Articles Due: June 1, 2026
Week Dates: June 15-19, 2026 Story Length: 1,5000-3,000 Words Submit to: Content@cimsec.org
The United States and Iran are at war, with a vital waterway dominating strategic concerns. A fight over the Strait of Hormuz has been a prominent naval scenario for more than 40 years since the U.S. and Iran fought in the tanker wars of the 1980s. Now this scenario has become reality, with the U.S. and Iran attempting to reestablish the flow of seaborne commerce on their own terms.
Despite a significant presence of U.S. naval forces in the region, Iran has effectively contested control of the Strait with asymmetric means. The distributed forces of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps Navy have posed a persistent threat, while a wide variety of drones and munitions have helped Iran make its presence felt in the waterway. These methods may be demonstrating new facets of the evolving character of naval warfare and hinting at the future.
Another vital waterway has exerted major influence on the operational maneuver of forces. The circuitous route of the George H.W. Bush Carrier Strike Group around the entire continent of Africa, and the Ford strike group’s confinement to the northern reaches of the Red Sea, mark critical strategic effects reaped by the the Houthis. U.S. carrier strike groups have been effectively deterred from transiting the Bab El Mandeb strait, allowing the Houthis to inflict a major logistical price against U.S. naval forces.
Despite considerable tactical success and relatively few losses, the U.S. has struggled to translate combat outcomes into strategic results. The linkage between tactics and strategy has proven tenuous in this war, with the Navy’s contributions being subsumed under questionable strategy. It is also questionable how well the U.S. Navy can help secure vital sea lines of communication, a strategic mission set that has dominated its mission set for generations. The Navy’s challenges in controlling two major waterways against third-world adversaries may cast doubt on how well it can fulfill its strategic purpose.
At the same time, the operational effects of the war offer significant insights for the employment of Marine Corps forces in contested maritime terrain. Iran has been achieving disproportionate operational effects by using lethal, low signature, mobile forces operating within contested maritime spaces to disrupt U.S. plans and deny the U.S. freedom of maneuver. This is the Marine Corps’ Stand-in Forces concept made manifest, and potential lessons for refinement of this concept abound. As speculation continues about the seizure of key maritime terrain such as Kharg Island, the war compels the Marine Corps to look at its own concepts from and determine how to conduct amphibious operations in a highly contested maritime environment. As two amphibious readiness groups remain present in the region, the role and viability of the USMC in this war and modern conflict writ large could be put to the test.
The Iran war offers a rich set of lessons on the exercise of maritime power and naval force. How are combat operations highlighting changes in the character of warfare? How else may the fight over the maritime domain unfold? What does this war reveal about controlling the maritime domain with force and for strategic effect? Authors are invited to consider these questions and many more as this war unfolds.
We all know the drill. It is 0700 on a Tuesday. The command has been secured. Your division officer, perhaps slightly sheepish, hands you the slip. Your name is on it. You, a trusted technician, a decorated watchstander, a pilot trusted with a hundred-million-dollar aircraft, are now required to march down to the command’s makeshift collection facility.
There, you will wait. Perhaps for two minutes, perhaps for two hours. You will wait alongside Chief Petty Officers, junior Ensigns, and seasoned maintainers. You will wait until your body cooperates with the demands of a computer-generated random selection process, overseen by a fellow Sailor – the Urinalysis Program Coordinator (UPC) – whose primary duty today is to watch their shipmates urinate into a plastic cup.
The Navy’s commitment to a “drug-free force” is noble in concept. But in practice, the random urinalysis program has become a hollow ritual – an immense, quantifiable drag on warfighting readiness, and, most critically, a systemic outsourcing of command judgment. With active hostilities across multiple theaters today – and as we prepare our forces for the unforgiving realities of Great Power Competition in the Pacific and beyond – we must ruthlessly evaluate any program that takes Sailors away from their primary warfighting duties.
