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Guam’s Logistics Capacity Must Be Increased

By Crispinus Lee and Joe Schwartzstein

Guam is the westernmost territory of the United States in the Pacific region. The Congressional Research Service notes that Guam is closer to Beijing than Hawaii, making it vital to the United States’ national defense for air and naval operations in the Indo-Pacific region.1 The Port of Guam is designated as one of eighteen National Port Readiness Network commercial seaports. Military and civilian logistical experts believe that Guam will be a critical logistical hub for any conflict in the Asia-Pacific.2 Despite the geographic importance of the island, Guam’s logistical capacity is far below the needs of the United States in the event of a conflict in the Indo-Pacific region.

Peacetime Capacity

The island’s only deep-water port, the Port of Guam, handles almost 90 percent of all the island’s imports and serves over 500,000 residents of Guam and Micronesia. The port moves approximately 85,000 containers annually and maintains 40.5 acres for storage. There are three 40-year-old rail-mounted gantry cranes with a spreader of 120-foot reach and a maximum reach height of 85 feet, seven top lifters, two 20-ton heavy-lift forklifts, and 32 tractors.

Berthing consists of four piers with a 2,700-foot linear wharf space dredged to between 28 and 35 feet and 40.5 acres of storage. Fishing vessels and tenants utilize pier F-3; container ships general cargo, and cruise ships utilize piers F-4 through F-6.  The port also has 858 chassis-mounted container stalls and 124 refrigerated container stalls. The port plans to develop a new F-7 pier, adding 900 feet of additional space.3

Cargo Capacity in Wartime Conditions

Would this be enough to support military operations? For comparison, the Gulf War and Operation Iraqi Freedom provide insight into the scale of logistical movement that would have to occur during a conventional war. To combat Iraq, the United States had to move 400,000 tons of ammunition for conventional fires, 117,000 wheeled vehicles, and 12,000 tanks and armored vehicles to ports in Saudi Arabia where its forces were deployed.4 To move these materials, the United States employed 385 vessels (foreign-flagged vessels carried 22.6 percent of all dry cargo), averaging 4,200 tons of cargo daily.

While the Gulf War ended in a victory for the U.S. led coalition, this military success overshadowed logistics being strained in a primarily land-based war. Foreign-flagged ships made 17 shiploads of ammunition delivery, an amount equal to the deliveries by the ready reserve force and three times more than that made by US-flagged shipping.5 Then Commander-in-Chief of U.S. Transportation Command (TRANSCOM) General Johnson stated, “Our ability to lift more than ten million tons of material by sea in seven months of operations to the Persian Gulf region has … depended heavily on the contributions of organic, allied, and friendly shippers. In the future, however, we may find ourselves in a contingency that may require us to accomplish a deployment by relying on a mix of U.S. sealift resources. One of our greatest concerns, then, is the state of the U.S. maritime industry.”6

Almost a decade later, the United States initiated Operation Iraqi Freedom (OIF). From 2002 to 2011, vessels enrolled in the maritime security program moved an astronomical 18,540,965 containers over 9 years. This was done to combat a primarily land-based foe whose capacity for war was largely destroyed within the first year of conflict. In both cases, Iraq had virtually no control over its air and sea lanes of communication. With an average 1,545,080 containers moved a year during the Gulf War and Operation Iraqi Freedom, the wartime need for a deployed American force during that conflict alone dwarfs Guam’s average annual capacity. Even if the Port of Guam modified its activity to handle more cargo volume by tenfold, it would not be able to handle what the United States moved in a year during the two wars in Iraq. 7

In a contested maritime environment, logistics face the additional challenge of protecting isolated sea lines of communication that span vast distances. While the wars against Iraq had multiple developed allied ports on the European mainland, the Pacific is a vast stretch of ocean with a scattering of small islands.

The Falklands War provides more insight into this particular challenge. Argentina, with a formidable Air Force and Navy, faced a significantly diminished Royal Navy. The United Kingdom was forced to tackle an 8,000-nautical mile supply chain.  During the conflict, the British utilized 50 merchant marine ships to support 30,000 marines, sailors, airmen, and mariners. Ascension Island, sitting 4,000 nautical miles from Britain, served as the only possible forward support base. With no port except for a small jetty and an anchorage, Ascension Island served as a key hub for strategic airlift. The British military conducted 10,600 helicopter flights and 2,500 fixed-wing flights, airlifting more than 7,000 tons of ammunition, vehicles, and other cargo. In addition, the island base flew over 6,500 personnel.8 During that time, the British military moved one million ration packs, 12 million meals, 10,000 tons of ammunition, 1,260 tons of fuel, 3,880 tons of ordnance, and more than 38,000 tons of equipment.9 The loss of one ship, the MV Atlantic Conveyor, severely impacted British logistical efforts. On board were six Wessex helicopters, three CH47 helicopters, and equipment for 10,000 service members – only a single CH47 helicopter survived.10 The British successfully fought a war over 8,000 nautical miles from home, supporting over 30,000 service members, but the war required a significant logistical footprint.

Guam’s Shortfalls

 A war in the Pacific would far outstrip the British experience, with Taiwan playing the role of the Falklands and Guam the role of the Ascension Islands. The difference is that Chinese conventional and nuclear missiles are capable of striking both Taiwan and Guam, among several other facilities across the Pacific. The distance from one friendly port to another, such as San Diego to Honolulu, is 2,607 miles, and another 3,800 miles from there to Guam. This eye-watering distance would be strung together by a fleet of 44 ready reserve vessels, assuming prospective allies or friendly states during this contest would be willing to risk their assets.11

It is essential to understand the Port of Guam’s supply chain limitations compared to recent military logistical operations requirements. In 2023, the Port of Guam handled 86,000 containers, 215,000 tons of non-containerized/breakbulk cargo, and 6,821 roll-on/roll-off cargo.12 These cargo figures may seem impressive in a vacuum, but they must be compared to recent annual military logistical operations. U.S. Central Command handled 1,124,612 tons of breakbulk and Roll-on/Roll-off (RORO) and 2,428,616 tons of containerized cargo in 2011.13 Now, imagine a war in the Indo-Pacific region requiring full military mobilization. During the Gulf War, U.S. sealift moved 945,000 pieces of equipment, totaling almost 32.7 million square feet, covering the equivalent of 681 football fields or 898 acres.14 Finally, utilizing the Port of Guam  for wartime operations would effectively shut down all civilian operations, leaving the population without the necessary supplies, food, and items for daily living. If it was not painfully evident yet, to say that the Port of Guam is incapable of meeting Indo-Pacific sealift logistical requirements is an understatement.

All this is compounded by the fact that the Port of Guam is in range of Chinese strike assets. Facilities may be damaged by missile and drone attacks, aerial bombardment, and sabotage. There will be degradation to the Port of Guam’s expected operational capabilities.

Currently, the federal government plans to expand the port to accommodate four Ultra Large Container Vessels (ULCVs), at least four ROROs, and 3 product tankers simultaneously. This would involve a 500-acre expansion for ROROs and 250 acres for container storage to meet the minimum for sealift operations. Additionally, sufficient petroleum storage is available to handle military operations. To support large-scale operations, the port will require sufficient capacity for both military and commercial operations, as well as large-scale storage and robust infrastructure to meet national security requirements.

Prepositioning Stocks in Guam

The abysmal port capacity is even more concerning when considering the use of Guam as a base to use for prepositioning forces. The Department of Defense maintains prepositioned military essential stocks around the globe for rapid deployment for national contingencies. These prepositioned stocks provide enough equipment and supplies to allow the DOD to quickly deploy forces around the globe, rather than waiting the weeks necessary to ship supplies and equipment to the theater. This essential policy enhances U.S. global military readiness of any combatant commander to meet any national security challenge.  Could Guam support a force that may require deployment for 30 days? The answer is a resounding no.

The Department of Defense, in its report to Congress, noted that Guam requires significant investment to upgrade its deteriorating infrastructure to support future military expansion and meet U.S. national strategy in the Indo-Pacific region.16 Prepositioning stocks require significant infrastructural support for both the equipment and personnel.

Leghorn Army Depot in Livorno, Italy, is a typical example of a base that maintains prepositioned supplies.  It consists of “60 maintenance bays in 16 warehouses with over 749,000 square feet of humidity-controlled storage.”17 Guam falls short yet again in almost every category. Currently, the U.S. military utilizes about 20 percent of the island’s electrical power. Guam’s Power Authority concluded that the island faces challenges in “keeping its aging, owned plants reliable and in good working condition.”18 Any adhoc expansion could cause rolling blackouts on the island. Prepositioned stocks also require a significant investment in personnel to manage and monitor stock readiness, which in turn requires major reworks to water treatment and wastewater removal. Guam Waterworks Authority (GWA) recently settled with the EPA over violations of the Clean Water Act, which included untreated sewage, and its poor condition sanitary sewer system.  Even something as basic as roads are lacking. The DOD report highlighted several issues, including inadequate bridges, road flooding, tight corners, and poor roads.19 The military would face significant challenges in moving equipment, supplies, personnel, and associated waste without infrastructure improvements.

Finally, returning to the Port of Guam itself, afloat prepositioning stocks require either pier space or anchorages. The Port of Guam does not have the pier space to berth prepositioning ships. Apra Harbor would need to be enlarged and deepened to accommodate afloat prepositioning ships. Commercial ships require access to the port’s anchorage that prepositioning ships would take up. Further, the port would require the construction of piers and dredging.  Naval Base Guam supports over 30 tenant commands in support of Pacific Command. Prepositioning ships would take up vital pier space or anchorages required for the U.S. Pacific Fleet, Seventh Fleet, and Fifth Fleet. Unfortunately, Guam would not be able to host DOD prepositioning stocks, either shoreside or shipboard, without a significant financial and physical investment.

Why Prioritize Guam?

While it would be advantageous for the military to rely on non-U.S. ports for logistic support, assuming that these ports would be available for U.S. use during an Indo-Pacific conflict could prove disastrous. China holds considerable economic and military influence in the Asia-Pacific region that can be leveraged to exclude the United States from ports and supply chain hubs. Aside from the fact that most major ports in the Indo-Pacific lie closer in range to Chinese military assets, most Asian Pacific ports operate at capacity to supply some of the largest import-oriented economies in the world. This configuration would force the DOD to compete for port access, berthing, cargo operations, storage, and transportation of containers, rolling stock, and break-bulk materials.

