Secretary of State Alexander Haig claimed, “As we strengthen these states, we strengthen ourselves . . . we can do so more effectively and frequently at less cost.” In 1985, Secretary of Defense Caspar Weinberger testified to Congress that security assistance serves to “ease the financial and logistical burden of our global security interests.” More specifically, the achievement of economy through security assistance stems from a reduction
in the requirement for more financially and politically costly US military intervention. Continuing his testimony, Weinberger explained, “If effective, our programs help reduce the likelihood that US forces will be called upon to intervene on behalf of friendly or allied countries sharing
common security interests.” James Buckley, undersecretary of state for security assistance and technology during the same period, argued that the programs “bolster the military capabilities of our friends and allies, permitting them in some cases to undertake responsibilities which otherwise
we ourselves might have to assume.”19 More recently, and reflecting more specifically on the benefits of US security assistance to Africa, Cong. Ike Skelton explained,
In the Global War on Terror, we need all of the help we can find. Where nations are willing to pony up resources, especially in terms of available troops, then we should do all we can to make sure that they are as well trained and well equipped as we can make them. Clearly no one is better suited to patrol the ungoverned spaces in Africa than the Africans. . . . Not only will they be more effective than we could ever be, but it will also relieve at least some of the demand to deploy our own troops.
Mirroring Liska’s logic, Weinberger, Buckley, and Skelton advocated security assistance as a means of enabling other actors to take the place of US forces. They were, essentially, espousing the linkage between security assistance and surrogate force.
Terminology often obscures this key relationship. US policy makers and defense personnel alike speak regularly in terms of “building partner capacity.” The dialogue surrounding the standup of AFRICOM certainly follows this trend. This is probably more palatable than the notion of developing surrogates, but the palatability comes with a downside.

By analyzing, strategizing, and implementing security assistance in terms of a partnership instead of a sponsor-surrogate relationship, one is perhaps more likely to marginalize the critical, albeit controversial, factor of donor influence and control.

p5-6
US policy makers and defense personnel alike speak regularly in terms of “building partner capacity.” The dialogue surrounding the standup of AFRICOM certainly follows this trend. This is probably more palatable than the notion of developing surrogates, but the palatability comes with a downside. Bertil Dunér outlines the three dimensions of a surrogate relationship as compatibility
of interests, material support, and power.21 Of the three, power, or influence, exerted by the sponsor is most critical. For Dunér, whether or not a state has acted as a surrogate “can best be regarded as a question of whether it has been subjected to the exercise of power by some other state; whether it has been pressured to intervening.” A partner, on the other hand, receives material support yet is in no way pressured or influenced by the donor to intervene.22 By analyzing, strategizing, and implementing security assistance in terms of a partnership instead of a sponsor-surrogate relationship, one is perhaps more likely to marginalize the critical, albeit controversial, factor of donor influence and control.

Such marginalization may affect adversely the degree to which security assistance programs achieve US objectives.

“Throughout the Cold War, Americans persisted in the obsessive conviction
that arms transfers . . . would provide pervasive US political influence on recipient policy” and create automatically “decisive leverage on recipient behavior.” Washington policy makers assumed a degree of US control inherent
in the provision of security assistance and “expected strategic and diplomatic loyalty and even military service from US recipients.”23 This assumption was, in many cases, flawed. Failing to address adequately the issue of donor influence, Washington “was never able to create the convergence
of recipient aims to achieve US aims.”24 Instead of shaping recipient behavior and use of military force as hoped, security assistance became “at best a precedent and argument for continued aid, and at worst a resource at the disposition of the recipient for domestic or external use regardless of the stated purpose for which given.”

The key point here is that capacity building, in many circumstances, may not be enough. The United States cannot assume that the mere granting of security assistance—what Dunér categorizes as material support—will shape automatically recipient behavior or that the resultant capacity will necessarily be utilized in a manner that best supports US interests. Dunér is correct in referring to any such assumption as “a very shallow notion.”26 Addressing security assistance from a mind-set of surrogate force development as opposed to partner capacity building highlights the critical need, particularly in the absence of formal alliances, for donor influence associated with donor material support.

