“I believe that in the future, whoever holds Alaska will hold the world… I think it is the most important strategic place in the world.”

Mitchell must have had pretty good eyesight. He certainly saw something in Alaska that few others in that era could visualize. In 1935, Alaska was home to almost no industrial development. There was barely a working coal mine in the entire territory. A single-track railway — hurriedly built during World War I — connected Seward, on the Pacific coastline, with Fairbanks, deep in the interior. And although Alaska had been picked over by fur trappers and gold prospectors in the 19th and early 20th centuries, there were still parts of the place that no human being — native or otherwise — had ever seen. In terms of space, Alaska was just plain faraway.

In terms of time, it took a heck of a long while and effort to get there. And once you arrived, you were transported into a resource-based economy and existence. There was not much to do in Alaska besides chop firewood and go fishing. Or you could just find a spot near a stream and pan for gold nuggets in the glacial till. So Billy Mitchell or no, how “strategic” could Alaska be?

Strategically Insignificant?

To American strategists of the 1930s — living and working in the politically and financially constrained times of the Great Depression — Alaska was just not terribly important. Alaska might have been a good place to go fishing or to pan for gold. But Alaska was “not a major anxiety of the War Department,” according to a 1939 letter from Army Chief of Staff Gen. George C. Marshall to President Franklin Roosevelt. And in his masterful study titled War Plan Orange: The U.S. Strategy to Defeat Japan, 1897-1945, historian Edward Miller concluded, “In both Plan Orange and World War II, mainland Alaska was strategically insignificant.”

Some places are just more important than others. But importance often depends on time and events. In 1935, what did Mitchell mean? In 1939, what did Marshall mean? If Alaska were strategically insignificant in the short and medium terms, was Alaska significant over the long term? So which was it? Or more appropriately, what is it?

Like many things of this nature, it depends on your perspective. When Mitchell talked about the strategic importance of Alaska in 1935, he knew that even the best aircraft on the drawing boards could carry effective payloads out to only 1,000 miles or so of combat radius. And Mitchell was an old Alaska hand, from his days stringing a telegraph line across the Chugach Mountains. He surely knew that 1,000 miles was just a short hop in the vastness of Alaska. But when Mitchell testified to Congress in 1935, he was speaking in broad, forward-looking geographic and geopolitical terms — “great circle” thinking by an imaginative student of air power. In Mitchell’s vision, futuristic aircraft that did not yet exist would fly from Alaskan airfields that had not yet been built. These aircraft could and would roam far and wide and shape events on distant horizons.

A Jet Fighter Like No Other

And so we now move from the strategic perspective of 1935 to that of the present. In August 2007, six Air Force F-22 aircraft landed at Elmendorf Air Force Base, outside Anchorage. The airplanes were brand-new, just off the Lockheed Martin assembly line. The gray aircraft, called Raptors, taxied toward a crowd of dignitaries. There was a short ceremony that marked the official commissioning of what one senior officer called “a new day in the Land of the Midnight Sun.”

The F-22 Raptor is Billy Mitchell’s kind of airplane, a bird of prey like no other. Yes, on the outside, it looks like an airplane fuselage, complete with two wings and two engines. But on the inside, the Raptor offers a revolution in technology. The capability of the F-22 far surpasses that of the venerable F-15 Eagle, and simply eclipses the capabilities of all earlier generations of fighter-bomber aircraft. The F-22 is a stealthy electronic machine that is both an intelligence-gathering device and a long-range hunter-killer. All but invisible to radar, the F-22 can fly at twice the speed of sound and altitudes greater than 12 miles above the Earth. Its electronic suite can tap into the most secret emissions. Its onboard systems can track a cruise missile flying just above the weeds, if not in the spray of the ocean waves. Or the F-22 can attack both air and ground targets before those targets even know it’s there. In war games against frontline aircraft from both Western and non-Western powers, the F-22 has been all-but-unbeatable. (In one exercise, the F-22 racked up a kill ratio of 144-to-0 against top-line opposing aircraft.) In many respects, the F-22 changes the strategic equation every time its wheels leave the runway.