Further complicating the supply chain is the spread of the DOD’s logistical footprint across multiple ports. Diversifying across multiple ports complicates the DOD’s logistical footprint and supply chain, making the military’s supply chain vulnerable to disruptions. There is no guarantee that a port can meet TRANSCOM’s sealift requirements.

Port cybersecurity vulnerabilities are another area to contend with in ports in the Pacific theater. China’s dominance in port infrastructure across the Pacific region places cybersecurity at the top of defense concerns.

There is also concern about Anti-Access/Area Denial (A2/AD) vulnerabilities at allied and non-allied ports. Asian-Pacific ports are vulnerable to Chinese missile attacks, submarines, and subsea cable infrastructure attacks. It is unlikely that the United States would be able to prevent attacks on foreign ports by an adversary seeking to disrupt U.S. sealift, particularly for the number of U.S. assets over the largest maritime theater on Earth.

Guam serves as Maritime Prepositioning Stock Squadron 3’s center. This makes it the center of America’s military Pacific posture for sustainment and a vital intermodal conduit for U.S. forces. As such, the Port of Guam must be the priority for upgrades to support U.S. power projection in the Indo-Pacific. This requires extensive infrastructure upgrades and the acquisition of land for container and RORO stockyards aligning with most continental U.S. strategic seaports.

To these ends, the container berths require massive expansions and upgrades. At a minimum, the Port of Guam should be able to handle four ULCVs with four to six cranes capable of working each ship. The berths must be dredged to a depth of forty-five feet. The container yard should be expanded to accommodate marshaling and storage of wartime logistical needs, with a minimum of 250-300 acres and sufficient Rubber-Tired Gantry Cranes (RTGs) to facilitate container movements.

The Port of Guam should also have sufficient RORO berthing to handle four ROROs dredged to a depth of thirty-seven feet. TRANSCOM RORO marshaling and storage footprint will require between 500 and almost 900 acres. In comparison, during the Gulf War, TRANSCOM moved enough equipment and supplies to cover 680 football fields, about 897.6 acres.20 

Further, the Port must have sufficient tanker berthing and storage to perform cargo operations on at least two to four tankers at any time, dredged to thirty-seven feet,  and storage capacity for one week to handle DOD’s requirements of 12.6 million gallons of fuel per day.21 The Port of Guam will require sufficient break-bulk berthing to accommodate two to four ships dredged to a depth of forty-one feet. Ports require tugs to facilitate vessel movements. Assisting in the ships in the port requires enough tugs to handle multiple ship moves per day. An average U.S. port could have between six to eight tractor tugs in the range of 60 to 80 bollard tons. The Department of Defense should also consider six azimuth stern drive (ASD) tugs for port operations.

Finally, to ensure the vessel movement in the Port, the DOD must provide familiarization training to all members of the U.S. Navy Reserve’s Strategic Sealift Officer Force Harbor Pilot Detachment, a group of highly trained and skilled civilian harbor pilots whose sole responsibility would be to facilitate the movement of sealift vessels within the port.

The Port of Guam serves as the key strategic sealift port in the Indo-Pacific region and, with the proper investment, can fulfill its potential as the critical supply chain strong point for the department.

Crispinus “Cris” Lee is a Surface Warfare Officer and Lieutenant in the U.S. Navy Reserve. He works as a Program Management Specialist for Booze Allen Hamilton. Prior to this, he served as an Assistant Operations Officer onboard USS Cole and as Weapons Officer aboard USS Gladiator. 

Joe Schwartzstein is a Commander in the U.S. Navy Reserve Strategic Sealift Officer Force and serves as a Maryland State Pilot. A dual-licensed graduate of the U.S. Merchant Marine Academy at Kings Point, he holds master’s degrees from the California State University Maritime Academy and the U.S. Air Force Air Command and Staff College. Commander Schwartzstein is also a U.S. Coast Guard licensed First-Class Pilot, Master of Oceans, Unlimited Tonnage, and First Assistant Engineer of Steam, Motor, and Gas Turbine Vessels.

Notes

1. Andres Tilghman, “Guam: Defense Infrastructure and Readiness,” published August 3, 2023, https://www.congress.gov/crs-product/R47643, 2.

2. Clara Fong and Diana Roy, “Guam’s Strategic Importance in the Indo-Pacific,” published September 6, 2024, https://www.cfr.org/articles/guams-strategic-importance-indo-pacific.

3. Port of Guam. “Equipment, Berthing, and Facilities,” accessed March 9, 2026, https://www.portofguam.com/about-us/maritime-operation/facilities-and-services/equipment-berthing-and-facilities.

4. William G. Pagonis and Michael D. Krause, No. 13, Land Warfare Papers (Arlington, VA: Institute of Land Warfare 1992), 11-13;  Keith M. Wilkinson, “The Logistics Lessons of the Gulf War: A Snowball in the Desert,” June 18, paper prepared for  Naval War College, Newport, RI [DTIC AD-A264 145], https://apps.dtic.mil/sti/pdfs/ADA264145.pdf. 15.

5. James K. Matthews, and Cora J. Holt, So Many, So Much, So Far, So Fast: United States Transportation Command and Strategic Deployment for Operation Desert Shield/ Desert Storm (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office 1996), 115.

6. Wilkinson, The Logistics Lessons of the Gulf War, 12.

7. Albert Joseph Herberger, Kenneth C. Gaulden, and Rolf Marshall, Global Reach: Revolutionizing the Use of Commercial Vessels and Intermodal Systems for Military Sealift, 1990-2012 (Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press, 2015), 417.

8. Peter Dye, “Logistics in the Falklands Campaign,” Royal Air Force Historical Society Journal, 54, (2003): 96

9. Kenneth L. Privratsky and Julian Thompson, Logistics in the Falklands War: A Case Study in Expeditionary Warfare (Barnsley, UK: Pen & Sword Military, 2019), 37.

10. Ibid. 127.

11. MARAD, The Ready Reserve Force (RRF), accessed March 9, 2026, https://www.maritime.dot.gov/national-defense-reserve-fleet/ndrf/maritime-administration%E2%80%99s-ready-reserve-force#:~:text=The%20Ready%20Reserve%20Force%20(RRF)%20is%20a%20subset%20of%20vessels,deployment%20of%20U.S.%20military%20forces.

12. Port Authority of Guam, Financial Statements, Required Supplementary Information, and Supplementary and Other Information, Tamuning, Guam, 2023, 11-13.

13. Vice Admiral A.J. Herberger, U.S.N. (ret), Kenneth C. Gaulden, Commander Rolf Marshall, U.S.N. (ret). Global Reach, Revolutionizing the Use of Commercial Vessels and Intermodal Systems for Military Sealift, 1900-2012, (Annapolis MD, 2015) 437-439.

14. Matthews and Holt, So Many, So Much, So Far, So Fast, 112.

15. Chief Warrant Officer 2 Kenneth Hudak, “Lengthening the Tether of Fuel in Afghanistan,” Army Sustainment Magazine March-April 2013, https://www.army.mil/article/97879/lengthening_the_tether_of_fuel_in_afghanistan.

16. Tilghman, “Guam: Defense Infrastructure and Readiness,” 30.

17. U.S. Army Europe and Africa Public Affairs Office, “Fact Sheet: Army Prepositioned Stocks,” June 27, 2024,  APS_Fact_Sheet_27062024.pdfhttps://www.europeafrica.army.mil/Portals/19/documents/Fact%20Sheets/APS_Fact_Sheet_27062024.pdf.

18. Tilghman, “Guam: Defense Infrastructure and Readiness,” 23.

19. Guam and CNMI Military Relocation, Volume 6: Related Actions – Utilities and Roadway Projects (Guam) Final EIS (July 2010), I-5,

20. Matthews and Holt, So Many, So Much, So Far, So Fast,  115.

21. Colonel Gregory J. Lengyel, USAF, “Department of Defense Energy Strategy Teaching an Old Dog New Tricks,” Maxwell Air Force Base, AL: Air University, Air War College, April 2007, 14, https://apps.dtic.mil/sti/tr/pdf/ADA476848.pdf.

Featured image: The Port of Guam as seen from the air in June 2021. (U.S. Coast Guard photo)

Performance Is Not Endurance: Sustaining Combat Power in Contested Operations

By Captains Al Collins and Kevin Eyer

Now…and Then

Recent naval operations in the Red Sea and the Strait of Hormuz have demonstrated that the United States Navy remains extraordinarily capable in combat. Precision strike operations, integrated air and missile defense, continuous maritime presence, and sophisticated joint operations have reinforced the credibility of American naval power. By nearly any operational measure, the force has performed at a very high level under demanding conditions.

That success should not be mistaken for proof of how the Navy would perform in prolonged conflict against a peer adversary. The true benchmark in high-end warfare against a peer is whether naval power can be sustained over the course of a prolonged Pacific conflict. Therefore, it is important to establish a framework for examining the details that will determine success in protracted conflict. The framework suggests that success hinges on distributed forward-based logistics, renewed emphasis on neglected warfare competencies, and sufficient operational depth in munitions, ships, and manpower.

The China Challenge

Combat operations against regional opponents, such as the Houthis or Iran, demonstrate current operational proficiency under narrow conditions. They do not answer the more difficult question of whether the Navy could sustain that performance against China in a conflict defined by distance, attrition, and the degradation or destruction of the systems that support combat power.

The distinction matters because a hypothetical Pacific war tests far more than tactical effectiveness. It would likely be protracted and fought across an immense theater while adversary attacks target deployed forces and the networks and infrastructure that sustain them. The opening phase might last days or weeks, but the decisive question is whether combat power could be sustained across months or even years.

The United States continues to maintain a policy of strategic ambiguity regarding Taiwan. Washington deliberately avoids stating explicitly whether it would intervene militarily in the event of Chinese action against the island nation. The policy is intended to deter both Beijing and Taipei from destabilizing behavior while preserving flexibility for American decision-makers.1

Regardless of whether the U.S. would or would not intervene to defend Taiwan, China is now the central organizing challenge for U.S. defense planning. The Department of Defense identifies China as the pacing challenge shaping force design, modernization priorities, and operational concepts.2 The Pacific has become the primary theater for long-term strategic competition.