This approach to security assistance lends itself readily to the broader theoretical framework of agency theory. As cited above, “In the case of acquisitive aid the recipient’s performance substitutes directly for action by the donor. The donor either does not expect to act at all or would have to act ‘more’ or ‘differently’ if he could not anticipate the performance of the recipient.” Agency theory, in turn, addresses the ubiquitous yet complex
relationships in which one party, the agent, acts on behalf of another, the principal.27 Thus, to the degree that security assistance falls within the acquisitive category, the core concepts of agency theory become more germane. The following analysis of US security assistance strategy in Africa relies substantially on these concepts. Within this analysis, the sponsor and surrogate assume the roles, respectively, of principal and agent

p.10
In 1993, responding to Gen Sani Abacha’s establishment of a military dictatorship, the United States cut all security assistance to Nigeria. It initially banned Nigeria from participating in the African Crisis Response Initiative (ACRI) for the same reason. As Amb. Marshall McCallie, program
director for ACRI, explained to Congress, “We can’t provide military
assistance to countries that are governed by military governments, particularly those that have displaced civilian governments. . . . I look forward to the day when Nigeria has returned to democratic civilian rule and we are able to work together with them in peacekeeping.”46

The 1999 Nigerian elections, ostensibly representing a return to such rule, provided “a monumental opportunity for the United States on the African continent.” The US government viewed Nigeria not only as the key subregional power but also as the “possible linchpin for the entire continent.”47 This vision included a significant role for Nigeria in the maintenance of subregional and regional security. At a 1999 congressional hearing on the future of US policy toward Nigeria, Senator Bill Frist explained,
“We want Nigeria to remain engaged in regional conflict resolution
and peacekeeping and perhaps expand these efforts further.”48 Similarly,
Undersecretary Pickering pointed to an “extremely important need” for Nigerian forces “to be available in the region to deal with conflict in the region.”

p.11 From Recipient to Surrogate

With the situation in Liberia deteriorating, ECOWAS leaders met in early July and announced that they were tentatively willing to provide 3,000 troops to a peace support mission. As a caveat, however, they requested
that the United States take the lead and contribute 2,000 of its own forces to the operation. President Obasanjo explained, “It isn’t Nigeria
that set Liberia on fire, is it? Of course it is not. It is not the West Africans that set Liberia on fire. You know who did, and those who set Liberia
on fire should also join in putting the fire out.”58 Where the United States saw the past ECOWAS intervention in Liberia as a positive sign of future willingness, the organization’s members, particularly Nigeria, saw it as a negative experience not to be repeated. They had been there before, and it had been protracted, expensive, and bloody. Driving the ECOWAS agenda, Nigerian leadership desired that the United States share the burden in 2003. This stemmed not only from a perception of US responsibility but also from a belief in US military effectiveness. The direct involvement of US combat troops would certainly guarantee rapid success.59

For the United States, this was not an expected or acceptable reaction from subregional actors. After toying with the idea of direct military intervention,
the administration determined that it was, at most, willing to serve in a supporting role. In mid July, President Bush stated, “What I’m telling you is that we want to help ECOWAS. . . . I think everybody understands that any commitment we had would be limited in size and limited in tenure . . . our job would be to facilitate an ECOWAS presence.”
60 Within US policy-making circles, there was significant frustration
over Nigeria’s hesitancy to respond, particularly given the extent of recent US security assistance.61 Accordingly, the United States launched a heavy diplomatic effort in the subregion aimed primarily at Nigeria. The US-appointed UN special representative in Liberia, Jacques Klein, averred at a press briefing that “ECOWAS needed to move quickly” and, in general, he “attempted to bully ECOWAS into deploying a vanguard force of at least 1,000 troops immediately.”62 US Assistant Secretary of State for African Affairs Walter Kansteiner traveled to Africa to increase pressure on regional leaders.63 Still, the Nigerian-dominated ECOWAS “seemed to be waiting for a signal from the United States that it was ready to help militarily, so there was something of a stalemate, everyone waiting for everyone else.”

