ByDale A. Jenkins, with contributions from Dr. Steve Wills
The Battle of Midway in June 1942 is best known for the brave actions of U.S. Navy carrier pilots who, despite heavy losses and uncoordinated action, were able to find and destroy four Japanese carriers, hundreds of Japanese naval aircraft, and hundreds of irreplaceable Japanese aviators and deck crews. What is not often remembered is that the defense of Midway was a joint effort with Marine Corps and Army aircraft also playing a brave role in the defense of the island against Japanese attack. Today, the U.S. military almost always fights in a joint context, and the Battle of Midway, especially in the key decision of the Japanese strike commander to rearm his reserve force for a second attack a Midway, highlight that even a small joint contribution can force an opponent to make fateful decisions. In this case, joint action contributed to a decision that cost the Imperial Japanese Navy victory and likely sealed the fate of its four-carrier task force and the lives of thousands of Japanese sailors.
A Joint but Disorganized American Team
By May 27, 1942, a week prior to the Battle of Midway, the code breakers at Pearl Harbor were able to advise Pacific Fleet commander Admiral Chester Nimitz that the Japanese Striking Force, which included at least four aircraft carriers, would launch an air attack at first light on June 4th against the defenses on Midway Island to prepare for an amphibious landing on the island. Nimitz reinforced Midway with every plane he could mobilize to defend the island: old Buffalo fighters and a few new Wildcats, Avenger torpedo planes, B-26 and B-17 bombers, Marine Dauntless dive bombers, Vindicators, and amphibious PBY Catalina patrol aircraft. Among these aircraft were a number of Marine Corps and Army aircraft. Nimitz planned to have three Pacific Fleet aircraft carriers, Enterprise, Hornet, and Yorktown in a flanking position northeast of the projected southeast Japanese track aimed directly at Midway, and then to coordinate with the land-based aircraft to concentrate his aircraft over the Striking Force for a simultaneous attack on the Japanese forces.
Poorly Coordinated Air Battle
While Army and Marine Corps aircraft did not make up the majority of the combat aircraft, they had the vital role of supporting Navy patrol aircraft by expanding the search around Midway Island and providing more early warning. Without the Army B-17 bombers performing maritime search, fewer Navy aircraft would have been less to patrol around the carrier task force. Although Navy patrol aircraft ultimately detected the Japanese occupation and striking forces, the additional patrol space provided by Army aircraft helped ensure the detection and warning to Midway before the attack.
At 0430 on June 4, the Japanese carriers launched 108 planes, half of their total force, to attack the Pacific Fleet shore defenses on Midway Island. The remaining planes constituted a reserve force: attack planes armed with anti-ship torpedoes and armor-piercing bombs, and a large complement of Zero fighters. At 0603, a U.S. PBY patrol aircraft from Midway located the Japanese carrier fleet. Strike aircraft from Midway flew to intercept the Japanese carriers and land-based Buffalo and Wildcat fighters rose to defend the island. Marine Corps gunners on Midway fired antiaircraft guns at the attacking Japanese aircraft. The military facilities on Midway were heavily damaged in the attack with hangers and barracks destroyed. Casualties among the Midway aircraft defending Midway were equally heavy. Of the 26 Marine Corps F2F Buffalo and F3F Wildcat aircraft that opposed the Japanese strike on Midway, fifteen were lost in combat. At the end of the battle only two air defense fighters were still operational to defend the island.
The joint attackers flying against the Japanese carriers fared little better than the joint air defense fighters. Six Avenger torpedo planes and four B-26s were the first to reach the Japanese carriers just after 0700 and were opposed by thirty Japanese Zeros. Five of the six Avenger torpedo planes were shot down trying to attack a Japanese carrier. Two B-26 aircraft targeted another carrier, and one was shot down, and two escaped after their ineffective torpedo drops. The fourth B-26 was on fire, and the pilot may have attempted a suicide crash into the bridge of Japanese flagship Akagi, but he narrowly missed and ended up in the ocean. During this encounter, the carriers were forced to maneuver, and although the attacks from the Midway planes failed to score any hits, they caused alarm and confusion in the Japanese command. Aircraft from the Pacific Fleet carriers, however, failed to appear because the carriers at 0600 were over sixty miles away from their expected position, were beyond their operating range and did not launch. As a result,Admiral Nimitz’s plan for a concentrated attack failed. Joint coordination of fires is an absolute necessity in operations and the resulting failure of the Midway-based joint air attack to inflict damage is a good example of what happens when coordination is not present.
Operational and Tactical Effects of Indecision
The operational effect on the Battle of Midway from their disjointed Marine Corps and Army aircraft, and later those of U.S. carrier torpedo squadrons, however, was significant. Japanese Striking Force commander Vice Admiral Chuichi Nagumo received a message earlier from the commander of the Midway attack force recommending another attack on Midway but was slow in deciding how to respond. Because of the desperate attacks from Midway, and his personal narrow escape on the Akagi bridge, Nagumo decided the reserve force needed to launch a second attack on Midway. At 0715 he ordered a change in the ordnance of the reserve planes from torpedoes and armor-piercing bombs to the high explosive impact bombs used on land targets. At 0728, a Japanese scout plane sent a message – ten enemy ships sighted; ship types not disclosed.
Now Nagumo was presented with a dilemma, he had two different targets – the facilities on Midway Island and the now-spotted ships. He decided to let his returning Midway strike force land first and then launch his reserve force armed with torpedoes to attack American ships. This required changing the ordnance loaded on his reserve aircraft back to torpedoes and armor-piercing bombs from the weapons loaded to attack Midway a second time. This difficult and time-consuming operation would cause a substantial delay in getting the aircraft airborne.
The disruption of the Japanese air planning cycle by Marine Corps and Army aircraft yielded key tactical results as well. The Japanese planes that had attacked Midway returned as planned, beginning at 0830. They all landed by 0917, but an attack of all four refueled and rearmed air groups against the Pacific Fleet carriers would not be ready to launch until about 1045, at the earliest. Authors Jonathan Tully and Anthony Parshall noted, “the ceaseless American air attacks had destroyed any reasonable possibility of “spotting the decks” (preparing for strike aircraft recovery before Tomonaga’s (the commander of the Japanese Midway bombing attack force) return because of the constant launch and recovery of combat air patrol (CAP) fighters,” needed to intercept the attacking Army and Marine aircraft from Midway. This Japanese loss of tempo in Japanese carrier operations due to these attacks would prove fatal of the Japanese force.