China’s military modernization has proceeded at extraordinary speed. The People’s Liberation Army Navy (PLAN) is now numerically the largest navy in the world, with rapid expansion in destroyers, frigates, submarines, amphibious vessels, and carrier aviation.3 It is supported by a mature missile strike complex, advanced integrated air defenses, cyber warfare capabilities, and increasingly sophisticated space and counter-space systems.

Critically, China’s proximity to Taiwan provides a structural advantage. Its military objectives are comparatively close, allowing military forces to concentrate near home waters. China’s military is supported by dense land-based logistics, missile coverage, and industrial depth. By contrast, to fight China near Taiwan, the United States must project and sustain combat power across thousands of miles of ocean, and maintain it under contested conditions far from the factories and shipyards that produced it. This asymmetry is not decisive, but it shapes a fundamental problem: keeping combat power viable across vast distances, under fire, for as long as the conflict demands.

From Performance to Endurance

Ultimately, what matters is endurance. Endurance is not simply the ability to absorb losses. It is the capacity to sustain combat effectiveness over time despite attrition, disruption, and operational fatigue. In a Pacific war, endurance would determine whether initial success could be translated into a strategic and enduring advantage. For example, during World War II, the U.S. Army deployed floating maintenance and repair depots to keep regeneration high and its air force in the fight. Without these ships, damaged aircraft would have to return to distant shore-based facilities for repairs.4

U.S.S. Maj Gen Herbert A Dargue anchored off Saipan or Iwo Jima. She was one of the six Liberty ships converted into floating repair depots as part of Operation Ivory Soap. (Wikimedia Commons)

A force designed for a war defined by distance and attrition must be capable of delivering combat power at the outset of conflict and remaining operational over extended periods. This means possessing the ability to repair itself, keep crews combat-ready, replace losses, and regenerate capability under fire. That requires more than tactical proficiency.

Ships must continue operating despite logistical disruption. Supply networks must remain viable under attack, maintenance and repair must occur forward and under degraded conditions, and combat losses must be absorbed without interrupting operations. In other words, self-sufficiency despite attrition is a core requirement.

Recent operations demonstrated tactical and operational excellence, but they occurred under conditions that differ fundamentally from those expected in a Pacific war. Logistics networks were intact. Regional infrastructure remained accessible. Operational timelines were limited. Even intense engagements remained episodic rather than continuous. Those conditions bear no resemblance to the geography, distance, and unrelenting operational pressure a Pacific war imposes.

Observable indicators suggest that continuous operational demand produces cumulative effects that the force absorbs quietly. Maintenance schedules compress. Technical personnel are stretched across multiple demands. High-end platforms require increasingly careful management to maintain availability rates. Readiness is preserved, but often at the cost of operational depth and reach.5

The Navy adapts well and has always done so. Personnel surge forward to fill gaps, maintenance is reprioritized, and operational demands are met through extraordinary effort. In the short-term, this system works. Over time, however, the gap between consumption and regeneration widens. The system thins and becomes less resilient, even as it remains highly capable. That is the central risk: not systemic collapse, but steady erosion.

Read the Signs

Recent operations already provide warning signals, revealing stresses that a prolonged Pacific conflict would expose on a much larger scale. The employment of carrier strike groups under unrelenting global tasking illustrates the pressure placed on a limited number of high-value assets. Modern carriers are not simply ships, but complex floating airbases requiring continuous maintenance, logistics support, and a pipeline of trained personnel. Back-to-back surge deployment cycles reduce recovery time not only for platforms but for entire air wings and support ecosystems. As operational demand increases, maintenance windows compress, and manning shortfalls compound. Parts pipelines tighten, and personnel rotations accelerate.

A more visible strain is occurring in the consumption of precision munitions. Recent operations in the Red Sea and the Strait of Hormuz demonstrate that even limited engagements can generate significant expenditure rates for advanced interceptors and strike weapons, including SM-series interceptors, Tomahawk cruise missiles, and other high-end systems whose production lines were streamlined for peacetime and not wartime consumption.6 A Pacific war would magnify this dynamic exponentially.

A third warning signal is less visible but equally consequential. Several foundational warfighting competencies required for conflict with China have atrophied during decades of focus on power projection ashore and limited regional contingencies. For example, anti-submarine warfare would be a daily operational requirement in a Pacific campaign, not a niche specialty. Mine countermeasures would determine whether ports and sea lanes remained usable. Taiwan’s limited number of deep-water ports presents an especially acute vulnerability to offensive mining. Both competencies have received less consistent emphasis than a peer conflict would require. Success in limited regional operations can create a false sense of confidence in preparedness for a sustained great-power war.

Unlike regional operations, a peer conflict in the Pacific would generate simultaneous demand across every warfare domain, consuming munitions and capabilities at a pace far beyond recent experience. Modern precision warfare creates a paradox: accuracy increases consumption. Each target may require fewer shots, but the number of targets and the complexity of the environment drive overall expenditure upward. The limiting factor is industrial throughput.

Move the Force Forward

In the Pacific, geography is the dominant operational variable. The transit from the U.S. West Coast to the Western Pacific requires roughly 15-18 days under peacetime conditions and significantly longer under contested ones. Distance compounds every element of operational warfare, including fuel consumption, maintenance delays, resupply cycles, and casualty evacuation timelines.7 In a contested environment, time becomes both a tactical and strategic constraint and demands a fundamentally different basing architecture.

The United States currently relies heavily on a limited number of forward hubs, principally Japan and Guam. These remain essential, but they are not sufficient for a war fought on a Pacific scale. They present concentration risk, logistical bottlenecks, and targeting vulnerabilities in an era of massed long-range precision strikes.

A more resilient posture requires sacrificing efficiency for a distributed basing network across the Indo-Pacific that expands access, disperses critical resources, and enables logistics and repair functions to continue under sustained attack. This is not merely a military requirement. It is also a strategic opportunity.

Many Indo-Pacific states increasingly recognize that their security and economic futures are tied to the regional balance of power. Infrastructure investments associated with defense cooperation can strengthen deterrence while also improving national resilience. Facilities that support military operations often provide broader economic and civil benefits, creating incentives for deeper regional partnerships.

Distributed basing also complicates adversary targeting. Concentrated infrastructure can be neutralized or degraded under missile attack. Distributed networks are inherently more resilient, even if individually more modest. In a theater defined by distance and denied access, where you start when the war begins largely determines whether you can fight at all.

The United States will not fight alone. A sustained Pacific campaign would require not merely allied political support, but interoperable logistics, distributed basing access, industrial coordination, and intelligence integration. Those alliances are a source of endurance. Access, logistics support, industrial cooperation, and intelligence integration provided by partners throughout the Indo-Pacific are essential to sustaining combat power over time.

Build the Fleet That Keeps the Fight Alive

The deeper issue is structural. The Navy must ensure it has not only the power to strike, but the architecture to remain in the fight after the opening phase. Combat power at sea depends on afloat logistics. A Pacific war would place enormous demands on replenishment oilers, ammunition ships, sealift vessels, repair ships, hospital ships, and auxiliary platforms. Yet many of these capabilities remain limited in number, aging in composition, and dependent on civilian mariners and the Military Sealift Command.8

U.S.S. Cole in transit to a shipyard after the October 12th, 2000 terrorist attack in Yemen. (Wikimedia Commons)

This dependency introduces strategic uncertainty regarding manpower availability, survivability, and forward repair capacity under contested conditions. The future frigate program illustrates a broader challenge in force development: balancing industrial considerations with operational requirements. As currently conceived, the platform appears optimized for presence missions and sustaining shipbuilding capacity rather than high-end escort warfare. It lacks the systems and capacity necessary for robust area air defense of logistics formations, and its anti-submarine warfare capabilities remain uncertain following the cancellation of earlier mission module efforts.

Revitalizing the shipbuilding industrial base is both necessary and strategically prudent. The larger question is whether the resulting frigate platform provides the capabilities required to operate as an effective escort in a contested combat environment. If endurance depends on sustaining logistics under fire, escort forces must be designed foremost around that mission.

Meanwhile, the Navy will almost certainly commit its principal surface combatants, the Arleigh-Burke class destroyers, to offensive and defensive operations in the opening phases of a Pacific conflict. This limits their availability to escort logistics formations, raising a fundamental question the force has not yet fully answered. Does it possess sufficient protection capacity to keep the supply chain intact through months of contested operations?

Experts often suggest unmanned surface vessels as part of the solution. They may indeed become important force multipliers in sensing, targeting, and distributed operations. But their survivability, command-and-control requirements, and integration into contested maritime environments remain unresolved. Their contribution to keeping the force in the fight remains uncertain.9

Readiness and Regeneration

The Optimized Fleet Response Plan (OFRP) was designed to stabilize deployment cycles and restore predictability in readiness after years of high operational tempo. It has improved maintenance discipline and force generation processes.10 But a key question remains unresolved. Does it regenerate forces capable of meeting the demands a great-power war would impose?

Much of the current readiness assessment remains tied to certification cycles and deployment schedules. These metrics are designed for peacetime force management rather than wartime survival. Harder questions remain. Can ships operate while isolated from shore infrastructure? Can crews maintain complex systems without contractor support? Can battle damage be repaired rapidly under contested conditions? Can logistics networks survive persistent attack? Most importantly, can the forces regenerate combat capability as fast as they consume it? That is the defining question of readiness in a great-power war, and the current status of the force suggests that the answer is “no.”

A more useful assessment framework would measure not certifications achieved, but organic capability preserved. Can crews diagnose and repair complex systems without contractor support, whether ships can remain on station without shore infrastructure, and whether battle damage can be addressed forward rather than returning to port. These are the conditions a Pacific conflict would impose from the first day. Readiness is rarely measured against these conditions in today’s framework.

The Industrial Base and Ordnance

The rapid consumption of precision weapons defines modern warfare. Recent conflicts demonstrated that even limited engagements can place significant stress on advanced munitions inventories. A Pacific war would simultaneously multiply this demand across all domains.11

Yet the U.S. defense industrial base remains structured for efficiency rather than surge production. Many systems rely on consolidated supply chains, specialized labor, and long production timelines. Scaling output rapidly under wartime conditions would be difficult without significant preexisting expansion.