p14
An Agency Perspective
Although largely successful, the US-backed ECOMIL intervention still raises a number of issues in terms of principal-agent relations. Evident from the start was a dissonance between US and Nigerian expectations. Nigerian leadership felt fully justified in requesting a substantial US military
contribution as a condition for its own commitment. US policy makers, conversely, grew frustrated at Nigerian intransigence, arguing that the subregional power was failing to live up to its obligation. Once in Liberia, Nigerian military units, as well as those from other ECOMIL participants,
performed fairly well.77 Getting to that point, however, proved a difficult and contentious process involving heavy US diplomatic pressure, pledges of additional funding, and a symbolic deployment of US forces. From an agency perspective, the US deployment is especially problematic. Aside from a small minority, US leadership did not desire to commit its military to the situation yet felt compelled in response to international pressure and, more significantly, the insistence of subregional actors. There is some evidence here of what Mott conceptualizes as reverse leverage.78 As one news report claimed, “The Nigerians know, however, that they have got the Americans over a barrel and will hold out for the best possible deal before going in.”

____________

p.14
The surge in US security assistance to Nigeria from 2000 to 2003 was closely tied to the US government’s expectation of Nigeria as a lead contributor
to subregional and regional peace support operations. From the US point of view, Nigeria’s hesitancy to respond to the Liberian crisis and attempt to pressure the United States into committing its own forces represented
a degree of “shirking,” defined within agency theory as not doing all that was contracted or not doing the task in a desirable way. Shirking often occurs when agent interests deviate from those of the principal. In the case of the Liberian crisis of 2003, however, US and Nigerian interests
aligned relatively well. The diplomatic wrangling between the United States and Nigeria was not about the need for an intervention or whether Nigeria would play at least some part. The devil was in the details—the timing, conditions, roles, levels of involvement, and, of particular concern, who would foot the bill. The gap between US expectation and Nigerian
response derived primarily from risk implications and the existence of competing principals.

Beyond the factor of conflicting goals, shirking is also more likely in situations where there is significant outcome uncertainty and thus significant
risk. It is therefore important to consider how the perceptions of risk vary within a principal-agent relationship. Nigeria’s past involvement in Liberia was not necessarily an indicator of future risk tolerance. The earlier experience was not a pleasant or inexpensive one. The potential for a similar
experience was enough to “trigger the risk implications of the theory” in a manner that the United States, perhaps, did not fully comprehend or appreciate.80 Kathleen Eisenhardt discusses “the problem of risk sharing that arises when the principal and agent have different attitudes toward risk . . . the problem here is that the principal and the agent may prefer different actions because of different risk preferences.”81 From the Nigerian
perspective, it was completely reasonable to prefer a substantial US military commitment as a means of risk mitigation.

Closely related to risk was the issue of competing principles. Interestingly,
Nigerian lack of enthusiasm for the mission stemmed in part from the inculcation of democratic practices. In a democracy, the state military ultimately serves as an agent of the people. Where Nigerian dictators had been able to employ the military whenever and however they saw fit, the democratically elected leadership, accountable to Nigerian public opinion, found it increasingly difficult to justify and garner public support for the expenditure of troops and national treasure in external conflicts.
____________

p.16
While it is not especially useful to dwell on the hypothetical,
the contention here is that the United States, while attempting to operate through surrogate force, found itself at risk of a level of military involvement neither intended nor wanted. It is such risk that the United States sought to avoid through its security assistance strategy. In order to mitigate the perceived risk implications of its surrogate and thus gain the benefits of employing surrogate force, the United States had to adjust its own perception of acceptable risk.

p.22
The apparently successful use of US special operations forces, intelligence assets, and limited precision air strikes, combined with a large-scale intervention by a subregional power, was quickly dubbed “the Somali Model.” According to one report, “Military
operations in Somalia by American commandos, and the use of the Ethiopian Army as a surrogate force to root out operatives for al-Qaeda in the country, are a blueprint that Pentagon strategists say they hope to use more frequently in counterterrorism missions around the globe.”

p.26
“The new game in Somalia is to call your enemy a terrorist in the hope that America will destroy him for you.”154 In a sense, Ethiopia may have tried to oversell its own value as an agent to the United States.

