Category The Chinese Air Force

There is no doubt that the career path of Generals Xu and Ma presents a very useful case for the study of PLAAF leadership. Their past experience exposes broadly how the PLA top command selects top brass, trains them with various difficult tasks, and finally realizes their potential to be the highest-level leaders. More significantly, the study of Xu and Ma is integral to that of the 18th CMC. Therefore, in studying them, research of the emerging PLAAF leader­ship is linked to that of the future PLA leadership as a whole.

In the make-up of the current CMC, the age structure of its members may lead to retirement of all but Xu and Chang Wanquan (^Л^), director of the General Armament Department (GAD), in the Party’s 18th National Con­gress in 2012.2 Being the youngest CMC member and with the highest senior­ity (Xu became divisional, corps, and service commander much earlier than Chang), it is likely Xu would be promoted further. Yet there are only two posi­tions for him at this level of power: either deputy CMC chair, or minister of defense.3 In this case he would vacate his current position of PLAAF com­mander. Ma would likely be the first in line to succeed Xu, following Xu’s own path from the PLAAF Headquarters to the General Staff Department (GSD), and thence to the CMC as the PLAAF representative.

If this occurs, it would constitute a groundbreaking development within the elite politics of the PLA and its service relationships. First, since the ouster of Wu Faxian (^;i^) in 1971, the PLAAF has not had another person in the second rank of CMC. Secondly, for the first time since the founding of the air force, it would now have two officers, Xu and Ma, at the apex of power. This is conducive to the PLAs efforts to erode the “army-first” mentality (Лй¥±Ю affecting its overall strategic orientation.4 Given Mas background—previously he was the deputy commander of Lanzhou and Guangzhou Military Regions; pres­ident of the National Defense University; currently, most senior deputy chief of staff; and most importantly, a member of the Party’s Central Committee (CC) since 2002—his further promotion is a perfect fit to PLA personnel advancement patterns.5 Failure to promote Xu and Ma would be regarded as unfair and dis­criminatory according to PLA norms and standards (¥ФШ1). If this is indeed the case, both of them would take a veritable great leap forward in their politi­cal and military careers. As CMC deputy chair, Xu would acquire the Party rank of Standing Committee member in the Politburo; if he is made defense minister he would hold the rank of State Council counselor. Ma would hold the rank of a Politburo member as a CMC member. And as such they would both enjoy the prestige of Party and state leaders.

Certainly there are high odds against such a dual PLAAF membership in the CMC. Today, service representation in the CMC is basically functional. This is especially true of specialized, highly technical services, such as the air force, the navy, and the strategic missile force (z®). The initial concept in 2004 of absorbing service commanders into the CMC was to turn it into the top body for commanding joint warfare, increasingly seen as the primary type of warfare for the PLA in the decades to come.6 It drew upon the example of the U. S. joint chiefs of staff system in integrating service functions as part the PLA’s preparation for war, the central theme of China’s defense policy since 1999.7

As the PLAAF contemplates its future, it faces a number of intriguing questions. Would the potential dual air force representation upset the func­tional balance among the different services? Would this dual representation be viewed as fair by other services? The perception of fairness in the PLA is an important concept in maintaining factional and service equilibrium, some­thing that may impact force stability. The navy, for instance, would be jeal­ous; its current CMC representative, Admiral Wu Shengli (^Й^) will be over 65 years of age in 2012 and will likely retire.8 Admiral Sun Jianguo is 3 years younger than Ma Xiaotoan and would be the primary choice to replace Wu, but the naval headquarters does not have a figure comparable to Ma.9 The situ­ation with the leadership of the strategic missile force (Second Artillery Corps) is similar.

Ma’s future is tangled up with Xu’s in that if Xu is not promoted, there is no vacancy for Ma in the CMC, unless Ma would be made chief of the general staff or a director of either GAD or the General Logistics Department (GLD), both rela­tively unlikely. If Ma does not advance, it is a loss not only for the air force, but the PLA as a whole. In the GSD he has been praised as the most competent deputy chief of staff, evidenced by his being given a wider range of duties than his GSD colleagues, including war preparation and training; strategic planning; foreign affairs (a euphemism for intelligence); the air force; and the PLA professional mili­tary education (PME) institutions. In particular, Ma has impressed his colleagues and others (including the present author) with his ability to grasp and analyze even casually presented information in briefings and during various conferences.10

It is possible that the CMC would regard the issue of two PLAAF CMC members not strictly from the viewpoint of service representation. This is to say that one of the two would be functional, representing the air force, but the other would be regarded simply as a competent top leader who can make great con­tribution to PLA transformation, regardless of whether he is a seaman, airman, or foot soldier. Both are well qualified for either position. Mas experience at the National Defense University (NDU) and as the executive deputy chief of GSD in the lead-up to General Ge Zhenfeng’s (ВД1#) retirement testified that the CMC had great expectations of him. The NDU experience was meant to broaden his strategic vision and theoretical depth in the “ivory tower” of ideas. It also famil­iarized Ma with key candidates (then at corps rank) for future top PLA leader­ship positions. His position as executive deputy chief of the GSD furnished a rare opportunity to grasp the overall military situation, from the nuclear button, foreign military exchanges and joint exercises, weapons research and develop­ment, operations and training, and the PLAs domestic missions to budgetary allocations among services and interservice coordination.

Airpower strategy and the aviation industry have advanced together. Observations on the evolution of the PLAAF’s strategic objectives and the reform of the aviation industry since the 1980s suggest that China has man­aged to keep them up to speed. After Den Xiaoping put forward the guideline of “building an armed forces with quantity and quality” in 1985, the PLAAF started to study its strategic role. After the Gulf War in 1991, the PLA real­ized that a modernized air force is the key to victory in battle, and thus estab­lished CAIC. In 1999, China restructured AVIC I and AVIC II. In November of the same year, the PLAAF’s commander outlined on the 50th anniversary of the PLA the idea of shifting the air force from “territorial air defense” to “both offense and defense.”17 In 2004 and 2007, the PLAAF Party Congress passed resolutions on building a “strategic air force” and “an air force that matches the status of a great power.”18 In 2008, China once again restructured AVIC. It is believed that these developments are not coincidental. Instead, they are calcu­lated measures adopted after comprehensive considerations on the two major objectives of strengthening airpower and developing the aviation industry.

The aviation industry has been selected as a key development project. The Outline of the National Program for the Medium – and Long-Term Development of Defense-Related Science, Technology and Industry (2006-2020), released by COSTIND in 2006, stipulates clearly that by 2020, defense-related science and technology must be able to meet basically the needs of the independent R&D, as well as the manufacture and information-based development of mod­ern weapons and equipment.19 According to the Outline, China will step up research on basic aviation science, and develop advanced aviation technology. Moreover, the development of the aviation industry should be unaffected by the government’s macroeconomic control measures. On the whole, the PLA’s effort to develop new-type fighter-bombers, AEW&C aircraft, air-launched missiles, aircraft engines, and large passenger aircraft, to which the govern­ment has committed significant resources, are all concrete manifestations of the Outline.

