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Wargaming the Future: A Year in Review of Wargaming at USC

By Jack Tribolet

In Fall 2023, the University of Southern California reconstituted its previously abandoned wargaming club. Ultimately, wargaming reemerged in two places for USC’s midshipmen, one as a mandatory test of knowledge after a precursory look at the impending Taiwan crisis in the Introduction to Naval Science (NSC 101) course and, second, as part of an optional club that met once a week for two hours. Observed midshipman learning from each group, spotlighted valuable lessons and provided two options for wider curriculum installment across the NROTC enterprise and Fleet. The educational application of wargames reaped undeniable returns to midshipmen growth, thus demanding the question—why is the Fleet not installing wargaming as an official, curriculum-integrated means of junior officer education?

USC ROTC wargaming. (Photo by Lieutenant Jack Tribolet)

In military history, wargaming has undeniably been well-applied in the analytical sphere to test doctrine and capabilities spanning from a reeling Prussian Army in the Napoleonic Wars to the generation of War Plan Orange pre-WWII. Today, gaming continues to occur at the highest levels of the US military. However, as an educational tool, few concrete steps have occurred to gain the full benefit of this powerful tool.

A couple of anomalies exist, such as the Brute Krulak Center for Innovation and Future Warfighting at Marine Corps University (MCU), which has developed its Wargaming Cloud to provide easy online access to competitive games to its students. Additionally, the newest edition of the NROTC governing Professional Core Competencies (PCCs) includes three vague line items regarding instructing basic knowledge of wargaming. Still, the MCU alone does not have adequate reach, and the new PCCs fail to provide instructors with the “how-to” and “why” necessary for organizational change. Modern wargaming began at the Naval Academy five years ago in the form of an elective course and an extracurricular activity with plans for outreach to the fleet and the ROTC community. In its current incarnation, wargaming has been broadened but only within the confines of Annapolis. However, there is currently no coordination in its current state.

Filling the Sails of Organizational Change

When starting the USC Wargaming Club, my first instinct was to find the most up-to-date educational wargame, Sebastian Bae’s Littoral Commander, and entice midshipmen with pizza in their off time to gain attendance. Robust class and work schedules left the club only meeting once a week in the evening for two hours. Excitement about launching a new organization emerged quickly, however, the rationale behind wargaming was not immediately clear to the students. Consequently, I recognized that the club would not survive my departure back to the Fleet. The club had to become self-sufficient to create lasting organizational change within the USC Trojan Battalion. Going back to the drawing board, I realized that the midshipmen needed a complete comprehension of “why” wargaming served a purpose, see personal progression, and, most importantly, they needed to have fun while participating.

Although we later employed Littoral Commander to significant effect, the need to simplify gameplay for participants unfamiliar with hex-based wargames prompted a search for a more accessible alternative.” Eventually, the club settled on Axis & Allies. We had a physical copy and multiple digital copies running side-by-side. Axis & Allies, while set during WWII, provided the essential lessons I wanted the students to gain initially—geographical familiarity, combined arms, and, most importantly, economy of force.

Using a crawl, walk, run method, the students progressed from game familiarity to spending significant time developing pre-game team strategies reproduced across multiple iterations simultaneously as different crews clashed. Teams soon learned the necessity of flexible plans and the requirement to anticipate enemy strategy.

Furthermore, the juxtaposition of digital games coinciding with the physical version delivered some interesting observations regarding the pros and cons of digital versus analog gaming. Midshipmen clearly preferred the video game version, appreciating its built-in rule enforcement and streamlined mechanics. However, I noticed that the board game players, while taking significantly longer to complete their iteration, had more buy-in to their game, non-active players remained attuned to the action, while their compatriots observing the digital game on a large television often had their heads down in phones or idle conversation.

Despite sometimes lacking full attention, the digital gamers far outpaced their board game brethren, finishing games in a little more than half the time. Generation Z’s preference for video games cannot be overstated. Digital games must be the organizational choice, and, unlike MCU’s Wargaming Cloud, it should include AAA titles such as Command: Modern Operations and Sea Power: Naval Combat in the Missile Age to maintain midshipman attention. This generational bias is a lesson that Sebastian Bae has recognized as Littoral Commander has recently gone into production to digitize.

A Soviet Kiev-class carrier burns after taking multiple Harpoon anti-ship missile hits in Sea Power: Naval Combat in the Missile Age. (Screenshot via Sea Power wargame)

While not as robust as Littoral Commander, Axis & Allies served its purpose; it drew participation, and the lesser complexity ensured inexperienced gamers remained engaged. The digital versions felt more familiar to a video game-saturated generation, whereas many had never played complex board games. This basic introduction to gaming offered accessible decision-making opportunities while reinforcing key lessons mentioned earlier.

After a semester of Axis & Allies, the club shifted to some of Sebastian Bae’s microgames, Callsign and Find, Fix & Finish. Due to their simplistic mechanics and single focus, these mini-games took ten to twenty minutes for the midshipmen to complete, allowed for multiple rounds per session. Looking around the room full of engaged students, I recognized it was time to return to Littoral Commander.  

Sebastian Bae’s Littoral Commander has everything you’d want to instruct midshipmen on the Taiwan Crisis: scenarios based around Taiwan, Luzon, the Straights of Malacca, and Okinawa. The game contains all five domains of war and even informational warfare elements. Once learned, these attributes are perfect for future Navy/USMC leaders to simulate scenarios and provide realistic decision points. However, the initial learning curve can be time-intensive for board game amateurs. Furthermore, setting up the board can take thirty to sixty minutes, even with multiple helpers. Lastly, I found the students spending far too much time selecting Joint Capability Cards (JCCs), which include nearly a hundred unique abilities to choose from for play. To mitigate these issues, I began showing up an hour early to set the board and decided the JCCs each team would have.

Game pieces from the wargame Littoral Commander. (Photo via No Dice No Glory)

Littoral Commander subsumed the last three weeks of Wargaming Club at USC. To ensure maximum participation, I created a scenario that included Luzon and the Philippines so that we could have a total of twelve players. This time around, the game was a total hit. Participation and attentiveness soared, and unlike Axis & Allies, the midshipmen recognized their future platforms and weapon systems, instilling a sense of realism and urgency into the gameplay.

In the end, China maintained a foothold on Luzon but was repelled by Taiwan with heavy losses, resulting within the realm of possibility and aligned with published professional wargames. The eagerness to play Littoral Commander surpassed previously observed midshipman behavior, and most of all, when Sebastian Bae announced the video game version, the midshipmen applauded his decision to go digital. They will undoubtedly be some of his first customers.

Lessons in Integrated Gaming

Creating USC’s Wargaming Club arose after three years of running an end-of-semester wargame for the 4/C (freshman) NSC 101 course. The class objectives for the NSC 101 course span basic introduction topics: Navy organization, traditions, platforms, USMC, and UCMJ, among others, but by time demands, it leaves roughly half the class time to dive into other topics.