While numerous critics place responsibility upon Ethiopia and its sponsor
(the United States) for Somalia’s further descent into chaos, the broader African security community shares a portion of the blame. A significant consequence of the AU failing to fulfill its mandate in Somalia was the extended Ethiopian occupation. A key observation from this case is that the AU, as an institution, may be ambitious and well intentioned in exercising
its regional security prerogative, but the enthusiasm does not extend necessarily to member states under no obligation to contribute troops or resources to any given mission. From an agency perspective, the failure of Ghana and Nigeria to respond is of particular interest. Both received substantial US security assistance funding in 2005 and 2006. Both, at the urging of the United States, pledged troops to AMISOM and in return were promised additional US training and equipment tailored specifically for the operation.155 The United States also agreed to provide logistical support.156 Still, despite significant US diplomatic pressure, neither country
ever deployed its forces to Somalia, each offering a continuous litany of reasons for the delay. When asked to explain this lack of response despite previous pledges, a senior US military official in the region opined that Somalia “scared the . . . out of them” and that they had no direct interests related to the mission. In other words, “Why would Ghana care about Somalia?”157

Despite short-term gains, the efficacy of US efforts to achieve strategic objectives in Somalia through surrogate force remains questionable at best. The suboptimal outcome derived not only from US delegation to Ethiopia but also from delegation to the AU. In the aftermath, Somalia remained
a violent and ungoverned sanctuary for terrorists, Islamic extremists,
criminals, and even pirates. The credibility, image, and subregional hearts-and-minds campaign of the United States suffered. US support for a unilateral Ethiopian intervention also raised concerns throughout the rest of Africa. Shortly after the invasion, the United States announced the creation of AFRICOM. This unfortunate timing led to widespread suspicion
in Africa concerning the role of the new command.

p.28
All states receiving US security assistance through programs such as ACRI and ACOTA must express a general interest and willingness to participate in external peace-support operations.161 Some recipients, however, “gladly take the training” and never deploy.162 Some, as perhaps was the case with Ethiopia, may try to exaggerate or inflate their own value as agents, thus distorting the screening process.

From 2000 to 2006, US security assistance strategy, with its concomitant screening mechanisms, was reflective of a broader “anchor state” approach to Africa. The 2002 National Security Strategy established that “countries with major impact on their neighborhood such as South Africa, Nigeria,
Kenya, and Ethiopia are anchors for regional engagement and require focused attention.”163 In focusing security assistance efforts on Nigeria (2000–2003) and Ethiopia (2003–2006), the United States was seeking to establish principal-agent relationships with the dominant actors within the respective subregions. Nigeria and Ethiopia already possessed robust military capabilities—at least relative to the rest of Africa—and each had shown a past willingness to intervene militarily in neighboring countries, whether for peacekeeping or other purposes. These factors, ostensibly indicators
that the United States would achieve “the most bang for its buck” or “the best return on its investment,” served as strategic screening criteria.164

