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Petraeus' 'ribbon creep'
A uniform full of medals and decorations clashes with his message.
By Matthew
DeBord
April 9, 2008
Gen. David H. Petraeus may be as
impressive a military professional as the United States has developed in recent
years, but he could use some strategic advice on how to manage his sartorial
PR. Witness his congressional testimony on the state of the war in Iraq. There
he sits in elaborate Army regalia, four stars glistening on each shoulder, nine
rows of colorful ribbons on his left breast, and various other medallions,
brooches and patches scattered across the rest of the available real estate on
his uniform. He even wears his name tag, a lone and incongruous hunk of cheap
plastic in a region of pristine gilt, just in case the politicians aren't sure
who he is.
That's a lot of martial bling, especially for an officer who hadn't seen combat
until five years ago. Unfortunately, brazen preening and "ribbon
creep" among the Army's modern-day upper crust have trumped the
time-honored military virtues of humility, duty and personal reserve.
Think about any of the generals you've seen in recent years -- Norman
Schwarzkopf, Barry McCaffrey, Wesley Clark (all now retired) and others -- and
the image you'll conjure no doubt includes a chest full of shimmering
decorations. In Petraeus' case, most of them don't represent actual military
action as much as they do the general's devotion to the institution of the U.S.
Army and vice versa. According to an annotated photograph produced by the Times
of London last year, the majority of ribbons on Petraeus' impressive
"rack" were earned for various flavors of distinguished service. As
brave as he may be and as meritorious in general, is all that ostentation the
best way to present the situation in Iraq to an increasingly war-skeptical
public?
Of course, Petraeus' goal is not just to make simple, soldierly arguments
before Congress -- it is to dazzle, at least initially, with the blazing
imagery of rank. What, after all, are mere Brooks Brothers suits on the members
of Congress in the face of a fighting man's laurels? Some of the showiness can
be attributed to regulations: The official uniform of the Army is to be worn in
a very specific manner, and the brass have an obligation to live up to their
billing by showing plenty of ... well, brass. On the other hand, if you're
wearing four stars, you surely have some say when it comes to matters of
peacockery.
Medals and decorations have a long history with a slightly cynical tinge. This
goes back to their inception, during the Napoleonic era, when the strategic
genius from Corsica discovered that baubles handed out to the combatants helped
ensure loyalty and ferociousness. "With a handful of ribbons, I can
conquer all of Europe," he said. In more contemporary times, decorations
have suffered a fraught reputation among the rank and file: nice to get but
awkward to display if the memories associated with them are of violence, loss
and the ineptness of commanders. There have been isolated incidents of Iraq war
veterans returning their medals, and, of course, Vietnam War vets were better
acquainted with this kind of protest.
The greatest military leaders, in the age of organized national armies, have
often conspicuously modified the official requirements of the uniform, even in
the most public of settings. Ulysses S. Grant accepted Robert E. Lee's sword while
outfitted in disheveled Union blue and muddy boots. Douglas MacArthur presided
over the signing of the Japanese Instrument of Surrender on the deck of the
battleship Missouri without donning so much as a necktie with his khakis.
George Patton wasflamboyant, in his jodhpurs and riding boots, but he backed it
up in battle after battle. His legend derived equally from brilliant tactics
and an outrageous wardrobe.
Perhaps the best example, however -- and one that Petraeus and his cadre should
look to for inspiration -- was set by two of the most politically savvy
generals America has produced: Dwight Eisenhower and George Marshall. In
photographs following World War II, with Ike fresh from rescuing Western
civilization while Marshall was working to rebuild it, both men appear
victorious, yet somber, cognizant of the challenges met and the challenges
ahead. Eisenhower wears a single row of ribbons, Marshall three.
When you've saved the world and managed the lives and deaths of millions, it
obviously compels a certain level of modesty about showcasing your
accomplishments, however monumental. Apparently when you're trying to explain
why your war-fighting achievements are "fragile" and why the conflict
you're running in a hot, dusty faraway place might never be won, it does not.
Memo to Petraeus: When you're making the case for more patriotic gore, go easy
on the glitter.
Matthew DeBord is a writer in Los Angeles.
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