The core challenge is therefore not stockpiles alone, but whether the nation’s production infrastructure can scale under wartime conditions. Can the force replenish what it expends before culmination and operational momentum falters? Defense manufacturing capacity, skilled labor, supply chain resilience, and access to critical materials determine how long the nation can fight.12

Conclusion

The Navy demonstrated extraordinary capability in recent operations. But those operations were fought close to intact logistics networks, against adversaries who could not threaten American industrial depth, and across timelines measured in weeks rather than years. A peer conflict in the Pacific presents none of those conditions. It would test the force against geography, vast distances, contested sea lanes, and China’s asymmetric industrial capacity.

A force can deliver brilliantly at the outset while exhausting the resources required to keep fighting. Tactical brilliance can create the illusion of long-term sustainability even when the ability to sustain large-scale fighting remains largely untested. That illusion is dangerous. By the time it is dispelled, the window for correction may already have closed.

The United States faces a requirement not only to preserve naval superiority but to strengthen the foundations that allow maritime power to endure. Logistics, basing, fleet architecture, readiness, and industrial capacity are often discussed as separate issues. In a Pacific war, they are inseparable. Each contributes to the same outcome: that combat power can be sustained long enough to achieve strategic objectives. Any strategic assessment of a naval conflict with China must acknowledge a fundamental rule. While performance wins engagements, endurance wins wars.

Captain Al Collins is a retired Surface Warfare Officer who served on active duty for 39 years. He commanded a guided-missile destroyer, Destroyer Squadron One, and served as Chief of Staff for U.S. Fourth Fleet.

Captain Eyer is a retired Surface Warfare Officer who served on active duty for 27 years. He deployed aboard seven guided-missile cruisers, serving in command positions aboard three of them.

References

1. U.S. Department of State, Taiwan relations policy framework on strategic ambiguity.

2. U.S. Department of Defense, 2022 National Defense Strategy.

3. U.S. Department of Defense, Military and Security Developments Involving the PRC (latest edition).

4. Operation Ivory Soap: A World War II U.S. military operation to provide depot-level maintenance at the point of need.

5. U.S. Navy and Congressional reporting on carrier strike group deployment tempo and readiness strain.

6. CSIS Missile Defense Project and defense press reporting on Red Sea munitions expenditure trends.

7. U.S. Indo-Pacific Command logistics posture discussions and naval operational planning references.

8. Military Sealift Command force structure and GAO reporting on sealift capacity and civilian mariner dependency.

9. Congressional Research Service, USV programs and Navy surface unmanned systems analysis.

10. U.S. Navy documentation on the Optimized Fleet Response Plan (OFRP).

11. CSIS and DoD analyses on precision munitions expenditure rates in recent conflicts.

12. GAO and CSIS reporting on U.S. defense industrial base capacity constraints and surge limitations.

Featured Image: The U.S. Navy guided missile destroyer in a floating dry dock at the Norfolk Naval Shipyard, Virginia. (Wikimedia Commons)

Congress Needs to Fix Navy Posture Statements

By Bruce B. Stubbs

The Problem

Every year the Chief of Naval Operations (CNO) submits a posture statement to Congress. It is the Navy’s principal annual self-assessment, the one document in which the service’s senior uniformed officer reports, over a personal signature, on readiness, force structure, and strategic requirements. For the congressional committees charged with raising and maintaining a Navy, it is among the most important pieces of evidence they receive, because it is the Navy’s official account of its own condition.

It is also almost entirely unconstrained. No statute dictates what a posture statement must contain, what form it must take, or what baseline should be used to evaluate it. What the document emphasizes or omits, and how it frames what remains is shaped, as we will see, not by the Navy alone but by several powerful players with competing agendas, none of whom holds the pen entirely. The result is not a standardized assessment but an annual narrative, its register set less by the requirements of oversight than by the incentives of advocacy and different agendas.

This is a peculiar gap, and it has nothing to do with the character of any individual CNO. Even if every CNO communicated in perfect good faith, an unconstrained annual narrative would still be a poor instrument of oversight, because oversight depends on structure, continuity, and comparability that no single year’s narrative can supply. Congress has long understood this everywhere else in its dealings with the Navy, and has imposed that structure by law on shipbuilding, acquisition, and fleet-requirement reporting. The posture statement is the conspicuous exception. This essay argues that Congress should impose the same reporting discipline upon the posture statement that it already applies to other required Navy reporting, by legislating its format.

The Evidence: Thirty-Five Years of Warning Without Consequence

A review of Navy posture statements from 1991 through 2026 reveals a consistent and durable pattern. In almost every year the statement paired a warning, whether shrinking force structure, deferred maintenance, an aging fleet, industrial-base erosion, manpower shortfalls, or rising operational risk, with a reassurance that the Navy remained ready and capable of meeting its commitments. The warning was usually present. Rarely, however, was it allowed to stand alone long enough to alarm.

Read one at a time, each statement seemed reasonable. Read in sequence, the pattern becomes unmistakable, and it runs in three movements. First the warning, naming a real and worsening condition. Then the reassurance, set in the same passage, affirming present readiness. Then, year after year, normalization set in, as a deficiency acknowledged every cycle without consequence stopped reading as a deficiency at all and became a feature of the landscape. Repetition without consequence is the mechanism. A problem reported annually, and annually absorbed, ceases to look like a problem.

The pairing is visible in the CNOs’ own words. In 2006, CNO Michael Mullen told Congress that the fleet “stands at 281 ships—not enough in my view,” then assured the committee in the same breath that the Navy’s plan “centered on 11 aircraft carriers with a fleet of about 313 ships, affordably meets these needs.”1 In 2014, CNO Jonathan Greenert warned that under Budget Control Act caps the Navy “would be unable to execute at least 4 of the 10 primary missions,” even as he testified that the budget “delivers sufficient readiness to meet our GFMAP [Global Force Management Allocation Plan] presence commitments and provide sufficient ‘surge’ capacity for contingency response.”2 Each warning was real, but neither was allowed to stand without the reassurance that blunted it.

A recurring weakness in many posture statements was the tendency to describe conditions rather than consequences. The statements might warn that: fleet size was insufficient; maintenance was deferred; readiness was declining; or industrial capacity was strained. While these were important warnings, they often stopped short of explaining what would happen if the deficiencies remained unaddressed. The language of “risk” was frequently used, yet the specific operational, strategic, fiscal, or human consequences of that risk were not always clearly articulated. A reader of three decades of these documents is left to ask the question every congressional staffer eventually asks of a vague brief. So what? Unsustainable when? Which mission fails? Which ship does not deploy? The statements seldom were answered. A warning that never states its consequence cannot compel action, because it never tells anyone what they stand to lose by waiting. The problem was not that Congress lacked warnings. It was that the warnings rarely matured into explicit statements of what the nation would lose if they were ignored. As a result, Congress was often informed of problems without receiving a corresponding assessment of the consequences of inaction.

This was not for lack of information. Over the same decades a separate body of evidence stated the problems and consequences plainly. The 2010 Balisle Fleet Review Panel concluded that cumulative decisions made over the preceding decade had produced a measurable decline in material readiness across the surface force, and traced the fall to 2000.3 The Center for Naval Analyses (CNA) was blunter still, concluding in its 2010 Tipping Point study that “when you are no longer present in one or two areas of vital national interest with dominant maritime forces, you are at the ‘tipping point.'”4 CNA’s warning extended beyond the immediate moment. It concluded that absent corrective action the Navy would “continue to leak capabilities and capacity throughout the next two decades.” The Navy’s Board of Inspection and Survey (INSURV) recorded falling material-condition scores year after year.5 The Government Accountability Office (GAO) counted the cost in hard numbers, including 10,363 days of attack-submarine idle time and maintenance delay between 2008 and 2018.6 The contrast between posture statement warnings and these reviews is the point, because each of these reviews named a consequence and attributed it to a cause. The same conditions that presented as alarms in an audit read as manageable challenges in the posture statement.

That cost came due in the summer of 2017, when the separate collisions of USS Fitzgerald (DDG-62) and USS John S. McCain (DDG-56) in the western Pacific killed seventeen sailors. Much of official Washington reacted as though the Navy’s readiness problems had appeared out of nowhere, but the Washington policy world had got it wrong. The problems had been documented for years, in some cases for decades, as two internal authoritative post-collision Navy reviews underscored. The Strategic Readiness Review concluded that the accidents reflected broad institutional and readiness failures that had accumulated over years, not isolated mistakes.7 The Comprehensive Review reached a similar conclusion. It found that “the risks that were taken in the Western Pacific accumulated over time, and did so insidiously,” and that the operating environment had become normalized to the point that sailors and headquarters staffs could no longer recognize that the processes used to identify, communicate, and assess readiness were failing.8

These external and internal reviews generally stated consequences more directly and concretely than the Navy’s annual posture statements. They described readiness systems breaking down, training standards atrophying, maintenance being deferred, risk accumulating, and capacity becoming unsustainable. It was the Navy’s own senior leaders, in the end, that documented those consequences more explicitly and forcefully than its annual posture statements had. The issue was not the absence of warning which were common and occasionally stark. The problem was that their implications were often underdeveloped and that they were frequently paired with reassurances that the Navy remained ready and capable of meeting its commitments.

The interesting question, then, is not whether warning existed. It is why warning, and by extension risk, became normalized. The harder questions are why the Navy’s own signed account of its condition so rarely stated the consequences that would have made the warning impossible to defer, and why the oversight system built to catch such a decline did not. Part of the answer lies in what the posture statement was asked to do, and in the process it was meant to serve.

Why It Happened: A Document Serving Many Masters

Over time, posture statements evolved from relatively straightforward professional assessments into hybrid documents that simultaneously served oversight, budgetary, political, institutional, and strategic-communication purposes. Warnings were embedded within a narrative that simultaneously described the Navy’s current condition, the future force readiness, and assurances of continued mission execution. The narrative tended to blur the distinction between the Navy’s current posture, the future force envisioned under the forthcoming President’s Budget, and the consequences of continued fiscal constraint. The result was not an absence of warning. It was a warning embedded within a narrative that simultaneously assessed current readiness, advocated for future resources, projected future capability, and reassured Congress that mission execution remained possible. This pattern persisted across the post–Cold War era under successive administrations and CNOs, which is the first clue that its source is structural rather than personal. A document produced by that many different people, under that many different Presidents, in that consistent a form, is not expressing anyone’s individual choice. It is expressing the incentives of the system that produces it.

