A Key Schema: Combat

In the shift of focus from the individual to the cultural level, we may benefit by asking about the kind of cultural expectations the peak experiences in combat engender.

Such a schema can be understood as one centered around the term “cool perform­ance” (kor ruach), a phrase that encapsulates emotional control in the service of military missions.

We are now in a position to formulate the “folk” model of combat: Combat is a threatening situation of extreme stress and uncertainty (the chaos or “fog” of battle) in which units (combinations of soldiers, lethal equipment, and drills) under the command of officers perform their assigned tasks by mastering their emotions. The four main ele­ments of this scenario are: situation, unit, command, and emotion. The individual soldier is the juncture through which the four elements are expressed. He undertakes actions de­rived from membership in a machine-like organization, and masters emotions precipi­tated by actions dictated by his commander under extremely stressful circumstances.

The knowledge of the soldier is organized—grounded and formulated—in terms of the combat schema. The cognitive operation is one of matching things such as “activat­ing” mortars, “successful hits,” or “conditions of pressure” with the main elements of the schema that is available to members of Israeli military culture. Moreover, while the com­bat model is relatively uncomplicated, it is comprised of more complex schemas and metaphors like the activation of mortars (men-machine-drills) or conditions of pressure (the uncertainty of battle triggering tangled emotions). Finally, given this schema it be­comes apparent why experiences can become the “apex,” the ultimate test of soldiering. While this kind of understanding should be obvious, it is our task to explain just how this obviousness is organized.

I will illustrate how the combat scenario is used in regard to a variety of military mat­ters through the following examples.

Evaluating soldiers: Professionalism

The first example deals with the “ideal” or “good” soldiers. The following is a passage from Ehud's interview (commander C company). Like most of the officers in the battal­ion, Ehud formulates his answer in terms of military “professionalism”:

A good soldier is one whose equipment is in order. He has his webb gear in order... He has all he needs: magazines, canteens, water in the canteens; his specialized equipment, like if he carries a communications rig then he has all of the antennas (short and long), that they are secured to the rig... If he carries a light mortar then he has the proper ammo in order... Always to be meticulous about the weapons being clean, oiled...This is one side of being a professional soldier. The other side is that he be able to perform all of the drills like the right kind of movement, quietly and with control. Also basic discipline: not to talk while on the move, not to smoke, to move quickly, not to gripe, not to be afraid of water, and not be afraid of the sun, and not to be afraid of puddles and not of dunes.

While this picture of an exemplary soldier may apply to any situation (small and large scale exercises or patrols, for example), his desired traits and qualities are derived from the basic combat schema. The criteria for judging whether a certain person deserves or does not deserve to be labeled or categorized as a “professional” are derived from the combat schema. In other words, the underlying systematicity of this portrayal is based on relating the machine metaphor to the metaphor of emotional control, and through this re­lation to military actions.

The next excerpt does not concern an ideal soldier but one that Omer, commander of the support company, had under his command during the intifada:

He is a constant talker, he jabbers away constantly (kashkeshan peraee). But the reasons for throwing him out were not related to that but to his being irresponsible. He's the type where you can't anticipate his reactions: you go to a village and he suddenly begins to run after someone, and he'll disappear into some alley and he won't even think about the fact that he's endangering himself and that everyone has to look for him. Simply irresponsible... So I decided to get rid of him. He is excitable, has a higher level of excitability than others.

Here the link between responsibility, reliability, and self-control is more explicit. In this case, two criteria derived from the basic scenario—emotional control and endangering situation—are used to evaluate soldiers in a threatening situation. The appraisal and justi­fication are carried out by pointing to how the schema or scenario of “proper” action has been disrupted. In terms of the cognitive operation that takes place here we see how through gauging whether a specific case corresponds to the sequence of events and be­havior posited in the prototypical scenario, military knowledge is extended to the new circumstances of the intifada.

The scenario can also be used in self-evaluation.

I'm just trying to think of an engagement (hitaklut). In terms of my past, I was in three wars and I hope I haven't changed in terms of my ability not to run away. I don't really know. You would have to try me again now, but I begin from the assumption that a driver who has worked in a canteen all of his life and never experienced pressure, never had a tough experience like being under fire, will behave differently in a critical situation. Here (patrolling Israel's northern borders) the minute we find ourselves in an engagement I find myself a fighting soldier (lochem, literally “warrior”) and I have to man the machine gun.

By contrasting himself to other soldiers who have not been in battle, the driver's self­evaluation is also an assertion of his greater military importance. Here again, combat is the test—in our terms the criterion—of true soldiership.

