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Future Tech

Asymmetry Rising: How Autonomous Systems Enforce Sea Denial

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By Rudraksh Pathak

Naval warfare is approaching a point where the traditional capital ship is no longer an unambiguous asset in contested waters. For decades, naval power was measured in tonnage and platforms: the size of destroyers, the number of vertical launch cells, the quietness of submarines. That framework still matters, but it is no longer sufficient. Increasingly, the most serious threat to a multi-billion-dollar surface combatant is not a peer navy’s capital ship, but a mass of inexpensive, expendable autonomous systems that strain the ship’s ability to defend itself.

This dynamic resembles a modern incarnation of the Jeune École theory of the late nineteenth century, which argued that small, inexpensive platforms armed with torpedoes could undermine battleship dominance. What technology has changed is not the idea itself, but its feasibility. Today, autonomous systems allow navies that cannot compete ship-for-ship to impose risk at sea at a fraction of the cost. Concepts resembling Project Seawarden illustrate how sea denial can be achieved not by matching an adversary’s fleet, but by making forward operations increasingly hazardous.

Doctrinal Shifts: The Indo-Pacific Reality

This shift from theory to doctrine is currently manifesting across the Indo-Pacific, where regional powers are actively prioritizing asymmetric denial over traditional fleet matching.

The USV Threat: Surface Denial

Recognizing that matching Chinese naval tonnage is financially and logistically prohibitive, Taiwan is rapidly shifting its procurement toward sea denial capabilities. Taipei is prioritizing the development and mass production of uncrewed surface vessels (USVs), such as the Endeavour Manta and Kuai Chi.1,2 These platforms are explicitly designed for intelligence, surveillance, reconnaissance, and one-way kamikaze missions. Capable of carrying explosive payloads, they present a highly expendable, low-cost threat specifically optimized to strike high-value surface combatants and enforce sea denial in the contested waters of the Taiwan Strait.

The UUV Threat: Subsurface Friction

Beneath the surface, the focus has shifted toward generating persistent friction without risking multi-billion-dollar crewed submarines. The Royal Australian Navy, in collaboration with industry partners, is rapidly producing the “Ghost Shark” Extra Large Autonomous Undersea Vehicle (XL-AUV).3 This program aims to deliver a stealthy, long-range autonomous capability to conduct persistent surveillance and strike missions, effectively laying down an affordable undersea deterrence layer. Concurrently, China views the undersea domain as central to great-power competition, actively integrating seabed sensors and unmanned underwater vehicles (UUVs) into a vast anti-submarine warfare network designed to control maritime choke points and compel adversary vessels to withdraw.4

The Network: The Multi-Domain Fabric

Physical drones, however, cannot enforce denial in isolation; they require a battle space management network capable of coordinating them across domains to overwhelm adversary defenses. Acknowledging the need to counter the People’s Liberation Army’s advantage in mass, the U.S. Department of Defense launched the “Replicator” initiative.5 Driven heavily by the operational needs of the Indo-Pacific Command, Replicator aims to field thousands of attritable, autonomous systems across multiple domains within a two-year window. By networking these small, smart, and cheap systems, the strategic objective is to penetrate heavily contested anti-access/area-denial (A2/AD) environments, creating a distributed autonomous fabric that paralyzes adversary logistics and operational tempo.

The Logistics of the Interceptor Trap

The central problem is not simply that autonomous drones are cheap. It is that defending against them is expensive, finite, and logistically fragile. Modern surface combatants rely on highly capable interceptors such as the SM-2 or Aster 30, each costing millions of dollars and occupying limited space in a ship’s vertical launch system. Against a small number of high-end threats, this exchange makes sense. Against large numbers of low-cost autonomous platforms, it does not.

This creates what can be described as the “Interceptor Trap.” Defenders are compelled to expend scarce, high-value interceptors against targets that may cost only tens of thousands of dollars. The imbalance is not merely financial. Missile magazines cannot be replenished at sea, and once depleted, a ship must withdraw to reload. By contrast, an adversary can scale production of simple autonomous systems far more rapidly and with fewer constraints. Systems modeled on the Seawarden concept exploit this friction. They do not need to penetrate defenses perfectly; they need only to force defenders to consume their most capable weapons on the least valuable targets.

Attacking the Logistics Chain

Much of the discussion around autonomous maritime systems focuses on dramatic scenarios involving aircraft carriers or major surface combatants. In practice, the more consequential vulnerability lies elsewhere. Fleet oilers, replenishment ships, and other logistics vessels are essential to sustained naval operations, yet they are slow, lightly defended, and highly visible.

Disrupting these ships does not require sinking them outright. Damage to propulsion, steering, or hull integrity can remove a logistics vessel from service for months. Without reliable replenishment, even the most capable carrier strike group becomes tethered to distant ports. Autonomous underwater or surface systems do not need to breach the layered defenses of a destroyer to shape a campaign; targeting the logistics tail can achieve the same effect more reliably. It is not a dramatic way to fight, but it is an effective one.

Persistent Friction and the Zone of Uncertainty

Autonomous systems impose costs even when they do not attack. The maritime environment is already cluttered with biological noise, commercial traffic, and complex acoustic conditions. Introducing large numbers of small, low-signature platforms into this environment compounds the problem. Distinguishing a hostile autonomous system from benign background noise becomes a continuous challenge rather than a discrete event.

For operators, this creates sustained cognitive strain. Commanders must assume that any contact could represent a threat, even if most do not. Ships maneuver more aggressively, burn more fuel, and devote greater attention to defensive postures. Over time, this persistent uncertainty degrades operational tempo and increases the likelihood of error. Autonomous systems designed for endurance and persistence are particularly effective at generating this friction, regardless of whether they ever fire a weapon.

Conclusion: The End of Maritime Sanctuary

High-value naval platforms carry significance far beyond their military utility. They are symbols of national prestige, and damage to them carries political consequences even when losses are limited. By contrast, unmanned systems carry little political risk. Losing an autonomous platform does not provoke domestic backlash or escalation pressure.

As competition intensifies in regions such as the Indian Ocean, the balance of advantage may increasingly Favor those who can impose denial rather than project dominance. The decisive question is shifting away from who fields the most impressive platforms, and toward who can most effectively deny the use of contested maritime spaces. In that environment, low-cost autonomous systems are not force multipliers; they are force limiters, capable of eroding the operational freedom of even the most advanced navies.

Rudraksh Pathak is an undergraduate engineering student and co-founder of Enlir Avant Systéme. His research focuses on maritime strategy, autonomous systems, and distributed unmanned architectures in naval warfare. His current work explores ontologies for defense systems, systems engineering for unmanned battle management systems, and digital twin frameworks for autonomous operational environments.

References

[1] “Taiwanese Drone Firm Pitches Unmanned Surface Vessels for Coastal Defense,” USNI News, December 2025.