Rear Admiral Raymond Spruance, in command of carriers Enterprise and Hornet, had closed the range and dispatched full air groups from both carriers at about 0710. At 1025, Dauntless dive bombers from Enterprise, running extremely low on fuel,found and destroyed two Japanese carriers. At the same time Yorktown dive bombers destroyed a third carrier. Several hours later Enterprise dive bombers destroyed the fourth carrier, but not before its attack on Yorktown led to the loss of that ship. At the end of the day, Pacific Fleet carrier pilots had scored a major victory that marked a turning point in the Pacific War.
The attacks of the Midway-based aircraft had not scored any damage on the Japanese carriers or their escorts, but they contributed to the overall victory by keeping both the Japanese aircraft and ships engaged and unable to re-arm effectively for another Midway attack, or a strike on the American carriers. The delays in preparing this strike, and some luck left Japanese aircraft re-arming and refueling below decks when U.S. carrier-based dive bombers attacked, and they hits they scored on those planes caused conflagrations on the Japanese flattops that could not be extinguished.
Joint Lessons
The attacks by the Midway-based joint strike failed in their tactical mission but yielded later successful tactical and operational results. The Navy recognized the value of the B-17 in a scouting role to the point that Chief of Naval Operations Admiral Ernest King ordered a number of Army aircraft for naval service. The Army believed that the B-17’s from Midway had inflicted damage on the Japanese fleet, but the failed horizontal bombing attacks by the big Army bombers convinced the Japanese to ignore the Army planes in the future. Failures in hitting Japanese ships later in the Solomons campaign caused the Army to re-assess the B-17’s ability to attack ships. The Army later discovered that “skip bombing,” a process developed with the Australians was a more effective means through which Army aircraft could attack ships.
The joint aspect of Midway’s defense continued as Army Air Force aircraft provided defense of the island well into 1943 due to shortages of Navy and Marine Corps aircraft committed elsewhere in the Pacific War. The Marine Corps 6th Defense battalion remained in garrison on Midway until the end of the war, and the idea of Marine Air/Ground forces engaged in sea control warfare is returning to the Marine Corps in the form of Marine Littoral Regiments in Force Design 2030. The value in understanding the Battle of Midway from a joint perspective is that even the smallest amount of joint action at a crucial phase can fundamentally improve the odds of joint force success.
Featured Image: Torpedo Squadron Six (VT-6) TBD-1 aircraft are prepared for launching on USS Enterprise (CV-6) at about 0730-0740 hrs, June 4, 1942. (Official U.S. Navy Photograph, now in the collections of the National Archives)
How does one find an object not meant to be found? Forensic maritime investigators in 2017 stumbled across this question when searching for the disappeared ARA San Juan (S-42) – an Argentinian submarine whose mission centered around stealth. Despite the environmental challenges and the restrictions imposed by the profile of submarines, several complementary forensic tools have emerged as authoritative standards and best practices for underwater search operations. These include: (1) optimization of preliminary search boxes through Bayesian probabilities, with updates for posterior probabilities throughout the search; (2) side-scanning sonar systems; and (3) unmanned underwater vehicles (UUVs) for imagery, access, and identity verification. In explaining the efficacies and drawbacks of such methods, this analysis highlights the importance and evolving future of search optimization strategies.
How to Find a Lost Submarine
Forensic maritime investigators confront distinct challenges not relevant for traditional land-based investigations. Unlike terrestrial-based forensics, pre-established knowledge of a local maritime environment is sparse. Scientists have mapped 1/5th of the sea floor to modern standards with 100m resolution, but that means almost 290 million square kilometers of seafloor—twice the surface area of Mars—have not yet been surveyed.1 Furthermore, the remoteness of submarine operational areas casts a wide speculative net for a submarine’s last location, acting as a red herring for planners. For instance, the French Navy finally found the Minerve in July 2019 after searching since 1968, but the submarine’s position was only 28 miles off the coast of Toulouse.2
Debris from the French submarine Minerve. The letters MINE from the Minerve’s name are visible in the wreck. The Minerve was lost in January 1968. (French Navy photo)
The absence of existing charts, therefore, necessitates simultaneous 4-D mapping of the area—which is in short supply. Submarine debris is unidentifiable in satellite and aerial images due to surface opacity and the extreme depth of wreckages. Stratification conceals wreckage and clearing sedimentary buildup becomes extremely complicated due to sheer volume. An onsite “walk-over” survey, as described by Fenning and Donnelly3 in their description of geophysical methodologies, is simply impossible in a marine environment. Acidity and pH levels of the water also influence rates of decomposition, and must be considered for a simulation in the casualty scenario.
August 1986 – A view of the detached sail of the nuclear-powered attack submarine USS Scorpion (SSN-589) laying on the ocean floor. Depth 10,000 feet, 400 miles southwest of the Azores. The Scorpion was lost on May 22, 1968. (Photo via U.S. National Archives)
1: Bayesian Search Strategies
Constructing a preliminary search box requires meticulous strategizing and calculations. An error associated with misanalysis of primary sources can inevitably mislead search and rescue planners, delaying a submarine’s discovery. This occurred in the case of the USS Grayback, as Navy officials mistranslated the final coordinates of the submarine documented by a Japanese carrier-based bomber.4 An incorrectly interpreted digit in the longitudinal coordinates created an erroneous search area straying 160 kilometers from the Grayback’s actual location.5
Pitfalls in relying on a single source cause planners to use search strategies based on Bayesian statistics. At a rudimentary level, Bayes’ theorem leverages probabilities of an event and prior knowledge regarding the condition of such event to produce a reasonable prediction of an event’s occurrence. Stakeholders will first formulate a range of possible stories surrounding a missing submarine’s location, pulling from all potential sources (eyewitness testimony of submarine’s last submergence, operational logs, mission record, etc.). The credibility and value of each piece of evidence will be judged by investigators and experts who will then collectively assign statistical weight to possible scenarios. For instance, the USS Scorpion’s forensic team invited experienced submarine commanders to present reasonable hypotheses that the scientists would later input into a probability density function.6 Such probability density functions assist planners in prioritizing certain search zones for surveying. Investigators resort to Bayesian statistics and Bayesian inference models because of its predictive power and the comprehensive results derived from relatively few inputs. Figure A demonstrates a four-step hierarchical convention in a Bayesian search strategy. The diagram summarizes the effects of updates on the model and introduces the posterior probability function (PPF).
Figure A.