These case studies highlight the tension between strategic and what can be considered “statutory” screening criteria. US statutes, as codified primarily
within the amended Foreign Assistance Act, prohibit security assistance
for a number of reasons, including unaddressed human rights abuses or the presence of a government brought to power by military coup. These restrictions derive largely from US values and political sensitivities but are also important in that such recipients are ostensibly more likely to shirk in terms of “not doing the task in a desirable way.” The United States reinstituted
security assistance to Nigeria after the 1999 Nigerian democratic elections and then cut it again in late 2003 (reinstituted in 2005) due to implications of human rights abuses by the Nigerian military. With the substantial increases in security assistance to Ethiopia starting in 2002, critics argued that the United States was not holding the Ethiopians to the same standard. Many US policy makers, however, viewed Ethiopian support as critical to the GWOT and appeared willing to overlook certain indiscretions or legalistic restraints to achieve strategic ends. The resultant tension was evident in congressional debates. While it may be necessary at times to favor strategic over statutory criteria, such a compromise is not without cost. Dissonance between donor rhetoric and practice, as well as the application of varying standards to different recipients, can skew recipient
perceptions of donor expectations and preferences.

There was certainly strong justification for screening recipients in terms of the broader anchor-state strategy. Extant military capacity and geopolitical
influence of a surrogate is potentially of great benefit to a sponsor.
Nonetheless, relying mainly on subregional powers in Africa is not without its drawbacks. States such as Nigeria and Ethiopia are entwined intimately in subregional power politics. This is not to suggest a lack of involvement by lesser states, but dominant players are, anecdotally, more likely to have broader agendas and, consequently, additional motives that may be hidden from the sponsor. By aligning mainly with a subregional power, a sponsor may be drawn into subregional politics unwittingly, losing
credibility as an unbiased external actor or “honest broker” in the resolution of African conflict.165 Reliance on a few dominant states also increases the potential for reverse leverage within the donor-recipient relationship. There were hints of this in 2003 when the Nigerians knew they had “the Americans over a barrel.”

The application of incentives and diplomatic pressure was evident in both case studies. The United States clearly utilized diplomatic pressure to shape recipient behavior in the case of Nigeria in 2003. The same was true in the case of Ethiopia, even if not for the initial invasion, at least for the continued occupation of Somalia. In trying to garner regional support for AMISOM, the United States looked specifically to and applied pressure
on key recipients such as Uganda, Ghana, and Nigeria. The case of Uganda provides an example of the United States successfully incentivizing recipient behavior through the provision of additional assistance linked to a specific mission. Similar incentives, however, proved inadequate with Nigeria and Ghana in the context of AMISOM. While these all represent attempts by the donor to control recipient behavior, it remains difficult to assess the precise degree, nature, and effects of any of these efforts. This is not surprising. As Dunér contends, “When it comes to a proxy relation . . . both parties usually try to conceal the true nature of their relationship. . . . Few governments like to acknowledge that they have threatened or brought pressure to bear on another; even fewer like to admit that they have acted against their will.”

p.30
Agency Cost Calculus

A simplistic yet meaningful conclusion one can draw from the case studies is that the effectiveness of donor control mechanisms and, consequently,
the viability of donor influence is highly dependent upon context.
Three important contextual factors identified within agency theory and illustrated by the case studies include the level of congruence between donor and recipient interests, the relative perception of risk, and the existence
of competing principal-agent relationships. It is the interplay between
such contextual factors and efforts by the donor to control recipient behavior that dictates the agency costs associated with any given donor-recipient relationship.167

In the case of AMISOM as a whole, those outside the subregion had little direct interest in Somalia. Given the lack of perceived state interests and significant risk implications associated with the “less-than-ideal security
situation,” the paucity of regional enthusiasm should not have been surprising.168 In many recipient states that declined to participate, internal domestic pressure competing with external US pressure proved to be significant.
After Nigeria pledged troops to AMISOM, the internal domestic outcry against participation was intense, leading the government to reconsider.
Malawi’s defense minister “reportedly promised troops only to have the president rescind the announcement.”169 In such a context—with a lack of converging interests, significant risk implications, and competing (primarily internal) relationships—the amount of donor control required to effectively shape recipient behavior likely exceeds that actually provided by donor control mechanisms.