[2] Sutton, H. I. “Taiwan’s Asymmetric Capabilities: Weaponised Uncrewed Surface Vessels,” Covert Shores, August 2024.

[3]”Anduril Wins Ghost Shark Contract,” Australian Defence Magazine, September 10, 2025.

[4]”Exploring the Role of UUVs in Maritime Surveillance and A2/AD Capabilities,” Center for a New American Security (CNAS), June 2024.

[5]”Implementing the Department of Defense Replicator Initiative to Accelerate All-Domain Attritable Autonomous Systems,” Defense Innovation Unit (DIU), U.S. Department of Defense, November 30, 2023.

Featured Image: Medium displacement unmanned surface vessel Sea Hunter sails in formation during Rim of the Pacific (RIMPAC) 2022., Aug. 3, 2022.  (U.S. Navy Photo by Petty Officer 3rd Class Kylie Jagiello.)

Force Structure

Mass Drones to Save Missiles: A High–Low Mix for the Pacific

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By Connor Keating

 The future of conflict in the Western Pacific will hinge on sustaining firepower over vast distances with finite magazines and vulnerable logistics. The Russia‑Ukraine war and much of history show that victory has never relied on a small inventory of exquisite, high‑cost weapons.1 Instead, success increasingly rests on combining massed, affordable drones with a more limited stock of precision‑guided munitions—a munitions‑centric high–low mix. To deter and, if necessary, defeat aggression, the U.S. should build a mix of long‑range, payload-modular drones. This approach is about designing an economically favorable, attrition‑resilient strike architecture that forces an adversary into unfavorable cost‑exchange ratios.

Originally a Cold War concept that paired high‑ and low‑end manned platforms against the Soviet Union, the high–low mix has re-emerged in a new form centered on munitions rather than platforms. A munitions‑centric high–low mix forces adversaries to choose between defending against slow, numerous drones or conserving interceptors for higher‑end threats, thereby creating gaps in their air defenses.2 In a theater defined by extended supply lines and constrained magazines, such a mix will be essential to sustaining combat power and imposing escalating costs on the People’s Liberation Army.

Lessons from Ukraine

At the onset of the war, Russia relied heavily on conventional combined arms but quickly transitioned—much as Ukraine did earlier—to a new toolset of drones to contest the land, sea, and air domains. Two lessons stand out for U.S. planners preparing for a conflict in the Pacific.

First, Ukraine has effectively combined maritime drones with traditional missiles and employed “mothership” drones to extend range at sea. The integration of sea drones with missile air defense systems significantly degraded Russia’s presence in the Black Sea by simultaneously threatening ships and their helicopter escorts.3, 4 The operations in the Black Sea demonstrate how relatively inexpensive unmanned systems, when integrated with existing traditional weapons, can constrain an adversary’s freedom of action and impose enduring costs.

Second, and most importantly, both sides utilized one‑way attack drones in conjunction with precision munitions to saturate and exhaust air defenses. Russia pummeled Ukraine with long-range drones, depleting valuable interceptors and straining Ukrainian air defense.5, 6 This pattern would likely repeat in any high‑intensity air and maritime campaign in the Western Pacific. Therefore, the grinding stalemate in Ukraine is less a model to emulate than a warning of the nature of future war.

Requirements for a Pacific High-Low Mix

In the Pacific, drones will require operational ranges approaching 2,000 nautical miles to be meaningful, with a minimum of 100 nautical miles for tactical systems if basing rights near key terrain can be established. Longer‑range systems provide greater operational leverage but will substantially increase costs and reduce temporal fires volume (the weight of effects delivered per unit of time). With these facts in mind, three key requirements emerge.

First, missiles and drones must be deployable from land, sea, and air. Cross‑domain employment or launch-system interchangeability reduces platform-specific dependencies and mitigates the need for extreme‑range systems that may arise in a contested single domain. Interchangeability will streamline supply chains and logistics, as a munition can be fired from multiple platforms with minimal modification, usually with a simple software update.7 The Harpoon anti-ship missile illustrates this principle by being employable from surface, subsurface, and airborne platforms. A surface launch from a ship or ground launcher achieves greater than 70 nautical miles. From an aircraft, the effective range is boosted by the aircraft’s range, often over 500 nautical miles, and can be extended via aerial refueling.8 The same logic should guide the integration of drones against integrated air defense systems.

The risk posed by Chinese long‑range ballistic missiles will likely push the effective denial boundary for surface forces greater than 1,000 nautical miles.9 The U.S. faces a shortfall in strategic sealift capacity, and any Pacific campaign will expose sustainment ships and aircraft to long‑range strike.10 To reduce risk, sustainment forces may be pushed even further from the fight. To sustain combat power, mass must be delivered efficiently and quickly at acceptable risk levels. Taken together, these constraints imply that the U.S requires families of drones binned by range: shorter‑range systems that exploit forward bases near key terrain and longer‑range systems that can operate from well outside threat weapons’ reach.

Because of the ranges involved, purpose‑built drones for the Pacific theater will be more expensive than those used in Europe or the Middle East. In Ukraine, Shahed or Geran drones, with ranges of up to roughly 1,600 nautical miles, provide Russia with coverage of the entire battlespace with multiple routing options, offering significant operational flexibility at relatively low cost.11 By comparison, a similar drone launched from Guam would be on a straight-line attack, approaching its maximum range.

Long-range drones typically use small reciprocating engines and thus avoid some of the solid‑rocket‑motor supply‑chain constraints that affect missiles, as well as the technical complexity associated with gas turbines.12 LUCAS, a new one‑way attack drone reportedly based on the Iranian Shahed‑136, has an estimated range of approximately 1,500 nautical miles and may be among the most promising near‑term options.13 Other candidates include systems such as Altius and Barracuda, with ranges from roughly 100 to over 500 nautical miles.14, 15, 16 While the exact design line between drones and cruise missiles may be blurred, their ability to carry multiple payloads and operate autonomously places them conceptually within the drone portion of the high–low mix. Forcing an adversary to divert resources or believe that one effort is more important than another can have far-reaching strategic effects.

For example, expending large numbers of expensive interceptors against relatively cheap drones increases an adversary’s defensive missile expenditures and creates temporary windows when their air defenses are saturated. During those windows, U.S. forces can employ exquisite missiles against high‑value targets at lower risk, as already seen in Ukraine.17 This tactic increases the effectiveness of individual exquisite munitions and, over time, reduces the cost per target of the combined effect. It also forces adversaries into persistently unfavorable spending patterns and increasing long‑term operational costs. This may potentially force a shift in money or production away from other key weapon systems to fill gaps in air defenses.