When a search area fails to yield any evidence pointing to a submarine, a posterior probability function will be calculated. A PPF’s utility and role is best explained by Equation (1-2)’s hypothetical representation of a grid square’s probability of containing a submarine. Variable q represents the probability of successful detection of a wreck and p quantifies the probability that the grid square does contain the wreck. Failing to find a wreck in a grid square will revise the probability of that grid square into p prime—a posterior probability.7 In this theoretical situation, the probabilities (for purely illustrative purposes) are: that a wreck in the grid square is 67% and the chances of a side-scan sonar identifying an anomaly is 85%.
Under those numeric assumptions, if the submarine were not found in the first survey, then a second survey of the same grid square, as denoted in Equation (3), will yield a secondary posterior probability of approximately 4.2%. Taken together, 4.2% represents the chances of success in finding the submarine in the given grid square in a second sweep.
Bayesian strategies are a staple of operations analysis search theory. For instance, the U.S Coast Guard incorporates Bayesian search strategies into its Search and Rescue Optimal Planning System (SAROPS).8 Successful outcomes produced by Bayesian search strategies have led to a general consensus on the technique’s utility. Identification of the underwater wreckage site of Air France Flight AF 477 underscored this utility. In the 2011 discovery, investigators created probability density functions (PDFs) from weighted scenarios supplemented by anterior knowledge of nine commercial aircraft accidents, known flight dynamics, and final trajectories.9 These PDFs drew search boxes that broadened until a Brazilian corvette recovered components of AF 477 buoyed on the surface.
Stern view of the nuclear-powered attack submarine USS Scorpion (SSN-589) showing the upper portion of the rudder (with draft markings) and the port stern plane. Note that the after portion of the engine room section (has been) telescoped into the machinery room. The ribs of the stern planes can be seen due to the deformation of the metal covering them. (Official U.S. Navy Photograph, from the collections of the Naval History and Heritage Command.)
However, Bayesian search strategies warrant legitimate criticism for their implicit use of subjective analysis. Terrill and Project Discover’s usage of Bayesian search strategies narrates a story of arbitrary values associated with each scenario. This is seen especially when the researchers place heavy subjective weight on interview data from the few remaining witnesses of a B-24 bomber’s last location.10 Taken together, Bayesian search strategies force analysts to quantify what is essentially qualitative information (e.g., the probability that an elderly man can accurately recall the events of the crash). These limitations create possibilities for higher uncertainty and a wider confidence interval. In addition, Bayesian search strategy can overshadow other powerful methods to form search boxes such as a Gittins index formula.11
2: Implementation of Side-Scanning Sonar for Seabed Imaging
Sonar, otherwise known as sound navigation and ranging, is a method that leverages sound propagation as a way to detect an object’s position and to visualize shapes from acoustic signatures in the form of echoes. The return frequency and radiated noise of an object allow for target acquisition and safe navigation by submarines dependent on the vicinity’s sound velocity profile; for researchers hoping to find inactive submarines, side-scan sonars lend mapping capabilities.
These devices construct images from cross-track slices supplied by continuous conical acoustic beams that reflect from the seafloor—wave emission speed can reach nearly 512 discrete sonar beams at a rate of 40 times a second.12 Data produced by side-scan sonars assembles a sonogram that converts into a digital form for visualization. The utility of side scan sonars is trinitarian; they create effective working images of swaths of sea floor when used in conjunction with bathymetric soundings and sub-bottom profiler data.13 Form factors of side-scan sonars allow the device to be highly mobile and serve as flexible, towable attachments for the tail of any-sized ships, giving liberty to human operators to adjust the directionality of ensonification. In addition, side-scan sonars contain adjustable frequency settings. A change in a side-scan sonar’s frequency will affect the sonar’s emitting wavelength, giving the operator flexibility on target acquisition. Side-scan sonars can operate as low as the 50kHz range to cover maximum seabed area; alternatively, the instrument can operate at 1 MHz for maximum resolution. This feature is extremely vital because submarines alter in length by model and different bodies of water share unique sound velocity profiles. Another advantage with side-scan sonars is their high precision record at sub-meter accuracy level for horizontal planes and at the centimeter-error level for vertical planes.14
Side-scan sonar systems exist as a vital apparatus to any search operation because the alternatives for mapping are minimal. Methods other than side-scan sonars like low-frequency multi-beam bathymetric data scanners, when reappropriated, are imperfect in object identification accuracy and better for scanning large seabed topographic structures like underwater mountains.15 Recent advances in magnetic anomaly detectors16 appear promising for future seabed exploration, but these instruments still require parallel approaches or in-tandem usage with side-scan sonars. Until magnetometers can extend their range beyond identifying magnetic objects in the Epipelagic Zone—the uppermost layer of the ocean where sunlight is still available for photosynthesis—side-scan sonars will be more consistent and versatile than magnetometers.
A mosaic of combined sonar images shows how close the Titan submersible was to the Titanic debris field. The Titan was lost on June 18, 2023. (Graphic via RMS Titanic Inc.)
Deployment of side-scan sonar occurs in the intermediary stage of search operations. A vessel will have a side-scan sonar mounted on or embedded in a towfish. Tethered to the main vessel, the side-scan sonar will perform a proper sonar survey of a proposed area by maintaining a rigid survey line along with a consistent towfish “altitude” when trailing the ship. Technicians carefully check the GPS receiver of the towfish to rectify course deviations, if needed, by manually changing the ship and towfish’s heading. A side-scan sonar operates with a survey mode to capture anomalies, which visual graphs will register and mark for later investigation by an unmanned underwater vehicle (UUV).
Unfortunately, handlers of side-scan sonars will notice several limitations that must be accommodated. A restriction to side-scan sonars is their inability to image directly below side-scan transducers. In other words, ships must compensate for a side-scanner’s blind spot by staggering their mow-the-lawn strategy. In addition, side-scan sonars contain software that prohibits the surpassing of a certain speed limit for towing, lest the receiver show significant scattering, absorption, and incoherent imagery. Like other instruments, side-scan sonars’ physical power consumption can be a variable for constraint.
Lastly, side-scan sonars perform according to the quality of the bathymetric data supplied. By themselves, side-scan sonars cannot efficiently identify changes in gradients and sound velocity profiles in real-time. High frequency/high resolution sonars operate at relatively short ranges via direct path sound propagation, which limits the refraction of sound waves and consequent distortion. This means the side-scan sonar will have a handicap in reporting the propagation paths of its rays and the sound channels, meaning knowledge of shadow zones may be omitted.17 This is a search investigator’s worst nightmare because failure to adequately search a grid may lead to incorrect, permanent marking of a square not holding a target. Imperfect data or simply lack of bathymetry data also contribute to the limitation of side-scan sonars.