However, the biggest problem of China’s aviation industry is that its ability of independent innovation and invention needs to be enhanced, since Chinese-made fighter aircraft, guided missiles, engines, and other systems are more or less the results of suspected piracy and some are even exact reproduc­tions of foreign inventions. If China is unable to acquire advanced products from foreign countries, the development of its aviation industry will be limited. Furthermore, internal R&D expenditure by China’s aircraft manufacturing industry in 2007 amounted to merely RMB 3,722.68 million,20 far behind that of its European and American counterparts. Inadequate investment in R&D is another factor constraining the development of China’s aviation industry.

Foreign assistance is needed if China is to develop advanced technology. Though it has built up some measure of strength, China’s aviation industry still lags behind advanced countries to a great extent. According to the Stock­holm International Peace Research Institute (SIPRI) and the U. S. Department of State, China belongs to the “third-tier” states in terms of military-industrial strength. The strength of the military industry in Russia, which ranks no. 1 in the second-tier states, is about one-sixth of the military-industrial strength of the United States.21 For a long time, China has used procurement to boost its own technological capabilities. Nonetheless, in the face of U. S. high-tech export controls, the European Union arms embargo, and Russia’s growing wariness of Chinese piracy, China’s attempt to acquire high-end technologies from foreign countries has run into a severe challenge.

Recent measures adopted by China’s aviation industry are worthy of attention. In December 2009, AVIC XAC acquired a 90 percent stake in Aus­tria’s Future Advanced Composite Component (FACC).22 FACC is a company specializing in the development and production of aviation composite mate – rials.23 The acquisition was the first of its kind that China had made in a for­eign aviation industry. AVIC will use FACC as an R&D and test center for avi­ation composite materials. Relevant technologies will be transferred to China for production, assisting considerably the R&D and manufacture of advanced composite materials in China. AVIC and ACAE have devoted about 4,000 peo­ple to research and develop the C919 and its engine. To drive forward follow-up works in each stage, both companies have launched a global talent recruitment program. The management personnel AVIC hired initially in August 2009 have been appointed senior managers at five subsidiaries. AVIC’s goal is to recruit 3,000 people of various talents in 5 to 8 years. This indicates that lack of tal­ent has constrained China’s ability to make breakthroughs in key technologies. Therefore, China wishes to acquire foreign technology through the recruit­ment of international specialists.24

Blazing a path of development with military and civilian integration. PRC research suggests that the United States has created a matchless military by harnessing the infinite power of the civilian sector and that the separated civil – military research systems in China are one of the factors causing China to trail behind. Hu Jintao stressed at the 17th Party Congress that China would “estab­lish sound systems of weapons and equipment research and manufacture that integrate military with civilian purposes and combine military efforts with civilian support, and blaze a path of development with Chinese characteristics featuring military and civilian integration.”25 Take the development of China’s aviation industry, for instance. The strategy adopted to develop large civil pas­senger aircraft and large military transport aircraft is based on the principle of “1 project, 2 models, civil-military coordination, and series development.” Technologies acquired from international cooperation—such as structural designs for airframes, composite materials, aircraft engines, and automatic control systems—can be used in the R&D and manufacture of military aircraft in China, making it difficult for foreign countries to implement effective con­trols. In Western countries, most AEW&C, electronic warfare, and command and control aircraft use civil passenger aircraft as the basic platform to build upon. The C919 also has the same potential. China will be able to produce a synergistic effect for the development of its military power if it can promote the “civil-military integration” strategy effectively.

Export and domestic demand: the prospects for China’s aviation industry. There is no doubt that the primary mission of China’s aviation industry is to support the development of the PLA. With regard to the export market, China has found a niche in the arms markets of some Asian and African coun­tries through the sales of the J-7, Q-5 and K-8. If the production agreement between China and Pakistan on 150 JF-17s is taken into account, China will become the world’s third-largest exporter of military aircraft, behind only the United States and Russia.26 Two Pakistan JF—17 aircraft were displayed for the first time at the 2010 Farnborough International Air Show in London. During the air show, China and Pakistan discussed matters relating to possibly export­ing JF—17 fighters to eight countries: Congo, Egypt, Nigeria, the Philippines, Sri Lanka, Sudan, Turkey, and Venezuela. In addition, Pakistan, Iran, North Korea, and others have expressed high levels of interest in the Chinese-made

J—10. If China can avoid Russian control over engine production, the global export of Chinese-made military aircraft would seem to have a bright future.

Airbus predicted in 2006 that China would need to add more than 2,800 passenger aircraft and freighters in the next 20 years. Moreover, an AVIC market forecast for the period up to 2028, released at the Beijing Air Show in 2009, pre­dicts that China will need 2,922 large and 874 short-to-medium-range aircraft.27 From these data, it seems that China’s domestic market will be able to shore up the sales of the C919 and its follow-up models. However, to form a complete civil aviation industry, China will have to face up to the competition from Boeing and Airbus, and the key is whether China can obtain Federal Aviation Administra­tion and European Aviation Safety Agency airworthiness certifications. If China fails to get the certifications, then large civil aircraft made by China could only fly in the sky in China and in a few other countries.

Conclusion

Since its founding in 1949, the People’s Republic of China has weathered many troubles at home and from abroad. Driven by the goal of a modern mili­tary, China has listed the development of its aviation industry as a key project from the beginning. After 60 years of development and reform, the aviation industry in China, though growing slowly with limited transformation, has achieved some results. For a long time, China has sought to enhance the stan­dards of its aviation industry by copying finished products that are acquired from abroad or through OEM production. Initial results generated from this approach include the key technologies that China lacked but has now learned, and the improvement of foreign products with some innovations. In general, China already has a considerable capacity for indigenous production. Once reaching a certain level, China’s indigenous production capacity will begin to transform quantitatively and qualitatively, ultimately allowing China to achieve its aspiration toward independent innovation and invention. China’s aviation industry still faces many unsolved problems and lags far behind advanced countries. Despite that, in time, the standards of China’s aviation industry may progress to an extent unimaginable to the outside world.

“Airpower,” Sir Winston Churchill once stated, “is the most difficult of all forms of military force to measure or even to express in precise terms”; defi­nitions abound, one of the most succinct being: “The ability to project power from the air and space to influence the behavior of people or the course of events.”6 In this regard, the key factors affecting airpower in the Taiwan Strait would include weapons technology such as aircraft, surface-to-air missiles, bal­listic missiles, cruise missiles, airfields and runway availability, and unmanned aerial systems; crisis circumstances such as military intimidation, blockade, and employment of limited force or coercive options; and full-scale military action such as air and missile strikes, the dispatch of an amphibious invasion force, and landing assault. All of the latter can be expected to be accompanied by a fierce battle to control the airspace over the Taiwan Strait. Each of these is subsequently discussed in detail.