Similar reasoning based on the model of combat is used in regard to prescriptions for behavior. For example, soldiers are constantly being exhorted to restrain themselves in use of ammunition during exercises, or not to go wild with their guns (lo Iehishtolel) dur­ing combat patrols, the intifada, maneuvers, or proof firing. In one summing up session to a battalion exercise, the commander of the brigade (an officer belonging to the perma­nent force) commented about the machine gunners' performance:

You carried out your missions well, but (pardon the words) every once in a while you seemed to be reaching an orgasm while firing. You neglected to take into account the situation like the fact that if this were a real battle you would be exposing yourself to enemy fire. Don't leave your senses because you can get killed.

Emotional control is thus figuratively linked to survival and to performance.

Trust and survival: Evaluating commanders

A scenario depicts different (albeit overlapping and complementary) roles for soldiers and for commanders (primarily but not only officers).

Yes, well, his professionalism (miktso’iuty. like how he moves the forces, how he navigates. If it's a commander who can't find his way then you don't like being with him. I mean that in the end if your commander, and especially the company commander, is not professional then your feeling is not good, insecure. Because you know that you may have to go out with him to war one day, a very bad feeling. We had one platoon commander like that with us in Lebanon. He was a nice guy but not very good professionally and in the end he was thrown out... I wouldn't go with someone like that to war, I wouldn't be calm (lev shaket, literally, with a calm heart) like I was with Omri or Nimrod (two former battalion commanders), people that you feel are professional and know how to manage, and know how to give clear orders, and who will get you out of there alive.

The ability to impart or inspire a feeling of security among commanders' (over­whelmingly officers) troops is a theme that repeatedly surfaced in the interviews. This was often linked to the professionalism of commanders. For example, one soldier spoke of his feeling of security when his commander gave orders in a smooth way, without mistakes, blocks of communication, or hesitation. Similarly, a machine gunner articu­lated these same themes:

Do you remember Eran? He is cool (kar) and gives his troops a feeling of security.

These kinds of statements are comprehensible to others because they assume the underly­ing schema of combat.

Officers are clearly aware of the criteria soldiers use in appraising their performance as commanders. Consequently they often attempt to answer the expectations of the lower ranks in a conscious and intentional manner through what may be termed a military “presentation of self.” Accordingly, officers told me that they often felt that in stressful situations there arose a need to give the impression, through the tactical use of emotion, of being in control (Bailey 1983). At the base of their reasoning was the assumption that the example of emotional control in circumstances marked by pressure was a means to show their leadership by infusing the stressful situation with a greater measure of cer­tainty and security and therefore influencing the emotions of the troops under their com­mand. The following is from a discussion with a former company commander:

The professionalism of the company commander is very important for soldiers. They can tell you that you're a son of a bitch but if you're professional then it's OK... It has a lot to do with [interpersonal] politics: How he [the company commander] presents himself and what he does. Like whether he's insecure or he shows that he is in charge is all a matter of politics, a sort of eternal example for action. If he shows that he's in charge in a forceful way the soldiers begin to accept all he says.

Another officer once observed that he was rather proud of himself and his self-control, despite the fact that he was never really calm about matters (af pa ’am lo shaket):

I never get angry, do I? I try not to get emotional and to give orders in a clear way... Take the way to speak on the communications net: think before you talk. Don't start yapping away and get suddenly stuck. Think and then give orders shortly and curtly.

Given the various criteria derived from the schema of combat, it may now be more than clear how new members of the unit are appraised. Gathering a large amount of in­formation on each new arrival (be he a soldier or an officer) is unnecessary. All one needs to do is check for a small number of characteristics in terms of the potential per­formance of the new member under conditions of battle. Thus, all one has to say about a new officer is that he is someone who is liable to be pressured easily (Iachtsan), for a whole set of connotations rooted in our scenario to be understood. Along these lines, when looking at a new platoon commander briefing his troops, commanding them in an exercise, or simply making sure that they are on time for some activity, the company or battalion commanders may be running a sort of mental simulation model of how the new officer would behave under combat conditions. A few rather simple clues from his be­havior are used as a basis for this judgment.

The advantage of the shared cultural model lies in its facilitating communication: ex­periences, appraisals, or prescriptions can be rapidly communicated to other people be­cause they are formulated according to the conventions of the cultural model. The price of this cognitive economy however, is some rigidity in interpreting the world and a cer­tain slowness in recognizing or learning new models. While the shared schema of sol­diering allows one to discuss and communicate about a highly complex world in man­ageable terms, the schema may impede the understanding and the ability to react to novel situations.