3: Integration of Adaptive Unmanned Underwater Vehicles for Forensic Searches.
Since their introduction in the 1960s, UUVs have played a major role in every forensic investigation for a lost submarine. UUVs act as surrogates to human divers who cannot comfortably operate for extended periods of time at depths greater than 100 meters. To illustrate the need for UUVs, the USS Grayback was discovered at a depth of 1,417 feet (431 meters)18 — an impossible depth for divers, but not for the submarine itself. UUVs support forensic scientists in more than just underwater photography. UUVs collect bathymetry data, use ultrasonic imaging, measure strength of ocean currents, and detect foreign objects by their inertial or magnetic properties. Variants of UUVs are categorized into two robotic classes: remotely operated underwater vehicles (ROVs) and autonomous underwater vehicles (AUVs). ROVs allow for direct piloting by a human operator from a remote location with signal. AUVs function independently and follow pre-programmed behavioral search patterns.
A photo taken by a remotely operated vehicle (ROV) shows the sunken Indonesian Navy submarine KRI Nanggala-402 in Denpasar, Bali, Indonesia, May 18, 2021. KRI Nanggala-402 was lost on April 20, 2021. (Indonesian Navy photo)
The UUV variant, Remus 100,19 manufactured by Woods Hole Oceanographic Institute, deceptively resembles a torpedo, but functions as an effective explosive ordnance disposal detection device for the Navy. When refitted for search operations, the Remus (AUV) variant can perform dual-frequency side-scan sonar operations in independent mow-the-lawn search sequences.20 The Remus’ transponder wields GPS and doppler velocity logs that have proven to be more accurate in measurements than earlier AUVs. Customarily, forensic actors will deploy ROVs and AUVs for close-up identification or routine investigation of an anomaly, instead of wide-area search missions. These ROVs display high-definition, colorized video feeds for operators on a vessel; the latency between pilots and the ROV ranges from one to two seconds, making for fast time on responsive decisions.
Conclusion
This analysis examines a trinity of contemporary methods revolving around statistics and autonomous vehicles that aid officials in search and rescue operations for submarines. Corporations and officials should note that innovating and constructing more effective models in search operation becomes worthwhile when speed determines the ability to save lives. While this analysis discusses the employment of the aforementioned technology in the context of submarines, these methods can be theoretically implemented for other maritime interests: finding missing planes, undertaking the historical preservation of shipwreck sites, and embarking on deep-sea mining. For all these reasons, the U.S. has an inherent stake in advancing a discussion about progress in submarine search and rescue tactics.
Andrew Song is a U.S. Navy Nuclear Submarine Officer. His previous publications have appeared in The Wall Street Journal, The National Interest, Military Review, Journal of Indo-Pacific Affairs, and Proceedings. He graduated with a B.A. in Global Affairs from Yale University in 2022.
References
1 Amos, Jonathan. “One-Fifth of Earth’s Ocean Floor Is Now Mapped.” BBC News. BBC, June 20, 2020. https://www.bbc.com/news/science-environment-53119686.
2 “DOS Involved in the Finding of the French Submarine La Minerve.” Deep Ocean Search, October 3, 2019. http://www.deepoceansearch.com/2019/10/03/dos-involved-in-the-finding-of-the-french-submarine-la-minerve/.
3 Fenning, P. J., Donnelly, L. J., 2004. Geophysical techniques for forensic investigation. Geological Society of London Special Publications, 232, 11-20.
4 Elfrink, Tim. “A WWII Submarine Went Missing for 75 Years. High-Tech Undersea Drones Solved the Mystery.” The Washington Post. WP Company, November 11, 2019. https://www.washingtonpost.com/nation/2019/11/11/uss-grayback-discovered-tim-taylor-lost-project/.
5 Ibid.
6 L.D. Stone, “Operations Analysis during the Underwater Search for Scorpion” Naval Research Logistics Quarterly, vol. 18(2), pp. 141–157. 1971
7 Terrill, E., Moline, M., Scannon, P., Gallimore, E., Shramek, T., Nager, A., Anderson, M. (2017). Project Recover: Extending the Applications of Unmanned Platforms and Autonomy to Support Underwater MIA Searches. Oceanography,30(2), 150-159. Retrieved March 1, 2021, from http://www.jstor.org/stable/26201864
8 Stone, L. (2011). Operations Research Helps Locate the Underwater Wreckage of Air France Flight AF 447. Phalanx,44(4), 21-27. Retrieved March 2, 2021, http://www.jstor.org/stable/24910970
9 Soza & Company, Ltd. (1996). The Theory of Search: A Simplified Explanation: U.S. Coast Guard. Contract Number: DTCG23-95-D-HMS026. Retrieved on 2010-07-18 from http://cgauxsurfaceops.us/documents/TheTheoryofSearch.pdf
10 Terrill, E. “Project Recover.” Oceanography 2017.
11 Weitzman, Martin L. (1979). “Optimal Search for the Best Alternative”. Econometrica. 47 (3): 641–654.
12 “Side Scan Sonar.” Exploration Tools: Side Scan Sonar: NOAA Office of Ocean Exploration and Research, 2002. https://oceanexplorer.noaa.gov/technology/sonar/side-scan.html.
13 Jean M. Audibert, Jun Huang. Chapter 16 Geophysical and Geotechnical Design, Handbook of Offshore Engineering, Elsevier, 2005. ISBN 9780080443812, https://doi.org/10.1016/B978-0-08-044381-2.50023-0.
14 Aaron Micallef. Chapter 13: Marine Geomorphology: Geomorphological Mapping and the Study of Submarine Landslides, Development in Earth Surface Processes, Elsevier, Vol 15, 2011, pg 377-395 ISBN 9780444534460, https://doi.org/10.1016/B978-0-444-53446-0.00013-6 (https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/B9780444534460000136)
15 Elfrink, “A WWII Submarine went Missing” The Washington Post. 2019.
16 Geophysical Surveying Using Magnetics Methods, January 16, 2004, University of Calgary https://web.archive.org/web/20050310171755/http://www.geo.ucalgary.ca/~wu/Goph547/CSM_MagNotes.pdf
17 “Side Scan Sonar.” United States Naval Academy , February 1, 2018. https://www.usna.edu/Users/oceano/pguth/md_help/geology_course/side_scan_sonar.htm. (2) Sonar Propagation. Department of Defense . Accessed April 7, 2021. https://fas.org/man/dod-101/navy/docs/es310/SNR_PROP/snr_prop.htm.