Aircraft

According to a January 2010 U. S. Defense Intelligence Agency (DIA) report,7

Although Taiwan has nearly 400 combat aircraft in service, far fewer of these are operationally capable. Taiwan’s F-5 fighters have reached the end of their operational service life, and while the indigenously pro­duced F-CK-1 A/B Indigenous Defense Fighter (IDF) is a large compo­nent of Taiwan’s active fighter force, it lacks the capability for sustained sorties. Taiwan’s Mirage 2000-5 aircraft are technologically advanced, but they require frequent, expensive maintenance that adversely affects their operational readiness rate.

This U. S. DIA report may exaggerate the facts, but undoubtedly it reveals some of challenges that Taiwan’s airmen face. A U. S.-Taiwan Business Council study concluded that same year as follows:8

In qualitative terms, Taiwan’s F-16A/Bs and Mirage 2000-5s are roughly comparable to Chinese Su-30s, Su-27/J-11s, and J-10s in performance and combat capability. The F-CK-IA/Bs are generally considered supe­rior to J-8s, but lack the aerodynamic performance of some of the newer PLA aircraft types, while the F-5E/Fs should be a match for the J-7s.

That same year, the U. S. Department of Defense concluded the following:9

The PLAAF and the PLA Navy have approximately 2,300 operational combat aircraft. These consist of air defense and multi-role fighters, ground attack aircraft, fighter-bombers, and bombers. An additional 1,450 older fighters, bombers and trainers are employed for training and R&D. The two air arms also possess approximately 450 transports and over 100 surveillance and reconnaissance aircraft with intelligence, surface search, and airborne early warning capabilities. The majority of PLAAF and PLA Navy aircraft are based in the eastern half of the coun­try. Currently, 490 aircraft could conduct combat operations against Taiwan without refueling. However, this number could be significantly increased through any combination of aircraft forward deployment, decreased ordnance loads, or altered mission profiles.

Given these three possible games, it is clear the implications of PLAAF modernization for the United States vary between the games. In both the Game of Influence and within the Battle over a Third Party, the types of adap­tations are essentially incremental, with force additions tailored to fairly spe­cific problems. In the Great Power Game, the types of U. S. responses encom­pass much bolder moves to bolster regional positions and improve symmetric combat capabilities to maintain relative superiority. These differences affect how the balance is perceived and also frame the type of actions that might be taken within the game.

In both the Game of Influence and the Battle over a Third Party, the shifting of existing forces, as well as tailored responses focused on localized problems, appears adequate. In these cases, the focus is on crafting a strat­egy to solve specific problems created by the PLAAF and on ascertaining the steps necessary for solving them. The changes in the PLAAF make some oper­ational concepts more difficult than in the past and undercut current assump­tions as to how the United States could operate at will with airpower in almost any region of the world. However, the moves to counter these elements can be fairly well tailored and manageable in terms of what might be required for new operational concepts, munitions, and, perhaps most importantly, the level of engagement with other countries in the region. Dispersal and remote basing of forces, selective hardening and defense, a greater use of longer-range sys­tems, and changing the threshold for success (defeating certain types of mili­tary attacks and accepting damage from others) can all help address the imme­diate problem of creating the broader perception of an effective U. S. response as well as help address specific issues in regard to problems associated with defense of third parties. Therefore, to the extent PLAAF modernization drives game changes, they will be relatively focused and bounded.

The balance in the Great Power Game is more sensitive than those in the other games in terms of the U. S. need to maintain relative position through such actions as addressing perceived rates of change and rate of acceleration of change for a variety of reasons that are not directly related to the security situation in the particular geographic region. Even if marginal improvements such as a force shift might address the immediate security problem, they would not address the broader aspect of the military competition that is integral to the game itself. It is not only the qualitative improvements of the PLAAF that are significant; after all, they are essentially only matching earlier generations of U. S. force capabilities. Instead, the dynamic of the broader region is driven by the twin problems of U. S. forces operating at a distance (the United States is acting as a global power and is expected by many to be anywhere a threat occurs) and the fear of what China’s rapid rise in capability might presage. The balance in the Great Power Game incorporates elements of predictions and wagers about the future that are not dominant in the other games. This is par­tially due to the fact that in some narratives the immediate influence of the United States in the game is discounted and thereby diminished if the United States is not seen as actively addressing a possible negative future.

Implications for the United States

This paper provides the framework for how the United States should view and assess the impact of PLAAF modernization. This framework also yields important insights for U. S. decisionmaking within the overarching game structure. Most significantly, the United States must make a deliberate choice as to what game or combination of games it wants to play and how it will respond (force structure, political stances, etc.) within the games it chooses. This will allow the United States to best utilize its military and political tools to achieve its national interests and to avoid being forced into a nonoptimal decision.

When the United States is choosing which game to play, it will of course be influenced by Chinese military choices (one being continued PLAAF mod­ernization) and political moves. There will also be other factors influencing the United States, and the choice between games will be predicated on the strategic importance assigned to the situation, relevant political considerations, fiscal constraints, and other factors. But whatever game it chooses to play, the United States must always be aware of the range of possible Chinese countermoves and be careful not to lock itself into a course of action that may prove detrimental if and when the game being played changes. And, of course, it is necessary for the United States to both recognize that China is not obligated to play the same game the United States chooses and to understand that such a situation would lead to potential disconnects that would need to addressed. Furthermore, once a game is chosen and is being played, the United States will continue to face choices about its specific set of actions. These choices will require the United States to prioritize different aspects of its power. Given these uncertainties, it will be prudent for the United States to hedge.

The United States and China have largely confined themselves to Game 2—The Battle over a Third Party—and the impact of PLAAF modernization has been widely evaluated through this lens. PLAAF modernization does have a direct impact on this game—and a negative impact for the United States if it does not take steps to counteract it—but the only way that modernization shifts the overall military balance across the spectrum of possible games is if the United States holds all other factors in its relationship with China constant. There is no reason for the United States to do so. The United States can define which game it is going to play by what it chooses to address as important. And in that context, the United States has a wide range of options that do not neces­sarily require a new force structure or more defense expenditures, but instead may call for an altered military and political emphasis.

The bottom line for the Chinese is that PLAAF modernization is con­tributing to conditions that compel a reaction from the United States. If the United States chooses to continue to play the same game in the same way it has since the end of the Cold War, the results may be to China’s advantage. But if the United States chooses to play another game where its significant military and political assets can be more fully utilized, PLAAF modernization may lead to a Pyrrhic victory for the Chinese.31

The U. S. bottom line is the recognition that there is no compelling rea­son for it to maintain its current game. Instead, it is extremely prudent for the Nation’s policy and military planners to assess the current situation and deter­mine if another course should be pursued. This is because once the current equilibrium with China is interrupted, as it inevitably will be, the situation will shift and it is difficult to predict the course that events will take from that point.

If the United States does not then already have a plan in place or if the issue has not already been extensively discussed, the Nation’s leaders could be pushed by the domestic political climate, fiscal constraints, or a variety of other factors to make a choice they would not have otherwise made. This type of sit­uation would be metastable, and because of that lack of stability, it is a situa­tion that could be significantly impacted by small military changes on the Chi­nese side. The United States must be aware that it will be necessary to make a decision before it reaches any such tipping point. Otherwise, the United States could be forced into making not only a nonoptimal decision as to which game it is going to play and how it is going to play it, but a nonsatisfactory one as well.