Enemies

The images, metaphors, and categories of “enemies” are also derived from the key model of combat. On one level, metaphors used in regard to one or one's unit are also used in regard to the enemy. The machine metaphor is probably the most obvious in this regard. In briefings, planning meetings, or any field orders, the enemy is treated in terms of the equipment-men-drills complex. The number and quality of the opposing forces are ana­lyzed as well as the type of ammunition, support groups, or typical drills which charac­terize them. Similarly, in any situation the problem is usually one of simply finding the right means (emtsa ’im) to treat (letapel, literally “handle”) the enemy.

Although these kinds of definitions and categorizations are related to a dehumaniza­tion of the enemy, they do not express a demonization of the opposing forces. Antago­nists become objects or series of objects: so many targets to be hit, obstacles to be de­stroyed, or articles to be taken into account in the threatening environment. This language of objectification also allows one to understand the neutral language used to talk about “interaction” with the enemy: engagement (maga), incident (eru 'a), or skir­mish (hitaklut). For example, the issue is often deciding upon the right force composi­tion, tactics, and ammunition for countering the perceived threat.

This “objectification” is different from the dehumanization of enemy forces that went on in the American army during World War II and in the American Marine Corps during the Vietnam War, if Eisenhart (1975) and Shatan (1977) are to be believed. In the elite reserves of the IDF, there is almost no organizational propagation of a view in which en­emy forces are turned into “evil” groups toward which some kind of special treatment should be accorded. This situation stands in stark contrast to the American forces where one finds an almost obligatory demonization of the enemy and his portrayal as the foe of civilization and as the opponent of progress.

Another categorization of the enemy is derived from the element of threatening situa­tion in the combat schema: Here the criterion is the seriousness of the threat enemies pose to oneself, to one's unit, and to the performance of both. Thus enemies are arranged along a gradation of significance: regular armies, professional Palestinian fighters, knife wielders, Molotov cocktail and stone throwers, tire burners, and all the way to “just” ci­vilians demonstrating. The point is simply that the criterion derived from the key sce­nario allows the unit's soldiers to categorize and place different kinds of opposing foes on an ordered continuum.

The upshot of this categorization is threefold. First, position on the continuum is re­lated to different types of treatment accorded to the enemy (for example, shooting versus arresting, or wearing protective gear or not). Second, the continuum is used as a measure of the importance of a specific kind of activity: the more dangerous, the more threaten­ing, the more important. Thus, during those mislabeled periods of peacetime, a stint along the international borders opposite regular armies or professional fighters is more serious and important. Third, the importance of the mission is related in turn to the pres­tige of the individual or the unit in the army and in Israeli society in general. For exam­ple, patrols along the borders are more prestigious than patrols that occupied territories among civilians.

The treatment of civilians, in turn, is related to the emotional control required of sol­diers. Take the following instance from a briefing by Ehud, commander of C company during the intifada:

So our missions define our activities [patrols and keeping roads free of stones and roadblocks]. This means we don't come in contact with them too much, this means not to go wild with live ammunition. Don't shoot plastic bullets. We don't usually fire. We will not anger them (nitgareh), won't throw anything at them.

Conversely, hitting, pushing, or shooting—more generally labeled as using “undue force” against—civilians is considered an aberration. It is an aberration not just because of the basic humanity or human values of the soldiers. No less importantly, these are ab­errations because they indicate a lack of professionalism. Thus, using “undue force” demonstrates a lack of control and an inability to master oneself and the situation.

Eran (deputy of the support company) said of firing plastic bullets at Palestinians:

There was once when I shot two plastic bullets and this was my greatest failure during the last five years. I made a mistake in going into the village and then I had to shoot two bullets in order to get out of there. It is a mistake to shoot live ammunition of any kind; it shows lack of control and there is no need to put your finger on the trigger.

The following words are from the meeting held to conclude a stint in the territories. Ari the battalion commander is speaking:

I know of only two accidents (takalot) of opening fire during this stint. One was the guy who fired in the air, and the other was the soldier that fired during that night. I hope these were only irregularities (kharigot)... I don't think this should satisfy us because it still happens to us. As commanders these things keep happening and the responsibility is on us.

These acts are exceptions, and an understanding of the organizational implication of the aforementioned rationale is the following: Inept, non-professional soldiers are labeled as some “ill-fitting” or “malfunctioning” parts of the unit (under the unit as machine metaphor). This necessitates that a commander replaces them so that the company or bat­talion is able to continue to perform. Because there is so much stress involved in making the humans fit the requirements of a mechanical organization, there is less necessity to reflect about the place of the machine in the wider environment.