18 Elfrink, “A WWII Submarine went Missing” The Washington Post. 2019.
20 J. Ousingsawat and M. G. Earl, “Modified Lawn-Mower Search Pattern for Areas Comprised of Weighted Regions,” 2007 American Control Conference, New York, NY, USA, 2007, pp. 918-923, doi: 10.1109/ACC.2007.4282850.
Featured Image: August 1986 – A view of the detached sail of the nuclear-powered attack submarine USS Scorpion (SSN-589) laying on the ocean floor. The starboard fairwater plane is visible protruding from the sail. Masts are visible extending from the top of the sail (located at the lower portion of the photograph). A large segment of the after section of the sail, including the deck access hatch, is missing. (Official U.S. Navy photograph)
What good is the world’s most advanced “dark targeting” platform to uncover previously untraceable vessels if the local navy, coast guard, or marine police cannot stop the crime?
Instead of being wooed by “game-changing” technologies, maritime security professionals should focus on ensuring their organizations can perform critical functions first. Similarly, professionals who partner with chronically under-resourced organizations should focus on assisting with basic functions instead of dangling “silver bullets” that promise to solve all their woes.
The Problem
The maritime security sector is under a constant barrage ofhype about “game-changing” technology, particularly when it comes to maritime domain awareness (MDA). Maritime domain awareness is the effective understanding of anything associated with the maritime domain that could impact security, safety, the economy, or the marine environment. Several technological platforms are purported to “revolutionize” MDA with the promise of significantly improving countries’ abilities to govern their waters. Prominent examples include synthetic aperture radar (SAR), radio frequency identification (RFID), electro-optical (EO) satellite imagery, and artificial intelligence (AI) algorithms that use data from the Automatic Identification System (AIS) to evaluate vessels’ historical actions and predict future behavior. One company purports to be able to “quickly develop machine learning models to solve problems taking place in the vastness of the world’s oceans.” Similarly, new satellite-based technology supplied by the Quad (the United States, Australia, India, and Japan) is expected to help smaller island nations govern their waters.
Being able to watch bad actors on the water is not the same as being able to do anything to stop them. By itself, MDA has little deterrent effect: the waters will still be ungoverned if a country has no way to legally or operationally act upon what it sees. While new MDA technology can be exciting, the siren song of “shiny new toys” risks confusing maritime voyeurism with more assertive and effective action. For many countries, simply watching bad actors harm without the ability to stop them is frustrating. The constant stream of new—but sometimes proprietary or otherwise incompatible—technology can even create a disincentive to act and enable policy procrastination. Some policymakers want the equivalent of closed caption television on the water before they are willing to take action against problems like human trafficking, illegal fishing, and smuggling of drugs and weapons.
Before jumping to advanced technology, it is vital to be able to rigorously and systematically analyze MDA data from any source; have a repeatable, documentable mechanism for sharing that analysis with operators who can act on it promptly; have the capacity to plan and execute interdiction operations in a manner that also collects and preserves evidence; have a well-defined process for handing a maritime case over to the land-based authorities; and, ultimately pursue a legal finish that includes a penalty commensurate with the offense.
Man in the Loop
MDA technology cannot supplant humans; most Maritime Operations Centers (MOCs) run by militaries and law enforcement agencies employ several MDA analysts round-the-clock. These experts are needed to interpret what they see and then communicate their analysis to authorities who can act on this information and knowledge. In countries that lack funding or technical infrastructure for flashy MDA platforms, humans are even more important to the maritime security equation.
A well-trained analyst can, and must, perform functions that technology cannot. For example, to understand what might be happening in the water, the analyst must understand what should be happening. Understanding this context requires knowledge of local customs and culture, knowledge of a particular area’s fishing patterns, shipping routes, the effects of weather, seasonal dynamics, and knowledge of what is “normal” for that area. Indeed, relying only on technology may give the country a false sense of security, seeing some of what is happening in its waters without an in-depth understanding of the context.
Analysts must also be trained in maritime enforcement jurisdiction so they can understand what activities the country can pursue in each of the maritime zones their country has claimed.
Perfect Awareness is Useless without Action
The latest MDA technology often comes with a hefty price tag. Synthetic Aperture Radar capability, for example, is expensive and even analysts who are skilled at using other MDA sources cannot simply look at the blurry images of what amounts to satellite-based radar and make sense of it. That said, a suitably trained analyst looking at such radar captures in combination with other technology to correlate it to AIS data can help gain a clearer understanding of what is happening at sea. But this means that the expensive SAR data has to be paired with other expensive technology and a well-trained analyst for it to be of value. Even if these systems are provided cost-free, and analysts can translate the data into a useful understanding of actionable anomalies, interdictions still cannot occur without vessels on the water.
With initiatives such as the Australian and Japanese Patrol Boat programs, numerous developing nations now have access to vessels well-suited for patrolling their waters. These vessels, however, require well-trained crews, along with funding for fuel and maintenance to make them useful. In some countries, the government’s entire maritime force is required just to operate the vessel, which understandably discourages the frequency of its use. Access to parts, maintenance, fuel, and provisions conspire to keep these vessels pier side. Consistent funding and training for crews and boarding officers to interdict suspect vessels are necessary.
Though not as alluring as slick MDA technology, funding for the basic needs required to patrol waters should be prioritized over new technologies. Without basic operational capacity and capability, no amount of MDA will make a country’s waters safer, more secure, more stable, or more prosperous.
The other component to action besides “boots on deck” is the legal finish or the successful adjudication of a maritime offense. Indeed, a meaningful penalization through an adjudicative process is often the only effective deterrent to criminal activity in a country’s waters.
Behind a properly trained and funded boarding team are investigators trained in maritime cases. The investigators are critical to putting together a prosecutable case. Furthermore, prosecutors must be well-versed and well-trained in maritime law to successfully prosecute maritime crimes. And finally, the law itself must be fit for purpose, addressing the full spectrum of maritime offenses that are being pursued by criminal actors in the country’s waters.
The legal finish requires human resources. Human resources planning is difficult: it takes time to plan how many operations the country may need to conduct each year, and how many people need to be in place and trained to enable said operations. It requires recruiting the right people, funding their training, and then also a plan for retaining them once they are trained. Indeed, human resources are a significant, but necessary investment. Planning and funding for human resources may not sound as glamorous as showcasing the latest drone or artificial intelligence platform. But without human resources, the technology leaves the State’s deterrent capabilities impotent.