The F-22 Raptor is the replacement for the F-15 Eagle. It is the most advanced fighter aircraft in the world, providing U.S. forces with a revolutionary leap in aviation technology. USAF photo.

The Vital Center of U.S. Resource Security

At the Elmendorf welcoming event, a high-ranking officer had some words to say. While most such welcoming speeches are perfunctory — even downright forgettable — this one was different. Some things are true, and truth, by definition, does not change. Thus, the words of Air Force Gen. Paul Hester, commander of Pacific Air Forces in 2007, could just as well have been spoken by Billy Mitchell in 1935.

Hester stated that the Pacific arena is critical for the next 100 years. Hester expanded on this theme, saying, “When you don’t know where the fight is going to be, then you need to balance all of the pieces…Alaska is the place.” Here is the essence of strategic thinking and planning, distilled to a few words at a public welcoming ceremony.

Hester went on, speaking in terms of time, space, and force, the trinity of the strategist and planner. “If I need F-22s somewhere deep in the Pacific, I can get there the fastest from Alaska. If I need them in Europe, they go right across the pole and jump into Europe. And in the Mideast, if they’re needed there, I can get them there.” Hester’s point was that by starting from Alaska, U.S. air power can reach those distant strategic points —the ones Billy Mitchell called the “vital centers” — upon which great events pivot.

At the same time, Raptor aircraft in Alaska can defend the home turf, as well. Alaska is, of course, a key part of U.S. national security today. Alaska is a vital center of U.S. security, both geographically and geologically. After decades of hard work and tens of billions of dollars of capital investment, Alaska now holds immense and proven energy wealth. This treasure is contained in the form of known reserves and additional measured and inferred resources. This wealth begins with the oil and natural gas of the North Slope, which moves south every day through the Trans-Alaska Pipeline.

And beyond the known areas of the North Slope, Alaska holds much more in terms of energy and mineral wealth. From the National Petroleum Reserve west of Prudhoe Bay to the gold of Donlin Creek, and much more, Alaska is a fabulously rich land. There is more of pretty much everything in the almost endless valleys and mountains of Alaska. In 100 years, people will still be making new discoveries.

Strategic Alaska

So yes, as the general said last August, “Alaska is the place.” Alaska is important. Alaska is strategic to the U.S. And as Alaska is the back door to North America, so it is strategic to our Canadian friends, as well. Alaska may have been “strategically insignificant” during World War II, but it sure is worth defending today. This is the strategic reality. And it is important to know and appreciate this reality. It has now been 73 years since Billy Mitchell told Congress that Alaska is “the most important, strategic place in the world.” So was Mitchell correct? Yes. From the standpoint of long-term security, Mitchell was absolutely correct.

If U.S. policymakers — let alone the U.S. public — have finally come to appreciate how important Alaska is, then the realization comes not a moment too soon. But next comes a question that touches on a different sort of resource, namely the national budget. Alaska may be worth defending, but is it worth defending with F-22s? Some people argue that the F-22 is an expensive military relic. The Air Force began to design the F-22 during the days of the Cold War, and the Cold War is over. So who needs F-22s, right? Aren’t the Raptors just legacies of a U.S.-Soviet confrontation that has passed? Why buy Raptors? And why deploy them for “make work” jobs in Alaska, right?

The Cold War Has Evolved Into…What?

So is the Cold War really over? Have two great nations moved past the bad old days of U.S. airplanes and Russian bombers chasing each other across the skies near Alaska? Or has the Cold War evolved into something else? Is there another confrontation going on? This is not just some misplaced nostalgia for the good old days of eyeball-to-eyeball military stalemates. It is certainly not an atavistic desire for national leaders to revert to the behavior of Dr. Strangelove in the war room.

Of course, the world has changed from a few years ago. But as the world changes, it is not moving backward. The Cold War has passed, but it is not over. The Cold War has evolved into a new, world-spanning strategic game that is just beginning.