For example, the conflict between Israel and Iran following the October 7th attacks. Across three major engagements in October 2024, April 2025, and June 2025, Iran employed more than 1,000 drones and 500 missiles.18 By the end of the exchange, reports indicated that Israel was running critically low on interceptors, and the U.S. had significant shortages of THAAD missiles, while Iran was assessed to still have thousands of missiles and drones remaining in its inventory.19, 20

Moreover, Iranian attacks became increasingly effective over time. By the final round of strikes, more than 60 missiles were impacting Israeli territory—over twice the number that got through in the initial October attack.21 The most consequential aspect of this campaign was not the tactical success but the operational effects Iran achieved. The time and cost required for Israel to repair infrastructure and replenish high-end interceptors are many times greater than the expense of the relatively low-cost, improvised missiles and drones that Iran employed. Iran consumed valuable maintenance hours and sortie-generation capacity that would otherwise support offensive strike missions. If Iran possessed a more capable air force, this kind of coercive, resource‑draining approach could be decisive in shifting the operational balance in its favor by steadily degrading Israel’s ability to generate credible offensive power.

The core operational lesson is that a sustained high–low mix can impose continuous defensive burdens, consume precious economic capital, and erode an opponent’s ability to sustain offensive operations. For the Indo‑Pacific, U.S. and allied forces must be prepared to wage a drawn‑out contest in which the key question is not who fields the most exquisite platforms on day one, but who can afford to keep firing on day one hundred.

The U.S. fields broad capabilities but limited depth in its weapons inventory. A perfect example is the U.S. pursuit of hypersonic weapons since the early 2000s, with little advancement in programs’ operational numbers despite Russia and China likely now fielding operational systems at scale.22 The simple fact regarding U.S. weapons is this: specialized but less scalable than many of their potential adversaries. That creates limits and risks for the platforms that provide the “punch” in potential conflict. To remain competitive, U.S. planners should prioritize modular, cross‑domain-capable drone and missile platforms that can be field-modified and mass‑produced, with an emphasis on range, speed, and flexibility.

Sustainment and Modularity for the High-Low Mix

Modern war is a voracious consumer of munitions. Therefore, the ability to conduct sustainment at scale is critical. Containerization for transport and employment should be the baseline requirement for any drone adopted into U.S. military service. Standardized launch containers can be dispersed on ships, barges, trucks, and austere airstrips across the theater. This distribution complicates adversary targeting, reduces the risk of preemptive strikes on centralized depots, and eases movement into the theater, potentially allowing contracted non-traditional shipping to carry containerized drones and freeing dedicated military sealift for other cargo. The CONSOL concept, in which fuel from civilian tankers is delivered to U.S. Navy oilers and warships, could serve as a model for sustaining containerized drones with minor modifications.23 In practice, this would allow containerized drones to move through commercial and military logistics channels much like fuel or standard cargo, enabling surge munitions flows into the theater without overexposing scarce sealift and major logistics hubs.

The final key enabler is the use of modular drone payloads. A common airframe that can be configured as a jammer, decoy, sensor, or one‑way attack munition allows commanders to tailor each salvo to the mission. Existing systems already demonstrate this potential, carrying payloads ranging from electronic‑attack packages to surveillance sensors.24, 25, 26, 27 Modularity achieves two ends. First, it reduces sustainment risk by minimizing the number of unique systems or components that must be transported into the theater. Second, it increases the probability of a salvo’s success by integrating jammers, decoys, and attack drones into a single, coordinated attack. Determining the optimal drone-to-missile mix requires experimentation to identify force packages that achieve the desired outcomes at minimal cost. Modularity also improves cost‑exchange performance by allowing commanders to reconfigure existing airframes for new tasks rather than fielding separate, specialized systems for each mission set.

Drone-from-Drone and Mothership Concepts

Recent testing of a Switchblade 600 one‑way attack drone launched from a larger MQ‑9A Reaper, the same drones synonymous with the War on Terror, illustrates how drone‑from‑drone concepts can extend the reach and responsiveness of unmanned systems.28 Because the MQ‑9 has roughly twice the speed and greater range than a LUCAS‑type drone, this approach could increase engagement options and compress timelines.29

A more resilient system would include theater‑range modular drones and a dedicated mothership, such as the MQ-9 or other long-range drone, which would carry shorter‑range attack drones. Modular theater drones conduct missions requiring greater payload and power, such as jamming. This nested architecture reduces dependence on manned, high‑value platforms and provides additional means to generate the force mass required to penetrate layered defenses.

Mothership concepts introduce additional command‑and‑control and deconfliction challenges that will require rigorous experimentation and wargaming before adoption at scale. Yet if implemented effectively, they would confront adversary commanders with overlapping dilemmas: theater‑range modular drones launched from ground, sea, or air; shorter‑range munitions deployed from motherships; and exquisite missiles capable of rapid, penetrating strikes. Together, these elements complicate air defense planning and increase the likelihood that some portion of each salvo reaches its targets. Crucially, the U.S. must not lose sight of the fact that China is also experimenting in this field. To maintain its edge, the U.S. must begin rapid live‑fire experimentation to formalize doctrine, create feedback loops for software, and refine command‑and‑control architectures for the inevitable drone‑on‑drone fights.

Conclusion

A future war in the Western Pacific will not be decided by which side fields the most exquisite platforms on the opening day of combat, but by which side can afford to keep firing on day one hundred. The U.S. is currently organized around a force-and-munitions paradigm that assumes short, decisive campaigns that do not exist in reality. Against a peer with a large, industrialized economy and an asymmetric approach designed to circumvent U.S. short-range precision strike, the result is likely paralysis if not outright defeat.

This is not a call for more technology for its own sake, but for different economics in how we design and employ firepower. Containerized, cross‑domain‑launchable drones; modular payloads that can be rapidly reconfigured between jamming, sensing, decoy, and strike; and drone‑from‑drone or mothership concepts that multiply the reach of each sortie—all are tools for building a strike architecture that can absorb attrition and generate effects at scale.

If the U.S. fails to make this shift, it risks entering a Pacific conflict on China’s terms: overextended logistics, shallow magazines, and a force trapped in a defensive, interceptor-driven pattern of expenditure. But if senior leaders move now and implement the suggested changes, the balance changes.

The choice, then, is straightforward. The U.S. can continue to organize its Pacific posture around a shrinking set of exquisite platforms and munitions and hope they survive long enough to matter. Or it can accept that the defining contest of a Western Pacific war will be industrial and economic output at scale. The window to make that choice is closing fast.

Lieutenant Connor Keating commissioned from the Virginia Tech NROTC and served aboard a forward-deployed destroyer in Yokosuka, Japan. On shore duty, he was a protocol action officer to the Chairman and Vice Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. He is an integrated air-and-missile defense warfare tactics instructor and participated in the Naval War College’s Halsey Alfa Advanced Research Project as a resident student.