Midshipmen love sea stories, which bring to life the job they aim for; however, in these dangerous times, I found it highly pertinent to study the Taiwan Crisis and Ukraine War with the extra time. This teaching strategy came to fruition in my second year when I assigned Toshi Yoshihara and James Holmes’ excellent book, Red Star Over the Pacific: China’s Rise and the Challenge to U.S. Maritime Strategy (2018). The midshipmen read and presented on various pertinent subjects: regional geography, history, People’s Liberation Army (PLA) platforms, US platforms, current events, and even culminated in a Q & A session with Dr. Holmes himself.

The final two instructional hours of the class weaved the entirety of their recently gained Taiwan knowledge into an instructor-led wargame. Dividing the class into two, they developed three courses of action, giving the CCP the initiative. The Allies had to create three scalable defensive strategies for their opening move. Forcing pre-planned responses emulated the fog of war surrounding a new conflict and demonstrated the rapidity with which plans can fall apart. Furthermore, I encouraged subterfuges at home and learned that many attempts occurred to steal one another’s plans during the interim between classes.

The NSC 101 wargame panned out on a large whiteboard, with me as a sort of “dungeon master” controlling the board and pushing the pace of play. I determined any probability-based moves or attacks by giving an odds of success and employing dice for the participants to roll. Like the final game of Littoral Commander, this wargame mainly centered around the Philippines, where the CCP gained a foothold despite enormous losses. Unlike Littoral Commander, this conflict iteration spread throughout most of Asia, including Korea and Japan, demonstrating the incredible danger a Taiwan War poses to spreading across the hemisphere.

The popularity of this semester-end wargame surged through the students, many even asking to continue the game despite the course ending. Thirty-five students participating in a single match proved a significant challenge, but I solved it by randomly cold calling to ensure maximum attentiveness and participation. This wargaming model in educational settings is easily replicable, which any Officer Instructor with Fleet experience could imitate.  

Ultimately, the purpose of wargaming remains to put the participant in the decision-making hot seat. To make important decisions under pressure, see the fallout of said decisions and enemy reaction, and most importantly, receive instructor feedback on their choices. The USMC has far outpaced the Navy in decision-making training with its Tactical Decision Games (TDGs) and Decision Forcing Cases (DFCs). The naval aviation community has simulator events and occasionally decent pre-flight walkthroughs. Still, these mainly revolve around platform tactics, techniques, and procedures, rarely forcing the participant to make gray-zone decisions.

Initiating decision-making training must begin early in officer accession pipelines and is best accomplished through curriculum-mandated wargaming. Incoming Officer Instructors could quickly receive instructional training to incorporate wargaming in NROTC at the Teaching in Higher Education course run biannually. The professional wargaming community has a deep bench full of capable instructors to maximize gaming in the NROTC enterprise, which would ultimately have a significant long-term effect and organizational change by delivering wargame literate officers to the Fleet. For now, the Trojan Battalion is preparing its first Wargaming Club meeting with the permanent absence of the Officer Instructor, who kicked the program off, meaning they achieved the first step towards organizational change.

Lieutenant Jack Tribolet was an Assistant Professor of Naval Science at the University of Southern California ROTC and was the course coordinator for Seapower and Maritime Affairs. He recently returned to the fleet as a Tactical Action Officer assigned to the Dwight D. Eisenhower (CVN-69).

Featured Image: A student describes his strategy during hands-on exercises at the Basic Analytic Wargaming Course taught by the Naval Postgraduate School Wargaming Mobile Education Team in Wiesbaden, Germany, Aug. 30 thru Sept. 10, 2021. (U.S. Army photo by Thomas Mort)

Security or Safety: What is AIS Really For?

By Jessie Caldwell

The proliferation of spoofing techniques has diminished the value of Automatic Identification System (AIS) in the context of maritime law enforcement. The open nature of the system prevents higher levels of data security and verification, meaning spoofed and falsified information will remain difficult to prevent without changing the very foundation of AIS. Given the need for accurate data when dealing with problems like sanctions violations or illegal fishing, using AIS data only muddies the waters and makes successful enforcement more difficult. 

AIS uses very high frequency (VHF) transmissions to automatically transmit and receive vessel information.1,2 It was designed as a safety tool to complement radio, visual, and radar navigation for collision avoidance, and the UN Safety of Life at Sea (SOLAS) Convention mandates all ships over 300 tons on international voyages and all passenger ships to maintain a functional AIS, broadcasting at all times. 

As AIS usage has increased, so have its applications. Sites like MarineTraffic and AISHub receive data from privately or publicly owned receivers and display it in real time, creating a public resource for maritime domain awareness. This data is used for cargo tracking, environmental research, search and rescue operations, sanctions enforcement, and illegal fishing investigations.3,4 AIS has additionally become an integral element of electronic chart and display information systems (ECDIS).5

What is Spoofing? 

The primary threat to AIS data is spoofing. Spoofing is a cybersecurity term, describing efforts by an actor to falsely represent themselves through illegitimate data. All types of data sent by the AIS, identified by C4ADS as dynamic, identifying, and voyage information, can be spoofed.6 

These threats are caused by weaknesses in the way the system generates, verifies, and transmits data. Both radio and software-based transmissions are vulnerable, but the distinction is rapidly becoming irrelevant due to software-defined radio. Traditional radio spoofing involves actors manipulating their systems to hide their identity or location while onboard. Trend Micro reported that after “purchasing a 700-euro piece of AIS equipment and connecting it to a computer in the vicinity of a port, the researchers could intercept signals from nearby craft and send out modified versions to make it appear to other AIS users that a vessel was somewhere it was not.”7 The cost of generating these signals is constantly decreasing. With the advent of software-defined radio, or radio that uses software instead of hardware, personal computers can be modified with a thirty-dollar piece of equipment and begin broadcasting.8

Software based spoofing is more versatile than radio-based. Global Fishing Watch describes the difference between software and radio frequency spoofing, “in past (radio frequency) cases, we observed vessels on the water that were broadcasting positions that corresponded to an area other than the true location of the vessel. In these new (software) examples, however, AIS tracks were present where vessels appear not to have been actually broadcasting AIS at all.”9 Many of the software-based spoofing exploits are caught because spoofers make identifiable mistakes. A telltale sign of software created ships are those detected outside the range of any terrestrial data receivers that could reasonably pick up their transmissions.

Bjorn Bergman, a data analyst with Global Fishing Watch, has another way of identifying digital intrusions. WIRED reported “the fake tracks were all shown as coming from shore-based AIS receivers, with none collected by satellites. Given that real AIS signals from civilian ships near the supposed warship tracks were received by satellites overhead, Bergman believes this shows the fake AIS messages were not generated by actual malicious transmissions.”4 The pattern in fake transmissions Bergman has identified is not public and has not been tested by outside sources, but he argues the problem is widespread:

“we don’t know how the false positions get combined with real data from terrestrial AIS antennas, though we can hypothesize that they could be produced by an AIS simulator program…While we initially thought the false data might be entering the data feed from a single terrestrial AIS station, it appears that false AIS positions were reported at a number of different terrestrial stations.”

