NATO Week

Parting Ways: A NATO Naval Strategy Without America

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NATO Naval Power Week

By CDR Paul Viscovich, USN (Ret.)

In this era of increasing danger, great power competition, and uncertain loyalties, the time has come for the North Atlantic Treaty Organization to declare its independence. As at the time of its founding, NATO’s strategic adversary is Russia. But unlike during the Cold War, the Alliance can no longer count on the military and industrial might of the United States in confronting the threat.

America has become an unreliable ally. With the threat of a general war in Europe now greater than it has been since 1939, the American president is imposing crippling economic tariffs on allies while unilaterally bargaining with Moscow on matters affecting European security. Western intelligence officers believe a Russian attack on a NATO ally by 2030 is, “a distinct possibility.” Whether the U.S. outright withdraws from the Alliance or simply reneges on its obligations, the Europeans and Canada must accept full responsibility for their own defense and embrace the challenges this will demand.

One of these responsibilities is developing a NATO naval and maritime strategy that is independent of American participation and priorities. To be effective, this strategy must address clear objectives, plan for developing the naval forces required to achieve those objectives, establish and practice a concept of operations, take immediate measures to prepare the battlespace, and implement supporting diplomatic and economic strategies.

NATO Naval Force Structure

Shipbuilding plans in support of the naval strategy must emphasize speed and economy. To avoid costly duplication of effort, it makes sense to assign responsibility for different platform and warfare missions to specific nations to guide their acquisition programs. Of necessity, the initial order of battle will be those ships and aircraft in each nation’s inventory. Over time, each maritime member would sacrifice having a balanced national fleet in favor of providing specialized pieces to create a more powerful and balanced continental fleet, one capable of simultaneously defending both the North Atlantic, the High North, and the Mediterranean and Black Seas.

Responsibility for providing large deck aircraft carriers would go to France, Italy, and the United Kingdom. Strategic ballistic missile submarines would logically remain with France and the UK. France, Germany, Norway, and the UK could provide attack submarines, both nuclear and conventional. Future construction of attack boats should focus on conventional propulsion since these are less expensive to build, quicker to complete, and they are lethally quiet when submerged.

Suffren, the first of France’s new Barracuda-class of nuclear-powered attack submarines. (French Navy photo)

The potential need for amphibious ships in both the Mediterranean and North Atlantic argues in favor of France and Spain specializing in this platform area. These two nations have major ports on both seas and extensive expertise in amphibious operations.

No fleet is complete without combat logistics support ships. France, Italy, and the UK each possess two such ships capable of providing fuel, refrigerated stores, and ammunition through underway replenishment. Germany and The Netherlands could pitch in with the units they possess, then take an increasing share of the future responsibility for this function with new construction. Logistical capabilities deserve to be a critical focus area if a continental fleet is to sustain peacetime patrols and wartime operations without U.S. support.

The smaller maritime nations could complete this combined fleet by providing the destroyers and corvettes to escort the aircraft carriers and amphibious assault groups, and for anti-submarine patrols in the North Atlantic. Belgium, The Netherlands, Turkey, and the Scandinavians are good choices to supply mine-countermeasures assets.

Due to its relative isolation, Canada is a special case. It has responsibility to maintain a balanced fleet guarding its coastlines on three oceans. But anticipating that Europe at war might rely on Canadian energy, foodstuffs, and munitions, Canada could help by building up its merchant fleet and convoy escorts.

A Concept of Operations 

NATO’s naval strategy should encompass three objectives: deny Russia’s European fleets from gaining access to the high seas, blockade Russian ports against all commerce, and protect Europe’s seaborne commerce and coastal flanks from attack. The Black Sea is one of these coastal flanks and within the context of overall NATO strategy, Ukraine’s survival and victory over the invader must be assured.

Preventing the Russian Navy’s ability to sortie from its ports and cutting its maritime commerce in Europe can both be addressed through control of chokepoints in the Barents and Baltic Seas, as well as the Bosporus Straits. Due to the great distance between Europe and Russia’s far eastern ports, blockading these is impractical and would require deployment of forces critical to defending NATO’s home theater.

The Barents Sea presents the greatest challenge due to its size and distance from the traditional centers of NATO naval strength. Transits through the Baltic and Black Seas are more easily controlled. An effective blockade of the Baltic Sea can be readily accomplished by German, Scandinavian, and Baltic state warships, attack aircraft, and anti-ship shore batteries. Due to the 85-foot mean depth of the Kattegat channel between Denmark and Sweden, submarines must transit on or near the surface. The Bosporus Straits into the Black Sea are also relatively shallow and are controlled and heavily defended by NATO ally Turkey.

A blockade of the Barents Sea would require an intensive deployment of maritime patrol aircraft, attack submarines, and destroyers, ideally under the protection of carrier-based aircraft. This force could be supplemented by Unmanned Aerial Vehicles (UAV) and Unmanned Surface Vehicles (USV). Drones are potent, relatively inexpensive, and can be manufactured en masse. The Ukrainians used these to great effect in neutralizing the Russian Black Sea Fleet. The Allies would be well-advised to study Ukrainian tactics while rushing these weapons to suitable sites along the Black Sea and in Norway for operational trials, especially under the harsh conditions of the Arctic winter.