The argument for keeping the status quo is simple: deterrence. We are told that the omnipresent threat of the cup is the only thing standing between good order and discipline and a fleet compromised by narcotics. But if we are truly honest with ourselves about the cost-benefit analysis of this thirty-year-old artifact of the “War on Drugs,” the equation doesn’t hold water. It is time to dismantle the random urinalysis program for active and reserve Sailors and return to a Navy built on trust and command accountability.
The Accession Filter
Before the screams of “zero tolerance” begin, let us be clear about what is not being advocated. This is not a proposal to turn a blind eye to illegal substance abuse in the ranks. We must absolutely continue to perform urinalysis testing for all new accessions. Boot camp, Officer Candidate School, and the Naval Academy are filters. They are the gateways through which we invite civilians into the lifelines of the military profession. When a new person walks into a Military Entrance Processing Station (MEPS), we know very little about their history beyond what they report. It is entirely appropriate and necessary to ensure that those entering the service are not bringing substance abuse issues with them on Day One. Testing at Great Lakes, Newport, or Annapolis must remain.
But once a Sailor crosses that threshold, once they have been trained, vetted, security clearance granted, and assigned to a unit, the dynamic must shift from suspicion to trust.
Consider that the Navy invests tens of thousands of dollars into background investigations to grant high level security clearances, and entrusts these Sailors with cryptographic material, maintenance of nuclear reactors, and the lives of their fellow shipmates. Yet, paradoxically, our administrative posture suggests that we do not trust them to make basic, lawful decisions over a liberty weekend. This cognitive disconnect undermines the very foundation of mutual respect and accountability required for a lethal, professional, and ready force.
The Quantifiable Drain
The single greatest operational argument against random urinalysis is its cost – not in dollars, but in the most precious resource we have: time.
We are a Navy that is perpetually overworked, undermanned, and struggling to meet its maintenance and training cycles. Yet we deliberately impose a mass-casualty event on productive work hours several times a month in every command in the Fleet.
The current system doesn’t just waste the time of the Sailor selected, it wastes the time of the UPC, usually a Petty Officer First Class or Chief, who must secure their actual job – the mission-critical job they were trained to do – to manage a logistical nightmare. It wastes the time of the observers as well, who are required to support the evolution and perform no other task but to “observe.” It requires complex shipping logistics, documentation tracking, and legal hours to manage the inevitable procedural disputes.
If a typical unit conducts random testing twice a month, pulling twenty Sailors away for an average of ninety minutes each, that command is losing three thousand productive manhours a year to the collection facility alone. This does not account for the administrative overhead of the UPC, the supply costs of the kits, or the legal resources. Across the entire Navy, we are talking about millions of manhours sacrificed on the altar of a bureaucratic process.
For the Reserve component, the situation is even more dire. A drilling Reservist has roughly sixteen hours per month to achieve readiness. Those sixteen hours are already cannibalized enough by medical and dental readiness appointments, mandatory general military training (GMT), and other administrative tasks. Dedicating two, three, or even four hours of a single drill weekend to a urinalysis cattle-call is a dereliction of leadership. It directly harms retention by signaling to Reservists that the Navy does not value their limited time or their professional civilian lives. We are driving away highly skilled talent because we insist on treating them like parolees instead of partners.
The Ground Truth
If we step back from the PowerPoint slides and Navy instructions to speak candidly with unit leaders, a different reality emerges. Many of the commands I have been in have been filled with high-performers, and the feeling on the deckplates is clear: the program is simply a bureaucratic box to check. The number of illicit drug users who “pop positive” on a urinalysis are absurdly small – less than 1% out of over 2.5 million urine specimens annually. When a program is universally recognized as a performative administrative burden rather than a genuine security measure, that program is ripe for elimination.
This brings us to a complex reality regarding the UPC Program and our true priorities. What if someone is a high performer and taking a non-prescribed drug, like Ritalin or Adderall, to maintain or increase performance? The cognitive load on the modern warfighter – whether they are an intelligent analyst poring over satellite imagery for twelve hours, or a staff officer managing a crisis action team in a Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility (SCIF) – is immense. The military itself has a history of utilizing “go pills” in specific, tightly controlled operational contexts.