Conclusion
Flashy new technologies can be fun to play with, and some are truly useful. Still, they are only part of the equation for providing maritime security, and not necessarily the most important. To be useful, these tools must be paired with institutional capacity to analyze data, share information, plan and execute operations, collect evidence, handover to land authorities, conduct investigations, prosecute, adjudicate, penalize, and, when necessary, both legislate and regulate to account for changes in the security environment. Indeed, it is healthy and helpful to be skeptical of how much any technology will “solve” problems that require human expertise and human responses to be wielded effectively. It behooves those with meager budgets, and those trying to help partners with meager budgets, to focus funding and attention on building the skills and institutions needed to use the MDA technology that is already available, as well as whatever the future may hold. Every State should strive for maximum efficiency, effectiveness, and impact regarding maritime security concerns it can already see before pursuing a heightened visibility that may leave it watching bad actors without the wherewithal to stop them.
Jamie Jones is a legal institutional capacity-building attorney with the Defense Institute of International Legal Studies (DIILS) focusing on maritime security in the Pacific Island Nations. She earned her undergraduate degree in agriculture from Kansas State University, a master’s degree in national security and strategic studies from the U.S. Naval War College, and her law degree from Washburn University’s School of Law.
Dr. Ian Ralby is a recognized expert in maritime and resource security. He has worked in more than 95 countries around the world, often assisting them with developing their maritime domain awareness capacity. He holds a JD from William & Mary and a PhD from the University of Cambridge.
The views presented in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily represent the views of any other organization.
Featured Image: The ship Xin Lian Yun Gang seen in the Port of Rotterdam. (Photo via Wikimedia Commons)
In 2016, Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan called the Black Sea a “Russian Lake” and encouraged NATO to do more to counter Russia’s efforts to exert control over it.1 Never was that control shown to be more complete than last August, when the Russian Federation Navy stopped and boarded Palau-flagged freighter Şükrü Okan in the southwest portion of the Black Sea, about as far from the Russian coast as you can get, delaying its journey and menacing its crew at gunpoint before determining that it was not carrying contraband and allowing it to proceed. This incident may be seen as the canary in the coalmine indicating imminent suffocation of freedom of navigation in the Black Sea.
The Need for Sea Control
Much has been made of Ukraine’s successful and impressive efforts at sea denial, forcing the Russian Black Sea Fleet to stay well out of coastal missile range and even destroying major units in their homeports as well as at sea. But in what is quite obviously a largely maritime war,2 Russia appears to be achieving its strategic aims despite these tactical setbacks. The Sea of Azov is completely controlled by Russia and a look at MarineTraffic shows that few vessels dare come within 100 nm of Odessa. While the boarding cannot be said to have taken place as part of a blockade, since Russia has not formally declared a blockade, only issued various warning areas3 and vague threats about targeting ships across the Black Sea,4 and is not attempting to enforce a blockade in the manner prescribed by international law, it is telling that the boarding took place where it did, putting the world on notice that ships anywhere in the Black Sea even vaguely suspected of heading towards Ukraine may be boarded, and possibly seized or sunk. While at the same time, President Putin protests when a US warship calls at Istanbul.5 For all intents and purposes, there exists a de facto long-distance blockade, for no other word adequately describes what Russia is doing in the Black Sea. This blockade’s legality may be questionable at best,6 but its effectiveness cannot be doubted. NATO nations, as well as the rest of the world interested in freedom of navigation—including, seemingly, Palau—are doing little to challenge this situation, effectively ceding the maritime domain of the Black Sea to Russia’s bullying and bluster. It seems the Black Sea has indeed become a Russian lake.
The international law of naval warfare covering belligerent interference with merchant shipping, such as blockades and the prevention of the carrying of war contraband, has always represented a compromise between the objectives of the belligerent and the harm neutrals are willing to absorb in losing a certain amount of freedom of navigation.7 The US Military Academy’s Lieber Institute for Law and Warfare has pointed out that the boarding of the Şükrü Okan was legal under “Belligerent Right of Visit and Search.”8On the other hand, Russia is a signatory to UNCLOS and there are no circumstances permitted by UNCLOS where this boarding could be said to fall under the right of visit of warships. In boarding Şükrü Okan, the Russian navy clearly violated the terms of UNLCOS to which it is bound.
Admittedly, UNLCOS does not address any aspect of naval conflict. But can interference with freedom of the seas be considered legal when the war under which the boarding was conducted is both undeclared and itself illegal? Does UNCLOS cease to apply because one signatory decides to lay mines or stop by force another country’s merchant ships? Are neutral nations willing to accept that UNCLOS can be suspended unilaterally and without formal warning? Most countries, especially those that adhere to the principle of Qualified Neutrality,9 should tend to think not. If the world stands by and does nothing, then Russia’s actions become the new status quo, UNCLOS loses much of its meaning, and the Black Sea—along with any other maritime region where the world persistently acquiesces in the face of aggression—risks losing its status as an international body of water.
With the collapse of the Black Sea Grain Initiative last summer, Ukraine created the “Ukraine Humanitarian Grain Corridor” by which ships transit through the territorial waters of Bulgaria and Romania, and mainly use Ukrainian ports on the Danube to load grain. The corridor has allowed a certain number of ships to carry grain out of the Black Sea over the past few months,10 though questions remain about the sustainability of insurance costs, especially after a Liberian-flagged vessel was hit by a Russian missile in Odessa on November 9, 2023.11
Grain shipping routes in the aftermath of the Ukraine invasion. (Graphic via BBC, based on United Nations data)
While Ukraine’s national bank has recently brokered a deal through Lloyd’s of London and other insurers to cut costs12 and many are calling the corridor successful, reports indicate that the grain exported is just a fraction of pre-war quantities: 700,000 tons from August to the end of October versus around 6 million tons a month before the Russian invasion.13 By December, a total of 200 ships had used the corridor carrying an estimated 5 millions tons of agricultural product14 — still well short of prewar levels. From a more strategic viewpoint, the fact remains that in order to export even this amount of grain, merchant ships must hug NATO nations’ coasts, reinforcing the point that the international waters of this part of the Black Sea are not open to shipping. If the shipping industry is unwilling to use the international route, can it still be considered international?
This situation brings up two interesting and related questions: What can be learned from this? And, what can be done about it?