Those incentives pull in different directions, because the posture statement is expected to serve several masters at once. The Secretary of the Navy, (SECNAV), through the Secretary of Defense, answers to the President, and no administration wants its officials telling Congress that the President’s budget is inadequate or the service is heading toward trouble. That induces an incentive toward reassurance. Congress is not one audience but many, with the majority often inclined to support the administration and the minority more inclined to expose its shortfalls. And the Navy itself wants resources without inviting the detailed direction that every admission of weakness can provoke. This concern is evidenced by the steady growth of the National Defense Authorization Act from roughly 20 pages in the early 1960s to “more than 3,000 pages” for FY2026, becoming an ever more prescriptive document.9 Nor are members of Congress immune from incentives of their own, often attending more closely to the shipyards, bases, programs, and jobs in their districts than to the aggregate condition of the fleet, which makes a clear, standardized account of that aggregate condition all the more necessary.

Combine all those pressures and the posture statement emerges as a negotiated document, not negotiated line by line, but in a way that accommodates various institutional preferences. The administration wants reassurance, the two parties in Congress want material that serves their differing aims, and the Navy wants resources without micromanagement. The warning satisfies the Navy’s need to signal requirements; the reassurance satisfies the administration’s need to demonstrate competence; the ambiguity holds detailed intervention at bay. The warning-and-reassurance pattern is the natural product of those crosscurrents. It is, in the end, a compromise document, and a compromise document makes a poor instrument of oversight, because the very ambiguity that lets it satisfy everyone is what drains it of the consequence, continuity, and comparability that oversight requires. Indeed, these annual documents are so compromised that retired Army Lieutenant General Thomas Spoehr observed that posture hearings have “largely devolved into ‘information-free’ events.”10

Congress Already Knows How to Fix This

If this problem were unique to posture statements, reform might be difficult. In fact, Congress has confronted similar reporting failures repeatedly and has developed a consistent solution. The reform this essay proposes is not novel. It advocates that the rule Congress already follows in all other dealings with the Navy be applied at last to the one document that has escaped it. Again and again, when Congress found executive-branch self-reporting too optimistic, too inconsistent, or too vague to support oversight, it has responded the same way, not by asking the service to do better, but by legislating what the report must contain.

The pattern began with acquisition. Dissatisfied with rosy program reporting, Congress created the Selected Acquisition Reports11 and, through the Nunn-McCurdy provisions, required formal notification and justification whenever a program breached defined cost thresholds.12 The intent was not to manage programs from Capitol Hill but to force a standardized, comparable account that optimism could not soften.

Congress extended the same logic to force planning, though with an instructive limit. Under 10 U.S.C. § 231, the Secretary of the Navy must submit with the budget an annual 30-Year Shipbuilding Plan, carrying the views of the CNO and the Marine Corps Commandant, along with a certification that the budget actually funds it. The plan does useful work.13 It lays out a procurement timeline that lets the shipbuilding industry plan, budget, and prepare, and it lets Congress see the Navy operating with intent toward a stated force-level goal. But its purpose is narrow. It is, in effect, a funded-or-not construction schedule, valuable for industrial coordination and budget markup, and largely silent on readiness, maintenance, risk, and consequence. It can show how many ships the Navy wants, and by when, but it was never built to justify a larger fleet, to explain the failure to reach one, or to connect the fleet’s condition to the stakes of inaction. The record bears out that narrowness. The plan has been submitted faithfully every year since 2003, yet in March 2025 the GAO reported that the Navy has no more ships today than when it issued that first plan, despite a near-doubling of its shipbuilding budget over the same two decades.14 The plan recorded the intent and the timeline; it neither caused that stagnation nor was equipped to arrest it. That is the lesson for posture-statement reform. A report is only as useful as the substance Congress requires it to contain, and a timeline of intentions is not the same as an instrument of oversight.

Congress has shown it can do exactly that. There are three prime examples of statutory reports mandated by Congress primarily because Congress could not get the information it required for effective oversight of the Navy and the other armed services.  These reports are the Battle Force Ship Assessment and Requirement (BFSAR), the Annual Long-Range Plan for Construction of Naval Vessels, and the Annual Aviation Inventory and Funding Plan.15 In each report Congress did three things it has never done for the annual posture statement. It named the official who signs and submits the report, it set a deadline or triggering event, and it prescribed the specific content the report must contain. No comparable statute governs the posture statement. The precedent to mandate its originator, format, and contents is well established. (See Table 1.)

Table 1: Statutory Precedents for a Congressionally Mandated Navy Report

Report

Statute Originator (signs and submits) Purpose

Major Data and Information Elements Required

Annual Aviation Inventory and Funding Plan

Current form: Annual Aircraft Procurement Plan and Aircraft Inventory Report

10 U.S.C. § 231a16

Annual plan and certification, submitted not later than 30 days after the President’s budget.

Secretary of Defense

Submits the plan and signs the certification.

Show whether the budget funds the aircraft needed to sustain the aviation force structure the national military strategy requires, and disclose the risk if it does not. •   A 15-year procurement program for fighter, attack, bomber, lift, and ISR aircraft

•   The aviation force structure required by the national military strategy

•   Estimated annual investment funding for each program

•   Estimated annual life-cycle operating and support funding

•   An annual aircraft inventory by type, model, and series

•   A certification that the budget funds the plan, with a shortfall and risk assessment if it does not

Battle Force Ship Assessment and Requirement (BFSAR) 10 U.S.C. § 869517

Submitted not later than 180 days after a covered event (a change in strategic guidance, laydown, operating concepts, or missions).

Chief of Naval Operations

Submits to the congressional defense committees.

Establish and update the battle force ship requirement, the force-level goal and mix the fleet must reach to meet strategy and combatant-commander demand. •   A review of the federal, DoD, and Navy strategic guidance the force must follow

•   The steady-state demand for maritime security and security force assistance

•   The force options that meet combatant-commander theater campaign plan demands

•   A force optimization analysis of the day-to-day global posture required

•   Amphibious warfare and Marine-lift requirements set by the Commandant of the Marine Corps

Annual Long-Range Plan for Construction of Naval Vessels

The 30-Year Shipbuilding Plan

10 U.S.C. § 23118

Annual plan and certification, submitted with the President’s budget.

Secretary of the Navy

Submits and signs plan, which carries the unaltered assessment of Chief of Naval Operations and Commandant of the Marine Corps. Secretary of Defense certifies funding adequacy.

Present the 30-year plan to build, maintain, and modernize the battle force, and certify whether the budget funds it. •   A 30-year construction program by fiscal year, ship type, and quantity

•   The battle force inventory the plan would produce

•   The estimated annual construction cost and the basis for it

•   The estimated funding to operate, maintain, and modernize the force

•   The unaltered assessment of the Chief of Naval Operations and the Commandant of the Marine Corps

•   A certification that the budget funds the plan, with risk if it does not

For illustrative purposes, the Battle Force Ship Assessment and Requirement (BFSAR) report, codified at 10 U.S.C. § 8695, does not solicit input from the Secretary or the administration. It directs the CNO, by name, to submit to the congressional defense committees an assessment of the fleet the Navy requires. And Congress did not merely ask for a number. It specified the contents, a review of strategic guidance, an analysis of steady-state demand, modeling of the Navy’s ability to fight and win approved scenarios, and based on all of that, the required number and posture of each class of ship, projected across five, ten, fifteen, twenty, twenty-five, and thirty years. The detail was the point, because Congress had learned that left to define the report’s contents itself, the Navy would not reliably say how many ships it needed, or why. The reports bear this out. The first, in 2022, set the requirement at 373 ships;19 the second, in 2023, at 381.20 The number moved, but for the first time Congress could see, in a specified form, the reasoning behind it.

The BFSAR also exposes the limit of what format reform can promise, and the objection deserves a direct answer. That assessment did everything this essay advocates. It was mandated in detail, signed by the CNO, and specific to the ship. It set the requirement at 381. And it changed almost nothing: no administration funded it, and the battle force still sits below 300. A skeptic may fairly ask why mandating the posture statement’s format would fare any better. The answer is that legislating format compels accounting, not appropriations, and such distinction is the point rather than a concession. A mandated format cannot force Congress to buy ships. What it can do is strip the Navy of the ability to let a warning quietly disappear, to state a requirement one year and fall silent the next, to name a problem and never report what became of it. That is the specific failure this essay diagnoses, and it is the failure a disciplined format would cure. Accountability is not the same as appropriation, but it is the precondition for it.

Alongside these mandated self-reports, Congress built a second layer of defense, independent analysis. The Congressional Budget Office (CBO) scores the Navy’s shipbuilding plans against its own cost models. The GAO audits acquisition and maintenance. The Congressional Research Service (CRS) supplies standing expert analysis to the committees. Congress created these institutions precisely because it understood that agencies are poor judges of their own performance. The purpose was not to eliminate agency expertise but to ensure that congressional oversight did not depend exclusively upon it. The Navy is a documented case in point, and the most telling testimony comes not from a critic but from Congress’s own analyst. CRS naval analyst Ronald O’Rourke has observed that the incentive toward optimistic Navy cost estimates is so strong that it has become, in his words, “almost standard operating procedure.”21 That is not an accusation of dishonesty. It is a description of exactly the institutional optimism this essay has traced in the posture statements, identified independently, in another reporting stream, by the very office Congress created to check it.

The conclusion writes itself. Across acquisition, shipbuilding, fleet requirements, and budget analysis, Congress has already decided that it cannot rely on unstructured Navy self-assessment, and it has imposed structure by law in every one of them. The posture statement is the lone holdout, the one major annual account of the Navy’s condition that Congress still receives as whatever narrative the Navy chooses to write. There is no principled reason for the exception.

The question is no longer academic. The Navy faces a fleet below the size its own strategy demands and which is still shrinking, submarine-maintenance delays measured in years, a strained shipbuilding and repair base, munitions shortfalls, aging infrastructure, and an adversary in China that numerically “has the largest navy in the world.”22 In the coming decade Congress will be asked to make consequential decisions about force structure and resources, very likely involving the largest naval buildup since the 1980s. Those decisions require a reporting instrument capable of connecting conditions to consequences and preserving institutional memory across administrations. The posture statement, as currently written, is not that instrument.