References

1. Trevor Phillips-Levine, Andrew Tenbusch, and Walker D Miles. “Gilded Capability: Overinvestment and the Survivability Paradox.” War on the Rocks, February 12, 2026. https://warontherocks.com/2026/02/gilded-capability-overinvestment-and-the-survivability-paradox/.

2. Trevor Phillips-Levine. “Return of the Gunfighters.” Behind The Front, August 15, 2024. https://behindthefront.substack.com/p/return-of-the-gunfighters.

3. Mark Temnycky. “Ukraine Has Innovated Naval Warfare – Center for Maritime Strategy.” Center for Maritime Strategy – Center for Maritime Strategy, July 25, 2025. https://centerformaritimestrategy.org/publications/ukraine-has-innovated-naval-warfare/.

4. Stefano D’Urso and Andrea Daolio. “Ukrainian Surface Drone Equipped with R-73 Air-to-Air Missiles Shot down Russian MI-8 Helicopter.” The Aviationist, January 1, 2025. https://theaviationist.com/2024/12/31/ukrainian-magura-usv-r-73-vs-mi-8-helicopter/.

5. Matthew Bint and Fabian Hinz. “Russia Doubles down on the Shahed.” The international institute for strategic studies, April 14, 2025. https://www.iiss.org/online-analysis/military-balance/2025/04/russia-doubles-down-on-the-shahed/.

6. Vytis Andreika. “Russia’s Changes in the Conduct of War Based on Lessons from Ukraine Adapting Technology, Force Structures, and the Defense Industry.” Military Review, 5, 105, no. September-October 2025 (September 2025): 109–24. https://doi.org/Professional Bulletin 100-25-09/10.

7. Trevor Phillips-Levine and Andrew Tenbusch. “Allied Arsenal: Building Strength through Shared Production.” War on the Rocks, July 22, 2025. https://warontherocks.com/2025/07/allied-arsenal-building-strength-through-shared-production/.

8. No author. “AGM UGM RGM-84 Harpoon Anti Ship Missile SSM SLAM-ER.” n.d. www.seaforces.org.https://www.seaforces.org/wpnsys/SURFACE/RGM-84-Harpoon.htm.

9. No author. “Missiles of China | Missile Threat.” 2018. Missile Threat. 2018. https://missilethreat.csis.org/country/china/.

10. Andrew Rolander. “The Dangerous Collapse of US Strategic Sealift Capacity | the Strategist.” The Strategist. March 25, 2025. https://www.aspistrategist.org.au/the-dangerous-collapse-of-us-strategic-sealift-capacity/.

11. Joe Emmett, Trevor Ball, and N.R. Jenzen-Jones. n.d. Review of Shahed-131 & -136 UAVs: A Visual Guide. Open Source Munitions Portal. Open Source Munitions Portal. Accessed February 12, 2026. https://osmp.ngo/collection/shahed-131-136-uavs-a-visual-guide/.

12. Theresa Hitchens, “With the Boom for Solid Rocket Motors for Missiles, a Perilous Crunch in the Supply Chain,” Breaking Defense, January 12, 2026, https://breakingdefense.com/2026/01/with-the-boom-for-solid-rocket-motors-for-missiles-a-perilous-crunch-in-the-supply-chain.

13. No author. “US Develops Lucas Kamikaze Drone to Surpass Iranian Shahed as Loitering Munitions Become Core to Future Warfare.” US develops LUCAS kamikaze drone to surpass Iranian Shahed-136 as loitering munitions become core to future warfare, July 18, 2025. https://armyrecognition.com/news/army-news/2025/us-develops-lucas-kamikaze-drone-to-surpass-iranian-shahed-136-as-loitering-munitions-become-core-to-future-warfare.

14. Shield AI, “V-Bat,” accessed January 26, 2026, https://shield.ai/v-bat.

15. Anduril Industries, “Altius,” accessed January 26, 2026, https://www.anduril.com/altius.

16. Anduril Industries, “Barracuda,” accessed January 26, 2026, https://www.anduril.com/barracuda.

17. Hugo Bachega, “Russian Air Strikes Get Deadlier and Bigger, Hitting Ukraine’s Very Heart,” BBC News, September 9, 2025, https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/cgrqwpee05ro.

18. Sam Lair. “Shallow Ramparts: Air and Missile Defenses in the June 2025 Israel-Iran War – Foreign Policy Research Institute.” Foreign Policy Research Institute, October 17, 2025. https://www.fpri.org/article/2025/10/shallow-ramparts-air-and-missile-defenses-in-the-june-2025-israel-iran-war/.

19. Ibid.

20. Rising, David, and Sam Metz. “Iran’s Military Degraded by 12-Day War with Israel, but Still Has Significant Capabilities.” AP News, February 13, 2026. https://apnews.com/article/iran-israel-us-trump-military-carrier-war-931c25411eeef7d8cee679b3544b792a.

21. Sam Lair. “Shallow Ramparts: Air and Missile Defenses in the June 2025 Israel-Iran War – Foreign Policy Research Institute.” Foreign Policy Research Institute, October 17, 2025. https://www.fpri.org/article/2025/10/shallow-ramparts-air-and-missile-defenses-in-the-june-2025-israel-iran-war/.

22. No author. “Hypersonic Weapons: Background and Issues for Congress.” February 20, 2026. https://www.congress.gov/crs-product/R45811.

23. Sarah Burford. Review of Tanker Ships Deliver Fuel to MSC Ships via CONSOL in Support of RIMPAC 2022. U.S. Navy. U.S. Navy. July 25, 2022. https://www.navy.mil/Press-Office/News-Stories/Article/3103496/tanker-ships-deliver-fuel-to-msc-ships-via-consol-in-support-of-rimpac-2022/.

24. No author. “US Develops Lucas Kamikaze Drone to Surpass Iranian Shahed as Loitering Munitions Become Core to Future Warfare.” US develops LUCAS kamikaze drone to surpass Iranian Shahed-136 as loitering munitions become core to future warfare, July 18, 2025. https://armyrecognition.com/news/army-news/2025/us-develops-lucas-kamikaze-drone-to-surpass-iranian-shahed-136-as-loitering-munitions-become-core-to-future-warfare.

25. Shield AI, “V-Bat,” accessed January 26, 2026, https://shield.ai/v-bat.

26. Anduril Industries, “Altius,” accessed January 26, 2026, https://www.anduril.com/altius.

27. Anduril Industries, “Barracuda,” accessed January 26, 2026, https://www.anduril.com/barracuda.

28. No author. “AV Switchblade 600 Loitering Munition System Achieves Pivotal Milestone with First-Ever Air Launch from MQ-9A.” AeroVironment, Inc., September 10, 2025. https://www.avinc.com/resources/press-releases/view/av-switchblade-600-loitering-munition-system-achieves-pivotal-milestone-with-first-ever-air-launch-from-mq-9a.

