In August 2020 China lifted the annual summer ban on its fleet’s fishing in the East China Sea (ECS). Amid speculation that China may use the opportunity to assert its claim over the Japanese-controlled Senkaku Islands, U.S. and Japanese naval forces conducted a joint exercise in the ECS to deter China. While much focus is paid to the Chinese claim of sovereignty over the Senkakus (China calls them Diaoyu), the dispute over the islands is partially nested within a larger dispute over the broader Exclusive Economic Zone(EEZ)/Continental Shelf boundary dispute between the two countries. As such, the implications of the islands’ sovereignty over the broader maritime boundary dispute and the respective strategies of China and Japan warrant closer examination.
East China Sea Claims and Disputes
United Nations Law of the Sea (UNCLOS) Article 57 defines the limitation of exclusive economic zones (EEZs), which are permissible up to 200 nautical miles from the baseline or to the median line if claims from opposing coasts overlap. Meanwhile, UNCLOS Article 76 defines the extended continental shelf, permissible to the shorter of the end of the continental shelf or 350 nautical miles from the baseline. Japan cites the median line as the maritime boundary, while China cites the limitation of the extended continental shelf as the boundary. The two states’ claims overlap in approximately 81,000 square miles of water.
The Senkaku Islands reside within the overlapping maritime zones. While Japan is not using the Senkakus’ baseline for further pushing the median line EEZ claim northwestward, the islands’ location on the very continental shelf China is claiming is of legal-strategic value. Japan’s possession of the Senkaku Islands would not yield a Japanese claim (equal to China’s) to the same continental shelf, which would favor a median line boundary. However, a potential Japanese claim of an EEZ deriving from the possession of the Senkaku Islands would require a boundary adjustment over a broad area of a new overlap. All this, however, is contingent upon the extended continental shelf limitation being in principle adopted as the maritime boundary.
Japan Coast Guard vessel PS206 Houou sails in front of Uotsuri island, one of the disputed islands, called Senkaku in Japan and Diaoyu in China, in the East China Sea August 18, 2013. (Photo via Reuters/Ruairidh Villar)
It is not likely that China’s claim of the extended continental shelf boundary becomes an internationally recognized boundary over the Japanese claim of the median line. Extended continental shelf claims have been recognized when they were undisputed, and any dispute must be first negotiated between the concerned parties. China is exploiting natural gas from the ECS seabed, but it has stopped short of digging inside the Japan-claimed EEZ. Some rigs are close to the median line, and Japan since 2005 has demanded the sharing of geological survey data to ensure gas is not siphoned from the Japanese side of the median line. China has refused sharing data and instead in 2008 agreed to “joint development” of the Chunxiao field. However, the terms of “joint development” were never agreed upon, and China has unilaterally operated Chunxiao and other new fields along the median line since then. A Chinese proposal to jointly develop another field inside the Japan-claimed EEZ was rejected by Japan.
The significance of the Senkaku Islands is thus their relevance to the broader maritime boundary disputes in the ECS due to their location inside disputed waters.1 This is in contradiction to the commonly held view that the dispute over the islands themselves generates a proximate EEZ dispute.
Japan’s strategy is that it retains administrative control within the disputed waters as much as possible. Japan has not allowed any Chinese gas exploitation (including joint ventures) inside the disputed waters. Chinese fishery enforcement within the disputed waters is limited to Chinese fishing vessels. Japan has also vehemently protested against Chinese public vessels entering the territorial waters around the Senkaku Islands and protected Japanese fishing vessels from possible interdictions by the Chinese.
China’s strategy is that it challenges Japan’s administrative control (wherever and whenever it can without starting a physical conflict) in order to register its “evidence” of administrative control. The level of presence of Chinese Coast Guard vessels inside the territorial waters of the Senkaku Islands set a new record in 2020. On one occasion, a Chinese vessel pursued a Japanese fishing vessel, inviting a Japanese Coast Guard vessel to place itself in between them in order to prevent an interdiction.