Despite these precautions, the Russian Northern Fleet might still break out to challenge the NATO combined fleet and attack convoys from Canada. If a major fleet action fails to destroy this force or if the Allied fleet is itself destroyed, “Plan B” must cut the logistics lifeline between the deployed Northern Fleet and its White Sea homeport in Arkhangelsk. The Allies can take advantage of their interior lines of communication and proximity to resupply points to attack, re-arm, and re-attack. Simultaneously, Allied air and submarine forces’ piecemeal destruction of Russian logistic support ships shuttling through the Norwegian Sea would render the Russian attack unsustainable.

A more probable threat is posed by the Northern Fleet’s attack submarines whose operational forces can be conservatively estimated to number five guided missile nuclear submarines (SSGNs) of the Oscar II and Yasen Classes, and six nuclear attack boats (SSNs) of the Akula, Sierra II, and Victor III classes. If the United States declares neutrality, an additional five SSN/SSGNs might be detached from Russia’s Pacific Fleet for a transit beneath the polar ice cap to reinforce Northern Fleet assets in the Atlantic. Combined, these submarine forces could mount a serious threat to trans-Atlantic shipping and NATO’s coastal flanks.

Russian Navy Yasen-class submarine K-560 Severodvinsk. (Russian Ministry of Defense photo)

NATO should anticipate loss of access to acoustic intelligence from America’s Sound Surveillance System (SOSUS) arrays. This will seriously complicate the Alliance’s ability to detect and target Russian submarines operating in the North Atlantic. To offset this handicap, NATO will have to dedicate a significant number of anti-submarine warfare (ASW) air and surface units to patrolling the Greenland-Iceland-United Kingdom (GIUK) Gap. It can also consider deploying its own undersea sensor network to offer some relief to standing patrols and provide additional sources of intelligence. Maritime patrol aircraft can be deployed to suitable air stations along the GIUK Gap. Airfields in Keflavik, Iceland, and Nuuk, Greenland should be immediately equipped and provisioned to support these operations.

A permanent force of surface ASW assets will be needed in the Denmark Straits between Greenland and Iceland, and in the waters between Iceland and the UK to locate and attack Russian subs attempting to penetrate the North Atlantic. Along the relatively shallow (600-650-ft) Greenland-Iceland Rise, the most efficient use of assets would employ continuous active sonar searches above and below the thermal layer. USV equipped with variable depth sonar would be ideal in this capacity, especially as they are relatively expendable in the event of torpedo attack. French and Royal Navy SSNs should be employed in deeper waters, where their lengthy time on station and low acoustic signatures make them particularly effective at detecting and attacking adversary submarines. Canada can greatly support these efforts by building up the logistic support capabilities of its naval and air stations in Halifax to allow units in the Denmark Straits and western Atlantic to refuel and rearm with less time off station.

In addition to blockading Russian ports, the Allies might consider a commerce raiding strategy in the Arctic Ocean and Norwegian Sea. Where the threat of Russian anti-ship and tactical air strikes are low, maritime patrol aircraft could perform reconnaissance on behalf of surface ships and coast guard vessels and cue them to intercept potential blockade runners. Challenging merchant traffic transiting Russia’s Arctic Ocean littoral is probably too dangerous for manned Allied ships and aircraft. In this region, use of remotely piloted UAVs could locate suspect ships, warn the crews to turn back or abandon ship, and relay targeting data to attack submarines. 

Shape the Battlespace

There are tactical measures that can be taken now even before the creation of a combined NATO fleet. As far as possible, Alliance naval and military units deployed to Africa, the Indian Ocean, and east Asia should be recalled. As the Americans continue their pivot toward Asia, NATO should wish them well and concentrate its own forces to defend Europe.

Individual NATO members could schedule port visits to Romania, Bulgaria, and Turkish ports on the Black Sea and perhaps conduct combined exercises to exhibit resolve and practice international interoperability. Turkey could support this by relaxing provisions of the Montreux Convention that limit peacetime transits of the Bosporus Straits by warships.

An unannounced international naval exercise should be surged into the Barents Sea. This will serve two purposes. First, to demonstrate the Allies are capable of mobilizing such a show of force on the doorstep of Russia’s only European fleet that is not effectively land-locked, and to be able to do so without American assistance. Second, this should lead to permanent anti-submarine and anti-surface patrols by Allied destroyers, submarines, USVs, and UAVs working in mutual support.

March 11, 2015: Dutch warship HNLMS De Ruyter launches a Tomahawk missile off the coast of Norfolk, VA. (Photo via Dutch Ministry of Defence)

A tactic that adds an element of warning to these patrols could be surprise surfacings of Allied attack submarines near the Northern Fleet’s base in Arkhangelsk. Even an occasional nighttime visit to pop a red flare from just outside the territorial limit would inject an ingredient of caution into Kremlin strategic calculations.