Caudle’s 2026 posture statement demonstrates that candid discussion of readiness consequences is possible. However, the historical record reviewed here shows substantial variation in how CNOs have presented risk, readiness, and implications. Effective oversight should not depend upon the communication style or priorities of a particular CNO. The purpose of reform is to ensure that Congress receives consistent, comparable, and decision-relevant information regardless of who occupies the office.

A Navy Posture Statement Reform Act

The remedy follows directly from the diagnosis. If the posture statement fails as an oversight instrument because it is an unconstrained narrative, the fix is to constrain it, not by dictating the Navy’s conclusions but by mandating the categories it may not omit, soften, or quietly drop. The aim is to convert an annual advocacy document into an oversight instrument with continuity from one year to the next. The lesson of the 30-Year Shipbuilding Plan must be heeded. The mandate must drive the contents, not merely the calendar. This degree of specificity is neither unusual nor unprecedented. Congress already prescribes detailed content requirements for numerous defense reports, including those governing acquisition, shipbuilding, and force-structure assessments.

A reformed posture statement would fall into three parts as presented in Tables 2, 3, and 4. The current-year assessment in Part I would preserve what the Navy already does well and discipline it. It would provide: (1) a short assessment of the current security environment; (2) a ranked list of the service’s ten most serious problems. By design, this is a list of problems, not challenges, with each problem carrying its status, trend, severity, corrective action, and the consequence of leaving it unresolved. By providing this list, the Navy lives its management motto to “Embrace the Red” which, according to ADM Stephen Koehler, U.S. Pacific Fleet Commander, is “Navy speak for embracing problems and adjusting quickly and holistically to fix them” and is a major plank in its “Get Real, Get Better” command philosophy.23 In addition, Part I would address: (3) an assessment of the changing character of war caused by developments in the threat capability, geo-political actions, technology, and warfare concepts, etc.; (4) CNO’s risk assessments; (5) CNO’s personal assessment of the Navy’s current readiness; (6) CNO’s evaluation of the implications and consequences of the navy’s top ten problems and current readiness; (7) the top ten accomplishments of the past year (“Embrace the Green”); and (8) formal acknowledgment and praise of Congressional support. Part I would also include an Annex A to address the status of major programs of record and procurements. In regard to risk, as previously explained, Navy posture statements frequently used that term without specifying the type of risk and not always clearly articulating the consequences of that risk. Congress, consequently, while informed of problems was not exposed to the consequences.

Many posture statements exhibited inconsistent treatment of consequences. Some CNOs articulated them clearly while others described only conditions or generalized risk. Even when consequences were identified, they were often accompanied by reassurances that the Navy would continue meeting its commitments. As a result, Congress was frequently presented with warnings without a standardized assessment of what inaction would mean. Section 6 would address this deficiency by requiring the CNOs to state explicitly the consequences of failing to correct major deficiencies.

Table 2: Major Elements of a Congressionally Mandated Posture Statement—Part I Current Fiscal Year Assessment

The Current Year Assessment Topic

What It Requires

 

1.   Assessment of Current Security Environment Professional judgment through a naval lens.
2.   Assessment of the Top Ten Problems (Embrace the Red) Status, trend, severity, corrective action, and consequence of individual problems.
3.   Assessment of the Changing Character of War What is changing, and what is not.
4.   Risk Assessments Specific current “risk.” to mission, force, strategy, the industrial base, and the nation.
5. Current Readiness Greatest readiness concerns, vulnerabilities, opportunities, and assumptions most likely to prove wrong.
6. Evaluation of Navy’s Top Problems and Current Readiness Strategic implications and national-security consequences for current environment.
7. Top Ten Accomplishments of the Past Year (Embrace the Green) Year’s principal achievements, briefly.
8. Acknowledgment of Congressional Support Enacted authorities and appropriations recognized.
Annex A: Overview of Programs and Procurement (Description and Status) Detailed reference material on major programs.

Part II would focus on and assess the Navy’s future readiness, performance, and environment based on the assumption that Congress will approve the President’s Budget submitted for the next fiscal year. This component of a reformed posture statement would provide: (1) an assessment of the future security environment; (2) strategic planning assumptions; (3) the CNO’s personal assessment of the Navy’s future readiness, given passage of the President’s Budget for the next fiscal year; (4) the CNO’s future risk assessments; (5) on-going and potential future problems; and (6) consequences and implications of these on-going and future problems. As in Part I, Section 6 of Part II requires the CNO to identify, in concrete terms, what will occur if major deficiencies remain unresolved.

Table 3: Major Elements of a Congressionally Mandated Posture Statement—Part II Next (i.e., Future) Fiscal Year Assessment

The Future Year Assessment Topic

What it Requires

1. Assessment of Future Security Environment Professional judgment through a naval lens.
2. Strategic Planning Assumptions Premises on: budget, recruiting, retention, shipbuilding and maintenance capacity, industrial base, operational demand, and threat.
3. Assessment of Navy’s Future Readiness Based on Submitted President’s Budget for next FY Greatest readiness concerns, vulnerabilities, opportunities, and assumptions most likely to prove wrong.
4. Risk Assessments Specific future risk to mission, force, strategy, industrial base, and nation.
5. On-going and Future Key Problems and Future Readiness Problem description, status, trend, severity, and corrective action. Every major external review status (for example, 2010 Balisle Report, GAO Reports, Annual INSURV Reports, the 2017 Strategic and Comprehensive Readiness Reviews, etc.)  kept visible until formally closed. For each major problem, what happens if Congress does nothing, stated concretely. Each problem named in any prior year carried forward with status, trend, and resolution or abandonment, so none can quietly drop off the list.

Part III, would focus on longitudinal assessment, building the institutional memory that posture statements have always lacked. This third component of the reformed posture statement tracks the Navy across time rather than freezing it in a single budget cycle. Section 1 in Part III requires the CNO to track from 1991, at the end of the Cold War, to the present, the condition of the fleet using standardized categories such as force structure, readiness, maintenance, munitions, infrastructure, industrial capacity, and personnel. But describing conditions alone is insufficient. Section 3 requires the CNO to explain the consequences of inaction by identifying the operational, strategic, and fiscal risks that will result if these longitudinal deficiencies are not addressed. In addition, Section 3 requires those warnings and risks to be tracked from year to year until resolved, preventing them from disappearing into successive posture statements. This reporting requirement transforms warnings from isolated observations into potentially enduring Congressional oversight items. It compels the articulation of consequences and thus provides continuity and accountability to eliminate a central weakness identified in this posture statement review.  Furthermore, by using 1991 as the benchmark year, trends cannot be passed off as snapshots.

Part III should reveal where the Navy is headed and whether longstanding warnings are being addressed. Requiring the longitudinal assessment distinguishes this proposal from a routine reporting requirement, because it is a proposal for institutional memory. No existing statutory report provides a longitudinal assessment of readiness trends, unresolved deficiencies, corrective actions, and the consequences of inaction.

Table 4: Major Elements of a Congressionally Mandated Posture Statement—Part III Longitudinal Assessment

Part III — Longitudinal Oversight

What it requires

1. Historical Readiness Assessment with Cumulative Data on Key Indices Multi-year trends in personnel, maintenance, aviation, surface, submarine, and logistics readiness, reported as trends, not snapshots. From 1991 (end of the Cold War) to the present.
2. Longitudinal Assessment: Deficiencies, Corrective Actions, and Consequences Consequences of inaction by identifying the operational, strategic, and fiscal risks that will result if these longitudinal deficiencies are not addressed.

Conclusion

Congress already requires long-range reporting for ships and aircraft because force structure cannot be understood in a single fiscal year. Readiness and risk evolve over similarly long periods. Yet no comparable statutory mechanism exists to track the condition of the fleet, the persistence of readiness deficiencies, or the consequences of failing to address them.

Furthermore, the experience of the Royal Navy offers a cautionary lesson. For nearly two decades, official reports, parliamentary inquiries, retired officers, journalists, and independent analysts warned of declining Royal Navy capacity, readiness shortfalls, maintenance backlogs, personnel shortages, and the growing gap between commitments and resources. Yet because the Royal Navy continued to deploy and meet immediate operational demands, the cumulative consequences of those trends remained difficult for policymakers and the public to see clearly. The result was not a sudden collapse, but a gradual erosion of capability that became unmistakable only after critical mass had been lost. The implicit lesson is that Britain had shipbuilding plans, budgets, reviews, and testimony. What it lacked was a single, enduring, publicly accessible mechanism that continuously connected warning, consequence, trend, and accountability over decades.24  The proposed reform is designed to provide exactly that function for the U.S. Navy.

The reforms proposed here would not guarantee against a similar outcome for the U.S. Navy. No reporting system can substitute for sound strategy, adequate resources, or effective leadership. They would, however, create a longitudinal public record of U.S. Navy readiness, force structure, operational risk, and the consequences of inaction. By providing Congress and the American people with a consistent, comparable assessment over time, the U.S. Navy’s posture statement would become more than an annual budget justification. It would serve as an enduring institutional record, making long-term trends visible before they become crises and helping ensure that future warnings are neither overlooked nor forgotten.

The intent of this proposal is for the Navy to account, in a form Congress and its analysts can read against the prior year and the years before that. Congress has imposed exactly this kind of discipline on acquisition reporting, on the shipbuilding plan, and on the fleet-requirement assessment. Extending it to the posture statement asks nothing new of the institution, only that the Navy’s most important annual account of itself finally meet the standard Congress already requires of the rest. The Navy’s problem was never an absence of warning. It was the absence of a reporting system capable of preserving those warnings, tracking their resolution, and explaining their consequences in frank terms. Congress solved that problem in acquisition reporting. It solved it in shipbuilding. It solved it in fleet-requirement assessment. The posture statement is the remaining exception. It should not remain so.