Number of Chinese government vessels in Senkakus’ contiguous zone/territorial sea 2009-present (CSIS/Asia Maritime Transparency Initiative)
Chinese presence inside the contiguous waters (24 nautical miles) around the Senkaku Islands has been more frequent, but the legal implications are far less tangible. The types of permissible control inside contiguous zones are limited to “customs, fiscal, immigration or sanitary laws and regulations” (UNCLOS Article 33), which are largely irrelevant to the uninhabited Senkakus. Outside the territorial waters of the Senkaku Islands, interdicting Japanese fishing vessels within the broader overlapping claims would run a greater risk of Japanese reactions because doing so would violate the explicit bilateral agreement to limit themselves to law enforcement against their own respective national registered vessels within the disputed waters. China has thus far abided by this agreement.
Conclusion
The two countries’ strategies are mutually deadlocked. The dilemma China faces is that while the presence of the Senkaku Islands under Japanese control potentially weakens China’s extended continental shelf claim, challenging Japanese control of the Senkakus will likely push Japan to resort to international legal arbitration over the sovereignty of the Senkakus and the overlapping claims in the broader ECS. That would raise the stakes and the risks of losing for China. The present deadlock over the ECS, under which China exploits energy resources and fisheries with little constraint, has allowed China tangible economic benefits. Japan, on the other hand, has attempted to defuse Chinese pressure on the Senkakus by not pushing the ECS boundary issue too hard, while retaining this card.
Yoichiro Sato is a professor at Ritsumeikan Asia Pacific University in Beppu, Japan.
References
1. Yoichiro Sato, “Japan’s Maritime Security: Continuity and Post-Cold War Evolution,” Maritime Security in East and Southeast Asia: Political Challenges in Asian Waters (Routledge, 2017; edited by Nicholas Tarling and Xin Chen), pp. 125-144.
Featured Image: In this Sept. 24, 2012 file photo, Japan Coast Guard vessels, right, and rear, sail along with Chinese surveillance ship Haijian No. 66, left, near disputed islands, called Senkaku in Japan and Diaoyu in China, in the East China Sea. (AP Photo/Kyodo News, File)
We’ve made it to Episode 15 and the Bilgepumps crew have been joined by the one, the only, Laughton Chair of Naval History from King’s College London’s War Studies Department, Professor Andrew Lambert. Or as Alex has called him since he supervised his PhD, Prof!
We are joined by him for an extended show that can best be described as what would happen if you sat four naval history geeks down in a room and gave them endless drinks, snacks, and told them to figure out who was the best admiral of all time for future leaders to model themselves on. Although we’re not in the same room, not even the same time zone, and definitely not the same continent. Alongside our love of naval history, one of us boxes with springy creatures and fights daily battles with ravenous wildlife, another builds model railways, the third’s Australian, and the special guest literally lives next door to an archive.
So after all that what is Episode 15 about? Well the #Bilgepumps team is being topical of course, so with all the problems of modern leadership and the changing world, who is the admiral from the past that best provides a template? Hornby? Cunningham? Nelson? The crew asks the Professor who literally wrote the book on admirals.
#Bilgepumps is a still newish series and new avenue, although it may no longer have the new car smell, in fact more of pineapple and irn bru smell, with the faint whiff of cork, but we’re getting the impression it’s liked. So we’d very much like any comments, topic suggestions or ideas for artwork tweeted to us the Bilge Pumps crew (with #Bilgepump) at Alex (@AC_NavalHistory), Drach (@Drachinifel), and Jamie (@Armouredcarrier). Or you can comment on our Youtube channels (listed down below).
In recent years the Colombian Navy has undergone a well-planned but less-than-well executed modernization to exert sea control and counter regional threats in both the Caribbean Sea and the Pacific Ocean. After significant changes in doctrine and procurement, the institution still struggles to contribute to regional security despite being a key U.S. partner in the region. More than a decade of doctrinal transformations and a more determined role in international cooperation and defense diplomacy runs the risk of losing momentum and clarity. At least three issues speak of the encroaching challenges the navy must face in order to consolidate itself into what it calls a “medium regional force projection navy.” Serious problems in the procurement of new frigates, budgetary issues, and an oversized force structure are working against the navy’s ambitions. Because of the Colombian security forces’ resilience, and particularly the navy’s institutional capabilities, the country’s military has the potential to creatively adapt its scarce resources to provide security against common threats, but it is facing a string of obstacles along the way.