If a high-performing, overworked Sailor is self-medicating with stimulants to meet the punishing demands of their billet, is a punitive, random drug test the appropriate intervention? By relying on a randomized cup, we treat a potential medical, mental health, or command-climate issue as a purely criminal one. We lose the opportunity for intervention, medical support, and leadership counseling. We strip the nuance from the situation, preferring an outdated, binary, automated punishment over engaged leadership.
Outsourcing Command
The deepest, most insidious cost of the program, however, is cultural. The random urinalysis program is a symptom of a command structure that has lost faith in its commanders.
We tell Commanding Officers they are responsible for everything that happens within their hull or unit passageway – except, apparently, for whether their Sailors are abusing substances. For that, we rely on a randomized algorithm and a lab technician a thousand miles away.
This is a failure of leadership.
A Commanding Officer should know their people. They should know if a Sailor’s performance is slipping, if their appearance is declining, or if they are suddenly making “destructive or questionable decisions” on or off duty. If a Sailor is abusing drugs, those behaviors will manifest. They will manifest in missed watches, failed physical fitness tests, sloppy maintenance, and fractured domestic relationships.
A CO does not need a random lab test – they need to empower their Chief Petty Officers and Division Officers to lead.
If a commander suspects drug use, they already have the authority to order a “for cause” drug test based on probable cause. The mechanisms exist. We need to trust COs to use them.
By automating this process through randomization, we have created a leadership crutch. We are allowing commanders to defer the hard work of monitoring their unit’s health to a lab report. We are teaching junior officers that good order and discipline come from a computer program, not from knowing the Sailors under their command.
Bias and Safeguards
Critics will rightfully point out the potential for the abuse of power from COs on “for cause” testing, or the risk of a biased CO unfairly targeting specific individuals. These are valid concerns. The military justice system must always guard against unlawful command influence and targeted harassment. But shifting to a probable-cause-only model does not eliminate oversight – it actively demands it.
A “for cause” test requires legal justification. It requires a paper trail. It requires consultation with the Staff Judge Advocate (SJA) to ensure that the suspicion is rooted in articulable facts – erratic behavior, physical evidence, or credible reports – rather than personal animus. If we cannot trust a Commanding Officer to exercise legal, unbiased judgment in ordering a drug test in consultation with the JAG, why do we trust them with Non-Judicial Punishment (NJP)? Why do we trust them to write evaluations and fitness reports that determine careers, or to order Sailors into harm’s way? If a CO is fundamentally biased or abusive, that toxicity will manifest in far more destructive ways than a drug test. The solution to toxic leadership is to hold toxic leadership accountable and fire them, not to burden the entire Fleet with prophylactic, randomized bureaucracy instead.
Reclaiming the Watch
The future fight demands a Navy that is leaner, more agile, and built on trust. We cannot afford the logistical and cognitive drag of a system that treats every Sailor as a suspect.
To senior leadership, the task is clear: Reclaim that authority. Reclaim those manhours. Have the courage to trust the commanders you have placed in charge of your multi-billion-dollar assets. End random urinalysis for the active and reserve Fleet.
Ditch the cup and get back to the mission.
CDR Roger Misso is a Commanding Officer in the Navy Reserve with multiple deployments, mobilizations, and assignments across both the active and reserve force. The views expressed here are his own.
Featured Image: Navy Operational Support Center North Island conducts a monthly urinalysis test, July 14, 2019, on Naval Air Station North Island. (U.S. Navy/Mass Communication Specialist 1st Class Shannon Chambers)
The Strait of Hormuz does not need to be made safe to reopen global shipping. It only needs to be made governable. Even as the United States has begun striking selected Iranian military targets—including recent operations against military facilities on Kharg Island—the fundamental challenge in the Gulf remains unchanged: restoring predictable commercial transit through a contested maritime chokepoint without triggering a broader regional war. Attempts to eliminate every Iranian capability that could threaten shipping would require a prolonged campaign across the Persian Gulf. A more practical approach is to establish a temporary defended transit corridor, concentrating naval escort, airborne surveillance, shipborne helicopter protection, and a limited southern-shore defensive node into a narrow and defensible passage through the strait.