The beginning of World War II saw German airpower applied at the operational level of war with stunning results. On September 1, 1939, Germany unleashed Blitzkrieg on Poland. The Luftwaffe began the operation with massive air attacks on airfields and other military targets across the country. Although the Polish air force fought with skill and bravery, it was quickly overwhelmed by superior numbers. Soon afterwards the Polish army buckled under the coordi­nated onslaught of hundreds of Panzer tanks and Stuka dive-bombers.24

This campaign first showed the world what synergies were possible in coordinated air and ground operations. Interdiction bombing made it impos­sible for the Poles to move troops in the open, and German armored forces quickly advanced, enveloping the Polish formations. At that point, close air support (CAS) was instrumental in crushing Polish efforts to break out of the encirclements. By the end of September, the Polish army and air force had been destroyed and Warsaw bombed into capitulation. But the small, ill-equipped Polish air force was no real challenge to the Luftwaffe—the real test came the following spring in the Battle of France.25

In May 1940 the German Army overran Luxembourg and drove multi­ple spearheads into the Netherlands, Belgium, and Northern France. As in the Polish campaign, the Luftwaffe struck airfields hard and fast, destroying a large percentage of French and Belgian aircraft on the ground. The Germans used the vertical dimension in novel ways, dropping airborne forces to seize key bridges on the Meuse and behind Dutch defenses in the canal country, and car­rying out a bold glider assault, landing on the roof of the Belgian fort of Eben Emael to unhinge defenses there. Meanwhile, Stuka dive-bombers pounded French, British, and Belgian forces ahead of German armor divisions as the Panzers plunged into Belgium and France. The results in this campaign resem­bled those in Poland the previous September. In the face of a rapid, coordi­nated assault, the defenders buckled physically and morally. The campaign was over in 6 weeks. Although Germany employed airpower similarly in subse­quent campaigns, often achieving tactical success, its ability to translate those achievements into strategic effects diminished as the war progressed.26

In the summer of 1940, with the continental Allies in Western Europe defeated, German leaders began planning operation “Sea Lion,” the invasion and conquest of Great Britain. Such an effort would have presented a unique challenge for German campaign planners in terms of their ability to inte­grate Luftwaffe operations with those of two other services, but their ability to meet that challenge was never tested. Before the German army and navy could launch a cross-channel operation with any chance of success, the Luft­waffe would have to neutralize Britain’s RAF and win command of the air. It failed to do so.

The Luftwaffe launched the main air assault on August 13. Although it gave the outnumbered RAF a considerable pounding for several weeks, the British held on tenaciously, rationing Fighter Command’s limited resources in a sector defense scheme made possible by the use of radar to detect incoming attackers and direct fighter interceptions.27 Even so, the Luftwaffe still might have exhausted RAF resistance had not Adolf Hitler, in a fit of pique in early September, redirected the German air effort away from the RAF bases and against London instead, in an effort to break British resolve with terror bomb­ing. That effort failed as well. By September 17, it was clear that the Luftwaffe would be unable to secure the skies over Britain and the English Channel and Hitler “postponed” plans for Sea Lion.28

Blunted in the west, Germany turned east once more in 1941, unleash­ing Blitzkrieg on the Soviet Union. As in previous campaigns on the continent, the Luftwaffe quickly decimated Soviet airpower, destroying 1,200 aircraft the first day alone. Moreover, the Red Army, immense but stripped of compe­tent leadership in Stalin’s recent purge, lost more than 50 divisions in the first three weeks of battle.29 Yet despite the fact that the Germans drove the Red Army from Poland to the outskirts of Moscow over the course of a few short months, the Soviet will to resist never wavered. The Russians held out, rebuilt their army and air force (with considerable U. S. material support), and turned the tide, eventually driving the Wehrmacht to Berlin and destroying it with the Soviet Union’s own doctrine for integrating airpower with ground forces at the operational level of war—deep battle.30

A more balanced mix of strategic and tactical airpower application char­acterized the Anglo-American airpower experience in World War II, though American and British thinking sharply differed over the fundamental nature of strategic air operations. Soon after the United States entered the war in Decem­ber 1941, the U. S. Army Air Forces (the USAAF, established in 1941 from the prewar U. S. Army Air Corps) had its opportunity to put its strategic bombing doctrine in action. With France fallen, Britain driven off the continent, and the Soviet Union refusing to allow Allied personnel on Soviet territory, the U. S. Army had no immediate foothold from which it could launch an operation against German ground forces, and the only way the United States could strike at its principal European enemy was to join the RAF in the strategic bombing of German industry.

As a result, prewar Air Corps doctrine was the guiding principle when four former ACTS faculty members drafted Air War Planning Document 1 (AWPD-1), the blueprint for U. S. participation in the bombing campaign—the USAAF would use high-altitude, daylight precision bombing to attack Germa­ny’s industrial web. Such an approach was inconsistent with that used by the RAF, which had already tried daylight bombing and switched to nighttime area bombing after suffering unbearable losses. However, the two doctrines were not incompatible, and the Anglo-American Allies eventually agreed to a Com­bined Bomber Offensive (CBO) in which the USAAF would bomb by day and the RAF by night, thereby putting the maximum pressure possible on Germa­ny’s industrial infrastructure and the forces defending it.31

Thus began the first sustained test of the strategic bombing theories developed between the wars.32 Over the next 3 years, the Allies dropped over 2.7 million tons of bombs on industrial targets, first in German-occupied West­ern Europe and later in Germany itself. While the British effort was devoted to crippling German industry by area-bombing urban areas and industrial centers, the USAAF, guided by ACTS industrial web theory, sought to bring German war production to a halt by using precision bombing to destroy key nodes in the system. While they were confident in their ability to do this, the question that arose repeatedly throughout the war was, just what were the key nodes on which German industry most depended? Opinions differed over the course of the strug­gle, and though target lists never focused on one category exclusively, the weight of effort shifted from the aircraft industry in early 1943 to ball bearing plants later that year. In early 1944 the bombing came to focus more heavily on trans­portation and other targets in preparation for the Normandy invasion. Mid-1944 saw a shift once again to steel and, most significantly, synthetic oil production. While the destruction of none of these targets succeeded in bringing Germany’s industrial production to a halt early enough to end the war before its armies were defeated on the ground, the United States Strategic Bombing Survey (USSBS) later concluded—both from physical and documentary evidence, and from the interrogations of key German military, civilian, and industrial leaders—that the attacks on fuel production had the most dramatic impact. Indeed, some analysts have since argued that strategic bombing might have had war-winning effect if synthetic fuel production had received a far greater weight of effort earlier.33