Colombia’s Success Story and the Role of the Navy
The Colombian Navy has engaged in maritime security cooperation since the early 1990s through the signing of understanding agreements with the U.S. and regional navies to fight drug trafficking. By the mid-2000s, the value of international cooperation was institutionally acknowledged in the Naval Strategic Plans, but second to the need to counter domestic insurgencies and their sources of income. As with the other branches of the Colombian military, the actual value of international cooperation was mainly seen in the reception of security assistance rather than providing security in the international arena.
This trend, however, changed in 2008 with successes the security forces achieved against the insurgencies within the country. By 2009, the Ministry of Defense (MinDefensa) acknowledged the increasing value of the capabilities Colombian security forces gained in the fight against drug traffickers and guerrillas and its potential to offer solutions to similarly crisis-ridden countries worldwide. This has led to the acknowledgement that the Colombian Navy is not only a recipient of military aid, but also a net security provider and exporter. This has spurred its maritime ambitions. Through the Plan Estratégico Naval 2015-2018 (Naval Strategic Plan 2015-2018) and the Plan Naval de Desarrollo 2030 (Naval Development Plan 2030 or NDP 2030), the navy articulated for the first time the purpose of consolidating itself as a “medium regional force projection navy.” This plan, among other changes, devised a vision of the navy able to exert defense diplomacy, to take part in peacekeeping missions, and to export security in the form of training courses utilizing experience earned in longstanding internal conflicts against insurgencies.
Along with the continuing formulation of security and foreign policy, the Colombian Navy takes part in international naval exercises to signal its willingness to interact in multilateral security fora. Colombia has participated in in multinational exercises such as SIFOREX, UNITAS, RIMPAC, TRADEWINDS, and PANAMAX for years. The deployment of the offshore patrol vessel 7 de Agosto to the Horn of Africa to support the multinational force Atalanta and NATO’s Operation Ocean Shield between 2015 and 2016 (although not officially part of it) marked a turning point. These deployments constituted a robust step to qualify Colombia as a NATO “Global Partner” in 2018 and establish the country as a reliable partner capable of providing counterterrorism and maritime security support.
Sailors from Joint Base Pearl Harbor-Hickam handle mooring lines from the Colombian navy corvette ARC Narino (CM-55) during its arrival for a scheduled port visit. (U.S. Navy photo by Mass Communication Specialist 2nd Class Tiarra Fulgham/Released)
Many of these transformations can also be understood as the result of sustained investment of U.S. security and economic aid. Since the late 1990s, plans such as Plan Colombia, now renamed Paz Colombia (Colombia Peace) and most recently Colombia Crece, (U.S.-Colombia Growth Initiative) this year have helped to train and modernize the military forces to the point of being considered a success story, whose results should and can be replicated in other parts of the region and the world. In this sense, Colombia stands as a reliable regional actor for U.S. foreign policy to provide security solutions in both the Caribbean and the Pacific Ocean. However, such trends are not exempt from challenges and strategic uncertainty in the short and medium term.
Between Big Ambitions and Serious Drawbacks: Major Combat Vessels
Colombia’s expansive ambition to assert itself as a capable regional security actor also meant a reevaluation of current and future naval assets. Since 2015, the Plan Orion, Plan Puente, and Plan Faro (Plans Orion, Bridge and Lighthouse) intended to replace Colombia’s aging major ships. As a result, the navy acquired two second-hand German Type 206A submarines from the German Navy in 2012 to replace the old, Italian SX-506 submarines, and modernized the two existent Type 209/1200 submarines. Additionally, it built three offshore patrol vessels (OPVs) in Colombia with a license provided by the German shipyard Fassmer. Plan Faro also initiated what many consider the “crown jewel” of the Colombian Navy: the PES program.