For months, analysts have treated the Strait of Hormuz as if it were either completely safe or completely impassable. In reality, maritime chokepoints rarely function in such absolute terms. Shipping does not require a perfectly safe ocean. It requires a corridor that is predictable, defensible, and credible enough for commercial operators and insurers to accept the risk.
The debate surrounding the Strait of Hormuz often assumes that the only way to restore shipping is to eliminate Iran’s ability to threaten the waterway. That assumption leads immediately to the prospect of a large regional war—air campaigns against coastal missile batteries, naval battles across the Gulf, and months of escalation.
But history suggests a different path. During past maritime crises, naval powers have frequently restored commerce not by eliminating every threat but by establishing managed transit systems that compress risk into a narrow and controllable space.
The solution for Hormuz may therefore lie not in dominating the entire Persian Gulf but in creating a temporary defended corridor through the chokepoint.
Such a corridor would rely on a layered structure of naval escort, airborne surveillance, close maritime protection, and a small defensive presence on the southern side of the strait. The goal would not be to make the Gulf harmless. The goal would be to make passage governable.
A surface escort layer would provide command and air-defense protection for merchant vessels approaching the chokepoint. Overhead surveillance aircraft and supporting fighter coverage would maintain a continuous operational picture, allowing rapid response to emerging threats. Shipborne helicopters would monitor the corridor closely, investigating suspicious vessels and countering small craft or unmanned surface threats.
One of the most important—and most overlooked—components of such a system would be a small but visible defensive node on the southern side of the strait, operating in cooperation with regional partners. Positioned near the tip of the chokepoint, this element would provide persistent radar coverage, counter-UAS capability, and rapid-response support for the corridor.
Such a presence would serve not only operational purposes but also political ones. It would demonstrate that the coalition physically holds the non-Iranian side of the chokepoint, reinforcing the legitimacy of the corridor and strengthening deterrence.
A defended corridor strategy would also emphasize scheduling. Instead of allowing ships to transit independently at random times, merchant vessels would move through the chokepoint in controlled waves under escort. This approach concentrates defensive assets during the moments of greatest risk while reducing operational costs and exposure.
The corridor would not eliminate Iranian capabilities. Mobile launchers, drones, and small craft would still exist. But the layered defensive structure would compress the time and space available for attacks, raising the probability that hostile actions would fail.
Most importantly, the corridor strategy would be temporary.
Rather than establishing a permanent naval security regime, the mission could be designed with a fixed six-month duration. During that period, repeated successful transits would restore commercial confidence and stabilize insurance markets. If the corridor proves effective, the operational burden could gradually shift toward regional partners and routine commercial practices.
The alternative to such a strategy is a choice between paralysis and escalation: either accept the disruption of global shipping or embark on a large military campaign aimed at destroying Iran’s entire coastal defense network.
A temporary defended corridor offers a third option. It acknowledges that the Gulf will remain dangerous while demonstrating that danger does not automatically translate into closure.
The Strait of Hormuz does not have to be perfectly safe. It only has to be open.
Francis J. Bell is a graduate of Temple University’s Fox School of Business. He works as a private consultant with interests in strategy and international security. His writing focuses on maritime doctrine, deterrence, and emerging operational concepts.