Some Notable Lessons
The first thing that becomes apparent is that sea denial is insufficient when a country depends on open sea-lanes for its basic economic livelihood. While nearly all nations are dependent on the sea for their economic wellbeing, Ukraine’s dependence is stronger than most. A significant portion of its economy rides on its ability to export its grain. And the only efficient, indeed feasible, way to export the majority of it is by ocean-going cargo vessels transiting the Black Sea.
Ukraine’s sea denial efforts offer no help in escorting these vessels or otherwise reducing the perceived risk and, in some ways have enhanced it. Pushing the Russian Black Sea Fleet out of the immediate environs of the Ukrainian coast has had the odd effect of causing Russia’s blockade to expand from a close blockade to one that covers essentially the entire Black Sea minus the territorial waters of the three NATO nations there. And laying defensive mines might have prevented a Russian amphibious assault on Odessa, but has added to the perceived risk to shipping while also allowing political cover for Russia to lay its own mines.
Second, a flag of convenience is no more than that: convenient, until it no longer is. After the Şükrü Okan incident in August, Türkiye waited several days before issuing a warning to Moscow about the boarding of the Turkish-owned and operated ship, with President Erdoğan stating that it was a matter for the flag state.15 An important duty of a flag state is to provide security to vessels on its registry and represent vessel owners’ interests in freedom of the seas on the international stage. Except for a few brief and very localized exceptions, this has not been an important consideration since the end of World War II, though Houthi actions in the southern Red Sea seem to be changing this calculus. None of the world’s leading flag states of convenience—not Liberia, Panama, Marshall Islands, or even Malta—are in much of a position to actively defend their merchant vessels, or even to apply any meaningful diplomatic pressure on a state aggressor as Russia has become in the Black Sea. It is not likely that President Putin will bat an eye at a protest filed by Palau in either the International Maritime Organization (IMO) or UN General Assembly. It is equally unlikely that the Russian Federation Navy would have chosen to board a ship flagged to a NATO member nation or, say, China at this stage of the conflict. Since vessel owners and operators, like the Turkish owners of the Şükrü Okan, cannot count on the support of their own governments when they choose a flag of convenience, it will be interesting to see if they, as the conflict at sea continues, or even expands, reconsider their choice of flag, perhaps preferring one with the naval and diplomatic might to protect their ships.
Third, a blockade no longer requires “effective enforcement”16 to be effective. Apparently, a single boarding, in which the boarded vessel was allowed to proceed, coupled with a few floating mines, is enough to warn off other neutral ships from heading to Ukraine, thereby allowing Russia’s “distant blockade” to expand across the entire Black Sea even while much of the Black Sea Fleet is now holed up in Novorossiysk. It may be a “paper blockade” but that seems to be enough in this conflict.
Fourth, the reason such limited means can produce so effective a blockade is that insurance considerations drive risk assessments in shipping. This is especially true in the Black Sea. Increased war risk premiums during the heyday of Somali piracy did not greatly affect traffic through the Gulf of Aden for a variety of reasons, mainly that relatively few ships of the total traffic through the area were actually attacked and there was no economically alternative route. Instead, the shipping industry and the international community adapted their behavior to increase security and deter attacks. During World War II, though merchant crews obviously faced great physical risk, governments assumed almost all the financial risk for ship and cargo loss (many of the ships and most of the cargo being government owned). The calculus appears to be different in the Black Sea: shipping grain does not offer a profit substantial enough to offset the war risk costs, maritime trade union concerns, and potential losses to either seizure or sinking. Merchant ship operators will begin carrying large quantities of Ukrainian grain when it again becomes profitable.
April 10, 2023 – Bulk carrier ARGO I docked at the grain terminal of the port of Odessa, Ukraine. (Photo via Bo Amstrup/AFP/Ritzau Scanpix)
Finally, the key to pushing Russian control of the Black Sea back towards the Russian coast lies with Türkiye. In the first place, Türkiye is a naval power in its own right and, should it come to it, is fully capable of taking on the Russian Black Sea fleet on more than equal terms. The Turkish fleet is in the best position to reassert control over, at the very least, the southern Black Sea including, for lack of a better demarcation, Türkiye’s EEZ17, and it is Türkiye, as a maritime nation, that has the greatest direct interest in doing so. Second, Türkiye’s control of the entrance to the Black Sea makes it the most important partner for those nations who wish to increase non-Black Sea naval presence there. In recognizing this, one must also recognize that the Montreux Convention, as it currently stands, serves Türkiye’s interests and Türkiye is unlikely to want to renegotiate it: any actions by non-Black Sea states will have to be in accordance with Montreux. Third, Türkiye, more than any other NATO Nation, has both working diplomatic relationships and economic ties (such as TURKSTREAM) with Russia that could allow for useful dialog with respect to Black Sea maritime control but which could also complicate such dialog.
The Way Ahead
Is there anything to be done about this situation? A variety of suggestions have been made, from establishing convoys of merchants ships through the blockade—and mine-infested—zone escorted by NATO’s Standing Naval Forces, to getting Russia to end the conflict. The former suggestion was soundly refuted by RUSI18 on the grounds that the economic/insurance considerations, the Montreux convention, and the nature of the current threat would make such escort impracticable to maintain and not very effective; the latter is clearly a pipedream—until Russia is ready to end the conflict, whether because Russia has achieved all its aims or because it has been defeated, the conflict will go on. So the question really becomes, what constraints is the rest of the world willing to accept on freedom of navigation in the Black Sea and what can they do to push back against the ones they don’t accept.
Here are some practical suggestions, arranged more or less from least to most provocative to Russia, and thereby in order of what would take the most backbone to implement.
First, improve maritime domain awareness (MDA) of the region. A September symposium in Greece highlighted the deficiencies in Black Sea MDA.19 While it is highly probable that no Russian surface ship or submarine of the Baltic fleet gets underway without being actively tracked by one or more NATO nations, and the same is likely true in most cases for the Northern fleet, this probably cannot be said for Black Sea assets. When a Black Sea Fleet Kilo-class submarine leaves Sevastopol and submerges, it is most likely immediately lost to sight until it returns. Improved MDA would allow for greater analysis of trends and recognition of changes in the situation sooner, such as new threats (recently laid mines) or evolution of broader diplomatic conditions (e.g. identifying what changed to make Russia no longer want to participate in the grain deal). It would also allow for better enforcement of sanctions on Russian oil, tracking of individuals of interest, and detection of Russian gray zone maritime operations.