Because of the lack of verification, it is not immediately clear where or which data is poisoning AIS feeds. This problem will only continue to develop as spoofers become more skilled in masking their activities and creating more realistic falsified data.

Illegal Fishing 

The back-and-forth between law enforcement and malicious actors is best demonstrated in illegal, unregulated and unreported fishing. Continuous enforcement at-sea presence is impractical given the sheer size of EEZ’s or restricted fishing zones, so AIS at first appears as an easy solution to tag broadcasting vessels that stray into unauthorized areas and appear to engage in fishing. However, as AIS monitoring became widespread, criminal behavior changed. To stay under the radar, vessels began to “go dark” by turning off their AIS before engaging in illegal activity. Numerous studies show fishing vessels allegedly engaging in this trick in the waters around the Galapagos.11 Therefore, a vessel with a nonfunctional or intermittently broadcasting AIS transmitter, potentially indicates that it is engaging in illegal fishing, warranting further investigation. To obfuscate this, spoofing is the logical alternative. Instead of “going dark”, vessels change their digital identity.

A vessel’s AIS signature has become a increasingly relevant to law enforcement case package development, helping to identify vessels engaged in illicit activities, and tracking them through time and space. A vessel’s digital identity is primarily made up of the information transmitted by AIS. Some elements are self-reported and can be purposefully entered incorrectly to disguise illicit activity. The most important piece of identifying information is the Maritime Mobile Service Identity (MMSI) number, a unique nine-digit number assigned to a vessel. It is supposed to remain unchanged save for during reflagging.6 There are security measures built into the hardware to prevent tampering and digital identity fraud. In some cases, the MMSI can only be changed after entering a passcode. These passcodes, while ostensibly only known by manufacturers and authorized technicians, can be found online, allowing sailors to reprogram and change their MMSI independently.

Vessel owners can also purchase multiple AIS transponders and use them to generate new ship identities with a “clean” MMSI number to confuse authorities. C4ADS refers to these two processes as MMSI tampering, occurring “when a vessel transmits the MMSI number of another vessel or an entirely fraudulent one in order to obfuscate its identity and activities. In effect, MMSI tampering creates new digital identities that severely impair the ability of maritime authorities and other vessels to identify a vessel and monitor its movements.”6 As such, spoofers can now generate an entirely false vessel history or steal a clean vessel’s data. 

Sanctions Enforcement 

North Korea is well known for spoofing the identities of their vessels to make it more difficult to timely identify which ships are violating sanctions.10 The 2019 case of the Tae Yang, a North Korean-flagged vessel, demonstrates this. The ship began broadcasting its location with the MMSI number of another vessel, the Mongolian-flagged Krysper Singa, while visiting North Korea. The real Krysper Singa was around Singapore. By stealing the Krysper Singa’s digital identity the Tae Yang made it appear that the other vessel was violating sanctions and kept its own MMSI number clean. This appeared on commercial databases as a “teleporting” ship since both vessels were broadcasting the same number the ship would appear first around Singapore, then suddenly seem to teleport to North Korean waters, then back. Royal United Services Institute (RUSI) as part of its Project Sandstone series discovered that commercial AIS tracking systems automatically clean and correct data, instead of highlighting anomalies. In this case they “inadvertently and incorrectly (linked) the real Krysper Singa to sanctions violations committed by the Tae Yang.”9 A careful review of satellite imagery was required to correctly identify the Tae Yang as the ship engaging in ship-to-ship transfers (STS) to violate sanctions. Another North Korean vessel, the KUM RUNG 5, cycled “through around 30 different identifiers, including names, Maritime Mobile Service Identity (MMSI) numbers, callsigns, and even IMO numbers, which are meant to be unique to just one vessel throughout its lifetime. This includes the use of at least four names in 2020 alone. Because the identifiers are programmed onboard the vessel, confirming the authenticity of the broadcast is not possible without other means of verification.”12 The Tae Yang didn’t hide the presence of a vessel at their location, but by switching their identification, made it more difficult to determine the real culprit. 

This problem extends beyond the vessel actively engaging in identity theft . Innocent third parties like the Krysper Singa are affected. Even if mariners correctly program their MMSI and other information, malicious actors can intercept and change the data from a terrestrial receiver as it is transmitted to online maritime tracking sites. 

Many tracking providers use the same data sources so a faked ship will appear on multiple maritime traffic sites.4 The malicious actor can therefore be on the other side of the globe from the targeted vessel, widening their reach, and achieve results similar to VHF spoofing. Hackers can intercept data packets and change a ship’s identity by changing their MMSI number, name, IMO number, and altering coordinates or headings. They can even “move” a vessel to an entirely new location. 

For example, at a 2013 hacking conference, two researchers moved a real vessel, the Eleanor Gordon, that was at the time located in the Mississippi River, to appear on a lake in Dallas.13 The false positions or identities generated by this type of threat are less likely to threaten vessels directly, as they rely on their onboard AIS and other methods of navigation, but they directly impact the other uses of AIS. Maritime law enforcement cannot rely on the publicly available aggregate data where these fake digital signals appear. Sanctions monitoring, fisheries enforcement, marine traffic analysis, and environmental research all rely on this data and spoofing leaves is meaningfully compromised.

Conclusion 

Under the present framework and technologies, it is extremely challenging to eliminate AIS spoofing. The system itself was not designed to pass along verified data – it was meant to be open and easy to transmit employ as a safety tool. It lacks inherent virus or malware protection, encryption, or data verification tools.14 Encryption is a potential method,15 however, as Ken Munro writes on Pen Test Partners blog,

“if nearby vessels don’t have the ability to decrypt the data, the safety benefit of AIS is lost…Finally, even if all transceivers featured and used encryption, a rogue user could simply purchase a legitimate transceiver from which to transmit tampered data.”3

Part of AIS as currently designed is that all ships can access it for safety. Attempts to limit bad actors from transmitting run the risk of preventing legitimate vessels from using AIS.

If spoofing is impossible to stop, the best option in the short term is to continue to improve detection capabilities. Machine learning and other big data tools have begun automating detecting certain patterns in AIS data that suggest activities like fishing or STS transfers and identifying vessels from vessel registry databases.7 Global Fishing Watch has developed an algorithm for identifying ghost ships and other researchers are developing similar programs to catch “teleporting” or identity switching vessels.11 This would limit the benefits to spoofing for illicit actors, as they would no longer be able to conceal and confuse their identity as successfully.

In the long term another system could be developed to directly address the deficiencies of AIS. Navigators can use other methods to augment AIS and prevent collisions while at sea. On shore, AIS was not designed for law enforcement. There is no way of verifying data to a high enough standard while keeping the system true to its roots as a safety tool. In the balancing act of openness and security, AIS was designed to be as open and easy to access as possible. Trying to force it to be more secure lessens its applicability as a universal safety tool. 