29. No author. “MQ-9 Reaper.” Air Force, January 2025. https://www.af.mil/About-Us/Fact-Sheets/Display/Article/104470/mq-9-reaper/.

Featured Photo: A U.S. LUCAS drone on a tarmac in the U.S. Central Command area of responsibility. Wikimedia Commons.

Red Sea Topic Week

Evaluating the Naval Response to the Red Sea Crisis

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Red Sea Topic Week

By Colin Barnard

Though Alfred Thayer Mahan is famous for his advocacy of strong naval fleets to win decisive battles at sea, he saw the enduring purpose of navies as something much broader and not constrained to war: enabling and, if necessary, disrupting maritime trade. Even though Mahan could not have imagined autonomous weapons, the Houthis’ campaign against merchant shipping in the Red Sea would have been familiar to him. Whatever technology is used, however, maritime trade has been disrupted before; and, as before, the U.S. Navy and several of its allies are fighting to enable it, demonstrating the Navy’s enduring purpose for all to see. This analysis evaluates the naval response so far, from cooperating with merchant shipping, the cost effectiveness and vulnerabilities of using warships and missiles to counter drones, and the role of allies, to the potential implications for a future conflict with China and current efforts in defense innovation to prepare for it.

Cooperating with Merchant Shipping

Threats against merchant shipping are not new: pirates, German U-boats, and even other merchant ships have disrupted merchant shipping in the past. Navies, coast guards, and the international shipping community have long feared the potential for terrorists to exploit the vulnerability of merchant ships in one of the world’s many maritime chokepoints, of which the Bab-el-Mandeb Strait in the Red Sea is one of the most critical. A terrorist group backed by Iran, the Houthis have exploited the geography of the Red Sea to their advantage, targeting shipping to disrupt trade with disproportionate impact in order to effect political change–i.e., hindering Israel’s campaign against Hamas in Gaza. Protecting shipping from such terrorism is a job for naval forces, but they must cooperate with merchant shipping in doing so, as they have in the past.

Enter Naval Cooperation and Guidance for Shipping (NCAGS). An important NATO doctrine, NCAGS provides NATO navies with the tools to cooperate and guide merchant shipping during crisis and conflict. Its shortfalls arise because of the voluntary nature of this relationship. Though shipping can never be guaranteed full protection–especially without troops on the ground to mitigate land-based threats–navies must provide value to the shipping industry if it is to trust and rely on them for what protection they can provide. While the NCAGS doctrine has been practiced by NATO navies for decades, it does not seem to have worked as designed in the Red Sea. Early in the crisis, Reuters reported that shipping was “in the dark” on U.S. and allied naval efforts to counter Houthi attacks. The always candid John Konrad, founder and CEO of gCaptain, took to Twitter to highlight the perils of this apparent disconnect.

While communication between the NCAGS enterprise and shipping was likely better than publicly available information suggests, as Nathan Strang claimed, it would not be unreasonable to suggest the need for a closer relationship between the two. If they are not already, industry liaison officers could be used to better link the U.S. Navy and shipping, and foreign area officers could help allies get on the same page. Public affairs officers also have a role to play. If the NCAGS enterprise was doing its job per Strang, but efforts were difficult to surmise because of classification, carefully crafted news releases about these efforts could have helped put shipping at ease. Depending on NATO’s role in such a crisis, the NATO Shipping Center, NATO’s single point of contact for the international shipping community, would be the best link between the two. NATO has come to aid of merchant shipping before, even when the threat was outside its area of responsibility; and crises like this would help shore up its relationship with shipping in the event of crises or conflict closer to home.

Cost Effectiveness and Vulnerabilities: Destroyer vs. Drones

At the same time naval forces are demonstrating their enduring purpose in the Red Sea, outsiders are questioning the sustainability of manned, multi-billion warships facing off against much cheaper, unmanned drones. The missiles used to shoot down these drones cost upwards of $4 million, while the drones themselves cost only hundreds of thousands. But the issue of cost effectiveness in asymmetric warfare is not new. In the land campaigns of the Global War on Terror, for example, costly munitions were expended in the targeting of much less costly targets. That cost effectiveness is suddenly an issue for public discussion during a maritime campaign is yet another example of seablindness, but the concern is reasonable. Unmanned and easy to replicate, drones can be used to exhaust more expensive naval munitions before attacking warships directly without putting the drone operator at risk. The discussion of cost effectiveness has, therefore, extended to the vulnerability of warships.

This vulnerability was the subject of a recent article by Brandon Weichert, who bemoaned the Arleigh Burke-class guided missile destroyer as “a great navy warship past its prime.” Current and former naval officers were quick to criticize the article, which uses the 2000 attack on USS Cole as its prime example of such vulnerability but says nothing about weapon posture or layered defense (the Cole was moored in Yemen for refueling and unready when the attack occurred). While warship vulnerability against drones is concerning, all of history’s advances in weapon technology elicited similar concern. From the longbow and machine gun to the submarine and nuclear bomb, these advances created asymmetry even among peers, and only democratization of these technologies restored the balance. In the meantime, it should be obvious that the best course of action, as the United States (and now UK, too) is following, is to target bases and operators before drones become a threat–though it is doubtful that such strikes alone will be enough to make a difference.

While the Houthi’s use of autonomous systems is the latest example of their democratization, the Second Nagorno-Karabakh War was the first indication of such democratization on a mass scale, as well as the first instance of these systems being a decisive factor in war. Prior to the 2020 conflict, autonomous systems—drones—were the purview of major powers with the money to procure and employ them. In Nagorno-Karabakh, Azerbaijan employed them as a force of their own, devastating Armenian air defenses, tanks, artillery, and supply lines without putting traditional aircraft or their pilots in harm’s way. Similarly, in the Russo-Ukrainian war, Ukrainian forces have all but stopped the Russian Navy in the Black Sea, using drones to disrupt and in some cases destroy Russian warships. As John Antal warned in his detailed analysis of the Second Nagorno-Karabakh War, autonomous systems, now employed by state and non-state actors alike, are here to stay. 

Absent Allies and Coalitions of the Willing

Due to the impact of Houthi attacks on world trade, the U.S. and several of its allies formed a coalition of the willing to respond to the crisis. Like the international response to piracy in the Horn of Africa, international naval cooperation has become a rule rather than an exception in the post-Cold War era. Globalization has necessitated this cooperation, increasing the impact of the threats to, and mitigations of maritime security relative to more traditional threats. But unlike the response to piracy, which saw NATO, the EU, and even China, India, and Russia deploy forces to protect maritime trade, NATO is notably absent from this crisis. The Israel-Hamas conflict has divided many allies on their response to the Houthi threat, even if all are affected by the disruption of merchant shipping in the Red Sea. NATO has the means to make a difference in this crisis, but politics as usual are in the way.