Featured Image: MH-60 supporting Strait of Hormuz transits in 2018. (U.S. Navy photo by Mass Communication Specialist 3rd Class Grant G. Grady/Released)
On 23 February 2026, the Council of the EU decided to extend the mandate of the EU naval operation EUNAVFOR Aspides, launched in March 2024 to safeguard the sea lines of communication (SLOC) in the Red Sea and protect European commercial vessels from Houthi attacks. Aspides has marked the most demanding naval engagement of the Union to date, moving beyond the low-intensity context that has traditionally characterized EU maritime operations. The choice to operate separately from the U.S.-led Prosperity Guardian coalition also signaled a deliberate effort to assert European strategic autonomy, with distinct assets, rules of engagement, and political objectives. The renewal of the operation, after two years of sustained deployment, therefore provides a valuable opportunity to assess the performance of the mission and to measure it against the stated ambition of the EU to act as a “global maritime security provider.” Regardless of how the situation in the Red Sea and the Houthi threat will evolve in the near future, an analysis of the mission provides the opportunity to examine some general gaps in the organization and efficiency of EU naval operations, as well as some limitations in the combat capabilities of NATO navies to address high-intensity threats at sea and counter potential sea denial actions in strategic chokepoints around the globe.
The name of the mission, Aspides, comes from the Greek word for “shield” (ἀσπίς). In ancient Spartan tradition, a warrior would return from battle either carrying his shield or borne upon it. After two years at sea, will the EU return with its shield in hand, or be carried back upon it? The evidence suggests the latter. Despite some operational and tactical achievements, the mission has struggled to meet its objectives, constrained by limited naval capabilities and a mandate that remained narrow and largely reactive to Houthi actions.
Measuring Success against the Mission Mandate
To evaluate the effectiveness of Aspides, it is necessary to measure its outcomes against its mandate. The mission’s objectives were to restore and safeguard freedom of navigation, escort and protect vessels, and enhance maritime situational awareness in the Red Sea. From this perspective, Aspides achieved notable operational and tactical results, yet did not fully accomplish its stated goals, especially those related to the restoration of freedom of navigation and the protection of ships. During the operation, shipping agencies continued to avoid the Suez route, as concerns persisted regarding the safety of merchant vessels. Despite an additional 3,000 nautical miles and approximately ten days of sailing on the Asia-Western Europe route, the shipping industry continued to choose the Cape of Good Hope route, circumnavigating Africa. Even with a modest increase in traffic following the halt in Houthi attacks, the number of ships transiting the Red Sea remained well below the pre-crisis average of 72–75 per day recorded before the onset of Houthi sea denial operations in November 2023. To resume normal traffic in the Red Sea, shipping needs to have “safe enough” conditions, which means more protection. Aspides did not achieve this threshold.
Figure 1: Traffic trends in the Red Sea Route between November 2023 and November 2025. (Source: Hellenic Shipping News)
Concerning the protection of vessels, Aspidesprovided supportto over 1,200 ships, demonstrating the ability of the European warships employed to intercept the various air threats posed by the Houthis. Despite this, the inability of the mission to meet the commercial timelines of the shipping industry prompted some vesselsto risk transiting the Red Sea without waiting for escort availability. This led several European vessels to be targeted by Houthi attacks, in some cases suffering severe damage or loss. In this sense, also the objective of escorting and protecting vessels cannot be considered fully achieved, as the escort model failed to meet acceptable standards for responding to the needs of the shipping industry.
Insufficient Assets, Insufficient Protection
A key factor explaining the inability of Aspides to guarantee the required level of protection concerns the scarcity of naval assets at its disposal. Throughout its deployment, the mission maintained an average presence of only three warships, far below the estimated operational need of at least ten naval units supported by air assets. Such a limited presence inevitably constrained the mission’s capacity to ensure regular and comprehensive coverage along a maritime corridor extending for more than 1,200 nautical miles. Under these conditions, Aspideswas able to organizeonly a maximum of four escorted transits each day (typically two northbound and two southbound) in spite of a minimum of eight to ten daily convoy movements indicated by shipping companies to be necessary to restore pre-crisis traffic levels. The mission is based on anescort-on-demand model, in which close protection is provided to vessels upon request and naval units are assigned when available. In this model, the limited number of available warships inevitably creates long waiting times and queues for maritime traders before receiving an escort. In a commercial context where voyage decisions are made weekly, such delays have led many companiesto reroute their merchant ships to the Cape Route or to attempt the dangerous passagethrough the Red Sea without protection. This explains both the failure to resume normal trade flows towards Suez and the attacks suffered by some unprotected European vessels, such as the Greek-operated EternityC and MagicSeas, as well as the Dutch freighter Minervagracht.