Jessie Caldwell is a recent graduate of the George Washington University’s Elliott School of International Affairs. She holds a Masters in International Affairs, focusing on transnational security issues.

These views are expressed in a personal capacity and do not necessarily reflect the official view of any government agency.

References

1. NAVCEN. “AIS FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS.” AIS Frequently Asked Questions, U.S. Coast Guard, 17 Feb. 2022, https://www.navcen.uscg.gov/?pageName=AISFAQ. 2

2. NAVCEN. “HOW AIS WORKS.” How Ais Works, U.S. Coast Guard, 8 Sept. 2016, https://www.navcen.uscg.gov/?pageName=AISworks.

3. Munro, Ken. “Hacking AIS.” Pen Test Partners RSS, 18 Sept. 2018, https://www.pentestpartners.com/security-blog/hacking-ais/.

4. Harris, Mark. “Phantom Warships Are Courting Chaos in Conflict Zones.” Wired, Conde Nast, 29 July 2021, https://www.wired.com/story/fake-warships-ais-signals-russia-crimea/. 

5. Fisk, Samantha. “Gloves off as Criminals Move from AIS Spoofing to AIS Hacking -.” Fathom World – Shipping and Maritime Industry News, 16 Sept. 2019, https://fathom.world/gloves-off-as-criminals-move-from-ais-spoofing-to-ais-hacking/.

6. Boling, Andrew, et al. “Unmasked: Vessel Identity Laundering and North Korea’s Maritime Sanctions Evasion.” C4ADS, 2021, https://c4ads.org/unmasked. 

7. Simonite, Tom. “Ship Tracking Hack Makes Tankers Vanish from View.” MIT Technology Review, 18 October 2013, https://www.technologyreview.com/2013/10/18/82918/ship-tracking-hack-makes-tankers-vanish-from-view/. 

8. Balduzzi, Marco. “AIS Exposed Understanding Vulnerabilities & Attacks 2.0.” Blackhat.com, Black Hat Asia, 2014, https://www.blackhat.com/docs/asia-14/materials/Balduzzi/Asia-14-Balduzzi-AIS-Exposed-Understanding-Vulnerabilities-And-Attacks.pdf. 

9. “Guidance to Address Illicit Shipping and Sanctions Evasion Practices.” U.S. Department of the Treasury, 14 May 2020, https://home.treasury.gov/policy-issues/financial-sanctions/sanctions-programs-and-country-information/north-korea-sanctions. 

10. Trainer, Cameron, and Izewicz, Paulina. “Unauthorized Flags: A Threat to the Global Maritime Regime.” Center for International Maritime Security, 20 July, 2020, https://cimsec.org/unauthorized-flags-a-threat-to-the-global-maritime-regime/. 

11. “Fisheries intelligence report reveals vessel behaviors associated with spoofing activity.” Global Fishing Watch, Global Fishing Watch, 17 October 2023, https://globalfishingwatch.org/press-release/fisheries-intelligence-report-reveals-vessel-behaviors-associated-with-spoofing-activity/ 

12. Storm, Darlene. “Hack in the Box: Researchers Attack Ship Tracking Systems for Fun and Profit.” Computerworld, Computerworld, 21 Oct. 2013, https://www.computerworld.com/article/2475227/hack-in-the-box–researchers-attack-ship-tracking-systems-for-fun-and-profit.html. 

13. Bergman, Bjorn. “Systematic Data Analysis Reveals False Vessel Tracks.” Global Fishing Watch, Global Fishing Watch, 29 July 2021, https://globalfishingwatch.org/data/analysis-reveals-false-vessel-tracks/. 

14. Bateman, Tom. “Fake Ships, Real Conflict: How Misinformation Came to the High Seas.” Euronews, 28 June 2021, https://www.euronews.com/next/2021/06/28/hms-defender-ais-spoofing-is-opening-up-a-new-front-in-the-war-on-reality. 

15. Katsilieris, Fotios, et al. “Detection of Malicious AIS Position Spoofing by Exploiting Radar Information.” IEEE Xplore, 12 July 2013, https://ieeexplore.ieee.org/document/6641132.

Featured Image: A containership steaming during sunset. (Photo via Wikimedia Commons)

War Without Surprises: Education for Command in the PLA Navy

This republication is adapted from “War without Surprises—Education for Command in the People’s Liberation Army Navy,” published by the Naval War College Review of the U.S. Naval War College. It is republished with permission.

By Ryan D. Martinson

Most analyses of Pacific scenarios have focused on the quantities and capabilities of the platforms that the PLAN might employ to achieve its campaign objectives. To date, there are very few studies about the people who would operate this hard­ware or the officers who would command them. This article seeks to contribute to this neglected area of China security studies. Specifically, it examines the role of professional military education (PME) in preparing PLAN officers to com­mand forces in combat.

PME is a key part of military officers’ preparation for command. It teaches them to look beyond the narrow confines of individual platforms or units and to consider the political, operational, and strategic issues relevant to joint action. Perhaps most famously, the USN officers who led the campaign to defeat Japan in the Pacific War—Chester W. Nimitz, William Halsey Jr., Raymond A. Spruance, Richmond K. Turner, and others—leaned heavily on knowledge and experience gained while students at the U.S. Naval War College. The education they received in Newport in the 1920s and 1930s prepared them for leadership by forcing them to grapple with the scenarios, situations, and challenges they later faced in a war with Japan. Repeated simulation of that conflict through strategic- and tactical-level wargames was a core component of their educational experience.

In the PLAN, midcareer officers on the path to senior command are required to complete two separate certificate courses at the Naval Command College (海军指挥学院) in Nanjing. These programs respectively prepare officers to command forces at two different levels of warfare: the high-tactical level (i.e., combined arms) and the campaign level (i.e., operational). In the event of a conflict, the success of China’s maritime operations will depend heavily on its naval officers’ leadership acumen. Thus, the type and quality of instruction they received at the Naval Command College will have a direct bearing on China’s wartime performance.

U.S. Chief of Naval Operations Adm. John Richardson (left) visits the PLA Navy Command College on January 15,  2019. (Photo by Chief Mass Communication Spc. Elliott Fabrizio, U.S. Navy)

Education for Command

Located in the city of Nanjing, the PLAN’s Naval Command College is the center of education for midcareer Chinese naval officers. The college provides two main courses of study: (1) an intermediate course, Naval Combined Arms Com­mand (海军合同指挥), for captains, and (2) a senior course, Naval Campaign Command (海军战役指挥), for senior captains. The intermediate course lasts ten months, the senior course five months. Officially, both courses are required for officers on the path to flag rank, but it is unclear to what extent this require­ment is enforced. Neither course confers a graduate degree, though the college does also offer separate MA and PhD programs for qualified officers.