Until we meet again…
Byron W. King
February 22, 2008

Alaska: “The Most Important Strategic Place in the World,” Part III was originally featured on Whiskey and Gunpowder. Visit Laissez Faire Books for the best selection of libertarian book titles.

I wrote some articles about the trip to Alaska for Whiskey & Gunpowder and Outstanding Investments and there are more in progress. But even the first couple of articles prompted some reader mail. So this is a sampling of your letters, as well as some answers.

From John in New York:

“You did not discuss the wildlife of Alaska very much. What has been the impact of oil development on the wildlife of Alaska?”

Byron’s Reply:

I make no claim to be an expert on Alaska’s wildlife. There are many dedicated scientists and other professionals who have made great careers in evaluating and monitoring the wildlife of Alaska, and on all technical matters I properly defer to them.

However, I was up there, and I can tell you what I saw, and what I was told by knowledgeable people such as park rangers and others who have worked in the field.

Anecdotally, our group saw quite a bit of Alaskan wildlife. In the south, during a trip to observe the lava flows and pillow basalts of Resurrection Bay, we saw a variety of sea life, including otters, gray whales, killer whales, seals, and dolphins. The Sitka spruce covered the hillsides, growing in the soils right down to the waterline. The bird life was rich and varied, and in places I was reminded of scenes from the Discovery Channel.

Inland, we saw quite a bit of Alaskan wildlife, as well. This ranged from Dall Sheep and mountain goats to red and arctic foxes, gray wolves, moose, caribou, arctic hares, and many other smaller rodents. Again, bird life was rich (as were the bugs, in many places with calm winds). Of interest, we saw three arctic foxes, still in white coats, in and around the oil workings at Prudhoe Bay, and there were geese and ducks paddling and nesting literally right next to the gravel pads of the oil wells.

I mentioned in one article the Haul Road, which is a 20-foot-wide gravel road about 494 miles in length from Fairbanks to Deadhorse. It was upon this road that the equipment and materials were hauled in the 1970s to construct the Alaska Pipeline. Of interest, many forms of wildlife actually use the Alaska Pipeline and adjacent Haul Road as an assistance to living. Generally, the gravel beds under the Pipeline and Haul Road are built up to just a few feet above the nearby elevations. So moose and caribou walk on the elevated tracks to catch some breezes and keep the bugs away. Also, the open nature of the road, with almost no trees or ground cover, means that birds hunt for small game nearby. And dust from the Haul Road blows over nearby snow, which causes that snow to melt first in the spring. The availability of open water near the Haul Road tends to attract waterfowl, so the Haul Road has created something of a bird breeding corridor.

One interesting way of viewing the condition of wildlife in Alaska is to compare what is happening near the industrial development of the North Slope with an absolutely protected and essentially pristine area such as Denali National Park. Denali covers about 6.2 million acres, which makes the place larger than, for example, the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. (Of those 6.2 million acres, about 1 million acres are covered with glaciers or permanent snow pack.) Yet Denali has all of 15 miles of paved road and about 40 miles of gravel road, of which half are off limits to all but official traffic. So imagine what it would be like to try to “see” Massachusetts if the place had only about 35 miles of paved and gravel roads for ingress.

Yet for all of its vastness and isolation, according to one park guide, Denali is home to fewer than 40 wolves. This is simply a function of the large territory that a wolf requires for its feeding and breeding ground, and the harsh climate for most of the year. There are far more wolves in the zoos of Massachusetts than there are in Denali, which is a larger and utterly undeveloped area. This says something about the general state of nature in Alaska, and the fragility of the Arctic environment, as well.

From Richard in Illinois:

“You seem to view the industrial development of Alaska as a good thing, and further development as a foregone conclusion. Do we have to develop everything? Can’t we just leave some places alone?”