The limited number of available naval assets reveals some significant gaps in European naval power. After the end of the Cold War and during periods of severe fiscal austerity, European navies underwent a significant downsizing. The decline in defense spending andthe allocation of resources to the detriment of navies, given the importance of counterinsurgency operations in the early 2000s, reduced the number of naval units.
Despite this, European fleets have expanded their theater of operations beyond the usual seas surrounding the continent, as demonstrated by recent engagements in the Indo-Pacific. This deprives the European mission in the Red Sea of useful assets and places further strain on already limited available budgets. Furthermore, European fleets have been reshaped to focus on low-intensity operations, from crisis management to the fight against illegal trafficking, search and rescue, counter-piracy, and disaster relief. In this context, European navies lost 32% of their main surface combatants (frigates and destroyers) between 1999 and 2018, and Europe’s combat power at sea is considered to be half of what it was during the height of the Cold War. This decline is particularly impactful in the case of Aspides. Unlike other recent European naval operations, such as EUNAVFOR Atalanta, countering the Houthis requires high-end capabilities, with warships capable of providing air defense against threats such as anti-ship ballistic and cruise missiles, unmanned aerial vehicles (UAVs), in addition to unmanned surface vessels (USVs).
After years of downscaling, European navies retain only a limited number of frigates and destroyers designed for air defense. These warships are comparatively lightly armed and lack the necessary number of Battle Force Missiles (BFM) and corresponding vertical launch system (VLS) cells to conduct and sustain high-end naval operations effectively. In this context, not only are there only a few usable ships for Aspides, but these vessels also have a limited operational tempo. Indeed, in a high-intensity environment like the one presented by the Houthis, the limited number of VLS cells compared to US and Asian warshipsforces European units to return to a nearby base to reload their interceptor missile magazines more frequently. Added to this already limited capacity are several problems with onboard systems malfunctions, whichsome experts believeare due to the cost-saving construction that characterizes European warships. Several naval units destined for Aspides, such as the German frigate Hessenandthe Belgian frigate LouisMarie, experienced problems with their onboard missile systems, which affected their availability for protection missions.
Mandate Limitations and the Cost Asymmetry of Protection
These limitations highlight that Aspides, and European navies more broadly, are materially unable to guarantee the level of protection required to restore normal trade flows in the Red Sea in the event of prolonged and intense Houthi sea denial operations. Beyond the difficulty of covering such a vast area and meeting a high demand for protection with limited assets, European forces face the challenge of countering a persistent missile and drone threat. The major issue is not the difficulty of intercepting them, but rather the cost of doing so. As Cranny-Evans and Kaushal note, and as already demonstrated during the Tanker War of the 1980s, “securing shipping requires a disproportionately resource-intensive effort on the part of the defender relative to the attacker when the latter has the advantage of proximity.”
In addition to the aforementioned need for replenishing VLS cells rotating to a friendly reloading facility, European naval units deployed must expend disproportionately expensive interceptors to engage relatively cheap targets. For example, in the initial stage of the operation, French frigates launcheddozens of Aster interceptor missiles, costing €1-1.5 million each, against drones costing just a few thousand dollars. This economic imbalance is compounded by the strain such operations place onlimited interceptor missile production capacity and stockpiles.
European navies have resorted to various tactical measures to reduce this asymmetric disadvantage, but these do not allow for completely solving the problem. One of the most used alternatives was the use of gunson deck or helicopters to shoot down enemy drones. However, as explained by Italian Navy officers, even though this solution allows for a drastic reduction in costs and does not deplete interceptor missiles stockpiles, it has two drawbacks: first, guns have a shorter range than missiles, so the drone is neutralized much closer to the ship, reducing reaction time and increasing risks; second, when used near merchant vessels for their protection, stray projectiles risk hitting them.