Only PLAN officers may enroll in the two courses. While the college does ma­triculate foreign students, they take a separate course of study. This allows PLAN students to be fully immersed in the best available (i.e., classified) information about their own military and the militaries of potential adversaries. Officers from other PLA services do participate in short-term learning opportunities at the col­lege and may apply to its graduate-degree programs, but none appear to enroll in the naval command courses. PLAN officers who promote to flag rank will later attend a third educational course on joint operational command at the National Defense University in Beijing.

Intermediate Course

As the course title implies, students enrolled in the intermediate course focus their studies on the theory and practice of combined-arms naval warfare—that is, the employment of forces from two or more service arms (surface, submarine, air, marines, and coastal defense) to achieve operational objectives on or from the sea. The curriculum is intended to prepare them to serve in leadership posi­tions at the high tactical level, such as commanding an operation to degrade or destroy an enemy aircraft carrier strike group. Since 2012, the college has required intermediate students to study topics in military and national strategy, in recognition that naval officers—perhaps more so than the officers of any other service—must be prepared to make tactical decisions that could have major stra­tegic consequences. To that end, students take courses such as Strategic Guidance for Maritime Military Operations, taught by Professor Huang Chunyu. While in Nanjing, students are almost certainly required to demonstrate proficiency in Chinese Communist Party dogma, especially as reflected in the speeches and writings of party “core” and CMC chairman Xi Jinping.

Student learning objectives are met through several different pedagogical approaches. Courses had long been taught using a traditional lecture style. However, in 2014 the college began exploring the use of the “flipped classroom” methodology to increase student engagement. This approach requires students to come to class already prepared to discuss the content of outside readings. It is unclear what portion of courses are taught using this method today. Students are also assigned research projects relevant to real-world concerns and germane to their individual experience and expertise. One past project for intermediate students involved research on the best tactics for Chinese ship formations to “raid” (突击) enemy task forces.

Classroom lectures are supplemented by presentations from outside experts, both military and civilian, akin to the U.S. Naval War College’s Lectures of Op­portunity. Operational commanders are invited to visit the college to share their firsthand experience from the fleet. For example, in the summer of 2022, soon after completing a major training mission aboard a nuclear-powered sub­marine, the deputy chief of staff of a PLAN submarine base, Wang Jun (王俊), came to the college to present a lecture on the PLAN’s operational employment of submarines.

In recent years, the college has created programs to foster online collaboration with students and instructors from other Chinese PME institutions. The goal is to bolster student familiarity and awareness of the equipment and weapons (装备性能), operational characteristics (作战特点), and operational methods (战法运用) of other services. This represents an effort to cultivate naval officers capable of serving in joint leadership positions—an imperative in the postreform PLA.

Aside from traditional academic course work, students engage in “practical learning activities” (实践性教学活动) while at the college. Since students can­not practice their new knowledge and skills through the movements of real ships, submarines, missile batteries, and aircraft, they use simulation tools. These are made available in the college’s wargaming center, the Naval Combat Laboratory (海战实验室中心). Students use the laboratory’s facilities to conduct scenario development; one-sided simulations; two-sided, opposition-force simulations (双方对抗); and joint exercises. For example, students might play out a scenario in which Red (i.e., Chinese) surface, air, submarine, and coastal-defense forces must provide “cover” (掩护) for a Red submarine as it tries to break through a Blue (enemy) blockade. Students and instructors also participate in major training and analytic games hosted by the Naval Combat Laboratory. All these simulation activities culminate in a capstone graduation wargame, discussed in detail in the next section.

For some students, these practical learning experiences take place beyond the college walls. In 2012, the college created a program to include students in fleet opposition-force exercises by “embedding” (嵌入) them in Red or Blue com­mand posts. The intention was to provide students with opportunities to “digest the theoretical knowledge” (消化理论知识) they accumulated in the classroom, “master use of operational methods” (掌握战法运用), and “gain familiarity with the real situation at the fleet” (熟悉部队实际). This initiative reflected a deliber­ate effort by the college to “get closer to the fleet and focus on real combat” (向部队靠拢, 向实战聚焦). Students participate in these exercises under the guid­ance of college instructors.

After completing the intermediate course, officers are eligible for deputy divi­sion leader (副师职) command. A surface warfare officer, for example, could be assigned to serve as the deputy commander of a destroyer flotilla (副支队长). From that position, they may, for example, deploy as the commander of a PLAN surface task force operating in contested areas of the East China Sea, with ample opportunity to apply the skills and knowledge learned in Nanjing.

Senior Course

Beginning in September, the senior course lasts five months. While in Nanjing, the officers study “the theory of joint operational command” (联合作战指挥理论), “familiarize themselves with the employment of forces from other services and service arms” (熟悉军兵种运用), “research joint campaigns and operational methods” (研究联合战役战法), and study historical naval campaigns. Stu­dents likely master current PLA campaign doctrine and strategic guidelines as pro­mulgated by the CMC, in preparation for their future roles. Instructors assign senior students research proj­ects relevant to their warfare foci, such as best approaches to prevailing in a contest over a disputed island. Like students in the intermediate course, senior students some­times are sent out to the fleet to embed in command posts, both Red and Blue, during opposition-force exercises. Given the new emphasis on jointness, students have the option of visiting other PME institutions to learn how different services operate. As in the intermediate course, simulation is a major part of the curriculum, with a focus on the operational or campaign level of war. After graduation, senior students are eligible to serve in billets with the grade of division leader (正师职). A graduate could, for example, command a destroyer flotilla, or serve as the deputy commander of a naval base.

The Capstone Graduation Exercise

In January or February each year, students from the intermediate and senior command courses participate in a campaign-level capstone wargame formally called the “graduation joint exercise” (学员毕业联合演习). The exercise, code-named SEA PLAN (筹海), occurs over seven to ten days and involves about two hundred students plus approximately one hundred outside observers and partici­pants from other PLAN units, the theater commands, and other PLA services.

Though called “exercises” (演习) or “drills” (演练), these events meet the basic definition of a wargame (兵棋推演) as understood in both China and the West: namely, a simulated conflict involving opposing sides, who make decisions on the basis of established rules. Participants are divided into Red and Blue—and often Green (i.e., third party)—teams. Each side comprises different cells representing different levels of leadership in the chain of the command. The teams are given objectives and develop plans to achieve them. The conflict progresses on the basis of alternating decisions made by the warring sides, expert judgments about the outcomes of these decisions, external circumstances controlled by game direc­tors, and, of course, chance.

The annual SEA PLAN exercise is a major event at the college. The college’s president is heavily involved in the game; he or the political commissar serves as the overall exercise director (总导演). The head of the college’s Training Department and the college’s vice president serve as his deputies (副总导演). Executive game directors are senior members of the college faculty. The game di­rector (导演组组长) for the 2021 SEA PLAN exercise, for example, was Ji Shixun (计世勋), head of the college’s Operational Command Department.

The capstone exercise is also a major event for the PLAN and the rest of the military. Personnel from the theater commands, other services, and PLAN Headquarters commonly send observers to the games. SEA PLAN is considered a model for a campaign-level “command opposition-force exercise” (指挥对抗演习). Therefore, training departments from across the fleet send personnel to watch, participate, and learn.