Strategic bombing was by no means the only way airpower was employed in the western theater in World War II. Beginning with the 1943 North Africa campaign and continuing with the invasions and reconquest of the European continent, airpower provided essential support to ground operations in all the basic missions pioneered in World War I: reconnaissance, air superiority, close air support, and interdiction. Along the way—and often through costly errors, such as the debacle at Kasserine Pass in North Africa, which resulted in airmen being given greater responsibility and authority in the conduct of air-ground operations, based largely on earlier RAF experience in the Western Desert— the Allies learned important lessons that became central tenets of U. S. Air Force and RAF doctrine in future years.34 Chief among them was that airpower must never be divided into “penny packets” and dispersed to the control and support of individual ground commanders. Rather, its control must be cen­tralized under the command of an airman, the only military professional who could be entrusted to sufficiently understand its unique properties and employ it effectively, to allow for the most flexible employment and the most effec­tive massing of force against key targets. Most importantly, command of the air is essential: air superiority is a prerequisite for effective surface operations. Though controversial at the time, both of these tenets have endured and are accepted as core prerequisites even today, in the era of hyper-jointness charac­teristic of contemporary American and coalition military operations.35

The air war in the Pacific theater yielded similar lessons, though it unfolded in an order opposite that in Europe. With Japan having captured a broad defensive perimeter of islands in the first months of the war, its home islands were protected by an expanse of ocean that exceeded the range of U. S. bombers. Consequently, the USAAF was first tasked with providing support to Chinese forces in their struggle against the Japanese army on the Asian main­land and to U. S. Army and Marine ground operations in the systematic recon­quest of islands in the southwest Pacific. By late 1944, however, the Marianna Islands had been recaptured and bases built on Guam, Saipan, and Tinian, put­ting Japan in striking range of B-29 heavy bombers.

Once again, ACTS industrial web theory-based Air Corps doctrine guided the effort, at least initially. For the first several months, the USAAF’s XXI Bomber Command attempted high-altitude daylight precision bombing with high explosives, but the characteristically strong winds found at altitudes above 30,000 feet (the so-called “jetstream” blowing west-to-east over Japan and the Pacific) and Japan’s dispersal of industry rendered that approach inef­fective. Therefore, in March 1945 the XXI Bomber Command changed tactics, resorting to nighttime raids at low altitude using incendiaries on urban cen – ters.36 The results were devastating. Over the next 5 months, B-29s dropped 104,000 tons of bombs, destroying an average of 40 percent of the built-up areas in Japan’s 66 largest cities.37 Yet despite this horrific pounding, Japanese leaders were unwilling to accept Allied demands for unconditional surren­der until after the USAAF dropped atomic bombs on Hiroshima on August 6 and Nagasaki on August 9. The surrender finally came on August 14, 1945. In the eyes of U. S. airmen, theories espousing the employment of airpower as an independent war-winning weapon had finally been validated.

The Asia-Pacific region is in the midst of fundamental change, with sig­nificant implications for long-term strategic stability. The gradual expansion of China’s long-range precision-strike capabilities is altering the regional strategic landscape. The PLA Air Force and Second Artillery are making modest prog­ress in developing advanced capabilities with an eye toward expanding their operational range into space and into the Asia-Pacific region. For the PLA Air Force, the ability to carry out strategic strike missions at ranges of 3,000 kilo­meters (1,860 miles) or more is viewed as the key to becoming a truly indepen­dent service, rather than one dependent on the Second Artillery or a support­ing player to the ground forces. Despite the PLAAF’s aspirations to develop a force capable of an independent air campaign around China’s periphery and speculation of subordination of Second Artillery conventional ballistic mis­sile units to the PLAAF, senior PRC political and military authorities will likely continue to rely on the established capabilities of the Second Artillery for coer­cion, strategic strike missions, and suppression of enemy air defenses for some time to come.124

Due their speed, precision, and difficulties in fielding viable defenses, these systems—if deployed in sufficient numbers—have the potential to pro­vide the PRC with a decisive military edge in the event of conflict over terri­torial or sovereignty claims. Reliance on ballistic missiles and extended-range LACMs incentivizes other militaries to develop similar capabilities.

The rapid deployment of ballistic missiles and GLCMs has dampened the requirement for an offensive-oriented air force. Another possible constraint has been the limitations of China’s aviation industry and its corresponding re­liance on foreign procurement of key systems. Nevertheless, over the coming decade, a more capable, technologically advancing domestic aviation industry may be better positioned to support the PLAAF’s vision of becoming a world – class service capable of conducting air campaigns independent of the Second Artillery.

Beyond force modernization programs in India and Taiwan, PRC ex­pansion of its aerospace capabilities is at least a partial driver for a modest shift in U. S. defense policies.125 Intended to counter lower end threats, such as those of North Korea and Iran, U. S. missile defenses are likely unable to coun­ter more sophisticated and larger Chinese ballistic missile raids, much less new generation, hypersonic, extended-range flight vehicles.126 As a result, the Unit­ed States and allies and partners in the Asia-Pacific region would need to rely on hardening and counterstrikes for defense.

Beijing’s missile-centric strategy presents a number of challenges for re­gional stability. Barring the fielding of effective countermeasures, Chinese con­ventional aerospace power, specifically short – and medium-range ballistic and extended-range land attack cruise missiles, may over time give the PLA a de­cisive advantage in future conflicts around China’s periphery. Barring a vis­ible and decisive American response, the PRC’s successful deployment of an antiship ballistic missile capability could diminish confidence in U. S. security guarantees not only in Taiwan but throughout the region as a whole.

Beijing’s continued theater missile-centric strategy presents challenges that transcend the operational realm. Beijing’s large infrastructure of short – range ballistic missiles opposite Taiwan fosters mistrust and discourages mean­ingful political dialogue that could lead toward a resolution of differences in a manner acceptable to the people of Taiwan and the international community. Beyond Taiwan, Beijing’s continued reliance on and expansion of convention­al theater missiles as the centerpiece of its aerospace power have the potential to create strategic competitions that increase the risks of conflict in the future. Looking out toward the future, PRC success in linking aspirations for integrat­ed aerospace power with operational capabilities over the next 10 to 15 years is far from certain, yet clearly bears watching.

According to PLAAF 2010, the PLAAF currently has a three-tiered verti­cal command structure for its operational forces: PLAAF Headquarters, MRAF Headquarters, and the unit and subunit tier, from air corps level down to pla­toon and even squad level.

PLAAF Headquarters (Й¥) is the highest leadership organization in the PLAAF. Under the leadership of the CMC and the four General Departments, PLAAF Headquarters’ primary missions during peacetime are to manage and over­see air force reform and modernization and to execute direct operational command authority over some PLAAF units, such as the 15th Airborne Corps and the 34th Air Transport Division in Beijing. It is not clear what PLAAF Headquarters’ exact roles are during wartime. Most likely, however, it will be responsible for having full situa­tional awareness, assigning forces to the different theaters, and providing personnel to man the Air Operations Groups in the national-level and theater headquarters.

The seven MRAF headquarters (¥E^¥) comprise the second tier.71 According to the PLAAF, each MRAF is organized according to its missions and battlefield environment. Thus, no two MRAFs are organized exactly the same way. However, each MRAF has subordinate air divisions, SAM brigades or regi­ments, and AAA regiments, as well as radar brigades and regiments, commu­nications regiments and companies, and support units and subunits. Following the PLA’s 2003-2004 force reduction (up to 200,000 personnel), all combat units in each MRAF, with the exception of the 15th Airborne Corps and 34th Air Divi­sion, are now under the direct leadership of the MRAF Headquarters.