Since the outbreak of war in Ukraine, there has been a disturbing increase of sabotage in western European shipyards, military facilities, and strategic industries. Counterintelligence, physical security, and cybersecurity efforts must be ramped up and coordinated across national boundaries in anticipation of fifth-column type offensives in the lead-up to general war. National security agencies and the NATO Counter Intelligence Center of Excellence should coordinate efforts to protect high ranking government, military, and diplomatic personnel against assassination. These efforts should be intensified at naval facilities to ensure clandestine Russian activity does not hamper the projection of NATO naval power in crisis.

Diplomacy

A naval strategy cannot stand alone, it will require supporting diplomatic and economic strategies. Diplomatically, the Alliance must shore up all members’ support for its new responsibilities. Part of NATO’s historic success has been its reliance on building consensus before taking any major action. But this also takes time, a commodity of increasingly limited supply. The potential for recalcitrant member nations attempting to obstruct a unified strategy should be anticipated and neutralized. The North Atlantic Council might even break with long-standing tradition and ask some nation other than the United States to nominate the next officer to serve as Supreme Allied Commander Europe.

An unfortunate but necessary step will require imposing strict limits on sharing intelligence with the United States. The careless attitude of senior American political leadership toward protecting highly sensitive information is a catastrophic operational security failure waiting to happen. The Alliance should also plan for how it will respond if the U.S. seizes Greenland by force, which could potentially trigger Article 5 of the North Atlantic Treaty.

Planning should begin now for incorporating Ukraine into the Alliance and working with that nation’s General Staff to identify where and which NATO forces can be deployed to best effect in the event Russia provokes war with the Alliance. Naval planning should investigate the feasibility of mounting a riverine campaign up the Dnipro River and into Russia. One possibility might employ disguised USVs carrying attack drones deeper into Russian territory to extend their tactical range and for possible use against supply lines supporting forces attacking the Baltic states. In order to buy themselves time, Europe, Canada, and other democracies threatened by the Kremlin’s expansionist designs must do everything possible to keep Ukraine in the fight. A consolidated naval and maritime strategy that supports this by threatening to restrict Russia’s wartime use of the seas will help.

Economically, the Alliance must insulate itself against the tariffs and embargoes threatened by the United States. Europe and Canada can reduce their dependence on American imports by finding new suppliers, such as by increasing energy purchases from OPEC and buying armaments from continental manufacturers. Western European arms manufacturers recorded about $146 billion in 2023 sales of military arms and equipment. Though this does not match the United States’ sales of $319 billion in 2024, it easily surpasses Russian production of $32 billion. And if the U.S. continues applying import duties to Canadian agricultural products, that nation will find a lucrative and strategically secure market for these products in Europe.

Conclusion

Dividing the U.S. from Europe is one of the Kremlin’s key strategies for reestablishing the hegemony that was once exercised by the Soviet Union. The European Allies and Canada missed the opportunity to work toward strategic independence from the United States by ignoring the now-obvious warning signs during President Trump’s first term. Yet in disengaging from American participation in the Alliance, NATO should still leave the door open to eventual reconciliation. Developing an effective continental navy in support of an untested naval strategy will take time and there will be missteps along the way. But it should be viewed as a core effort to secure Europe, one that will provide confidence regardless of the state of American reliability.

Paul Viscovich is a retired U.S. Navy commander and Surface Warfare Officer with 20 years of service. He graduated from the U.S. Naval Academy in 1975 and earned a Master of Sciences degree from the Naval Postgraduate School in 1987.

Featured Image: Royal Navy Nuclear submarine HMS Vanguard arrives back at HM Naval Base Clyde, Faslane, Scotland following a patrol. (Ministry of Defence photo by CPOA(Phot) Tam McDonald)

NATO Week

NATO Naval Power Week Kicks Off on CIMSEC

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By Dmitry Filipoff

This week CIMSEC will feature articles submitted in response to our Call for Articles on NATO Naval Power.

NATO finds itself at an inflection point as U.S. commitment to the alliance is in doubt while the war in Ukraine rages on. The maritime dimension of NATO’s security deserves to be extensively reevaluated in light of these circumstances. New strategic and operational considerations can shape the alliance’s naval power as it adapts to the most uncertain threat environment it has faced in decades.

Below are the articles and authors that will feature during the topic week. This list will be updated as the topic week unfolds.

“Parting Ways: A NATO Naval Strategy Without America,” by Paul Viscovich

“Maritime Security on NATO’s Southern Flank: The Case for a Spanish Coast Guard,” by Gonzalo Vázquez

“The Case for a Baltic SNMG-3: Developing Regional NATO Forces at Sea,” by Steinar Torset and Ian Bowers

“Keeping America Engaged: Three Possibilities for European Navies,” by Michael D. Purzycki

“French Maritime Strategy – Carrier-Led and Indo-Pacific Focused,” by David Scott

“Strengthening Unity of Effort in the Atlantic: Lessons from Wargaming,” by Walter Berbrick and Terence Nicholas

“A Post-Mortem of the Red Sea Crisis: NATO versus the European Union,” by Anna Matilde Bassoli

Dmitry Filipoff is CIMSEC’s Director of Online Content. Contact him at [email protected].