The SEA PLAN exercises are held in the college’s Naval Combat Laboratory. The laboratory is considered the PLAN’s most advanced facility for campaign and tactical-level wargaming. It has been designated a “key warfare laboratory” (全军重点实验室), one of the few within the Chinese military. It is the navy’s only warfare lab (作战实验室) that does campaign and tactical simulation train­ing, operational-methods research, and testing and validation of operation plans. One PLA Daily article described the laboratory as “famous across the whole mili­tary” (全军著名的). Housed in “a mysterious structure” (一栋神秘建筑) next to the main teaching building, it is rarely photographed, either inside or outside.

Students from both the intermediate and senior courses participate in the Red cells, with senior course students serving as campaign-level leaders. Students make the bulk of the decisions, applying the knowledge they learned in the class­room. College faculty members grade them on their performance.

While some students are assigned to the Blue and Green teams, many of these positions are filled by college faculty members—specifically, personnel from the college’s Blue Team Center (蓝军中心). Created in August 2012, the Blue Team Center serves as a think tank comprising thirty-plus faculty experts who engage in intensive study of the strategies, doctrines, tactics, operational concepts, orga­nization, and leadership culture of real-world potential adversaries. Members of the college’s Blue Team Center are much sought after by the fleet for their exper­tise and frequently travel to support fleet exercises, providing advice to exercise organizers and playing members of Blue or Green command posts.

SEA PLAN organizers craft games that are intended to be realistic. Scenarios are based on real-world concerns and real-world adversaries or potential adversaries. Students who play Red are playing China. Participants who play Blue or Green are playing Taiwan, Japan, Vietnam, the Philippines, or the United States, de­pending on the scenario. For Red, the game’s command interface is based on the Integrated Command Platform (ICP) actually used by the PLA since late 2008. The capabilities of Red forces match existing Chinese capabilities. The same goes for Blue and Green. Students are required to give mock press conferences to ex­plain and defend their side’s actions, as military officers might be required to do in an actual conflict. Students apply real doctrinal concepts, such as the “Three Warfares” (legal warfare, psychological warfare, and public opinion warfare), to their campaign execution.

Red’s command levels are based on existing command-and-control structures, which have changed in recent years. The designers of SEA PLAN–2016 eliminated fleet command-post cells, replacing them with joint maritime operations com­mand posts, which, as in the real world, had the authority to command all PLA forces operating over water. According to participants, the new command-and-control arrangements increased the speed and efficiency of force employment, though commanders apparently had a difficult time processing the larger amount of information they received. To make these cells more realistic, the college invited outside experts to play other-service members in the joint cell. For the 2021 capstone exercise, for example, the college invited nearly a hundred outside personnel from the PLAGF, PLAAF, PLARF, and PLA Strategic Support Force from an unnamed theater command (probably the Eastern Theater Command) to play in the game cells.

SEA PLAN scenarios echo real-world events and concerns. In the Xi Jinping era (2012 to present), several of the games have involved “gray zone” incidents that escalated to armed conflict. For example, the 2014 war-game scenario started with a collision between a Red coast guard cutter and a Blue warship, resulting in injuries to Red personnel. The incident quickly escalated to conflict. The 2016 game centered on Red’s defense of a large oil-and-gas-drilling platform pre­sumably placed in contested waters, a scenario identical to that which occurred between China and Vietnam from May to July 2014 in the South China Sea. In the 2017 game, Red installed an “ocean monitoring station” (海洋监测站) in a disputed area, leading to a forceful response from Blue, including “obstruction and sabotage” (阻挠和破坏). At the time, the PRC was planning to install such a station at Scarborough Shoal, though it ultimately chose not to. The 2021 game was a Taiwan conflict scenario, presumably reflecting the growing tensions over the status of the island nation.

Naturally, U.S. military intervention in the types of regional conflicts being wargamed is a major concern for the players, and the college often includes a Green cell to play the United States (for those games where the United States is not the opposing Blue force). Green forces intervene in the conflicts in a variety of ways: they employ electronic warfare to obstruct Red operations; invent legal­istic rationales for maintaining presence in the vicinity of the conflict, complicat­ing Red’s actions; and share intelligence on Red with their partners and allies. In the 2021 game, Blue (as the United States) directly intervened in a Taiwan crisis, leading to armed conflict with Red. The episode began with a battle of wills: Blue insisted on maintaining a humanitarian corridor by creating no-fly and no-sail zones (禁飞禁航区) adjacent to the island. It then dispatched aircraft to the scene to conduct electronic-warfare attacks “to isolate the battlefield” (战场阻隔), putting Red in “a very difficult spot” (防不胜防). Red employed ocean surveillance vessels and antisubmarine warfare air­craft—which dropped large numbers of sonobuoys—to track Blue submarines operating in the area. Game adjudicators judged these efforts to be successful, with one Blue submarine sunk, the victim of a torpedo fired by a Red surface combatant. Blue responded with “integrated air and sea strikes” (海空一体打击行动) with the support of unmanned aerial vehicles employing electronic-warfare tactics, sinking or damaging several Red ships. Ultimately, Red prevailed by leveraging what its campaign commander—Senior Captain Jiang Zhonglin (蒋忠林)—described as its “obvious joint strike advan­tages in the theater” (我作战海区联合打击优势明显).

Conclusion

Fifteen years after the end of World War II, the then-retired Chester Nimitz vis­ited the U.S. Naval War College, where he praised the institution for its valuable role in preparing naval officers like him for command in the Pacific. Perhaps with some exaggeration, he declared: “The war with Japan had been re-enacted in the game rooms here by so many people and in so many different ways that noth­ing that happened during the war was a surprise—absolutely nothing except the Kamikaze tactics toward the end of the war; we had not visualized those.” That is high praise—and similar to what may well be applied by PLAN admirals to the Naval Command College in the future.

As this article has shown, the college at Nanjing is almost entirely focused on preparing naval officers to serve command positions in the future mari­time conflicts that China is most likely to fight. Students participating in the intermediate-level course are dedicated to the study of combined-arms naval command, while officers in the senior course concentrate on naval campaign command. In recent years, course work on strategic-level issues has been in­troduced to ensure commanders are able to grasp the larger context of their actions, but the core purpose of learning is to cultivate naval officers who can make rapid and smart decisions about how best to employ Chinese naval assets to prevail in conflict at sea.

The PLAN Naval Command College’s focus on naval warfare is reflected in its full embrace of educational wargaming. Gaming is treated as a didactic tool for both the intermediate and senior courses. Students are expected to leverage the advanced facilities available at the college’s Naval Combat Laboratory—the PLAN’s most advanced facility for tactical- and campaign-level wargaming. Moreover, the heart of the college’s academic calendar is a seven-to-ten-day capstone wargame held each winter. The school’s senior leaders are directly involved in the game, a reflection of the importance attached to it. The college as­signs members of its Blue Team Center—the PLAN’s premier corps of experts on China’s future enemies—to join the Blue and Green cells. The scenarios are real­istic, and the capabilities, organization, and doctrines of Red, Blue, and Green are intended to reflect real life. The result appears to be a highly valuable educational experience for the participants. In the words of one recent student, Li Haichen (李海臣), the sense of “shock and reflection brought by this exercise will follow me throughout my career.”