The final tier consists of PLAAF units (nPPA) and subunits (^4PA). The PLA defines units as organizations at the corps, division, brigade, and regiment level. For example, air divisions and regiments, SAM brigades, and communications regiments are considered units. The PLA defines subunits (^4PA) as organizations at the battalion, company, and platoon level, with some including even squads. Sub­units can be either permanent, or ad hoc organizations such as communications, radar, vehicle, maintenance, or launch/firing subunits.72 Prior to the 2003-2004 reduction, the PLAAF had 11 corps leader-grade organizations, including the 15th Airborne Corps plus five air corps and five bases (ШШ), which were subordinate to their respective MRAF headquarters and were responsible for directly com­manding the PLAAF combat units (aviation, air defense, radar, etc.) in their area of responsibility. The PLAAF also had two division-level CPs (ШШ№) serving the same function.73 Today, the only corps leader-grade combat organization is the 15th Airborne Corps, which is directly subordinate to PLAAF Headquarters and has three subordinate airborne divisions in the Guangzhou and Jinan MRAFs. As a result of the force restructuring, the PLAAF reduced the grade of the remaining air corps and corps-level bases to either corps deputy leader – or division leader-grade organizations, re-designating them as Command Posts, as shown in table 4-4:74

The air force establishment system (Й¥^$І) refers to the regulations gov­erning establishing the table of organization and equipment (TOE) (ШФІ^Й) for every PLAAF organization. This includes the organizational structure, number or personnel, billets, and equipment (including order of battle) for each unit through­out the PLAAF. The PLAAF bases its establishment system according to three sets of criteria: the time period (В^ШТ), both peacetime and wartime; functions (Щ|ь) and missions (Ji#), both divided into departments, units, and academic institu­tions; and duty status (й&’ЙШ), including either active duty units or reserve units.75

Although not stated, the Headquarters Department’s Military Affairs Department is responsible for managing the TOE, including assigning aircraft tail numbers and military unit cover designators (MUCDs). It also serves as the personnel center for the enlisted force.

Official Chinese military publications define airpower as the overall term for aviation forces belonging to air forces, navies, air defense forces (such as the Russian Protivo Vozdushnaya Oborona [Anti-Air Defense], or PVO), ground forces, and special operations forces.63 In joint operations, airpower is said to be used for high-speed, deep strikes against key targets and to be used first and throughout campaigns to seize control of the skies in support of broader cam­paign objectives. Airpower also is used defensively to protect the ability of an air force to conduct air operations, especially air bases, air defense positions, and radar sites, as well as to protect ground and naval operations.64

PLA publications assert that the struggle for dominance of the battlefield will increasingly consist of an integrated struggle for air, space, information, electromagnetic, and network superiority. Acquiring air superiority is consid­ered a prerequisite in a variety of operations involving all services. By obtaining air superiority, one can restrict enemy air, air defense, and ground force opera­tional movements while ensuring that one’s own ground and navy forces have effective cover from the air to carry out their operations.65 Like the USAF, how­ever, the PLA does not assert that achieving absolute air superiority in all stages of combat and across all battlefields or theaters is necessary. Instead, it aims to achieve enough air superiority to achieve its campaign or tactical objectives.66

Presumably because of reservations about its ability to defeat a qualita­tively superior opponent such as the United States in the air, the PLA places primary emphasis on achieving air superiority by attacking the enemy on the ground and water: enemy forces, equipment, bases, and launch pads used for air raids. Especially at the beginning of a war, the PLA will endeavor to attack enemy air bases, ballistic missile bases, aircraft carriers, and warships equipped with land-attack cruise missiles before enemy aircraft can take off or missile strikes can be launched.67 Another means of achieving air superiority will be to carry out air and land attacks to destroy and suppress ground-based air defense systems and air defense command systems.68 Finally, defensive operations will be an important component of air superiority throughout a campaign.69

In future warfare, space superiority is expected to be crucial for control­ling the ground, naval, and air battlefields. To gain space superiority, offensive and defensive weapons systems will be deployed on the ground, air, sea, and space. Space control operations are said to include space information warfare, space blockade warfare, space orbit attack warfare, space-defense warfare, and space-to-land attacks.70

In struggles for information superiority, the goal will be to control information on the battlefield, allowing the battlefield to be transparent to one’s own side but opaque to the enemy. Methods for achieving information superiority include achieving electromagnetic superiority through electronic interference; achieving network superiority through network attacks; using firepower to destroy the enemy’s information systems; and achieving “psy­chological control.”71

While acquiring electromagnetic superiority is described as a subset of acquiring information superiority, it is treated as a distinct type of operation in PLA publications.72 Methods for obtaining electromagnetic superiority are said to include electronic attack and electronic defense. In electronic attack, “soft kill” measures include electronic interference and electronic deception. “Hard kill” measures include antiradiation destruction, electronic-weapon attack, firepower destruction, and attacks against the enemy’s electronic instal­lations and systems. Electronic defense is simply defending against enemy elec­tronic and firepower attacks.73 The primary targets of EW are said to include command, control, communications, and intelligence systems.74

PLAAF publications describe three major types of air combat opera­tion: air-to-air combat, air-to-surface combat, and surface-to-air combat.75 Air-to-air and surface-to-air operations are areas of traditional emphasis for the PLAAF, but the PLAAF seems to be moving away from focusing on air – to-air operations and toward emphasizing operations to gain air superiority by attacking enemy airfields and controlling the enemy on the ground before resorting to fighting the enemy in the air.76 Air-to-surface operations are con­sidered more effective, less costly, and less reactive than air-to-air operations.77

By the end of World War II, the concept of airpower as an independent strategic weapon was firmly established. Although the CBO’s ultimate effect on the outcome of the war in Europe was indeterminate and military analysts and scholars have since debated what factors were most instrumental in forc­ing Japan’s capitulation, conventional wisdom immediately presumed that stra­tegic bombing had won the war—the atomic bombs had forced Japanese lead­ers to accept unconditional surrender.38 This appeared to be a harbinger of how future wars would unfold. Atomic weapons could only be delivered from the air, and only heavy bombers were large enough to carry them. Consequently, the emerging concept of atomic warfare seemed indistinguishable from strate­gic bombing, and airpower became widely accepted as the independent war­winning weapon that theorists had long claimed it to be.