The PES program stands for Plataforma Estratégica de Superficie (Strategic Surface Platform). It calls for the construction of up to eight frigates displacing 5,000 tons to replace the four German-made frigates of the Almirante Padilla class (FS 1500 – Howaldtswerke-Deutsche Werft, Kiel) currently in service.
However, some of these plans have suffered increasing delays. Only three out of four OPVs have been built and the PES project has reduced its scope and suffered delays despite only having reached the design phase. As a consequence, the new frigates projected will be limited to about 3,500 tons and their number will be reduced to only five vessels. They are no longer going to be built by 2027 or 2028 and no new date has been set. By 2019, there was no progress in the development of the PES project, as stated in COTECMAR’s 2019 report. So far the navy has put into service a donated South Korean corvette and declared the need to buy two second-hand frigates to fill the created gap. Among the possible candidates are Australian, Spanish, British Type 23, and German Bremen-Class (F-122) frigates. Any decision concerning the future selected vessels should take place next year, according to informed voices in Colombia close to the procurement process.
As stated in the Plan de Desarollo Naval 2042 (Naval Development Plan 2042 or NDP 2042) released earlier this year, the navy placed the PES program under the so-called PROCYON program. PROCYON (Fleet Building and Optimization Plan) also includes the PLOTEOS program which calls for the replacement of the four submarines in the silent fleet, the building of a logistics support ship, four additional patrol vessels, two amphibious transport docks, and at least one new maritime patrol airplane.
Vital to the success of these platforms is the growing shipyard industry and particularly COTECMAR(Science and Technology Corporation for the Development of Naval, Maritime and Riverine Industry), the state-owned shipyard company. The experience collected by the local maritime industry in the building of locally-designed riverine and seaworthy vessels contributes to work on the planned frigates and other major combatants. In Colombia, COTECMAR built Patrulleras de Apoyo Fluvial (Riverine Support Patrol Ships or PAF) type ships. The PAFs are domestically designed and used by the Colombian Marines for inshore security on the rivers and inland waters of Colombia, providing a cost-efficient solution for marines in domestic security operations.
The positive experiences earned at home with the PAFs helped raise the ambitions and scale of naval shipbuilding. In this sense, COTECMAR continued through the construction of coastal patrol vessels (CPV), three already-in-duty offshore patrol vessels (OPV) built between 2008 and 2017, and more recently an oceanographic vessel with Antarctic seagoing capabilities, as well as five Golfo de Tribugá class amphibious landing crafts (680 tons each). The Golfo de Tribugá class is particularly relevant, as it constitutes an international success for the Colombian shipyard industry. As important as the domestic market is, COTECMAR actively seeks to create new sources of revenue by selling crafts for dual-use, i.e. for civil and military purposes. Strategic partners such as Central American states procured amphibious landing crafts, which can be used for military operations or humanitarian aid relief operations. In 2019 and 2017, COTECMAR delivered two intercepting speed boats (Multi-Mission Interceptor 35 or MMI 35) used to fight drug trafficking and a logistics support vessel to the Honduran Naval Force for $13.5 million, as already discussed by Alejandro Wilder Sánchez on CIMSEC. A similar support vessel was sold to the Guatemalan Navy (Armada de Guatemala) for $11.7 million in 2019.
Despite these modest achievements, it remains to be seen whether the national industry will take root and be competitive in the coming years against well-established international shipyards. Additionally, and as Sánchezalso pointed out, the low volume of orders from international markets puts Latin-American shipyards in dire need of establishing a brand. For the Colombian case this means that there is still a long way to go before COTECMAR and Colombian maritime ambitions can be credible actors in the region capable of building frigates. In consonance with the imperatives of such long-termed planning, the National Development Plan uses a timeframe of 20 years or five presidential administrations to replace its main surface and submarine vessels.
Budgetary Issues, Navy Size, and Security Cooperation
A more pressing difficulty in putting into motion the plans of constructing new platforms lies in the growing budgetary issues MinDefensa has faced in the last years. Although the Colombian budget for security and defense is the second largest in Latin America after Brazil’s at $10.8 billion(2019), military spending for procurement is dwindling. In fact, $466 million or about 4.3 percent of the defense budget was allocated for acquiring military hardware in 2019. In comparison, MinDefensa still allocated 9.1 percent to procurement in 2011, a number that diminished to 5 percent by 2017, according to a report on defense and security spending by the National Office of the Inspector General. For 2020, the budget for procurement further shrank to 2.9 percent.