As of this writing, 14 states are supporting the U.S.-led Operation Prosperity Guardian. Of these 14, only eight are NATO members–the United States included. The EU’s Operation Aspides has even fewer supporters, though they include some of the NATO members absent from Prosperity Guardian. Of course, not all states supporting Prosperity Guardian are contributing warships; but the presence of staff officers, as Norway is contributing, will enhance cooperation. One of the merchant ships attacked early on in this crisis was Norwegian-flagged, incentivizing this contribution, but the general threat posed to freedom of navigation in the Red Sea should be incentive enough for all capable states to contribute. As should be obvious even to the seablind, the impact of supply chain disruption as seen during COVID, the grounding of the Ever Given, and, more recently, the destruction of the Francis Scott Key bridge, necessitates their contribution.

Whether or not it ultimately contributes to the crisis response, NATO must once again confront the challenge of deterring and defending against its perennial foe, Russia, while also contributing to maritime security. Worrisomely, NATO’s Allied Maritime Strategy is out-of-date. Its latest Strategic Concept, released in 2022, refocuses on Russia while maintaining NATO’s role as a maritime security actor; but it poorly articulates the maritime dimensions of NATO’s security environment. NATO is, first and foremost, a maritime alliance, and it needs a maritime strategy to guide its force structure and operational concepts. Such a strategy is more important considering the potential for a future conflict with China. If the U.S. Navy and potentially other NATO navies must surge to the Pacific, alliance buy-in will be needed to manage the varying threats to maritime security in and near NATO’s area of responsibility.

Implications for a Future Conflict with China 

As the U.S. Navy and coalition members stand off against Houthi drones (and missiles) in the Red Sea, the implications for future conflict are worth examining. As in the Russo-Ukrainian War, drones have reduced asymmetry in this crisis; and they were decisive in the Second Nagorno-Karabakh War. Clearly, such technology must be at the forefront of the U.S. Navy’s planning for a future conflict with China, which has the industrial capacity to produce drones in far greater quantities than so far exhibited. Updates to strategy and the fleet design it informs need to be quick, as warships, submarines, aircraft, and their integration with this technology cannot happen overnight. The new U.S. Navy Chief of Naval Operations, Lisa Franchetti, called this state of affairs a “1930s moment.” In the 30s, the U.S. Navy was too small and insufficiently resourced for the coming Second World War, and the U.S. Navy is not much different today (shipbuilding delays being one of the most troubling examples).

While the U.S. Navy’s strategy prior to the Second World War was centered on battleships, as Franchetti explained, it shifted from this platform-centric strategy to one integrating naval forces above and below the sea to defeat the Nazis and Imperial Japan. The next shift in strategy is clearly toward autonomy. The Navy is already making significant efforts to this end. The Replicator Initiative, focused on commercially sourcing and mass producing drones to take on China, is the overarching example of these efforts. The Navy’s unmanned  Task Force 59 in the Middle East is the prime example of the Navy’s role at the pointy end of this strategy, developing and implementing its tactics. Likewise, other branches, especially the U.S. Marine Corps, are making efforts to better design themselves for next generation warfare. How exactly this next generation warfare will look is still unclear, but drones are likely to be used to counter drones. The era of drone-on-drone warfare is near.

One of the biggest lessons to be learned from the drone warfare experienced so far is offense-defense balance. Drones add to an already saturated battle space, increasing the burden on layered defenses. Leveraging emerging technology to improve offensive capabilities is critical, but defensive capabilities must be given corresponding weight. Importantly, however, neither offensive nor defensive capabilities need to be wholly reliant on emerging technology; “old ways” may prove to be more effective than imagined, as they were for Lieutenant General Van Riper in the infamous Millennium Challenge. The novel 2034, co-authored by retired Admiral James Stavridis and Elliot Ackerman, imagines how these old ways might make the difference in a conflict with China, should new technology be defeated. New technology might win some wars and mitigate certain crises; where it is not the deciding factor, however, old ways—or some combination of the old and new, as is currently on display in Ukraine—may be.

Conclusion

Navies are demonstrating their enduring purpose in the Red Sea Crisis, but their response has been far from perfect. The seemingly strained relationship between navies and merchant shipping evident early in the crisis is concerning, but establishing better relationships between the two using liaison officers and the NATO Shipping Center–if NATO involves itself—could help in the future. The cost-effectiveness and vulnerabilities of the naval response are also concerning, as is the absence of certain allies. Regardless, the drone technology at the center of this crisis is here to stay, and the implications for a future conflict are the most concerning of all. Defense innovation efforts are already underway to prepare for such a conflict, but over reliance on emerging technology to go on offense, without simultaneously preparing for defense, could be fatal. Going forward, navies are at the center of these challenges, especially war with China. Thankfully, the Red Sea Crisis could prove their perfect test.

Colin Barnard is a PhD candidate at King’s College London and foreign area officer in the U.S. Navy Reserve, currently assigned to a unit supporting U.S. Naval Forces Europe-Africa/U.S. Sixth Fleet in Naples, Italy. He was formerly on active duty for ten years, during which he supported U.S. and NATO operations across Europe, the Middle East, and North Africa. He has previously written for CIMSEC and the U.S. Naval Institute’s Proceedings. The views expressed in this publication are the author’s and do not imply endorsement by the U.S. Department of Defense or U.S. Navy.

Featured Image: The British-registered cargo ship Rubymar sinking, after it was targeted by Yemen’s Houthi forces in international waters in the Red Sea, on March 3, 2024, in the Red Sea. (Photo by Yemeni Al-Joumhouriah TV)

Drones/Unmanned

Unmanned Ships: A Fleet to Do What?

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By Jonathan Panter

On March 18, 2021, former Congresswoman Elaine Luria of Virginia criticized the Navy’s then-recently-released Unmanned Campaign Framework as “full of buzzwords and platitude but really short on details.” When promised a classified concept of operations, she added, “I think the biggest question I have [is]… it is a fleet to do what?”

Two and a half years later, the American public – soon to spend half a billion dollars on unmanned vessels – could ask the same thing. What strategic ends are unmanned vessels intended to serve? The Navy has yet to update the Unmanned Campaign Framework. The document promises all the right things (“faster, scalable, and distributed decision-making”; “resilience, connectivity, and real time awareness”) but provides little granular detail about the differential utility of unmanned systems across mission and warfare areas.

Nevertheless, unmanned vessels are receiving more attention than ever. The media frenzy surrounding Ukraine’s “drone boats” continues; the Navy’s Task Force 59 (responsible for testing small unmanned surface vessels in the Persian Gulf) gets the feature-length treatment in Wired; and a front-page article in the New York Times all but lobbies for more unmanned ships.