Featured Image: NORWEGIAN SEA (July 4, 2021) A CH-148 Cyclone helicopter of Standing NATO Maritime Group 1 flagship HMCS Halifax (FFH 330) conducts a hoist exercise with Royal Norwegian Navy Submarine HNoMS Utvaer in the Norwegian Sea during Exercise Dynamic Mongoose 21 on July 4, 2021. (NATO photo by B. Underwood)

Drones/Unmanned

An Unmanned Hellscape Needs a 21st Century Hephaestus

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By Scott Humr

Introduction

To understand the future, it is helpful to consider the past. Greek mythology can offer rich parallels to modern military technologies and concepts. Recent conceptions about the defense of Taiwan from a Chinese invasion through a “hellscape” of unmanned systems harkens to the mythical robot Talos to protect the island of Crete. Talos, a giant bronze robot, was commissioned by Zeus and built by the Greek god of invention and blacksmithing, Hephaestus. This lone Talos robot is said to have marched around Crete thrice daily and hurled boulders at invading enemy vessels.

While a single Talos was able to accomplish such mythical feats, the defense of Taiwan is envisioned to require “tens of thousands” of unmanned robotic systems. However, wishful thinking is not the bridge that will let us cross from myth to reality. Yet, “[w]ishful thinking” are the words of a retired Peoples Liberation Army Navy officer used to describe Admiral Paparo’s strategy for an “unmanned hellscape” if China were to conduct a cross straits invasion of Taiwan. While such an invasion of Taiwan and subsequent armed conflict would likely not benefit China, the fact remains that employing unmanned systems in the quantities envisioned by the United States would require its military to further develop both capacity and know-how to oversee such a complex endeavor.

If an unmanned hellscape is to move from fantasy to credible threat in the eyes of an adversary, the U.S. Navy, as part of the Joint Force, must take concrete steps to address weaknesses in its current conceptualizations of unmanned future warfare. To overcome these obstacles, the U.S. Navy can lead the way by appointing a robotics and autonomous systems czar to interface and invigorate industry, develop forward deployed naval robotics formations, and oversee a deeper investment in the forces needed to operate these systems.

Naval Robotics and Autonomous Systems Czar

The appointment of a naval robotics and autonomous systems czar or Razar [pronounced: “razor”] can provide the authority within a single individual to generate the momentum needed to overcome the challenges to making any vision of a credible robotics force a reality. However, reporting suggests that rising demand for weaponized drones could strain existing U.S. industrial base capacity. Specifically, when it comes to scale, history provides a poignant example of how a leader with a singular focus can move mountains.

With the commencement of hostilities near the end of the 1930s, U.S. leaders concluded that they needed to get the country on a wartime footing by scaling production quickly. The U.S. was able to bring about a massive change at a scale never before seen and not yet repeated up to this point. The appointment of William Knudsen as Chairman of the Office of Production Management with an eventual commission as a Lieutenant General in the U.S. Army helped rapidly expand the defense industrial base by fostering both innovation and production at scale. Along with others such as Henry Kaiser and “Cast-Iron Charlie” Sorensen, Knudsen helped organize and rally the American industrial base like no other in history to achieve unprecedented levels of production needed by the Allied powers, a 20th century Hephaestus. Knudsen’s efforts were only possible because of the authority vested in him by U.S. President Franklin D. Roosevelt and his own hard-won upbringing for understanding mass production like few others. Arguably, the U.S. Navy can do the same today.

While the U.S. Navy leads the Joint Force in operationalizing autonomous systems, it still needs a Razar to help lead and synchronize its efforts to ensure autonomous systems integrate with other platforms and capabilities. The Razar can lead the service’s efforts to help drive industry and cross-coordinate with the Joint Force for the development of common protocols and common control for autonomous systems technologies. Furthermore, the Razar can be the single office for Fleets and Type commands, who are responsible for readiness, training, and equipping of specific categories of naval capabilities, to interface with for the development of standards, open architecture approaches, testing, and assimilation of autonomous systems across the U.S. Navy. Without a Razar, the likelihood of a plethora of systems taking hold without a single integrator to help coordinate how these platforms will operate within current and projected naval concepts is bleak, particularly in the new age of “precise mass.”

A disjointed effort by the U.S. Navy will result in a greater number of incompatible systems, standards, and communications devices, which squanders precious time and limited resources. Rather, to succeed in this space, the U.S. Navy must appoint a Razar who is trilingual in technology, military operations, and acquisitions and has the authority, interpersonal skills, and enterprise knowledge to not only cut through bureaucratic red tape but is able to build bridges with industry. The Razar can also act as the lead sled dog of the Joint Force for helping implement Senator Roger Wicker’s Fostering Reform and Government Efficiency in Defense Act. To this end, the Razar’s efforts should become the Type command for future robotics formations.

Robotics Formations in the Fight

For the U.S. Navy to compete effectively with autonomous systems, robotics formations continuously operating forward should be its bid for success. The Ukrainian military has already demonstrated the utility of dedicated robotics force. While it can make sense to integrate some autonomous systems into existing formations, high-end capabilities will require additional technical acumen, safety considerations, and advanced tactics, techniques, and procedures developed by a dedicated core of personnel. A Razar can oversee the professional development of dedicated units that understand the complexity and nuance needed to employ autonomous systems effectively while ensuring seamless integration into other naval formations.