The navy naturally does not escape this trend. While its budget has been relatively stable at between 6 percent and 7 percent of defense spending in Colombia, the share of procurement has steadily decreased as well. According to the NDP 2042, the navy invested 19 percent in the acquisition and replacement of new material in 2011. By 2019, that number had decreased to 10 percent. The bulk of navy spending is for personnel. During the same timeframe it grew from 57 percent to 69 percent. For the Armada Nacional, increased spending on personnel means fewer resources for procurement and other vital investments, which enable the projection of capabilities in the region.
Most worrisome is the fact that the navy does not seem to seriously tackle this issue in the NDP 2042. The institution puts its hopes in a budget it anticipates will increase in the future and which will result in a more competitive maritime market than the navy is currently boosting. The navy defines itself as a force, which will reduce its personnel spending by about 50 percent by 2042 without detailing how it plans to cut back and prioritize other items in the coming years. In practical terms, the navy expects the political leadership to increase its budget to put in motion the needed investments at some point in the future. Nevertheless, an economy hit with a worldwide pandemic and a resulting 15.7 percent loss in GDP makes that less than likely in the coming years.
Instead of pressing for a larger budget, it would make sense to reconsider the size and purpose of the Colombian Marine Corps, which makes up the bulk of the Colombian Navy. Traditionally used to combat insurgents, criminal organizations, and employed to extend the state’s reach in the most remote areas, the Colombian Marines do not possess relevant coastal defense capabilities or the required capabilities for amphibious power projection. When compared to similar forces in the region the Colombian Marine Corps is clearly oversized. According to a recent chapter in The Military Balance journal, the navy relies on a force of 56,400 men and women, while the Colombian Marines amount to almost half of that number: 22,250, which is larger than equivalent units such as the Brazilian (16,000) or the Mexican Marines (21,500). Offsetting this large size however is the fact that that the Colombian Navy does not use junior enlisted personnel and relies on marine conscripts for those jobs, inflating the size of the marine corps relative to the navy.
Although Colombian Marines also have the responsibility for securing all of Colombia’s considerable river system, which has over 18,000 kilometers of navigable waterways, many of their responsibilities overlap with those of the Colombian National Police and face the need to change with a transformation in domestic security. This naturally belongs to a larger discussion about the roles of the security forces after the 2016 peace agreement. Despite its disproportionate size, there is no plan to downsize the amphibious branches in the coming 20 years. The NDP 2042 mentions no restructuring other than increasing urgent capabilities.
Reducing the size of the naval infantry has the potential to free up valuable resources, which could be used to equip the force with specialized capabilities and deploy it to peacekeeping missions. Strengthening projects such as the building of two amphibious ships (LPDs) and the navy’s CENCOPAZ(Training Center for Peacekeeping) is a clear step in the right direction. CENCOPAZ co-leads the training of peacekeepers in Colombia and constitutes one of those national centers in which the Colombian security forces train to share their know-how in riverine operations, humanitarian de-mining, and anti-kidnapping.
Despite the progress in adapting the navy for more intense international cooperation, there are concerning trends it should seriously address. The projected LPDs are still in their conceptual stage and do not have the priority the PES program enjoys. Even with Colombia cooperating with NATO as a “Global Partner” as military-political enticement for international cooperation, plans to send navy peacekeepers as part of UN or NATO missions have seen little progress. Between 2014 and December 2019, MinDefensa reports 858“certified soldiers” for peacekeeping operations out of 5,000 it originally planned to put through the training. The navy offers a slightly different number: in its 2015-2018 management report it states that CENCOPAZ trained 909 military, police, and civilian members in different courses for UN peacekeeping missions between 2015 and 2018, and points out that 687 (76 percent) come from the navy.