Another solution employed against UAVs has been the use of non-kinetic measures, such as jamming to disrupt the link with the operator and GNSS. An example of this was the use of the Centauros anti-drone system by the Greek Navy. Even in this case, however, these countermeasures were not completely resolutive. Like guns on deck and on helicopters, electronic warfare (EW) remains much less effective against other types of airborne threats, such as anti-ship ballistic missiles (ASBMs). In this sense, the primary defense remained tied to the use of expensive Aster interceptor missiles, as demonstrated by the engagements of the French Navy.
In this context of persistent asymmetric disadvantage, the only sustainable solution would have been to deter Houthi attacks or to limit their operational capabilities. However, Aspides’ exclusively defensive mandate has constituted a significant limitation in this sense. In Operations Poseidon Archer and Rough Rider (2024–2025), the United States and the United Kingdom conducted repeated airstrikes on Houthi missile sites and storage facilities in an effort to degrade their offensive capacity.
The effectiveness of these operations remains contested. Some analysts argue that their impact was limited, given the Houthis’ ability to relocate or conceal assets underground. Others, such as Knights, emphasize that the operational tempo between successive attacks in the Red Sea increased considerably after the strikes, suggesting atemporary reduction in capability.
Whatever their true effect, such operations were never a viable option for the European Union, being fundamentally incompatible with Aspides’ mandate and political objectives. Indeed, the decision to establish Aspides and not join the US-led Prosperity Guardian coalition stemmed from the preference of several EU members toavoid participation in kinetic actions in Yemen, both to prevent further escalation in the region and to avoid straining relations with Iran. Yet Aspides’ exclusively defensive and therefore reactive posture has left the mission particularly exposed to prolonged sea denial campaigns, without degrading enemy capabilities, a situation that is neither sustainable nor productive in the long term.
Addressing the Limits of Aspides: Rationalization, Coordination, and Prevention
Countering air and surface threats in coastal waters and confined basins has clearly proven a particularly difficult challenge, not only for the EU. Other operations in the Red Sea, such as Prosperity Guardian, have also failed to ensure the resumption of normal maritime traffic and have encountered similar difficulties in sustaining prolonged high-end militia threats. Boththe U.S. and Royal Navyhave faced the combined effects of depleted interceptor stockpilesandthe cost asymmetryof defending against cheap threats, along with constraints in the number of ships available to meet operational requirements. The EU, however, unlike these two actors, in choosing to maintain an exclusively defensive approach, could have placed greater emphasis on the sustainability and effectiveness of Aspides by adopting the measures that are discussed henceforth.
The limited number of available air defense vessels is an issue difficult to overcome in the short term. European navies have begun a modernization process, commissioning new warships to restore some lost capabilities, but it will take years for these vessels to enter into operation, as many are expected around 2030. However, one of the main problems highlighted by Aspides was the inability to optimize the limited assets available. Of the 21 nations participating in the mission,only a few have contributed combat vessels(Italy, France, Greece, Belgium, and the Netherlands), and only Italy, France, and Greece have deployed assets continuously since the start of the operation. Like previous EU-led operations such as Atalanta, as well as ad hoc coalitions among European statessuch as OperationAgenor in the Strait of Hormuz, Aspides confirms the recurring pattern of an unbalanced commitment, especially towards the countries with the greatest interests at stake. It is no coincidence thatthe ports most affectedby the Red Sea crisis were precisely those of Greece, Italy, and France, the main contributors to the mission.
Eventhe overlap between different operations with European participantsin the same waters contributes to straining already limited European naval capacities. For example, several EU members, such as Denmark, Finland, Greece, and the Netherlands, participate in the Prosperity Guardian coalition, providing public, logistical or active military support. Thisforces some European warships to rotate and reduce their participation in Aspides to contribute to other missions. The decision to launch Aspides and not expand the existing EUNAVFOR Atalanta operating in nearby waters further contributedto a dispersion of resources.