In sum, the Naval Command College strives to provide midcareer officers with a full appreciation of the conflict scenarios China could face and the military problems with which PLAN officers must grapple to serve as effective wartime commanders at the high-tactical and operational levels of war. Therefore, gradu­ates should return to the fleet well versed on the PLAN’s best estimates of how the next maritime conflict might start, where it will take place, who will be involved, and what roles PLAN forces will be expected to play.

This preparation, of course, does not guarantee superior command perfor­mance in China’s next conflict. As the profiles of three recent graduates of the senior course suggest, students come to Nanjing very raw, with deep experience in a particular warfare community, often in a single unit or geographic area, but with little if any meaningful engagement with other warfare communities in the PLAN, let alone joint experience. It is difficult to imagine that a mere five months at the college can transform these students into effective campaign-level commanders. Moreover, despite some efforts by the college to teach students about the cultures, capabilities, and jargon of other services, it fundamentally remains an institution focused on naval education. This focus puts it at odds with the current PLA imperatives to cultivate officers prepared for joint command. Lastly, effective wartime leadership requires a number of other qualities that may not—perhaps cannot—be cultivated at the Naval Command College, owing to factors inherent in China’s Leninist system. These involve questions of character, individual empowerment, and independence of thought.

Nevertheless, the PLAN’s approach to midcareer officer education should prompt some reflection within U.S. PME institutions—above all, within the U.S. Naval War College. Do existing curricula strike the right balance between strategy and policy studies and the practice of modern naval warfare? Do all graduates depart the College with a solid understanding of the capabilities, doc­trines, and organization of the country’s most dangerous potential adversary? How much educational wargaming is needed to give naval officers ample oppor­tunity to apply the knowledge they gain in the classroom? Despite the tendency of USN leaders to glorify the achievements of the War College in the 1920s and 1930s, it is the PLAN—not the U.S. Navy—whose midcareer officer education more closely resembles the practices of that era. Has the College simply evolved a better approach, or might there be elements from the past worth resurrecting?

Ryan D. Martinson is an assistant professor in, and a core member of, the China Maritime Studies Institute at the Naval War College. He holds a master’s degree from the Fletcher School of Law and Diplomacy at Tufts University and studied at Fudan University, the Beijing Language and Culture University, and the Hopkins-Nanjing Center. He researches China’s maritime strategy, especially its coercive use of sea power in East Asia. In 2021, Martinson won the Naval War College’s Civilian Faculty Research Excellence Award.

Featured Image: The guided-missile destroyer Nanchang steams in tactical formation during a maritime training exercise. (eng.chinamil.com.cn/Photo by Zou Xiangmin)

A Post-Mortem of the Red Sea Crisis: NATO versus the European Union

NATO Naval Power Week

By Anna Matilde Bassoli

After more than a year of disrupted global trade, the Red Sea Crisis appears to have no end in sight. Rather, in a series of leaked messages, senior U.S. officials have cast doubts over U.S. involvement and “having to bail Europe out again.” However, while frustration on each side of the pond is understandable, emotions fail to address the root causes of growing transatlantic distrust. The disjointed approach of the U.S. and the European Union to the Red Sea Crisis deserves thorough analysis as a critical yet overlooked cause of transatlantic distress. Indeed, the issue between the transatlantic allies is not who has to bail out whom. Instead, the emergence of the European Union (EU) as a security actor in the maritime domain has weakened the U.S. grip on NATO’s naval strategy. A coherent NATO naval strategy requires the United States and its European allies to align their postures, without the EU as the third wheel.

On December 18, 2023, the United States called upon allies to respond to the Houthi attacks on global shipping with the US-led Operation Prosperity Guardian. This multinational coalition was intended to include the United Kingdom (UK), Canada, France, Italy, the Netherlands, Norway, Spain, and others. However, only the UK, Canada, and Norway upheld their commitment. A few days after this announcement, most European navies withdrew to join the EU-led Operation Aspides, an overlapping defensive mission. Specifically, European navies explicitly rejected US leadership and command in an unprecedented transatlantic schism. The establishment of the EU-led Operation Aspides has resulted in a divided naval commitment and undermined efforts in the Red Sea Crisis in three crucial ways.

First, this divided effort has effectively deprived Prosperity Guardian of European naval assets over the past year. The Italian Navy has committed two destroyers and two frigates to Aspides, contrary to the single frigate initially announced in support of Prosperity Guardian. The French Navy has provided three frigates to Aspides, while it remains unclear what role they would have played in Prosperity Guardian. Similarly, the German and Belgian navies each contributed a frigate. Other European navies have divided their limited commitments between both missions, although it is unclear under which command. For example, the Hellenic Navy provided two frigates to Aspides, while the Royal Netherlands Navy contributed one frigate, a joint support ship, and aviation assets. Even the newest members of NATO, Sweden and Finland, have shown inconsistent commitment, with both countries providing only limited personnel. Despite its initial commitment to the US-led effort, Spain made no contributions. Interestingly, however, Spain’s ports benefited from the crisis, placing the country in an ambiguous position.

These commitments – or lack thereof – contrast sharply with the United Kingdom’s contribution to Prosperity Guardian during the same timeframe. In addition to the destroyers HMS Diamond and HMS Duncan, the Royal Navy provided two frigates and critical air support. While this still pales compared to the US show of force, it demonstrates the UK’s consistency in its transatlantic commitment. The other European powers cannot claim to have done similarly. The Danish Navy, for instance, sent the HDMS Iver Huitfeldt, but ship malfunctions plagued its performance, resulting in the dismissal of the Danish chief of defense. Furthermore, the French Navy has prioritized French-linked vessels, indicating that national interests rather than transatlantic ones drive their participation.

Second, the European decision to withdraw from participation in Prosperity Guardian shows how Europe was already veering towards strategic autonomy before the Trump administration came to the White House. Upon announcement, the Italian Ministers of Foreign Affairs and Defense specified that Italy, France, and Germany were pushing for an EU-only operation of a purely defensive nature, without land strikes. This European insistence on going solo deserves a deep dive. For starters, Europeans have criticized the Trump administration’s stance on transatlantic relations in recent weeks, calling for renewed unity. However, the lack of European support for the US-led effort demonstrates that European conduct has been inconsistent with their leaders’ rhetoric and parallel maritime commitments. For instance, Europeans have been eager to participate in Indo-Pacific exercises and showcase these efforts as a sign of strong friendship. In the same breath, Spain has actively participated in NATO exercises in the Mediterranean. However, a key question arises: how can the United States truly trust its European allies if they only show up to train and not to engage?