It is ironic that at a time when the concept of strategic airpower seemed most transcendent, further development of airpower thought would grind to a halt. But that is what happened, largely as a result of the impact on thinking caused by the dramatic advance in destructiveness made possible by atomic and later nuclear weapons. Military and political leaders first saw atomic bombs simply as more powerful ordnance, weapons to be used in future wars to achieve military and political objectives more efficiently. But as USSBS investigators learned more about the extent of destruction wrought on the cit­ies of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, it became increasingly apparent that atomic bombs were weapons in a totally different class from anything used before. The following year, RAND analyst Bernard Brodie published his now classic book, The Absolute Weapon: Atomic Power and World Order, in which he argued that atomic weapons were so potentially devastating that they would change the very nature of war.39 Thirteen years later, with the United States and Soviet Union both possessing growing stockpiles of nuclear arms, Brodie would write:

Perhaps the most elementary, the most truistic, and yet the most impor­tant point one can make is that the kind of sudden and overwhelming calamity that one is talking about today in any reference to all-out or total war would be an utterly different and immeasurably worse phenomenon from war as we have known it in the past.40

Much had changed by the time Brodie wrote those words. Soon after the end of World War II, America’s erstwhile ally, the Soviet Union, had emerged as its rival in the long-term ideological struggle for geopolitical dominance that came to be known as the Cold War. The United States’ monopoly on atomic weapons was curtailed sooner than expected when the Soviets exploded their own atom bomb in 1949, and U. S. leaders were further distressed when the Soviets tested their first thermonuclear device in August 1953, less than a year after the United States had crossed that threshold. Even so, U. S. nuclear capabilities, both in terms of numbers of bombs and of long-range bombers needed to deliver them, suffi­ciently outstripped those of the Soviet Union that the Eisenhower administration opted for a “New Look” policy in which the United States would save money by reducing expenditures on conventional armaments, relying instead on the threat of massive nuclear retaliation to deter Soviet aggression in Western Europe. That meant that defense budgets would be slashed, and most of the remaining money would go into nuclear weapons, heavy bombers, and defenses against Soviet bombers, versus Army and Navy personnel and equipment.

As a result, between 1954 and 1961 almost half of the entire defense bud­get was allocated to the Air Force, with the remaining half divided among the other three services.41 Roughly half of the Air Force budget was, in turn, allo­cated to the Strategic Air Command (SAC), the early Cold War proprietor of the nuclear bombardment mission. Army and Navy leaders protested vehe­mently, of course, but to no avail. Despite the Korean War experience—one in which U. S.-led United Nations (UN) forces helped defend the Republic of Korea in a major conventional war against North Korean and Chinese efforts to unite the peninsula under communist rule—U. S. and British defense plan­ners argued that all future wars would likely swiftly “go nuclear,” and planned their force-structure and defense investment accordingly.

These decisions had dramatic effects on force structure and strategic thinking. The service made heavy investments in long-range strategic bomb­ers and tankers, and crew training and exercises for the units receiving them focused almost exclusively on skills needed to scramble the strategic force, get the bombers across the Arctic, penetrate Soviet airspace, and deliver nuclear ordnance. Conversely, as Air Force planners believed the threat of nuclear retaliation would deter Soviet aggression in Europe, the greatest threat to U. S. national security was a nuclear attack on the homeland by Soviet bombers. Con­sequently, the U. S. Air Force procured a series of fighter interceptors designed to maximize speed for bomber interception in lieu of designs that would have balanced speed, maneuverability, and armament—capabilities needed to make them effective weapons for winning air superiority against other fighters.42 Not even Tactical Air Command (TAC), the organization responsible for provid­ing air support to ground operations, was immune to the prevailing nuclear dogma. Starved of funding and support by an Air Force dominated by SAC bomber generals, TAC procured the F-105 Thunderchief, an extremely fast (Mach 2 capable) fighter-bomber designed to deliver a single tactical nuclear weapon on the battlefield.43

More serious, though, was the effect that this thinking had on Air Force doctrine and strategy. Secure in the conviction that strategic bombing had won World War II and the belief that the next great war, if it occurred, would be won by nuclear bombardment, Air Force strategic thought and doctrine stagnated to the point of virtual paralysis. Air Force education focused on the history of strategic bombardment and largely neglected the other vital lessons learned regarding the use of airpower for CAS and interdiction. At the same time, due to the potential for catastrophic destruction entailed in nuclear war, political leaders concluded that strategy had now become too important an issue to be left in the hands of military professionals. Consequently, the next generation of relevant theories, those addressing such topics as nuclear warfighting, deter­rence, escalation management, and crisis stability, came not from the intellec­tual center at Maxwell Field or anywhere else within the Air Force, but from a group of civilian “strategy intellectuals” at the RAND Corporation and in aca­demia.44 Meanwhile, as political scientist Karl Mueller has noted, SAC planners occupied themselves compiling notional target lists and “continued in general to approach strategic airpower much as their wartime predecessors had during the Combined Bomber Offensive” largely oblivious to the theories and strate­gies debated by prominent intellectuals and political leaders.45

The impacts of these decisions manifested themselves when the United States found itself at war with both conventional and unconventional adver­saries in Vietnam, forcing hard-learned lessons on the national military estab­lishment in general and the Air Force in particular. Although not designed for conventional warfare, the F-105 Thunderchief became the workhorse of the Air Force conventional deep-strike and interdiction missions during the first several years of the war, completing over 20,000 sorties. From a combination of restrictive rules of engagement, poor operational concepts, and inadequate protection of its vulnerable flight control system, almost half of the 833 F-105s produced were lost in the skies over North Vietnam, mostly due to surface-to-air missiles (SAMs) and conventional antiaircraft fire. Air-to-air combat also brought some rude surprises. The North Viet­namese air force sought-out U. S. bombers and strike aircraft, but generally avoided combat whenever confronted by Air Force and Navy fighters. When they did confront their American counterparts, however, they often proved more of a challenge than anticipated, particularly early in the war. With U. S. aircrews inadequately trained for air combat, constrained by unrealistic rules of engagement and doctrine, and flying aircraft designed principally for intercepting bombers or conducting nuclear strike missions, they often found themselves at a disadvantage against more maneuverable Soviet-built fighters.

Over time the Air Force reacquired the skills needed for air superior­ity and developed tactics for drawing the North Vietnamese out to fight, ulti­mately achieving a kill ratio of 2-to-1 over their adversaries. That was certainly better than the negative ratio suffered in the first months of the war, but unim­pressive when compared to the 10-to-1 kill ratio achieved in the Korean War. Complicating matters, U. S. air commanders were unable to achieve unity of command, having divided the airspace over Vietnam into six separate “route packages” and parceled out control over them to the Army, Navy, and Air Force, respectively.46

The most serious problems, however, stemmed from the overall con­cept in which airpower was employed to obtain U. S. political objectives in the war. Seeing the conflict as a war of aggression by communist North Viet­nam against a democratic South Vietnam and the southern insurgency purely as a product of northern subversion, U. S. political leaders believed the solu­tion to the challenge lay in compelling Hanoi to cease its aggression against South Vietnam. Air Force leaders, in turn, steeped in a heritage of strategic bombing against industrialized countries, concluded that the most reasonable course of action would be to execute an intense bombing campaign to destroy 94 industrial and transportation targets that they believed would break Hanoi’s will and capability to continue the war. They argued for such a campaign throughout the summer and fall of 1964 and again in February 1965 follow­ing a Viet Cong attack on the U. S. air base at Pleiku. But President Johnson was concerned about the political risks of too forceful an approach and opted, instead, for a more measured strategy.47

In March 1965, under President Johnson’s orders and direct supervision, Air Force and Navy aircraft began Operation Rolling Thunder, a bombing cam­paign designed to gradually escalate in intensity and move progressively north­ward in an effort to interdict supplies headed southward and compel Hanoi to agree to peace. It was an abject failure. By the spring of 1968, U. S. aircraft had flown over 300,000 sorties and dropped over 860,000 tons of bombs, but had failed to interdict enough supplies to prevent communist forces from launch­ing a major offensive during the Tet holiday.48 More importantly, after 3 years of bombing, communist leaders in Hanoi remained as intractable as ever, vow­ing to continue the war until the United States left and Vietnam was reunified. Before the end of the year, Johnson announced that Rolling Thunder would soon end and he would not seek reelection as president.