A Sober Look at the Future
The development of the Colombian Navy in the last decade has revealed an assertive regional naval force with the potential to evolve into a provider of regional security. This vision has materialized under the purpose of becoming a “medium regional force projection navy” with the right tools to exert sea control and cooperate with others to share what the Colombian military has learned during its historical fight against insurgencies and criminals.
All of this, however, seems to be at risk. There are at least three caveats to Colombian ambitions for international cooperation that are manifesting themselves in the navy. First, a well-structured procurement program intended to replace key combatants like frigates, has lost momentum. Second, naval defense spending leaves little leeway for the navy since manpower costs are hampering the ability to acquire the right tools to fulfill institutional missions. This, thirdly, intimately relates to the disproportionate size of the Colombian Marine Corps. They also have the potential to project the security solutions against terrorism and drug trafficking the national military is proud of, but can only be effective if they decrease in size.
In this context, the Armada Nacional should start thinking more about creating a slimmer and more effective navy in the face of political uncertainty, low budgets, and probably a long-lasting pandemic in Latin America. Otherwise, it may compromise its future of securing peace through international cooperation.
Rafael Uribe Neira graduated in Juny 2020 with distinction from M.A. Peace and Conflict Studies at the Otto-von-Guericke University in Magdeburg, Germany. He focuses his research on civil-military relations, narratives in security aid, and lots of pop culture. Since his time as a research assistant at the Institute for Security Policy at Kiel University (ISPK) in the fall of 2018 and as an intern at the UN in Colombia in Winter 2018/2019, he developed a keen interest in the Caribbean and its global ties. Follow him on Twitter @RafaelUribeN.
Featured Image: Colombian Marines board an amphibious assault vehicle at the beach in Ancon, Peru, July 16, 2010. (Wikimedia Commons)
The Chilean Navy is more than just a national warfighting force aimed at conventional deterrence. Earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, fires, and tsunamis are all examples of natural disasters that Chile faces in which the Navy is one of the first to provide support. Along with disaster relief and safeguarding life at sea, countering Illegal, Unreported, and Unregulated (IUU) fishing is one of the most economically important duties of the Chilean Navy. IUU fishing is not only a matter of protecting the economy, but it is also a matter of the sustainability of natural resources in the Chilean Exclusive Economic Zone (EEZ). To tackle IUU, Chile requires creativity, and resourcefulness. The key to accomplishing the task, like for many small- to medium-sized navies, is regional cooperation.
A 21st Century Chilean Navy
The current Chilean Navy motto — “Vencer o morir,” translated “to vanquish or die” — seems like a heroic and forged-in-war motto, fit for a Navy that has existed for over 200 years. The Chilean Navy saw its roots in the independence wars against the Spanish Empire in the early 18th century and has been ready to stand up to protect the country ever since.
This motto seems to highlight a conventional navy, focused solely on warfighting. However, in the 21st century, small- to medium-sized navies must be able to adapt to survive. Constrained budgets, peaceful geographic neighborhoods, and a need for resources elsewhere in the country — like hospitals, schools, or fighting the current pandemic — are the main threats facing navies like Chile’s today.
Located in the southernmost part of the South American continent, Chile’s reality is complicated. With an Exclusive Economic Zone (EEZ) of 1,063,741 square nautical miles, Chile has the world’s 10th largest sea area. Its primary ocean frontiers are the Pacific and Antarctic Oceans. Its search and rescue area of responsibility is roughly a quarter of the Pacific Ocean (7,726,163 nm2). And with this enormous area of responsibility, there are also myriad unconventional threats . Some of these include IUU fishing, drugs and person trafficking, sea pollution, natural disasters, and protecting the Antarctic environment.
Chile is also a maritime state. More than 95 percent of its exports and 90 percent of its imports come and go through the sea. Chile is a signatory of the Antarctic treaty, which comprises significant responsibilities like safeguarding life at sea in that area, and takes special precautions enforcing the Antarctic system to protect natural resources and the environment.