Perhaps a concept of operations for unmanned surface vessels is floating around in the classified world. But elsewhere, buzzwords still rule the day. Just weeks ago the Department of Defense announced its new “Replicator” initiative to deploy thousands of drones within two years: it will be “iterative,” “data-driven,” “game-changing,” and of course, “innovative” (variations of the latter appear 22 times in the announcement). Never mind that, in warfare, “innovative” is not always synonymous with “useful.”

Part of the problem is conceptual. The term “unmanned system” includes everything from a civilian hobbyist quadcopter used for spotting artillery in Ukraine, to the Navy’s as-yet-unbuilt “large unmanned surface vessel,” a tugboat-sized ship that is supposed to launch cruise missiles. This expansive terminology can confuse lay observers or new students of the subject. Unmanned systems have matured at different rates. Some have been thoroughly tested and proven their mettle in real-world operations; others are, at present, theoretical or even daydreams. The U.S. military has decades of experience operating unmanned aerial systems (or “aerial drones”), for instance. But the record of unmanned surface vessels – the focus of this article – is limited. Only two types of unmanned surface vessels have seen operational duty in the current era: Ukraine’s (decidedly non-autonomous) explosive-laden drones, and the U.S. Navy’s tiny “Saildrone,” a vessel with little current purpose besides visually-identifying other ships in a permissive environment. Despite these narrow use cases, the two examples are almost-unfailingly invoked in claims that a naval revolution is underway.

When the same few words, and the same few examples, so frequently justify a wholesale strategic pivot, policymakers and strategists should take pause. If the Navy intends to reorient its ways and means of warfare – and if the taxpayer is expected to pay for it – then Congress and the American people deserve a formal, public strategy document on the general purposes and risks of unmanned surface vessels.

The Missions of the Navy

The 2021 Unmanned Campaign Framework is less a plan than a promotional pamphlet. The Framework dedicates one page each to the Department of Defense’s four unmanned systems “portfolios” – air, surface, subsurface, and ground – an understandably brief introduction given the infancy of the technology and classification concerns. Because specific programs are prone to change, it is more informative to examine the promise of unmanned systems from the perspective of the underlying strategic motivation for their development. That context is a shift to what the Navy calls “distributed maritime operations”: a plan to field more platforms, in a more dispersed fashion, networked together to share information and concentrate fires, while keeping people outside the enemy’s weapons envelope, and sending more expendable assets inside of it. Unmanned ships, the Framework contends, free up humans for other tasks, reduce the risk to human life, increase the fleet’s persistence, and make it more resilient by providing more “nodes” in the network. They are also – the Navy frequently claims – cheap. The Chief of Naval Operations’ Navigation Plan 2022 also promises that unmanned systems will deliver particular means of warfare (e.g., increased distribution of forces) but again, without specifying the differential application of such means across mission and warfare areas.

The first step in determining the likely future distribution of unmanned surface vessel risk is projecting where those vessels are most likely to be used. Setting aside strategic deterrence, which remains the realm of ballistic missile submarines, the Navy’s core four missions are sea control, presence, power projection, and maritime security.

Forward Presence is the practice of keeping ships persistently deployed overseas, demonstrating U.S. capabilities and resolve, in order to deter adversaries and reassure allies. Unmanned ships’ putative “advantages” – that they are cheap, small, expendable, and don’t risk personnel – are decidedly counterproductive for this purpose. Deterrence and reassurance require convincing adversaries and allies that one has skin in the game, and risking an unmanned asset hardly compares to risking a destroyer and her crew. On the other hand, the Navy’s large and medium unmanned surface vessels, if ever successfully fielded (and there are ample reasons to suggest that severe challenges remain) might contribute to the credible combat power that deterrence requires.

Another possible argument is that unmanned vessels will free up manned ships for those specific presence operations where a human touch is invaluable (such as port visits), reducing strain on the fleet. But that raises a conundrum. For a ship to demonstrate credible combat power, it must be able to shoot. And the Navy has made clear that any unmanned ship with missiles and guns will be under human control. Particularly in the next few decades, when unmanned vessels’ maintenance and support requirements will be high, nearby manned ships will probably provide that control. Hence, while unmanned vessels could increase the fleet’s vertical-launch capacity – and therefore its combat credibility – they may also worsen operational tempo or contribute to higher overall costs.

Power Projection is the use of ships to fire missiles, launch aircraft, land troops, or provide logistical resupply in support of combat operations on land. The Navy’s large unmanned surface vessel is expected to serve this mission by swelling the Navy’s capacity to launch land-attack missiles. Destroyers and guided missile submarines already serve this function, but unmanned vessels will, according to their advocates, do so more cheaply and with less human risk. But since manned assets’ capabilities in this area are proven, and unmanned assets’ capabilities are not, the Navy must explain what happens if the new technologies fail, and the traditional fleet – perhaps prematurely shrunken or reordered to accommodate the unmanned systems – has to step in to pick up the slack. Unmanned vessels are not officially intended to “replace” manned warships, but a significant strategic imperative for their development is the Navy’s tacit acknowledgment that, given constrained budgets, it cannot achieve its desired fleet expansion with manned ships alone.

Sea Control is attacking enemy ships, aircraft, and submarines, so that the U.S. and its allies can use the sea for power projection or make it passable for wartime commerce. Its corollary is sea denial: preventing an enemy from using of the sea for his purposes. This is where unmanned surface vessels are really supposed to shine. The two biggest arguments for their value-add in sea control are intelligence, surveillance and reconnaissance (ISR), and increased anti-ship missile capacity. There are also interesting emerging use cases, such as swarming electromagnetic warfare.

Small unmanned surface vessels, like the Saildrone – the argument goes – can loiter in large numbers, for weeks at a time (using solar power), all over a battlespace, looking and listening for enemies. While such a niche case for surveillance can be useful, the problem is that maritime surface ISR can struggle to match the global access and persistence of space-based and airborne ISR. Even in relatively constrained areas like the East and South China Seas, the search areas are vast. Unmanned surface vessels cannot match the revisit rates of low earth orbit satellites when combing large swaths of the ocean’s surface. In the last few years, the vast growth in low-earth orbit satellite constellations (both commercial and government-owned) has further diminished the urgency and budget efficiency of meeting ISR needs with surface ships. Ironically, the Saildrone and similar craft may end up being more dependent on space, because unmanned surface ISR assets operating over the horizon will rely on satellite communications to send mission data back. As for airborne ISR (that conducted by manned or unmanned aircraft), small unmanned surface vessels deployed en masse can exceed the persistence of aircraft, but at the cost of sensor reach: these vessels’ low “height of eye” inherently limits the range of their electro-optical sensors.