The United States had a strong donor-recipient relationship and alignment
of interests with both Nigeria in 2003 and Ethiopia in 2006. The same was true with Uganda within the context of AMISOM. All three states responded as US surrogates. Nigeria appeared to possess a greater initial risk aversion, even going into a more benign environment. The United States was able to mitigate this primarily through a symbolic deployment of US forces. The key in this case was adjusting the level of shared risk within the relationship. As discussed above, the Nigerian government’s perception of risk derived, in part, from democratic accountability.
The governments of Ethiopia and Uganda, more questionable
in terms of democratic practices, perhaps lacked similar concerns.170 Although it is impossible to suggest any correlation here, this remains an interesting observation nonetheless. Nigeria was obviously less amenable to intervening in Somalia. The risk was probably greater and, as discussed above, the convergence of interests no longer existed.

From the case studies, it is apparent that the United States takes two broad approaches to developing surrogate forces in Africa. The first derives
from the perceived strategic potential of a key actor. It consists of a longer-term security assistance relationship not tied directly to any specific
intervention. This was the approach taken with Nigeria from 2001 to 2003, Ethiopia from 2003 to 2006, and Uganda in the years leading up to its participation in AMISOM. The second can be characterized as a “fire brigade” approach. This is more ad hoc and involves a short-term use of security assistance to generate support for a specific intervention and preparing willing participants just prior to deployment. This was the case with Nigeria in 2000 (Operation Focus Relief) and Burundi in 2007– 2008. When the need for intervention arises, the two approaches often become blurred. Uganda, already a significant recipient, was provided additional
US training and equipment for participation in AMISOM.

Given the uncertainties tied to contextual factors in Africa and the limits
of US control mechanisms, the latter approach may appear relatively attractive. Why invest long term without any guarantee of return? Why not just wait until the need arises and then tailor security assistance to provide only the willing actors with what is necessary for a specific intervention?
This would ostensibly eliminate some of the uncertainty inherent
in screening and mitigate agency loss from shirking behavior. The United States, in fact, has moved in this direction over the past few years. ACOTA, in particular, has been utilized repeatedly for such “just in time” security assistance.

Significant benefits remain associated with the longer-term strategic approach.
There is necessarily a balance between the two, but US capacity-building efforts “in whole have been too schizophrenic . . . hindered by a failure to sustain efforts over time.”171 Liska speaks of consistency as a key to shaping recipient performance without having to resort to explicit sanctions.
Eisenhardt proffers the value of the long-term relationship in terms of gaining a deeper understanding of agent interests and motivations.172 Such understanding is vital. As Mott suggests, for security assistance to be effective, “a donor must fathom the recipient’s polity, economy, and culture
and cause the recipient to adopt desired policies, military strategies, or other behaviors.”

p.32
When donor and recipient interests do not completely align and risk implications are significant, the longer-term relationship may be an important
determinant of recipient behavior. Ethiopia and Uganda, the two most willing contributors in the second case study, each had its own national
objectives related to Somalia. Nonetheless, the performance of each exceeded that dictated purely by immediate state interests. Each faced significant risks and suffered numerous casualties, yet remained involved militarily far longer than desired or originally intended (Ethiopia wanted to depart after a few weeks; Uganda expected to leave within six months). The political leadership of both Ethiopia and Uganda, although perhaps not initially as sensitive as that of Nigeria, eventually felt the pressure of internal dissent. The Ugandan government, in particular, faced an increasingly
angry public that complained about the siphoning of military resources from the country’s own internal struggle with the Lord’s Resistance
Army.174 Still, each state responded to US appeals, in part because they valued and sought to foster a broader security relationship with the United States. Critics of Ethiopian and Ugandan military actions in Somalia
denigrate these states for intervening to gain favor with the United States. From the US perspective, having recipients that substantially value and are willing to accept significant risk to maintain a longer-term relationship
is not necessarily a bad thing.