In this respect, the US offensive approach against the European defensive posture demonstrates that the transatlantic allies could not be more distant. By the time European navies were rotating their naval forces in the summer of 2024, some commentators had already started casting doubts on the effectiveness of Prosperity Guardian as a purely defensive mission. In response to this lack of results, the United States doubled down on eliminating the Houthi threat and deterring further attacks with strikes on Houthi positions in Yemen under Operation Poseidon Archer. Once again, however, European commitment has been limited, and preference has been given to the defensive posture of Operation Aspides. The problem plagues transatlantic relations is not the Trump administration’s aggressive stance towards Europe. Rather, the lack of entente between the US’s forward-leaning posture and the EU’s defense posture has eroded trust and partnership across the Atlantic.

Third, the US’s lack of acknowledgment of the EU as a security actor has undermined its efforts. Most recently, Michael C. DiCianna has argued that “Europe needs to fight the Houthis.” However, his analysis focuses only on Prosperity Guardian, as if it were the only ongoing operation in the Red Sea, incorrectly accounting for the European contribution. Similarly, Doug Livermore acknowledges European contributions but employs a US-only perspective to make the case for using force in the Red Sea Crisis. Neither of these authors seems to grasp the actual problem. It is not that Europe does not fight – from the European perspective, they are protecting sea lines of communication (SLOCs). Rather, the European and US perspectives on transatlantic security and interests do not align.

This analytical bias highlights two major problems in the US debate. First, it shows that the United States only views Europe through NATO lenses, while Europeans increasingly look to the EU to bolster their security needs. Operation Prosperity Guardian and Operation Aspides began while transatlantic relations were still good. So, why did the Europeans part ways with the United States? The most evident answer points to European strategic autonomy, meaning a European defensive approach for European interests within the EU.

As evident in the Red Sea, none of this concerns the United States. Rather, Aspides attempts to demonstrate that Europe could rely on the EU as a security actor. The strong push behind an EU-led, European-only defense, particularly regarding defense spending and the primary US request since the first Trump administration, is not the result of a sudden storm. Instead, renewed US aggressiveness has further nudged the Europeans towards strategic autonomy. Indeed, Europeans have been most vocal and proactive regarding their security, not within NATO, but in the EU. The EU will never fight for US interests or in the US way. This is not what the EU was created for. On the contrary, this was why NATO was established, making it an organization suited to defend US and European interests in the American way.

This also highlights the second major problem in the US debate. Because the United States ignores the EU as a security actor, it fails to recognize that the EU and NATO rely on two opposite perspectives. Misunderstanding the difference between the EU’s inward-focused posture and the US’s forward-leaning one undermines US attempts to reset transatlantic relations. While US commentators correctly ask Europeans to contribute more, they overlook their counterparts’ perspective. From the US point of view, fighting the Houthis means not only preventing attacks on the seas but also bombing their positions on land. For Europeans, this is excessive, rendering US complaints about their conduct dangerously pointless.

In no other domain has this mistaken approach had more consequences than in the naval domain. The US viewpoint is forward-leaning – hence, offensive – towards protecting SLOCs, involving heavy military force. On the other hand, the European perspective is reactive, building convoy-like defenses around commercial ships. In short, Americans prefer to charge ahead, whereas Europeans tend to build trenches. The Red Sea Crisis exemplifies this dynamic.

The Euro-American split has resulted in two overlapping operations acting from different perspectives without a common end goal. While the EU-led Operation Aspides focuses solely on protecting commerce, US-led efforts have multilayered strategic goals: protecting SLOCs, demonstrating maritime strength on the global seas, and eroding Iran’s influence in the Middle East by striking its proxies. From the US viewpoint, these goals are not isolated but interconnected ends on a dynamic maritime chessboard, where the ultimate objective is to checkmate China. From the European perspective, China is not even on the board.

Indeed, contrary to popular US belief, the Red Sea Crisis is not about European trade; rather, it is about US sea power. The United States is not fighting the Houthis to bail out freeloading Europeans. This view is contrary to US interests and damaging to US strategy. The United States is taking charge of a maritime crisis because it can still be the premier global maritime power. This demonstration of maritime strength sends two messages. First, the United States still dominates the seas. Second, the United States is not a dead sea power to China. Underestimating the value of these messages in the context of strategic competition with China is a fatal mistake for the US.

To be fair, concerns about straining US naval forces are valid and must be addressed. However, once again, these concerns must be addressed in accordance with US naval strategy, not against it. Indeed, an increased European commitment should not continue on the premise of split naval strength. This is an open subversion of all the basic principles of US naval strategy: overwhelming naval power, control of the sea lines of communications, and maritime dominance. If the United States concedes any of these to either friend or foe, the sea power that has supported US freedom and prosperity will crumble.

The United States must leverage NATO to align transatlantic allies. This will require two key steps. First, the United States must tone down its anger towards its transatlantic allies. Autonomy-seeking Europeans might be more incentivized to maintain their defensive posture if they view the United States as an adversary. So far, this trend has been evident, and there is no reason for the United States to make Europeans even less inclined to contribute to transatlantic efforts.

The second step could involve a more structured division of labor in the Red Sea. Throughout history, very few maritime crises involving land-based attacks on commercial shipping have ended without a major deployment of strength. While the United States has a strong interest in striking the Houthis to keep Iran in check, the Europeans have an interest in keeping SLOCs open. The current approach – the United States striking the Houthis from the sea while the Europeans continue their convoy-like missions – is a good starting point. However, the split command and lack of matching European resources must cease. To make this work, the Europeans should reduce their commitments in the Indo-Pacific until the Red Sea Crisis is resolved. This would allow the United States to allocate resources effectively between the two connected theaters. Likewise, the United States should clarify that a unified command is crucial to bring this crisis to a halt.

A better understanding of expectations and goals in the Red Sea could generate premises to mend transatlantic fences. Presently, no one has the perfect recipe to bring this crisis to a halt, and a split approach has likely extended the crisis. Not only have the Houthis taken the lead in messaging victory, but the first true victim of this crisis – the Israeli port of Eilat – has fallen under financial pressure. Time has run out for the United States to complain about Europe without a plan. Likewise, time has proven that the European Union is still not a reliable security actor. An integrated NATO strategy that accounts for both US and European perspectives is the only choice for victory. The alternative option spells defeat.

Anna Matilde Bassoli holds a M.A. in Security Studies from Georgetown University’s Security Studies Program and a MLitt in Strategic Studies from the University of St Andrews. She also earned a B.A. in Political Science and International Relations from Catholic University of the Sacred Heart in Milan, Italy. She currently works in the think tank industry, focusing on tech policy and security.

Featured Image: The UK Royal Navy (RN) Type 23 frigate HMS Richmond (foreground) and Type 45 destroyer HMS Diamond hand over on station as the RN vessel contributing to Operation Prosperity Guardian. (Photo by UK Ministry of Defence)