A dedicated robotics force will require a host of new qualifications, training standards, and readiness considerations. Large scale integration of such systems into current formations would add a tremendous amount of additional requirements on top of an already overburdened sailor’s list of current qualifications. Attempting to maintain additional qualifications for robotics or autonomous systems on top of existing requirements, will result in watered down proficiency, or worse, only a superficial understanding of autonomous systems capabilities. This projection is backed by a recent Government Accountability Office report which found “the Navy does not fill all required ship positions, and that sailors assigned to a ship are sometimes unavailable for duty (for example, temporarily assigned to another ship) or may have inadequate training or preparation for their positions.” Combined with already higher stress levels the force is experiencing, the U.S. Navy cannot afford to make its already overworked sailors do more.

Rather, cohesive units of robotics systems operators who can train and learn together are a superior proposition. When brought in early for planning naval operations, such personnel can provide unmatched expertise to support the operational commander and properly integrate into planning staffs. The Navy’s Robotics Warfare rating is a great start and their continued professionalization as a vital component to the naval service. It is also critical that robotics professionals are prepared to do without the contract support many units have become accustomed to expect in warfare.

Warfare, for the U.S., is an inherently governmental function. However, the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan demonstrated that a bevy of contracted support or field service representatives were necessary to employ a variety of technologies and provide in-country repair services. While the expansive forward operating bases of Iraq and Afghanistan provided a relatively safe area for contractors to operate, future battlefields in and around the First Island Chain will not provide the same level of sanctuary.

Placing robotics formations in the First Island Chain is also necessary for gathering the data necessary to train and improve machine learning algorithms for target recognition and autonomy before conflict erupts. This will allow robotics operators to improve their craft, especially in emissions control conditions where contacting distant support is not only unavailable, but dangerous. Operating forward in competition will allow robotics professionals to continuously perform operational test and evaluation, which is impractical if performed in its traditional manner. For these reasons, forward deploying dedicated robotics formations becomes an imperative to demonstrating a credible robotics force against Chinese aggression, improving autonomous systems tradecraft, while also demonstrating a strong commitment to our allies and partners.

Invest in Humans

The Razar can also act as the lead advocate for the development of robotics personnel, which are anticipated to increase. There are already reports from the war in Ukraine that make clear the necessity and importance of fielding large numbers of drone operators. These operators also provide critical oversight and expertise for employing autonomous systems capabilities to ensure both their legitimate, ethical, and effective use. Naval robotics personnel would provide the necessary legal and ethical oversight of autonomous weapon systems and assurances for helping overcome their complex employment. Because war is fundamentally a human endeavor, having human oversight over autonomous systems are key to demonstrating U.S. commitment to International Humanitarian Law and applying appropriate levels of human judgment required in Department of Defense Directive 3000.09. However, the Navy’s lowering of recruitment standards coupled with an already difficult recruiting environment may prove detrimental for inculcating the technically proficient human capital necessary to sustain such an envisioned robotics force that hellscape requires.

Key for adherence to these and other ethical principles is not only having educated, and well-trained personnel at all levels of command who understand the implications of employing autonomous systems, but professionalized units who specialize in autonomous systems. A key pillar of the Navy’s unmanned campaign framework is the investment in warfighter education. To accomplish this with personnel responsible for leading autonomous systems implementation, the U.S. Navy needs to expand its education at Carnegie Mellon University and the Naval Postgraduate School while furthering opportunities to include other schools for incorporating additional courses on the ethical employment of autonomous systems. Incorporation of more human factors and human-machine interaction training including the use of a detailed case study method will go a long way in developing greater understanding needed for autonomous systems operators and leaders alike. Accordingly, the realization of human-machine teaming with autonomous systems will only come about through a comprehensive appreciation in the development of the human side of the autonomous systems equation. To be sure, complexity does not stop there either.

Robotics and autonomous systems also operate within a system of other complex systems. When such systems are linked together in various kill webs or chains of diverse technologies, complexity increases nonlinearly. The combination and integration of different waveforms, assorted protocols, numerous encryption schemes, and variability of track formats makes complexity rise where mistakes can eventually compound. Robotics operators and their leaders need to become familiar with the myriad challenges associated with technologies within which autonomous systems are integrated. Having highly trained individuals will support easier integration of newer autonomous systems and associated technologies into operational plans. Fittingly, well-trained robotics personnel generate greater rapport for their organizations by establishing trust and confidence to commands and allies they support.

Hellscape’s Holdups?

The appointment of a Razar to oversee all robotics and autonomous systems also has drawbacks. It will centralize a number of aspects that may slow some units down for adopting and integrating autonomous systems in the short term. Moreover, an argument could be made that the U.S. Navy should let a thousand flowers bloom for robotics technologies and promote decentralized innovation. While the appointment of a Razar should not inherently slow down the development of robotics systems and their adoption by other units, a bias toward incorporation at the highest levels is still necessary. Instead, a Razar can take many of the best-of-breed innovations and systems to ensure they support naval forces in a unified way. The Razar can act as the key linkage to other Type or functional commanders in a way lower-level units may struggle to see adopted at scale. Moreover, the Razar is needed to advocate for the significant number of doctrine, organization, training, materiel, leadership and education, personnel, facilities, and policy considerations to account for future programming of resources to ensure autonomous systems do not become an ephemeral capability.