Bruce Stubbs had assignments on the staffs of the secretary of the Navy and the chief of naval operations from 2009 to 2022 as a member of the U.S. Senior Executive Service. He was a former director of Strategy and Strategic Concepts in the N3N5 and N7 directorates. As a career U.S. Coast Guard officer, he served as the assistant commandant for capability at Headquarters, served on the staff of the National Security Council, taught at the Naval War College, commanded a major cutter, and served a combat tour with the U.S. Navy in Vietnam during the 1972 Easter Offensive.

References

1. Michael G. Mullen, Admiral, U.S. Navy, Chief of Naval Operations, Opening Statement, Before Subcommittee of the Committee on Appropriations, U.S. Senate, Department of Defense Appropriations for Fiscal Year 2007, 15 March 2006. Mullen stated: “Our long-range ship building plan submitted with this budget, likewise, strikes a balance between near- and long-term requirements. The fleet today stands at 281 ships—not enough in my view to deliver the joint warfighting capabilities the combatant commanders will need over the course of this long war. Our plan, centered on 11 aircraft carriers with a fleet of about 313 ships, affordably meets these needs for the good of the Navy, for the good of the Nation and for the good of our allies and partners.”

2. Jonathan Greenert, Admiral, U.S. Navy, Chief of Naval Operations, Opening Statement, Before Subcommittee of the Committee on Appropriations, U.S. Senate, Hearing on the Department of Defense Appropriations for Fiscal Year 2015, 26 March 2014. The full quote: “We would be unable to execute at least 4 of the 10 primary missions articulated in the Defense Strategic Guidance in the Quadrennial Defense Review. And his prepared statement which declared, “Despite the reduction in funding below levels planned in PB–14, PB–15 strikes this balance and the result is a program that delivers sufficient readiness to meet our GFMAP presence commitments and provide sufficient ‘surge’’ capacity for contingency response.”

3. Vice Admiral Phillip M. Balisle, U.S. Navy, Ret, Letter to Commander, U.S. Fleet Forces Command and Commander, U.S. Pacific Fleet, Enclosure (1) Final Report, Subject: Fleet Review Panel of Surface Force Readiness, 26 February 2010.

4. Daniel Whiteneck, Michael Price. Neil Jenkins, and Peter Swartz, “The Navy at a Tipping Point: Maritime Dominance at Stake?”, Center for Naval Analyses, CAB D0022262.A3/1REV, March 2010, p. 43.

5. Geoff Ziezulewicz, “Fleet’s Material Condition Keeps Getting Worse, New INSURV Report Says,” Navy Times, 2 June 2023. “The Navy fleet’s overall material condition declined slightly in fiscal 2022, ‘resuming a slight but steady negative trend’ that has occurred since fiscal 2017, according to the Navy’s annual Board of Inspection and Survey, or INSURV, report released by the Navy on Friday.”

6. United States Government Accountability Office, Report to the Subcommittee on Readiness, Committee on Armed Services, House of Representatives, Navy Readiness Actions Needed to Address Costly Maintenance Delays Facing the Attack Submarine Fleet, GAO-19-229, November 2018.

7. The Honorable Michael Bayer and Admiral Gary Roughead, U.S. Navy (Retired), Strategic Readiness Review, 3 December 2017. Released by Secretary of the Navy Richard V. Spencer

8. Admiral P. S. Davidson, U.S. Navy, Commander, U.S. Fleet Forces Command, Memorandum for Vice Chief of Naval Operations, Subject: Comprehensive Review of Recent Surface Force Incidents, Enclosure (1): Comprehensive Review of Recent Surface Force Incidents, 26 October 2017. The report also noted: “Evidence of skill proficiency (on ships) and readiness problems (at headquarters) were missed, and over time, even normalized to the point that more time could be spent on operational missions.”

9. Michael Wilson, “FY 2026 National Defense Authorization Act: A Comprehensive Holland & Knight Analysis,” Holland & Knight Alert, 22 December 2025.

10. Thomas Spoehr, ‘What Congress Gets Wrong About Defending the Homeland,” The National Interest, 23 January 2024.

11. U.S. Department of Defense, “Department of Defense Selected Acquisition Reports (SARs),” Press Release, 22 September 2023.

12. Congressional Research Service,The Nunn-McCurdy Act: Background, Analysis, and Issues for Congress,” R41293, 12 May 12, 2016.

13. This Navy document is formally titled Report to Congress on the Annual Long-Range Plan for Construction of Naval Vessels for Fiscal Year XXXX and is drafted by OPNAV N9 for signature by the Navy secretary. The Navy has a statutory requirement (10 U.S.C. §231) to submit annually to Congress this plan that provides “supporting information for assessing and marking up the Navy’s proposed shipbuilding program.” It provides a 30-year shipbuilding procurement profile along with broad guidance about the Navy’s intentions to meet its force structure demands. According to Ron O’Rourke, Congressional Research Service analyst, the plan enables Congress to assess whether (1) the Navy intends to procure enough ships to achieve and maintain its stated ship force-level goals; (2) there is a fundamental imbalance between program goals and projected resources; (3) ship procurement plans are likely to be affordable within future defense budgets; (4) ship procurement planning is reasonable in terms of assumed service lives for existing ships and estimated procurement costs for new ships; and (5) there are potential industrial-base implications. Ronald O’Rourke, Statement before the Committee on Armed Services Subcommittee on Seapower and Projection Forces, U.S. House of Representatives, Hearing on “Future Force Structure Requirements for the United States Navy,” 4 June 2020, p. 1.  In addition, according to Dr. Eric Labs of the Congressional Budget Office, the plan benefits congressional oversight and decisions by potentially revealing: (1) cumulative long-term effects of annual appropriation decisions that may not be apparent from a shorter perspective; (2) imbalances between long-term objectives for inventories and projected budgetary resources; and (3) information on  assumptions about the service lives of major weapons systems and how those assumptions may affect its inventory goals. Eric J. Labs, Senior Analyst for Naval Forces and Weapons, “The Value of 30-Year Defense Procurement Plans for Congressional Oversight and Decision-making,” Congressional Budget Office, Statement before the Subcommittee on Oversight and Investigations Committee on Armed Services U.S. House of Representatives, 1 June 2011.

14. Shelby S. Oakley, Director, Contracting and National Security Acquisition, United States Government Accountability Office, Testimony Before the Subcommittee on Seapower and Projection Forces, Committee on Armed Services, House of Representatives, “Navy Shipbuilding: A Generational Imperative for Systemic Change,” GAO-25-108136, 11 March 2025.

15. The Navy develops this shipbuilding plan; the Secretary of the Navy certifies it and includes it in the defense budget materials; the Secretary of Defense submits those budget materials to Congress; and the unaltered assessment of the Chief of Naval Operations and the Commandant accompanies the shipbuilding plan.

16. 10 U.S.C. § 231a, “Budgeting for life-cycle costs of aircraft for the Army, Navy, and Air Force: annual plan and certification.” The earlier 30-year aviation procurement plan under former § 231a (Pub. L. 110-417, § 141 (2008)) was repealed by the John S. McCain National Defense Authorization Act for Fiscal Year 2019.

17. 10 U.S.C. § 8695, “Navy battle force ship assessment and requirement reporting” (added by Pub. L. 117-81, § 1017(a), Dec. 27, 2021).

18. 10 U.S.C. § 231, “Budgeting for construction, maintenance, and modernization of naval vessels: annual plans and certifications.”

19. Sam Lagrone, “New Navy Fleet Study Calls for 373 Ship Battle Force, Details are Classified,” USNI News, 19 July 2022.

20. Ronald O’Rourke, Navy Force Structure and Shipbuilding Plans: Background and Issues for Congress, Report RL32665 (Washington, DC: Congressional Research Service, 31 March 2025), Table I-1: Total Number of Ships in Navy Since FY1948 and p. 3. “In March 2024, as part of its FY2025 30-year (FY2025-FY2054) shipbuilding plan, the Navy released the details of this new goal, which calls for achieving and maintaining a fleet of 381 manned ships of certain types and numbers, plus 134 large, unmanned surface and underwater vehicles.” U.S. Naval Institute Staff, “Fleet and Marine Tracker,” USNI News, 4 August 2025.

21. Ronald O’Rourke, Congressional Research Service, Testimony Before the Armed Services Committee, Seapower and Projection Forces Subcommittee, U.S. House of Representatives, Hearing on “The State of U.S. Shipbuilding,” 11 March 2025.

22. Office of the Secretary of Defense, Military and Security Developments Involving the People’s Republic of China 2024, Annual Report to Congress, Executive Summary, December 2024, p. vii.

23. Nuray Taylor, “U.S. Pacific Fleet Commander Calls to ‘Embrace the Red’”, Signal Magazine, 28 January 2025. ADM Koehler’s full quote: “”Let’s take a holistic, innovative approach that brings transformative, strategic gain to our force. That includes considering things we’re not doing that we should be doing. It includes embracing the red, which is Navy speak for embracing problems and adjusting quickly and holistically to fix them.”

24. “Is the Royal Navy in Crisis?” Navy Lookout, 8 January 2024.

Featured image: The Nimitz-class aircraft carrier USS Carl Vinson and the Ticonderoga-class guided missile cruiser USS Bunker Hill conduct a replenishment at sea with the Military Sealift Command fast combat support ship USNS Bridge. (U.S. Navy photo by Petty Officer 2nd Class James Evans)

Covert Maritime Intelligence and Russia’s Shadow Fleet

By Catherine Marie Abbott

Introduction

It is widely documented that Russia has leveraged various threat vectors to employ coercive and ancillary irregular tactics against allied nations, including the pervasive use of sanctioned shadow fleet vessels. Acting as a threat multiplier through decentralized and opaque ownership structures, these ships have operated in concert with Russian intelligence, reconnaissance, and surveillance (ISR) assets. Western and Ukrainian intelligence sources note that crew composition varies considerably. Some vessels reportedly operate with supernumerary Russian personnel with documented security or military credentials. This includes individuals affiliated with Russian private military companies (PMC) such as the Moran Security Group and the Wagner Group, as well as with the Main Intelligence Directorate (GRU).

To address Russia’s sanctioned fleet, many allied nations, including the United States, United Kingdom, and European Union have enacted legislation barring such vessels from entering their ports. However, despite proactive measures, the adaptive nature of shadow fleet networks sustains ships’ ability to evade detection and exploit enforcement gaps. At a systemic level, seaports generally serve as tangible operational conduits for the modus operandi of trafficking networks, enabling the smuggling of illicit goods through vulnerable entry points. Reportedly, 90% of the world’s cargo is transported via maritime corridors and containers, with only a segment of goods physically inspected by customs authorities, allowing for clandestine behavior from traffickers or Russian covert operatives.