Second, maritime air patrol should be enhanced. There is a significant shortfall of MPA assets and actual patrols over the Black Sea. Of the NATO Black Sea nations, only Türkiye has an MPA component. NATO AWACS aircraft have been reported operating over Poland along the Ukrainian border but not over the Black Sea. There is also reporting that US MPA aircraft are conducting missions over the Black Sea, but it is not clear with whom the information gathered is being shared.20 More MPA coverage would contribute to freedom of navigation, enhanced MDA, intelligence collection, and order of battle development.
Third, governments interested in supporting Ukraine’s ability to export grain should subsidize war risk costs. While subsidies to shipping to offset increased insurance and other war risk costs would not reduce the physical risk to crews or ships, they could make the carrying of Ukrainian grain more attractive. With the end of the Black Sea Grain Initiative, Ukraine began offering subsidies for this purpose but it remains to be seen if this, combined with the new Lloyd’s deal, will be enough to offset costs adequately or if it will be financially sustainable for Ukraine or the insurers over the long term.21
Fourth, ship owners should consider reflagging their grain ships to registries that can offer naval protection and diplomatic gravitas. Palau, like Liberia or Panama, may not be in a position to impede Russian interference with ships of their registry, but all NATO nations are. Russia would need to be willing to risk significant escalation if it wanted to board, say, a German-flagged bulk carrier 30 miles out from the Istanbul Straight. It is not necessary to escort merchant ships—and probably not particularly effective as long as the main threat remains mines22—when the flag carries the weight of Article V with it. It may even be worth considering employing (appropriately-flagged) government-owned ships in the trade, which could also contribute to avoiding war risk costs.
Ship operators should harden merchant ships to prevent boardings. The world’s maritime polity learned a great deal about preventing boardings during the days of Somali piracy and many of the steps developed under “Best Management Practices”23 would serve equally well in repelling unwanted boardings in the Black Sea. Shipping operators or flag states may even wish to embark security teams, generally considered the most effective means at preventing piracy attacks. It is highly unlikely ship owners would choose to do this, but the possibility that a boarding could be opposed would force Russia to determine how far they want to go the next time they attempt a boarding. Is the Russian Navy really willing to sink a neutral flagged merchant ship with naval gunfire?
Navies should be conducting freedom of navigation operations (FONOPS) in the Black Sea. Neutral nation warships, and especially NATO Nation warships, whether under NATO or national operational control, should be operating and patrolling in all the international waters of the Black Sea. There is no legal or diplomatic reason why a group of neutral frigates should not be conducting routine exercises 20 nautical miles off Novorossiysk or shadowing every Russian Federation Navy ship that leaves Russian territorial waters. While the three Black Sea NATO nations are fully capable of this,24 the diplomatic effect would be greater if there were non-Black Sea-based ships involved, even if just a token and occasional involvement. Diplomatic work with Türkiye should focus on allowing non-belligerent warships into the Black Sea in accordance with Montreux for this purpose. FONOPS is a much better use of surface assets than convoy escort given current conditions in the Black Sea. Aircraft can do FONOPS too.
And, obviously something will need to be done about mines. The recent agreement among the Bulgaria, Romania, and Türkiye to create a mine-countermeasures task group is welcome news on this front.25
Many would argue that these steps are provocative and risk escalating the conflict in Ukraine.26 No one wants a World War III, but the simple fact is that it is up to Russia whether or not to start one by firing on NATO warships, or NATO nation-flagged merchant vessels. Excessive worry about provocation should not hinder warships of neutral or non-belligerent nations from operating wherever in international waters their governments should wish or from ensuring the free flow of goods to the world’s markets in accordance with established international law. Operating in international waters is no more an act of aggression than it is to walk down a dangerous alley at night ready for the worst. Such operations may well complicate operational freedom of movement and rules of engagement for the Russian Black Sea Fleet, for surely they wish to avoid unintended escalation as well, but not conducting them simply makes it excessively easy for Russia not to have to account for such possibilities in planning and executing its naval operations. And there is no reason to make it easy for Russia—especially when doing so cedes effective control over this important maritime space and hurts the world’s economy.
But principle is an even stronger argument for wresting back maritime dominance in the Black Sea from Russia: the principle of freedom of the seas, of the free flow of goods, and of the schoolyard principle that a bully shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it. And, of course, the principle of sea power. Every violation of UNCLOS, every loss of international access to any body of water, every impediment by force of arms to free trade hurts the sovereignty of other nations and chips away at the post-war international order that benefits the free countries of the world. The reason navies exist is to keep the seas open for the benefit of their citizens, but navies have to be willing to go into harm’s way to do so. For all of history, from the Peloponnesian War, through both world wars, to the Falklands conflict, war has been decided by sea power. The Ukraine War is no different. Russia appears to recognize this. Will the rest of the world?
Chuck Ridgway is a retired US Navy surface warfare and reserve Africa foreign area officer. After leaving active duty, he worked for ten years as a NATO international civilian at the NATO Joint Analysis and Lessons Learned Centre in Portugal. Since then he has consulted with a variety of organizations, including One Earth Future Foundation’s Oceans Beyond Piracy and Stable Seas programs, the United Nation Office of Drugs and Crime’s Global Maritime Crime Program, and the US Defense Security Cooperation Agency’s Institute for Security Governance. A native of Colorado, he lives in Denver. This is his first piece for CIMSEC.
7. It is debatable if NATO Nations can be considered strictly neutral in the Ukraine conflict, given that nearly all of them are providing war material to one of the belligerents.
22. If Kalibr missiles start flying into the sides of merchant ships at sea, the need for escorts obviously changes, as would many other aspects of this conflict.
24. Information on where the Turkish Navy operates, in what strength, and if these patrols contribute to NATO-wide MDA, intelligence collection or deterrence is not publicly available.
26. Some, but not all, of these steps may be included in the U.S. State Department’s work on a Black Sea security strategy. For example, in testimony before the U.S. Senate Subcommittee on Europe and Regional Security Cooperation, James O’Brien, U.S. Assistant Secretary, European and Eurasian Affairs, stated that enhanced maritime air patrol had not been considered (https://www.foreign.senate.gov/hearings/assessing-the-department-of-states-strategy-for-security-in-the-black-sea-region). Publicly available information on this strategy and other efforts directed by the Black Sea Security Act (2024 U.S. National Defense Authorization Act § 1247) is still too vague to allow speculation on what specific actions could be taken.