At the core of the agency cost calculus is ultimately the perceived value of employing surrogate force versus committing one’s own forces. The key benefit of developing and then operating through a surrogate is ostensibly the avoidance of sponsor military involvement. This obviation, however, is rarely complete, and the need to supplement the surrogate with the sponsor’s own military forces must be factored into the equation. Such a commitment may be necessary in terms of a political, operational, psychological,
or deterrent effect. For the sponsor, limited military participation
may also be useful in terms of monitoring surrogate performance.

The United States found it necessary, or at least of sufficient utility, to supplement its surrogates militarily in both case studies. In Liberia, the impetus and impact were largely political and psychological. US military liaisons attached to ECOMIL units also provided, among other benefits, a monitoring function. The most significant cost of the US military deployment
was an increased risk of more extensive military involvement. In Somalia, the impetus can best be categorized as operational or in terms of enhancing military effectiveness of the surrogate. This was particularly true regarding the use of US military assets for intelligence sharing and limited air strikes. Associated costs stemmed from the damage to the US image and credibility within the region and beyond from being perceived as inextricably linked to the unilateral Ethiopian invasion. Overall, the role of the sponsor’s own military forces will vary greatly, but in most situations where the sponsor’s interests truly are at stake, there will be a role. The sponsor must be realistic in addressing this facet of employing surrogate force.

Final Thoughts and Recommendations

Revisiting the Linkage between Security
Assistance and Surrogate Force

This article attempts to address the question Is security assistance to Africa, as prescribed by current US policy, an effective hedge against more direct US military involvement in the region? It does so by considering the linkage between security assistance and surrogate force, a surrogate force being defined as an organization that serves the needs or interests of a secondary actor, the sponsor, by employing military power in place of the sponsor’s own forces.

One should not take from this discussion that Africa’s problems or threats to US strategic interests in Africa are best dealt with through military
means. In most cases, military force, even if employed by a surrogate, is not the answer but sometimes it is. Given the nature of the African security
environment, it is sometimes impossible to pursue broader economic, political, and humanitarian aims without a concomitant threat or application
of arms. In discussing US security assistance efforts in 2001, Deputy Assistant Secretary of State for African Affairs William Bellamy noted, “None of the Administration’s priorities in Africa can be realized in the presence of deadly conflict. We must help to stop the wars in Africa.”175

Within Africa, creating surrogates involves the use of security assistance to develop state military forces that are both capable and willing to intervene
in regional contingencies in which the United States perceives a national stake yet is hesitant to commit its own troops. Security assistance provides the basis for and shapes the sponsor-surrogate relationship. To be of value to the United States, the surrogate must not only act when required
but must also do “the task in a desirable way.” This may not always, but will often, require a degree of donor control over recipient behavior. Addressing security assistance from a mind-set of surrogate force development as opposed to partner capacity building highlights the need for donor control associated with donor material support.

It is a serious mistake to assume that the capacity developed through US security assistance programs in Africa will necessarily be utilized in a manner that best supports US strategic goals. In other words, we cannot underestimate the need for donor control. Conversely, it is also wrong to overestimate the potential for US control over recipient behavior, despite the robust application of screening, monitoring, and contracting mechanisms.
An important, albeit basic, conclusion derived from this analysis is that within the context of security assistance and surrogate force in Africa, agency is rarely if ever perfect. The recipient will always perform in a manner that is suboptimal, at least to some degree, from the perspective of the donor. Even in the best of situations, the donor and recipient will not have complete identity of interests or matching perceptions of acceptable
risk. The donor-recipient relationship does not occur in a vacuum. It will always be subject to competing relationships. Understanding these dynamics, the strategist should be able to better contemplate and weigh agency costs associated with the implementation of US security assistance strategy in Africa. Referring to such costs, Susan Shapiro explains that “the trick, in structuring a principal-agent relationship, is to minimize them.”176

The following tentative recommendations are derived from the above analysis:

1.
Despite the growing rhetoric of pan-Africanism and preference within Africa to operate through a regional security organization, the United States should maintain the focus of its security assistance programs at the bilateral level. It should attempt to align its efforts with the development
of the ASF and support, through “creative” assistance, the regional and subregional mechanisms but not at the expense of strong bilateral donor-recipient relationships.