Another potential drawback is not integrating them at scale within a carrier or expeditionary strike group (C/ESG). While this may be true at a certain level, it cannot be looked at as a shortcoming. Rather, through the use of liaison officers, pre-deployment workup opportunities, and envisioning such units as lethal eyes and ears of the C/ESG, forward deployed autonomous systems placement more than makes up for any apparent non-assimilation. Additionally, paired with forward deployed Marine Corps Stand-In Forces provides a more robust landward component of the Navy that will help keep the door open for the Joint Force, to include allies and partners. Predictably, the Joint Force could one day see the addition of a Combined Force Robotics Component Commander as part of a Joint Task Force in the very near future.

Conclusion

The U.S. Navy, and the Joint Force, in general, face an impending crisis for supporting the defense of Taiwan against any number of potential Chinese actions to bring Taiwan under its control. However, the ability to create a hellscape will require a U.S. Navy intimately familiar with the capabilities and limitations of numerous robotics systems. Furthermore, burdening current units with large quantities of autonomous systems is equally unlikely to result in increased lethality and effective integration but instead weaken current capabilities due to the additional training placed on already overtasked personnel. Such an approach is a recipe for disaster and disuse of robotic systems. Instead, the future is professionalized naval units specializing in human-machine integration with the ability to seamlessly incorporate them into any number of naval formations. This will, however, require the U.S. Navy to have standing forces of these teams if it is to truly benefit from these advanced systems.

Unlike Talos, today’s robotic systems require significant human oversight and additional capabilities to orchestrate a credible capability. Yet, in similar fashion to Talos, robotic systems today can suffer from a number of singular flaws. The Razar should oversee mitigations through continuous development, training, and employment that will address these shortcomings. The ichor that powered Talos in Greek mythology is analogous to the data and connectivity necessary to operate a vast network of robotics and autonomous systems to create a hellscape. A ‘Hell-Razar,’ therefore, must address these potential points of failure.

The myth of Talos provides interesting parallels to the protection of an island by a robotic force. To address this future state, the U.S. Navy can lead the way by assigning a Razar to both coordinate better integration while bolstering defense business, develop forward deployed autonomous systems formations, while also expanding and investing heavily in its robotics personnel. This is what is needed to get “more players on the field” quickly to make our adversary’s think twice while also demonstrating a credible and employable capability to the Joint Force, allies, and partners.

Scott Humr, PhD, is an active duty lieutenant colonel in the United States Marine Corps. He currently serves as the deputy director for the Intelligent Robotics and Autonomous Systems office under the Capabilities Development Directorate in Quantico, Virginia.

The views expressed are those of the author and do not reflect the official position of the United States Marine Corps or the Department of Defense.

Featured Image: A Global Autonomous Reconnaissance Craft (GARC) at a Technology Readiness Experimentation event in San Diego in March. (Photo by Johns Hopkins APL/Steve Yeager)

Maritime Law

Why Do Nations Voluntarily Limit Their Jurisdictional Reach Over Stateless Vessels?

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A version of this piece was originally featured by the U.S. Naval War College’s Stockton Center for International Law under the title, “Rudderless and Adrift: States’ Unwarranted Timidity Respecting
Stateless Vessels.”

By Andrew Norris

Despite the fact that the oceans are extensively used for contraband smuggling, including narcotics, there is not a correspondingly robust legal regime at sea for contending with this problem. Except for a very limited coastal State entitlement to ‘prevent’ customs offenses (including narcotic trafficking) in the contiguous zone, the flag State alone is entitled to exercise prescriptive, enforcement and adjudicative jurisdiction over its vessels and those aboard them for such offenses in all waters outside the sovereign waters (i.e. territorial sea and inward) of another State. UNCLOS Article 108 merely exhorts States to cooperate in combatting narcotics trafficking at sea, and treaties such as the United Nations Convention against Illicit Traffic in Narcotic Drugs and Psychotropic Substances (hereinafter Vienna Drug Convention), the Jeddah Amendment to the Djibouti Code of Conduct, and Caribbean bilateral agreements typically just provide fidelity on how such cooperation should occur. The Right of Visit (ROV) per UNCLOS Article 110 is a useful tool, but is limited to a determination of vessel nationality only – jurisdiction over a vessel for any narcotics trafficking offenses remains the sole province of the flag State in the case of a properly flagged vessel.

Specific to the issue of law enforcement jurisdiction at sea, Article 4 of the Vienna Drug Convention requires Parties to take measures to establish jurisdiction over violations of their narcotics criminal laws occurring in their territory or on board a vessel flying their flag. It also suggests that Parties take measures (such as obtaining flag State consent) to establish jurisdiction over vessels flying the flag of another State. What Article 4 does not touch on is the ability of States to establish and exercise jurisdiction over vessels without nationality or those assimilated to vessels without nationality under international law (collectively referred to hereinafter for ease of reference as stateless vessels).