At present, Russia is exploiting European seaports and maritime infrastructure. Despite port interception and seizure operations from allied nations, Russia’s acquisition of ghost vessels continues in an upward trend. While primarily used as a strategic tool to augment sanctions evasion and sustain defense expenditures, Russia’s irregular tactics, alongside vulnerable seaport ecosystems, create conditions that could facilitate covert human movement under commercial cover for the Russian Federation.

Russian Covert Human Intelligence in the Modern Era

Moscow’s use of clandestine human intelligence assets relies on deniable human networks embedded within state operations, an act synonymous with Cold War-era tactics. In 2022, the Slovenian Security and Intelligence Agency found Russian illegal spies, Artyom Dultsev and Anna Dultseva, masquerading as Argentinians and acting on behalf of the Kremlin. A fundamental espionage tool since the Soviet Era, illegal spies have reportedly remained a critical asset to Moscow’s intelligence architecture against the West, leveraging international vulnerabilities and infrastructure gaps to gain a strategic advantage. This is exemplified in the case of Maria Adela Kuhfeldt Rivera, a Russian illegal operative turned NATO-affiliate socialite.

Though not isolated incidents, Russia’s non-ephemeral strategy has leveraged irregular clandestine methods to infiltrate and destabilize the Western world. During the Soviet era, clandestine volunteer forces, state-run proxy units, and disguised military personnel conducted covert operations while maintaining plausible deniability. Today, PMCs have emerged within a similar structural framework in the Russian Federation, with syndicates such as the Wagner Group internationally executing state security objectives in the application of the Kremlin’s hybrid warfare doctrine. Although not officially recognized as acting under the Federation, PMCs maintain an intimate relationship with the GRU, supporting its intelligence and military agencies.

As a segment of Russia’s state-sponsored irregular operations, gray-zone activity has shifted toward more decentralized hybrid structures, integrating formal intelligence services with semi-commercial and proxy networks. Reporting on Russia’s wartime intelligence activity in Europe indicates increasing reliance by the Federal Security Service (FSB) and the GRU on intermediary facilitators and autonomous operatives to conduct surveillance, targeting, and influence operations across multiple jurisdictions. Parallel training pipelines within Russian academic and military structures institutionalize asymmetric warfare competencies, including cyber operations, disinformation, and reconnaissance tradecraft within distinctly identifiable recruitment pathways into intelligence services. These networks operate through formal state structures and semi-private intermediaries within permissive civilian environments, maintaining plausible deniability for Russia’s intelligence apparatus.

Maritime Shadow Networks and Port Vulnerabilities

Operating under opaque and decentralized ownership structures, shadow vessels have since emerged as an adaptation to international energy sanctions following the onset of the Ukrainian-Russo War in 2022. Though a maritime security threat across all sectors, they elude maritime detection through highly coordinated concealment tactics. Among the most salient of these obfuscating tactics are AIS data manipulation, ship-to-ship transfers, frequent reflaggings and name changes, and falsified vessel documentation, including shell corporations and a lack of P&I insurance. Notably, reports indicate that over 70% of sanctioned vessels changed flags in 2025, complicating allied interdiction and seizure efforts. The synthesis of these arrangements, as well as the Russian Federation’s acquisition of new tankers, has impeded allied nations’ effectiveness in addressing shadow vessels.

Transgressing beyond vessel identification ambiguities, open-source reporting indicates discrepancies between declared crew manifests as well as individuals observed aboard shadow vessels in Northern European waters. For example, in December 2025, Danish maritime pilots reported uniformed Russian Navy personnel not reflected in official manifests in the Danish Strait. Three months prior, French authorities boarded Boracay (IMO 9332810), a Russian-affiliated sanctioned ship operating under multiple aliases and flags. Boracay aliases include Kiwala, Pushapa, and most recently, Feniks. Authorities observed two men with a background in the Wagner Group and the Moran Security Group, both of which are widely assessed to maintain links to Russia’s FSB.

Generally designed as controlled zones, seaports, aside from their vulnerable cyber landscape, remain tangibly susceptible to opportunistic threat vectors. Despite strengthening port security infrastructures and inspection methods, maritime smugglers continue to pursue adaptive concealment measures by hiding illicit cargo in anchors, vents, hull compartments, fuel systems, and underwater attachments, with 85% of seizure events involving shipping containers and 80% of seized narcotics by volume linked to containerized cargo. Meanwhile, 68% of detected cases involve internal conspirators within the maritime cargo supply chain.

Earlier assessments of maritime security governance identified seaports as structurally constrained systems that have a fragmented authority apparatus and disjointed security standards across federal, local, and private actors, often relying on risk-based rather than comprehensive inspection regimes and selectively inspecting cargo. Given the role of seaports as high-volume logistical hubs embedded within urban infrastructure, ports must sustain the continuous movement of cargo, personnel, and vessels, limiting the feasibility of maintaining fully restrictive access control and comprehensive screening measures. Additionally, despite sanctions, some shipments coming from Russian ports have successfully docked and unloaded at ports in the European Union and allied coastal states.

Online reports have noted alleged infiltration by Russian covert operatives into the United Kingdom via commercial cargo ships and lenient border surveillance and security checks, which are reportedly less rigorous than other ports of entry. Although the vessels used were not Russian-flagged and were not listed in current sanctioned shadow fleet listings, access was obtained through ports including Torquay, Middlesbrough, and Grangemouth.

Synthesis: Mechanisms of Potential Covert Human Movement via Maritime Channels

Viewing itself as diametrically opposed to the West, the Russian Federation will capitalize on vulnerabilities to destabilize and polarize allied nations and has exploited sub-Article-5 thresholds using various modes, notably underwater infrastructure mapping, pre-emplacing explosives near subsea assets, and habitual drone incursion operations in allied airspace. Although operating outside standard maritime compliance, current observable indicators do not conclusively demonstrate a systemic, covert infiltration from Moscow through shadow fleet vessels. However, the fleet’s adaptive characteristic, in concert with existing vulnerable physical port security, creates exploitable conditions under which clandestine infiltration could very likely occur.

Arguably, Russia may not extensively use sanctioned vessels to conduct clandestine human operations given their compromised status, but with the acquisition of new auxiliary vessels, the Federation may increasingly rely on a secondary, more adaptable shadow fleet to do so. For example, targeting efforts by allied nations have highlighted frequent renaming and reflagging of select vessels, and despite these evasive tactics, allied states generally maintain a unified, restrictive port-access strategy toward known shadow fleet assets. In the case of the Feniks, while operating under the name Kiwala, the vessel was reportedly linked to Djibouti. However, when later sailing as Boracay, it was observed sailing under a falsified Benin flag and now sails as the Russian-flagged Feniks. Presently, reports indicate that Russia is re-registering and absorbing approximately eighty previously identified sanctioned vessels into its domestic registry. Concurrently, Russia continues to acquire additional auxiliary vessels that fall outside existing sanctions designations. This maritime restructuring may be linked to allied interdiction strategies targeting older Generation 1 sanctioned vessels, which have reduced their operational flexibility and maneuverability. This may also indicate the emergence of lower-signature adaptive configurations consistent with a Generation 2 shadow fleet architecture of newer vessels within Russia’s maritime network.

While Generation 1 vessels have restricted access to port infrastructure, the newly acquired Generation 2 fleet may provide the Kremlin with operationally clandestine flexibility and intangible, non-kinetic tactics required to gain access to allied ports until such vessels are identified, sanctioned, and barred from seaport entry. Preliminary reports already allege Russia’s intention and use of foreign-flagged vessels to gain entry in vulnerable ports varying in size and capabilities for covert motives, so the possibility of using unknown foreign-flagged vessels for such purposes remains considerably likely. Especially given that such vessels have been a notable mechanism for intelligence gathering and hybrid applications.

Conclusion

The Russian shadow fleet has transformed into a tool functioning outside the legal standards of maritime compliance and will almost certainly continue to do so with a new generation of shadow vessels. Though the development of a Generation 2 shadow fleet remains undetermined, the inherent restructuring and acquisition of various vessels indicate the likelihood that Russia may seek to operationalize newly acquired and lesser-known auxiliary vessels in a manner consistent with the evasive and irregular characteristics previously observed across the Generation 1 fleet. This strategic adaptation has been met with minimal resistance, signaling to the Kremlin that its actions carry few geopolitical penalties. The perceived permissiveness of allied states’ reluctance to definitively interdict on sub-Article 5 irregular tactics has incentivized adversarial states to escalate engagement of hybrid warfare strategies against allied nations, both within and outside of the maritime domain. However, under international maritime law, the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS), port states have significant authority to regulate and intervene in the activities of shadow vessels.

Because port access remains subject to coastal state discretion under international maritime law, port states retain significant authority to condition or deny entry to vessels assessed as part of the Generation 2 fleet. Under such a context, port states may further condition clearance on pre- and post-berthing inspection access, enabling customs and maritime security teams to verify declared cargo against physical inventories and identify discrepancies indicative of sanctions evasion or covert logistical activity. Port authorities may also restrict or prohibit disembarkation of individuals not explicitly listed on the vessel’s official crew manifest, pending identity verification and security screening.

Notably, seaport heterogeneity in function, governance, and security structures creates varying operational conditions across maritime infrastructure. Allied states targeting Generation 2 shadow vessels can leverage historical context and preexisting navigational patterns associated with the Generation 1 fleet to determine which terminals contemporary ships will almost certainly use and prioritize enhanced monitoring and port security apparatus accordingly, including stricter inspection regimes and controls on disembarkation for individuals not verified against official crew documentation.

Catherine Marie Abbott holds a master’s degree in security policy studies from the George Washington University Elliott School of International Affairs, specializing in maritime security and intelligence analysis. Her research primarily focuses on maritime logistics, emerging technology, and intelligence processing. The views and opinions expressed by her do not reflect or represent those of her employer or affiliated organizations.

Featured Image: “Moscow Kremlin at Night” by Pazel Kazachkov (Wikimedia Commons)