As a door to the Antarctic, Chile’s position in the southernmost part of the world makes it a natural bridge to launch expeditions (tourist, research, or supplying Antarctic bases) and serves as a logistical platform for search and rescue operations. It is in Punta Arenas where ships from different parts of South America, like Ecuador, Peru, Brazil, and Uruguay, establish their main supply port before starting their Antarctic patrols to resupply their bases.
To tackle the threats and responsibilities described, the White Book of Defense 2017 shifted the tasks assigned to the Navy to a more non-traditional military role, like humanitarian assistance, peacekeeping, and disaster relief. It also states the importance of conserving the ocean and its resources, keeping the Chilean oceanic territory safe and lines of communication open, to interact and cooperate with other countries that share a common interest to protect natural resources, and to increase the governance of ports and secure their logistics.
It should not be surprising that the number of assets required to accomplish all these tasks and keep patrolling the seas is far more than the eight blue-water warships, four offshore patrol vessels (OPVs), and eight Maritime Patrol Aircraft (MPA) the Chilean Navy has today.
The Threat of Distant Waters Fishing ships and IUU Fishing
The importance of fishing is made clear by the enormous fleet built by China. In the last few years, the Overseas Development Institute (ODI) reported that China owns roughly 17,000 distant waters fishing (DWF) boats, becoming the largest fleet in the world (ODI defines DWF as vessels in fishing activities outside a nation’s 200-mile exclusive economic zone). As early as this month, Ecuador announced that more than 300 fishing ships were operating close to its EEZ nearGalapagos Island. In 2016, an Argentinian Coast Guard ship sank a Chinese fishing vessel, the Lu Yan Yuan Yu, which was believed to be part of a bigger fleet fishing in Argentinian’s EEZ.
As Claude Berubereminded us on CIMSEC, navies and policymakers must be aware of the numbers. The People’s Republic of China owns 30 percent of fishing fleets and 20 percent of the fish is caught illegally. In Chile, the numbers paint a bleak future. $300 million worth of IUU fish were believed to be caught in the Chilean EEZ during 2017. IUU fishing is not only a threat to the economy, but it is also depleting the oceans. In the long run, it is a major threat to the sustainability of the maritime commons. In this vein, how can the Chilean Navy patrol its enormous ocean area of responsibility with a limited number of assets?
Pacific Ocean (Aug. 26, 2006) A Chilean Naval Coast Guard’s Visit Board Search and Seizure (VBSS) team conducts training aboard the Chilean M-class frigate Blanco Encalada (FF 15), during exercise PANAMAX 2006. (U.S. Navy photo by Mass Communication Specialist 2nd Class Christopher Perez)
The answer is ingenuity. Unlike other countries that separate the duties of conventional warfighting from those of policing the seas, e.g., the United States or Argentina, Chile has a single agency (the Navy) to patrol and enforce the law at sea, with the Chilean Naval Coast Guard subsumed under the Navy. Whenever naval ships sail or aircraft fly, they patrol Chile’s ocean territory to defend against both military and criminal threats.
The threats of distant waters fishing fleets and tight budgets are combining to push Chile and other like-minded regional navies to cooperate and share the burden. International exercises that emulate real-world challenges are a clear example of international cooperation in South America. Panamax, an exercise that focuses on security and stability in the Panama Canal, comprises 20 nations’ participation, including Chile, Peru, and the U.S. Other exercises include Teamwork South and Unitas. In both, more than five nationalities are represented. RIMPAC is another example of Chilean international presence through exercises. In 2018 Chile commanded the exercise’s maritime component, showing to the rest of the participants that the Chilean Navy is ready to assume more significant and complex challenges.
What Else Can Be Done?
It is difficult to overstate the Chilean Navy’s need for additional resources and better options to accomplish fuller patrolling of its oceans while keeping warfighting capabilities to deter possible adversaries. Crews onboard warships would prefer to exercise more warfighting capabilities and do more live firings, for example, than patrolling the EEZ. However, the Navy has to double its efforts to do more of both with limited assets.
As mentioned earlier, combined patrols seem to be one option to share the burden. In the Antarctic, Chile and Argentina currently run the Antarctic Combined Naval Patrol to safeguard life at sea while rationing assets. But this patrol is a short-term answer. As a more sustainable solution, Chile started building its Offshore Patrol Vessels (OPV) to cover long distances of the EEZ, but even with these platforms much more could be done.