Byron’s Reply:

Actually, Richard, I try to play these issues down the middle. ARCO and its geologists discovered the Prudhoe Bay oil field in 1967, when I was in middle school. The development consortium, acting under legislation passed by the U.S. Congress, built the Alaska Pipeline in the 1970s, when I was in college. I had nothing to do with it. And now, as the so-called “Peak Oil correspondent” for Agora Financial, I am merely describing where we are and forecasting where the ominous trends seem to be taking us. As Bill Bonner once mentioned to me, “I wouldn’t send somebody to cover a baseball game who does not understand the game of baseball.” And if during the past 30 years or so you have driven a car, or flown in an airplane, or heated your house, or eaten food grown on and transported from a farm, you have benefited directly or indirectly from the oil of Prudhoe Bay and the Pipeline. After 15 billion barrels of oil production, it’s a little late in the game to be complaining about industrial development in Alaska. So spare me the preaching and scolding, OK?

But you raise a good point, Richard. “Do we have to develop everything?” Yes, damn good question. Do we? That oil and gas of the North Slope has been there for millions of years of geologic time, and it will stay there for millions more years if it is left alone. (Now, if it were in China, I am inclined to think that the drilling rigs would be turning and burning. It’s a cultural thing.) What are you prepared to give up if, say, “we” decide not to build a Northern Pipeline to transport natural gas from the Arctic through Canada and to the Lower 48? You, for example, live in Illinois. And I read somewhere that it gets cold in Illinois in the winter. What’s your plan?

I mentioned in one article that the Alaska Pipeline and Haul Road are rather difficult to spot from the air. At the end of the trip to Prudhoe Bay, we flew down to Fairbanks in Caribou aircraft, and I was sitting in the co-pilot seat with a God’s-eye view of the Brooks Range. I knew what I was looking for, and I knew exactly where to look, and from 9,000 feet I could barely spot the Pipeline and Haul Road. So that aspect of development is visually insignificant in the grand scheme. As for the roads and drilling pads of Prudhoe Bay, they are all just a few feet of gravel. When the oil is pumped out, sometime in the far distant future, I suspect that people will just plug the wells and dig out the gravel and give the land back to Mother Nature and her permafrost. It is not as if anybody is building housing developments up on the North Slope. Really, do you want to live up there? It’s just plain cold and harsh, plus dark for months of the year.

I also mentioned in an article how clean the Haul Road was, and I am still astonished at that fact. It got to where we were all looking for litter, and just not finding it. OK, there might be a piece of plastic, or an aluminum can somewhere along the 420-mile stretch, but I sure did not see it. Today, the Haul Road is an industrial service road for access to the Pipeline, and for goods going to and from the oil fields of Prudhoe Bay. But why is it so clean? And I mean country club clean, dear readers. Actually, there was more litter at Oakmont during the U.S. Open than there was on the Haul Road in Alaska.

On reflection, the Haul Road is used by just a few hundred truck drivers at most, and everybody seems to know everybody else. There is something of an honor code among the drivers to keep the stretch clean. The Haul Road is, to be specific, a public highway, but you really have to have a good reason to trek up north. It is just not a road for a Sunday drive, by any means. According to one knowledgeable individual, no more than 4,000 tourists per year visit Deadhorse, and about half of those are with one particular cruise-ship line that arranges overnight tours to the area. The other 2,000 or so tend to be scientific or “adventure” explorers, such as our group of 22 geologists.

Really, most people do not have the slightest clue about how far away, how vast, how isolated, how harsh, how just plain alone is the territory of the Brooks Range and North Slope. It is an area far larger than the size of California, with a total population less than that of a typical American shopping mall on a busy Saturday afternoon.

In terms of numbers, the North Slope of Alaska is home to about 10,000 or so industrial workers who commute up there for a few weeks at a time. They live in temporary housing constructed on gravel pads. The oil wells and pipelines all sit on gravel pads. And it is all connected to the south by a 20-foot-wide gravel Haul Road. The place appears to be very clean, and the end result is currently 775,000 barrels of oil per day to keep the U.S. economy running. Looked at in this light, I think that we have quite a remarkable trade-off going here. People are, of course, free to differ in that assessment.

Until we meet again…
Byron W. King

June 28. 2007

Letters to the Editor: Alaska was originally featured on Whiskey and Gunpowder. Visit Laissez Faire Books for the best selection of libertarian book titles.