That relates to the second role unmanned ships are expected to serve in the sea control mission: offensive surface warfare. As noted, the Navy has been explicit that any unmanned ship with kinetic capabilities will be controlled by humans. As such, these vessels cannot be compared to, say, a command-guided missile that switches to radar in the terminal phase. Any kinetic-equipped unmanned vessel will rely on over-the-horizon communications relay provided by satellites, manned and unmanned surface vessels, or airborne assets. But if the Navy expects a satellite-degraded environment, as is possible in a conflict with a peer competitor, then surface and airborne assets will substantially assume the relay burden (requiring far greater numbers of them). Considering the Navy’s stated intent that most unmanned assets be “attritable,” however, it remains to be seen how long such a distributed network would last before manned vessels must themselves assume the relay function, bringing them closer to the enemy’s weapons engagement zone.

Maritime Security refers to constabulary functions such as protecting commerce from terrorists and pirates and preventing illegal behavior such as arms smuggling and drug running. In such operations, small and medium unmanned surface vessels could technically conduct surveillance, issue warnings, or engage threats with small-caliber weapons while under remote human control. The latter, however, seems especially unlikely in practice. Maritime security is a peacetime endeavor, conducted in congested sea space among civilians. Accordingly, there is a high premium on positive identification of bad actors, and generally the goal is not to kill anyone. A human touch will be required – not just “in the loop,” but probably on-scene.

Another problem is that, if unmanned vessels are small and cheap – two of their most celebrated characteristics – terrorists and drug runners may be able to disable them quite easily. Saildrone, therefore, adds most value for maritime security ISR under the following narrow set of conditions: when no aviation assets, satellite coverage, or allied coast guards are available; manned ships or shore facilities are within communications range; it is sunny, or enough sunny days have recently passed to keep batteries charged; and the targets of surveillance are incapable of shooting at, or (as with Iran in 2022), attempting to capture the drone monitoring them from within visual range.

The Risks of Concentration

Most contemporary Navy ships can be used for a variety of the missions delineated above. Destroyers can be used for power projection, sea control, presence, and maritime security; aircraft carriers can be used for all of those; amphibious assault ships are best for power projection and presence but can readily support maritime security. None of this is true for any unmanned vessel – not any in production, and none even in the design phase. A large unmanned surface vessel will have one purpose: to support power projection. Medium unmanned surface vessels will have two purposes: to contribute to sea control and maritime security.

Multi-mission capability, however, is not necessarily the goal. Unmanned assets, proponents argue, will not replace manned ships, but rather augment them as part of a “hybrid fleet.” The Navy expects a force structure that is 40 percent unmanned by 2050, although that does not mean that each naval mission area will be 40 percent unmanned. Some missions will rely more heavily on unmanned platforms than others will. This means the risks of unmanned vessels will not be evenly distributed across the Navy’s missions.

In general, we can forecast that unmanned vessels will fall out of operation (in peacetime) or attrite more quickly (in wartime) than manned ships for two reasons. First, the technology is immature and likely to remain so for a long time; currently, unmanned vessels are prone to inherent hull, mechanical, and electrical casualties, and cyber vulnerabilities. In brief, persistence is these vessels’ greatest challenge (and one the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency is attempting to solve). Unmanned vessels may be required to keep station for weeks or months, in contrast to aerial drones’ persistence times, which are measured in hours. The longer unmanned surface vessels are at sea without maintenance, the greater their chance of routine equipment failure that either requires remote troubleshooting or on-scene repair. The former incurs both electromagnetic targeting and cyber risk. Second, unmanned vessels are explicitly designed to be less survivable, or “expendable” in the words of proponents.

The New York Times feature article mentioned previously illustrates the problem. It observes that the Navy has not scaled the success of Saildrone by integrating larger unmanned surface vessels into the fleet. This failure is attributable, the article argues, to bureaucratic inertia and industry capture. Missing from the discussion is the fact that the hull, mechanical, and electrical solutions required to field a 2000-ton medium unmanned surface vessel (especially one capable of persistent operations) are an order of magnitude more complex than those required for the 14-ton Saildrone. The propulsion requirements alone, let alone combat systems, place the former decades behind the latter in technological maturity. It is therefore nearly guaranteed that by 2030, for instance – even if the Navy has increased the overall percentage of unmanned vessels in its force structure – the Navy will not be able to have significant numbers of unmanned vessels in key mission areas.

Accordingly, the Navy must assess concentration risk: what happens when certain missions, but also warfare areas within those mission areas, degrade at different rates due to the differential survivability of manned versus unmanned assets. As a thought experiment, let us assume the Navy hits its 40 percent unmanned target. However, because Saildrones are far less technically complex, and far cheaper, than large unmanned surface vessels, the future fleet has more of the former than the latter. That future fleet would therefore be more reliant on unmanned assets for maritime security than for presence. Suppose, then, that China executes a successful cyber attack against a network of Saildrones; suddenly the maritime security mission is compromised, and the Navy must draw on its manned assets to support it – at the expense of the presence mission.

Sound unrealistic? Ukraine recently hacked Iranian-made drones used by Russia; during the Solar Winds hack, malicious code was delivered via legitimate code process; and the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration’s satellite network was hacked on at least one known occasion. And these are only some of the reasons why any unmanned asset with external communications capability must be assumed as cyber-vulnerable by default.

Beware Innovation for Innovation’s Sake

It should make the hairs stand up on the back of one’s neck when a new capability is described as simultaneously cheaper and more effective; when dozens of articles use the same buzzwords; when strategy documents are heavy on sweeping generalizations and light on detail; when the claim that technology will “mature” is delivered as a certainty; when “innovative” is treated as synonymous with “useful;” or when the same few empirical examples appear in every article on a subject. All of these are present in spades in media coverage of unmanned vessels.

If the U.S. Navy is to embark on a costly project with uncertain chances of success, it owes Congress and the American people a better Unmanned Campaign Framework, or an unclassified concept of operations that disaggregates the role of unmanned ships across the Navy’s various missions, and the warfare areas that comprise them. Such a concept must be honest about concentration risk and suggest ways to mitigate it. And Congress, which has already begun to take a deeper interest in unmanned platforms, should hold the Navy to account.

Jonathan Panter is a Ph.D. Candidate in Political Science at Columbia University. His dissertation examines the strategic logic of U.S. Navy forward presence. Prior to attending Columbia, he served as a Surface Warfare Officer in the U.S. Navy.

The author thanks Anand Jantzen and Ian Sundstrom for comments on an earlier draft of this article.

Featured Image: NAVAL STATION KEY WEST, Fl. – (Sept. 13, 2023) Commercial operators deploy Saildrone Voyager Unmanned Surface Vessels (USVs) out to sea in the initial steps of U.S. 4th Fleet’s Operation Windward Stack during a launch from Naval Air Station Key West’s Mole Pier and Truman Harbor(U.S. Navy photo by Danette Baso Silvers/Released)