A second option, offered by Claude Berube, could be to hire NGOs like Sea Shepherd and embark government personnel to enforce the law at sea at a relatively small cost (since NGOs use volunteers to man the ships). Another option, given by Peter Roberts from the Royal United Services Institute, could be joint efforts with private companies to increase Maritime Domain Awareness (MDA). For example, nowadays and amid the pandemic, there is a surplus of commercial aircraft that could be used to patrol the EEZ instead of the navy’s P3Cs. Commercial aircraft are not expensive to hire and would be available whenever the navy’s MPA needs to attend to maintenance or warfighting exercises.
Intelligence fusion centers are an excellent third option to help stop IUU. The significance of MDA is invaluable when it comes to sending ships or MPA to investigate possible criminal activities at sea. In the Chilean case, a national task force must be stood up before seeking to expand its reach via neighboring liaison officers. With the data gathered and processed in the fusion center, whether using satellite images or other agencies’ databases, Chile can more efficiently deploy assets to investigate IUU fishing instead of sending MPA without any leads.
Conclusion
Of the three options given, the first two seem cost-effective for small-to-medium navies, but may not be feasible in the eyes of the public opinion. If the Navy outsources patrolling the seas, then why does Chile need a navy in the first place? And with this way of thinking, resources could be allocated to other areas of the national budget. The last option, the IFC, seems a sustainable option that would do well for countering IUU fishing while strengthening bonds with like-minded countries. At first, this international effort could start by sharing only information, and as trust grows, it could go as far as patrolling the EEZ together with combined assets.
IUU fishing is a threat that no coastal country is free from. The numbers of long-range fishing fleets are growing, and natural resources are at risk of being depleted. However, the Chilean Navy must be prepared for the threat coming to its waters. International cooperation is critical to regional navies in South America, but it must start with us. Small- to medium-sized navies must act together to prevail.
Francisco Martinez is a Lieutenant Commander in the Chilean Navy. He holds a Master of International Affairs from Columbia University and is currently stationed at Chile’s Naval Polytechnic Academy. The views expressed are his and not necessarily those of the Chilean Academy or the Chilean Navy.
References
Berube, C. (2020, July 21). Stand Up A Joint Interagency Task Force to Fight Illegal Fishing. Center for International Maritime Security. https://cimsec.org/stand-up-a-joint-interagency-task-force-to-fight-illegal-fishing/44708
Chapter Eight: Latin America and the Caribbean. (2020). The Military Balance, 120(1), 388–443. https://doi.org/10.1080/04597222.2020.1707970
Crowley, E. (2018). La pesca ilegal en Chile, un problema más allá de nuestras fronteras. Aqua. https://www.aqua.cl/columnas/la-pesca-ilegal-chile-problema-mas-alla-nuestras-fronteras/
Defensa, M. de. (2017). Libro de la Defensa Nacional de Chile 2017—Ministerio de Defensa Nacional (MDN). https://www.defensa.cl/temas-de-estado/libro-de-la-defensa-nacional-de-chile-2017/
Gutierrez, M., Daniels, A., Jobbins, G., Gutierrez, G., & Montenegro, C. (2020). China’s distant-water fishing fleet: Scale, impact and governance. ODI. https://www.odi.org/publications/16958-china-s-distant-water-fishing-fleet-scale-impact-and-governance
Roberts, P. (2020, August 25). Maritime domain awareness: Multidimensional problem or opportunity? https://innovapolinav.cl/noticia_roberts.html
Featured Image: PACIFIC OCEAN (July 1, 2011) The Chilean Navy frigate Almirante Lynch (FF 07) participates in a live-fire exercise with ships from Chile, Colombia, Peru and the U.S. navies during the Pacific phase of UNITAS 52. UNITAS is a multinational exercise as part of Southern Seas 2011. (U.S. Navy photo by Mass Communication Specialist 3rd Class Stuart Phillips/Released) 110701-N-NL541-062