Despite the discouragements encountered in Vietnam, the Air Force learned a great deal there that would make it much more effective in future conflicts. Old lessons were relearned, such as the need for skills and tactics for winning air superiority and the vital importance of unity of command. And while the Air Force continued to believe that the key to victory in war against an industrialized state would be the independent application of airpower, Air Force doctrine came to acknowledge that close air support and interdiction would also be important missions in future wars.

All of these insights had implications for force structure. Painfully aware of its technical inadequacies at the beginning of the war, the Air Force learned lessons in combat that informed designs for new, much more capable fighters, such as the F-15 Eagle, F-16 Fighting Falcon, and a plane specifically devel­oped for supporting ground operations, the A-10 Thunderbolt II (nicknamed the “Warthog”). By the end of the Vietnam War, the Air Force was fielding its first laser-guided munitions, making interdiction strikes against bridges and railroads much more effective and far less costly in planes lost and aircrew killed or captured. And as North Vietnam, with the Soviet Union’s material and technical support, developed what was then the world’s most sophisticated air defense system integrating fighter defenses with radar-cued, antiaircraft artil­lery and SAMs, the U. S. Air Force developed suppression of enemy air defense (SEAD) systems and tactics to defeat the new threat.

Many of these emerging concepts and capabilities came to bear when the North Vietnamese army launched a major conventional invasion of South Vietnam in the spring of 1972. By then the bulk of U. S. ground forces had been withdrawn from the conflict under President Richard Nixon’s “Vietnamiza – tion” program, but U. S. airpower was still available, and the President ordered it to support the badly battered Army of the Republic of Vietnam (ARVN). Operation Linebacker, an interdiction campaign put together to carry out that order, imposed a terrible toll on the communist invasion force.

Over the next several months, with U. S. and South Vietnamese air sup­port, the ARVN withstood the initial onslaught, fought the communists to a standstill, and began pushing the invaders back until Hanoi finally called for a halt and agreed to negotiate an end to the war. When those negotiations broke down, President Nixon ordered the Air Force to conduct Operation Linebacker II, the heavy bombing of Hanoi and Haiphong using B-52 Stratofortresses. The Air Force did so from December 18 to December 29, with a 36-hour break for Christmas, flying 741 B-52 sorties, along with 769 sorties flown by other Air Force and Navy aircraft, dropping a total of more than 20,000 tons of bombs.49 The cost was high, with 15 B-52s and 12 other planes lost, but the opera­tion was successful. When the integrated air defense system (IADS) protect­ing Hanoi lost the ability to coordinate its operations and then exhausted its supply of SAMS, North Vietnamese leaders agreed to return to the bargain­ing table and a final agreement was struck a few weeks later. Analysts debate whether that agreement resulted more from the coercive leverage of airpower or the concessions that U. S. leaders made during negotiations, but either way, the United States was out of the Vietnam War.50

Xiaoming Zhang

The rise of China as a global economic and political power in recent years raises concerns for many policymakers, strategists, and scholars about Chinese military modernization—concerns that might provide a new perspec­tive on global security for years to come.1 At the center of this concern is the fact that the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) Air Force (PLAAF) has gained offensive capability by equipping itself with an increasing number of third – and fourth-generation fighters, airborne early warning aircraft, aerial refueling tankers, intelligence collection and jamming aircraft, and long-range antiair­craft missile systems. But what matters most is not so much the growth of Chi­nese airpower capability per se; rather, it is how China might use its new mili­tary strength, especially its air and naval power. One area of particular interest to defense analysts is the evolving influence of the PLAAF within the PLA and in China’s own national policymaking.

Airpower and its influence have primarily dominated in Western politi­cal thought. Given China’s growing economic and military power as well as changes in its bureaucratic politics, security interests, and technology, it is logi­cal to examine the following concerns as they relate to the PLAAF:

■ concepts for airpower as an instrument of statecraft

■ influence within the PLA and in national policymaking

■ vision of future roles and missions

■ organization, leadership, personnel, and doctrine

■ capabilities

■ political and military implications of all of the above for Taiwan and the United States.

In 2007, a U. S. Army War College and National Bureau of Asian Research project, Right Sizing the People’s Liberation Army: Exploring the Contours of China’s Military, produced two separate studies of the latest development of the PLAAF and its growing capability.2 Using different methodologies, these two studies—one a scenario-based approach to articulate impending developments of the Chinese air force, and the other focused on institutional and doctrinal developments since the 1990s—addressed concerns such as the PLAAF’s current status and influence within the PLA and what role the PLAAF currently plays in national policymak­ing. The studies contend that perceptions of the international threat environment, technological limitations, lack of advanced aircraft, and budget concerns would act as constraints on the PLAAF’s modernization efforts, and any significant prog­ress in force modernization would take at least 10-15 years to reach.3

This chapter is inclined to argue that while the PLAAF is transforming, the PLA’s political culture and organizational system pose a serious challenge to China’s current effort to embrace an air force that is capable of both offensive and defensive operations, and especially to the PLAAF’s own ambition to “bear the brunt of the operations, and play a sustained, independent role” in modern warfare. These challenges include the PLAs and PLAAF’s tradition, percep­tion of itself and each other, older way of doing things, outdated organizational structure, and limited funding under the current system. The PLAAF’s current development is about more than changing doctrine and buying advanced sys­tems. An appropriate organizational change is necessary. It will take far longer to nourish an institutional culture that enables the PLAAF to embrace both offensive and defensive capability as an independent strategic force.

Analyzing the current and future state of PLAAF modernization neces­sitates examining the historical development of the Chinese air force and its experiences (during the Korean War, the 1950s Taiwan Strait crises, and the air defense engagements against Nationalist and American intrusions); it also requires an examination of the historical evolution of the political culture of the PLAAF over the years, including utilization of the senior leadership’s mili­tary thought as guidance to keep the development of the air force politically correct and thus reliable. It is against this historical background that the author has made his assessment of the current development of the PLAAF. The con­clusion following from this is that the army-dominated organizational system and the emergence of different services’ cultures continue to limit the PLAAF’s influence within the PLA, its relationship with other services, and the role it currently plays in national policymaking. This situation exists despite China’s experiencing profound changes in bureaucratic politics, in its security inter­ests, and in its technology and military capabilities.