Recognizing that the inability to exert maritime law enforcement jurisdiction over stateless vessels creates a significant gap in the overall global effort to combat narcotics trafficking at sea, some nations have extended their jurisdictional reach more robustly over such vessels. For example, Article 3 (Jurisdiction) of the 1995 Council of Europe’s ‘Agreement on Illicit Traffic by Sea,’ implementing Article 17 of the Vienna Drug Convention, requires a State Party to ‘take such measures as may be necessary to establish its jurisdiction over the relevant offences committed on board a vessel which is without nationality, or which is assimilated to a vessel without nationality under international law.’ Similarly, the U.S. fulfilled its obligations under Article 4 of the Vienna Drug Convention by expanding (and routinely exercising) its jurisdictional reach over stateless vessels in its principal maritime narcotics smuggling law, the Maritime Drug Law Enforcement Act (MDLEA).1

Unfortunately, such robust jurisdictional postures with respect to stateless vessels engaged in narcotics trafficking at sea are more the exception than the norm. It is not entirely clear whether the failure by many States to more aggressively assert jurisdiction over stateless vessels is the product of legislative lethargy (it requires affirmative action by a State to decide on, adopt, and publicize an enhanced jurisdictional posture) or a mistaken belief that a more robust posture is forbidden by or contrary to international law. As demonstrated below, this second basis is legally incorrect, and to the extent nations are failing to adopt a more robust jurisdictional posture toward stateless vessels based on it, they are voluntarily and needlessly restraining themselves to the ultimate benefit of maritime criminals.

Neither Conventional law, customary international law, nor decisions of international tribunals prevent a more robust exercise of jurisdiction over stateless vessels. The Conventional (or treaty) law of nations, as embodied in UNCLOS, does not answer the question of the extent of jurisdiction States may exercise over Stateless vessels. All it says, in Article 92(2), is that ‘[a] ship which sails under the flags of two or more States, using them according to convenience, may not claim any of the nationalities in question with respect to any other State, and may be assimilated to a ship without nationality.’ This provision is unsatisfactory in several ways. First, it only relates to one of several means by which a vessel can be considered stateless for jurisdictional purposes – it is entirely silent as to other means (e.g. true statelessness, failure to make a claim of nationality). Also, it provides no guidance at all on the ultimate issue, which is the jurisdictional consequence of a vessel being ‘assimilated to a ship without nationality.’

Equally unsatisfying in terms of establishing or defining the international law related to jurisdiction over stateless vessels is State practice. Customary international law results from a general and consistent practice of States that they follow from a sense of legal obligation. A doctrine or principle that rises to the level of customary international law is binding on States to the same extent as treaty law. Unfortunately, as comprehensively addressed in Chapter 15 of the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime’s Maritime Crime: A Manual for Criminal Justice Practitioners (3rd ed.), ‘there is no settled answer’ in State practice to the scope of jurisdiction that a boarding State may assert over a stateless vessel. According to the Manual, ‘[s]ome States may determine that they can, in effect, treat the vessel as one of the boarding State’s own nationality’ and as a consequence ‘may claim that it can assert the same jurisdiction over the suspect vessel as it could assert over a vessel of its own nationality.’ However, ‘[o]ther States may be of the view that the statelessness as such of the vessel does not suffice in order to assert jurisdiction over the vessel and the persons on board. Accordingly, they would assert jurisdiction only if there is some other jurisdictional link with the activity of the vessel or the persons concerned’ – such as, for example, an assault on a boarding officer during a ROV boarding. Which viewpoint is correct is not the point here. Rather, the mere fact that this divergence in practice exists, by definition, means there is no settled customary international law that settles the issue.

GULF OF OMAN (Dec. 24, 2023) Bags of illegal narcotics seized from a vessel are stacked on the deck of the U.S. Coast Guard Sentinel-class fast response cutter USCGC Clarence Sutphin Jr. (WPC 1147) in the Gulf of Oman. (U.S. Coast Guard photo)

The consequence of international conventional law that remains largely silent on the issue of the jurisdictional effect of vessel statelessness, and State practice falling into one of two divergent camps, is there is no definitive ‘rule of international law’ on the issue of stateless vessel jurisdiction. In such a case, the Lotus principle (deriving from Case of the S.S. “Lotus” (Fr. v. Turk.), 1927 P.C.I.J. (Ser. A) No. 10), which is a fundamental principle of international law, stands for the proposition that ‘[the absence of a definitive rule] leaves [States] a wide measure of discretion, which is only limited in certain cases by prohibitive rules. As regards other cases, every State remains free to adopt the principles which it regards as best and most suitable.’

In other words, the focus in the absence of generally accepted law is not on whether international law permits a certain action, but rather whether is prohibits such an action. In the absence of such a prohibition, ‘all that can be required of a State is that it should not overstep the limits which international law places upon its jurisdiction; within these limits, its title to exercise jurisdiction rests in its sovereignty.’