2.
The United States should reconsider its predominant focus on anchor
states. In terms of screening, the United States seems overeager to seek out the most powerful and influential states in the region. These states, however, are not necessarily the best surrogates in terms of willingness
or appropriateness. Reliance on a few dominant states increases the potential for reverse leverage within a donor-recipient relationship. Still, it is unrealistic to bypass the subregional powers. The aim, instead, should be to seek greater balance and not overlook the Burundis of the region.

3.
The United States must remain wary of disregarding surrogate shortcomings
(e.g., questionable democratic practices, poor human rights records,
and complicity in ongoing conflicts) out of perceived strategic necessity.
Looking the other way on such issues may garner short-term gains but could hurt US security assistance efforts in the long term by skewing recipient perceptions of donor expectations. Further, the United States must be concerned not only that the surrogate performs the desired task but also that it performs the task in a desirable way. A military with a reputation of human rights abuses or dubious civilian control at home is, anecdotally, more apt to tarnish the sponsor’s reputation when “acting for” in an external conflict.
4.
The United States should weigh carefully the trend toward the “fire brigade” model of developing surrogates through security assistance. This may be adequate and necessary in some situations, but the long-term donor-recipient relationship remains important. When donor and recipient interests
do not completely align and risk implications for the recipient are significant, the future value of such relationships is a key source of donor influence over recipient behavior.
5.
The United States should assess more realistically and more creatively the potential utilization of its own military forces in the region. Announcing
to the world, even if in hyperbole, that AFRICOM will be deemed a success if it “keeps American troops out of Africa for the next 50 years” is not particularly sound. Restraint in military affairs is commendable and desirable. Unreasoned restraint, however, is problematic, especially when national interests are at stake. Liberia in 2003 was nothing like Somalia in 1993, yet the specter of Somalia weighed heavily, probably too heavily, in US decision making. This is not a call for the United States to become embroiled in African conflicts, but if the United States expects African surrogates to accept significant risks, it may need to reconsider its own aversion to military involvement in the region.
6.
Finally, the United States should exorcise “African solutions to African
problems” from its official lexicon. The Clinton administration formally
adopted the phrase in the mid 1990s as the basis for ACRI and subsequent
security assistance programs.177 The phrase has persisted within and has shaped US security policy in Africa ever since. Government rhetoric
linked to the recent standup of AFRICOM reflects further promulgation.
The concept, however, is no longer appropriate or particularly useful. Given the increasing perception of US strategic interests in Africa, many African problems are also now US problems. Moreover, the United States cannot assume purely African solutions are adequate to protect and further
US interests. Although just a phrase, the concomitant mind-set obviates
sophisticated analysis connecting US security assistance to its strategic interests. It glosses over the role of US influence in shaping the behavior of the African states that receive and benefit from US security assistance. It wrongly assumes capacity building is enough. In sum, it misses the critical linkage between security assistance and surrogate force.

Through its various security assistance programs, the United States now seeks to build both the capability and willingness of African states to employ
military force throughout the region in a manner that supports US strategic interests and precludes the requirement for direct US military intervention. The United States, in effect, is seeking to develop surrogates. Hopefully, this article is of modest value to the strategists involved in the process. It certainly does not provide a clear road map for success or unambiguous
policy recommendations. That was not the intent nor would it have been entirely practical, given the nature of security assistance and the complexities of the African security environment. Recognizing the challenges
of crafting a strategy for security assistance within any region, Hans Morgenthau contends that “When all the available facts have been ascertained,
duly analyzed, and conclusions drawn from them, the final judgments
and decisions can be derived only from subtle and sophisticated hunches. The best the formulator and executor . . . can do is to maximize the chances that his hunches turn out to be right.”178 If AFRICOM hopes to utilize security assistance as an effective hedge against more-direct US military involvement and still pursue effectively US interests within the region, these hunches need to be pretty good.