Given the difficulty of materially and economically sustaining a prolonged threat from the coast, the EU also missed several opportunities that would have allowed it to reduce the Houthis’ offensive capabilities, even without kinetic operations on Yemeni soil. Despite the ability to produce much of their arsenal locally, the Houthis remained heavily dependent on Iranian supplies for most of the weapons used in their attacks in the Red Sea. In particular, it appears highly likely that the militia imported components or ready-made weapons in the case of short- and medium-range anti-ship ballistic missiles, anti-ship cruise missiles, and Waid drones, the most sophisticated long-range UAVs used in maritime attacks. These weapons require components and know-how not available to the militia for local production. The Houthis were therefore dependent on Iranian supplies by sea or by land on the Yemen-Omani border. As Knights evidenced, this reliance, which constitutes one of the main weaknesses of the militia, was not exploited by the naval forces engaged in the Red Sea.
The EU could have reduced the offensive capabilities of the Houthis by blocking Iranian weapons and components, both by intervening directly to intercept shipping by sea, but above all by supporting the Yemeni coast guard and border forces with capacity-building initiatives and economic and material backing. In this sense, the EU has provided partial support to the coast guard, butlocal experts considered the level of aid “far below what is required.” Yemeni forces have demonstrated on several occasionstheir ability to intercept Iranian suppliesif properly equipped and assisted. For its part, the EU has shown on other occasions, such as the fight against piracy in Somalia, how it is particularly adept at capacity-building initiatives and supporting local forces. Consistently backing the Yemeni Guard Coast would have allowed the EU to degrade the capabilities of the Houthis without risking regional escalation and worsening relations with Iran. It would have also allowed the EU to enhance its reputation as a maritime security actor, working cooperatively with regional actors.
Beyond the specific case of the Houthis and the Red Sea, the analysis points to broader lessons. It underscores the need to improve the efficiency of EU naval operations, particularly in high-intensity contexts, while also highlighting implications for NATO as it prepares to confront the practical challenges of sustaining protracted operations in littoral waters against a well-armed, land-based opponent.
In the short and medium term, to address its limited high-end naval capabilities, the EU is called upon to better rationalize resources and improve burden-sharing. On the rationalization side, the overlapping of numerous missions involving multiple European navies in the same area of operations should be avoided because it reduces the already very limited number of warships available for each mission. From the burden-sharing perspective, once again, the particular interests of member states have constituted the main lever of contribution, leaving the level of commitment of some countries with useful naval capabilities very low, such as Germany, or inexistent, such as Spain. Increasing the level of engagement of these members is essential to increasing the number of large surface combatants available.
Even the exclusively reactive posture of Aspides has proven unsustainable given the asymmetric disadvantage of Western navies in the face of Houthi threats. In such cases, against adversaries heavily dependent on external arms supplies, the EU should combine its preference for de-escalation with its expertise in low-end capabilities, attempting to support local actors in degrading the enemy’s offensive arsenal.
Finally, the logistical and economic challenges posed by the Red Sea engagement provide an incentive to invest in specific capabilities in anticipation of possible future similar conflicts in littoral waters involving NATO. First, the need for new measures to ensure the continued availability of interceptor missiles has emerged. In this regard, the first attempts torecharge VLS at sea by the French and US naviesare noteworthy. Second, the need to reduce the asymmetric cost disadvantage in the face of low-cost threats, such as drones, has been evidenced clearly. Particular attention must be given to appropriate countermeasures, such as EW and directed-energy weapons, capable of reducing defense costs.
Aspides would probably return home “on the shield” at this time, but the mission, with its difficulties, provides an opportunity to improve the European naval power.
Giacomo Leccese is an External Researcher at the Center for International and Strategic Studies (CISS) at LUISS University of Rome. He also serves as a Subject Matter Expert for the course of Strategic Studies at the Department of Political Science of the same university. His main interests concern maritime security, both in its surface and submarine dimensions, European defense, and the security dynamics in the MENA region.
Featured image: EU Extends Red Sea Maritime Security Operation Through 2026, Expands Intelligence Sharing. Source: gCaptain. https://gcaptain.com/eu-extends-red-sea-maritime-security-operation-through-2026-expands-intelligence-sharing/