In 2024, the U.S. Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals in United States v. Marin (No.22-50154, decided on January 17, 2024) applied the Lotus principle to uphold a provision of the MDLEA that permits the U.S. to assert prescriptive, enforcement, and adjudicative jurisdiction on the basis of statelessness over ‘a vessel aboard which the master or individual in charge makes a claim of registry and for which the claimed nation of registry does not affirmatively and unequivocally assert that the vessel is of its nationality.’ According to the court, ‘[d]efendants do not identify a rule of international law requiring an oral claim to nationality be rebuttable only by a denial by the claimed flag state. In fact, such a rule could lead to the untenable result that neither the boarding state nor the claimed flag state have jurisdiction over a vessel so long as the claimed flag state does not confirm or deny nationality —undermining international law’s role of facilitating the “achievement of common aims.”’ Since, according to the Marin court, no international law prohibits the specific practice at issue, the U.S.’s exercise of jurisdiction on this basis ‘is not contrary to international law under the Lotus principle’ and does not ‘overstep the limits which international law places upon . . . jurisdiction.2

A U.S. court ruling is most certainly not determinative on the issue outside the United States. However, that ruling squarely addressed the international legality of perhaps the most aggressive of the situations in the MDLEA that permits the U.S to exercise jurisdiction over a vessel on the basis of statelessness, and determined that there was no rule of international law forbidding such an exercise in that situation. Assuming this conclusion is correct, application of the Lotus principle leads to a conclusion that the U.S. or any other nation choosing to adopt this particular approach to stateless vessel jurisdiction is free to do so as an exercise of State sovereignty.

The same conclusion would apply to any other approach not specifically prohibited by international law. In fact, it can be argued that in view of the invitation, if not mandate, on States to expand their jurisdictional reach as a central component of the global scheme to cooperatively address the scourge of narcotics trafficking at sea, the failure by States to avail themselves of mechanisms not prohibited to them by international law is a self-inflicted infirmity that weakens the global commitment to good order at sea and unnecessarily cedes legal ‘space’ at sea to would-be traffickers and other purveyors of maritime disorder.

The bottom line is that States should clarify the extent and parameters of their jurisdiction over stateless vessels in their domestic laws. In doing so, they should join the States that, according to the UNODC, ‘determine that they can, in effect, treat the vessel as one of the boarding State’s own nationality’ and as a consequence ‘may claim that it can assert the same jurisdiction over the suspect vessel as it could assert over a vessel of its own nationality.’ There is no legal bar to them doing so, and failure to do so merely weakens their own maritime law enforcement power and the overall global scheme to address disorders at sea. And finally, though the focus of this analysis is on narcotics trafficking, that is merely for illustrative purposes. There is no reason whatsoever that nations could not similarly extend their jurisdictional reach over stateless vessels for any other types of maritime crimes or disorders, subject to any other legal limitations that might exist.3

Andrew Norris, J.D., is a retired U.S. Coast Guard captain who currently works as a legal and regulatory consultant through his business, Tradewind Maritime Services Inc. In 2024, he has supported the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime in their maritime capacity building programs in the Pacific Ocean and Indian Oceans East regions. He also supports U.S. Defense Support of Civilian Agencies (DSCA) capacity building programs in partner nations. He is a founder of the Maritime Security and Governance Staff Course at the U.S. Naval War College, a resident 5-month course for international officers focused on maritime activities and missions short of war. His principal area of recent focus is on fostering collaboration and system improvements by judges, prosecutors, and enforcers to better achieve a successful ‘legal finish’ in maritime law enforcement cases.

References

1 Title 46 U.S. Code Chapter 705

2 There have been some international court rulings that call into question the continued vitality of the Lotus principle in the jurisdictional context. However, those cases related to jurisdiction over universal crimes (such as war crimes or piracy), which, being international crimes, cannot by definition be the subject of differential state jurisdictional interpretations. That is not so with respect to non-universal crimes like narcotics smuggling; the 1988 Vienna Convention, for example, acknowledges the competency of States to craft criminal prohibitions and their jurisdictional reach, even as it provides guidelines on the types of criminal activities such laws should address. It is the author’s view – not to mention that of the U.S. Ninth Circuit – that the Lotus principle, rooted as it is in State sovereignty, is alive and well in the context of jurisdiction over non-universal crimes, including narcotics enforcement.

3 For example, the U.S. adopts the MDLEA’s jurisdictional scheme over stateless vessels in its principal fisheries enforcement law. See 16 U.S.C. 1802(49). This is in accord with exhortations by, e.g., the Indian Ocean Tuna Commission or the Western and Central Pacific Fisheries Commission (WCPFC) that nations ‘take all necessary measures, including enacting domestic legislation if appropriate, to prevent vessels without nationality from undermining conservation and management measures’ adopted to conserve and protect covered fish stocks. Conservation and Management Measure 2009-09, WCPFC.

Featured Image: Gulf of Oman (Aug. 30, 2022) Bags of illegal narcotics sit on the deck of a fishing vessel interdicted by U.S. Coast Guard fast response cutter USCGC Glen Harris (WPC 1144) in the Gulf of Oman. (U.S. Coast Guard photo)

Fostering the Discussion on Securing the Seas.