Indeed, the hitherto self-evident asymmetry of the superpower confrontation as it had developed since the end of the Second World War — maritime coalition versus continental colossus — began to be questioned. Between powers of a different nature a modus vivendi could be reached. It did, in fact, exist. When Alexis de Tocqueville predicted of autocratic Russia and democratic America: ‘Their starting-point is different, and their courses are not the same; yet each of them seems to be marked out by the will of Heaven to sway the destinies of half the globe,’ he did not prophesy war between them. Yet might not the projection of autocracy over the sea, by calling forth the projection of democracy on to the continent, eliminate the differentiation between the respective destiny-swayers upon which their peaceful co-existence, being an agreement to differ, had rested?
Whatever dangers Soviet determinism might hold for the peace of the world, American pragmatism had already compounded the risk by her involvement in the war in Vietnam. The contribution made to her national security by this mistimed, misplaced and misconducted intervention in South-east Asia was almost totally negative. A far more fruitful, less politically sterile and less socially disruptive policy would have been to bring the Persian Gulf and Indian Ocean into the orbit of statecraft and naval policy, as urged by Admirals Arleigh Burke, Chief of Naval Operations, and John S. McCain Jr, Commander-in-Chief Pacific Fleet, in the 1950s. Better late than never, Drew Middleton, the military correspondent of the New York Times, wrote on 20 April 1973: ‘… the strategic interests of the United States and global strategy in general will pivot on the Persian Gulf late in this decade as a result of competition for the area’s oil.’
The rapid growth of the Soviet (and satellite) merchant and fishing fleets throughout the 1960s and 1970s, while not directly associated with the Gorshkov naval expansion, coincided with it. Apart from specialized shipping used for oceanographic research, hydrography and space programme support, the Soviet Union sought, as many a nation had in the past, the political, strategic and economic benefits of self-sufficiency in maritime transportation: prestige, conservation of currency, control over shipping, maintenance of employment in the home shipbuilding industry, and, in addition, a specifically Soviet requirement, the ability to carry economic and political warfare into the capitalist camp. Fishing (and whaling) fleets, operated industrially and on a huge scale, also provided protein to help make good deficiencies in agricultural production.
That a serious contradiction existed near the centre of Soviet maritime policy-making had become apparent during the series of United Nations Conferences on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS) which took place during the 1970s. While the Soviet navalists were at one with those of the United States and the other ‘traditional’ maritime states in seeking to maintain the freedom of movement so far enjoyed by ships of all nations upon the high seas, and through the straits that connected them, the Soviet foreign relations experts, hoping for political advantage, favoured the claims of ‘Third World’ nations, some old, some new, who wanted to extend their sovereignty over wide expanses of sea and ocean off their coasts, and the sea-bed beneath, thus severely eroding the whole concept of freedom of the high seas. Of course, historically, the freedom of the seas has always been in the gift of the dominant naval power. The granting or withholding of belligerent status and of the rights of neutrals in war, whether declared or undeclared, remained in 1985 something rather more than a folk memory but less than a governing factor in the determination of national and international responses to hostilities at sea. But the Soviet Navy had conducted itself with propriety as it extended the scope and intensity of its peacetime missions. It was not until the shooting started, and political guidance had to be sought from Moscow, that failure to harmonize the political with the operational requirements in taking account of the international law of the sea began to have its effect.
It can now be seen that to meet a number of pressing requirements, including the need to relieve pressures in the Soviet Union no less than in the satellites, the Soviet leadership had brought to an advanced state contingency plans which, directly or indirectly, would put the Soviet Navy to the test. The time was coming to cash Gorshkov’s cheque. The plans involved in the first instance the use of naval and air forces in support of political operations designed to offset American reaction to savage, repressive measures within the Soviet empire and to secure advantages over the USA while it was still under a new and untried Administration. One of these plans hinged upon upsetting violently the political stability of the Persian Gulf; another on delaying the establishment of a stable political settlement in Southern Africa. Thus, the supply of Middle Eastern oil to the United States would immediately be in jeopardy, both at its source, in the Persian Gulf, and en route in tankers via the Cape of Good Hope.
On 29 December 1984 came news which electrified the world. An Iranian troop transport had been torpedoed and sunk, with heavy loss of life, by a Soviet submarine in the Strait of Hormuz; and an American intelligence ship had been subjected to missile attack off Aden.
Had Fleet Admiral Gorshkov still been in charge of the Soviet Navy it is doubtful whether things would so soon have begun to go wrong for the Russians. In the first place, he would have had sufficient prestige, courage and professional acumen to have demurred when given orders to send a submarine into the Persian Gulf approaches to sink an Iranian troop transport and immediately report the successful attack. The depth of water being insufficient for nuclear-powered submarine operations to be fully effective, the submarine had to be one of the diesel-driven ‘patrol’ type. But the Iranian Navy was known to have been equipped with up-to-date ASW forces, mainly of British origin, and to be well trained in their use. The prospect, therefore, of a successful submarine attack, followed by the safe withdrawal of the submarine and receipt of the all-important attack report, would not be good. By the same token, Gorshkov would have been unlikely to countenance a surprise missile attack upon an American intelligence ship. He would have reasoned that such an attack might invite reprisals against the Soviet Union’s own intelligence-gathering ships upon which so much depended; and that the US Navy could quickly concentrate a powerful force to escort the damaged ship to safety.
These dramatic events, when reported to the Soviet naval high command, had the effect of concentrating the comrades’ minds wonderfully. Despite the careful planning which had preceded the challenge to the United States, there was suddenly a feeling that events might get out of control. It was central to Soviet politico-military doctrine that military measures must directly and effectively serve some chosen political objective, whether on a worldwide or on a regional scale. Operations in the Middle East had been continuing, short of actual shooting by the great powers themselves, for many years — ever since the 1960s, in fact, soon after the failure of British nerve, French colonialism and American leadership became manifest at Suez. The rapid growth of the Soviet Navy under Gorshkov had been in response to two quite separate requirements, reflecting, as do so many aspects of Soviet policy, its dyadic nature. The first of these, as could be deduced from the Peace Programme promulgated at the Twenty-Fourth CPSU Congress, accepted as inevitable a degree of watchful co-operation between the Soviet and the Western blocs. The strategic balance would be maintained, nuclear war averted and detente promoted. The second need was competitive. In the Third World the Soviet Union had to compete strongly with the West for political influence, by supporting its friends and denying to the West any advantage that might be detrimental to the interest of the USSR or its clients. The Soviet Navy had to support both aspects of Soviet state policy. In theory this had seemed not only feasible but the strongest argument for naval expansion. In practice, how was it going to work out?