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Concepts of Operation

Reimagining General Quarters for Surface Ships

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By LT Connor Keating, U.S. Navy

During World War II, General Quarters (GQ) was essential to U.S. Navy ship survivability. Setting GQ established the highest material condition—Zebra—throughout the ship and manned every combat and repair station with the crew’s most qualified personnel. That model reflected an era in which major naval engagements were expected to be intense but comparatively short. Today, however, surface ships face a different problem: they may need to sustain elevated readiness for hours, days, or longer under persistent missile and drone threat. Traditional GQ remains vital for brief periods of peak danger, but it is no longer a practical default for prolonged combat operations. The surface force should update how it employs GQ by preserving continuity at key watchstations and pre‑setting survivability measures in high‑threat environments before a ship is forced to react under severe time constraints.

Recent operations in the Red Sea and the Strait of Hormuz underscore this problem, but they also show that the fleet has long recognized the need to pre-set survivability measures and has already adapted in practice. The Navy’s watch-condition framework distinguishes between full General Quarters and more sustainable wartime steaming postures, and commanding officers routinely adjust manning, material condition, and station assignments to threat and mission. Wayne Hughes anticipated this dynamic decades ago, observing that in a twenty-four-hour battlefield, ships would fight important engagements at “condition” watches rather than only at fully surged battle stations.¹ The evolution and codification of Conditions II and III likewise reflected recognition that full General Quarters could not be sustained indefinitely. Recent combat experience has reinforced that point and spurred further innovation in how ships manage prolonged readiness under threat.

Under OPNAVINST 3120.32D (Standard Organization and Regulations of the U.S. Navy), there are four conditions that govern a ship’s watchstanding requirements based on tactical and material necessity. Condition IV provides peacetime cruising readiness which is rarely used today, Condition III is intended to combat single warfare‑area threats for extended periods and the default readiness condition of the fleet, Condition II increases manning for a specific warfare area or mission while the remainder of the ship remains at Condition III, and Condition I (General Quarters) mans all weapons, sensors, engineering, and damage control stations with material condition Zebra set throughout the ship. NWP 3‑56, Composite Warfare Doctrine, further refines how ships integrate into composite warfare organizations under these conditions. This article accepts that framework; it focuses on how ships sequence and manage transitions within that construct, rather than advocating for a new formal condition of readiness.

The issue, then, is not whether the force understands that prolonged full GQ is unsustainable—it clearly does, as evidenced by the development of Condition II and III watches and by how many commands already tailor S&A details and transit watchbills to flow into and out of GQ. Rather, the central question is whether those adaptations can be refined into a more explicit, repeatable, and doctrinally supported model for sustained missile combat, instead of remaining dependent on individual command initiative and local practice.

Red Sea Observations

Operations against Houthi attacks since late 2023 have highlighted both the strengths and limitations of the current model. Aegis‑equipped surface combatants–and modern ship classes more broadly–are designed to “fight from Condition III,” with augmentation from Condition II teams to handle more complex or sustained threats, rather than immediately surging to full General Quarters for every indication of an inbound threat. Ships in the Red Sea have demonstrated smart, local adaptations to Condition III manning, material conditions, and watchstanding that resemble elements of the approach outlined here, balancing readiness and endurance over extended periods in threat envelopes. These assumptions—that ships will routinely fight from Condition III with targeted Condition II augmentation—mean that the core problem today is not how to reach GQ once, but how to manage readiness, fatigue, and survivability during repeated, prolonged exposures to threats while remaining primarily in Condition III.

These operations have also reinforced the value of Condition II watches, which provide improved readiness, usually for a specific warfare area, over sustained threat periods without the full manning demands of Condition I. While implementation varies across the fleet, Condition II serves as a proven intermediate posture that a “Condition II GQ” model can build upon by adding explicit watchstander continuity and pre‑set Zebra measures. Some forward‑deployed destroyers have already experimented with intermediate postures in which sailors’ Condition III watchstations are deliberately aligned with their repair‑locker assignments and other GQ duties. Similarly, well‑designed S&A details and transit watchbills in chokepoints often approximate a Condition II GQ model by keeping key operators where they would be at GQ while elevating damage‑control readiness. These efforts demonstrate that the concept is both practical and familiar; what is missing is consistent nomenclature, guidance, and training across the surface force.

In particular, Condition II DC (damage control) has emerged as a widely used, if not fully standardized, tool for improving damage‑control readiness over sustained periods of threat. By keeping repair lockers and key DC functions at an elevated state of manning while the rest of the ship remains at Condition III, Condition II DC already functions as a proof of concept for sustained, mission‑tailored readiness. The Condition II GQ concept extends that logic from damage control to the broader watch organization and material condition of the ship.

That challenge becomes even more acute in a contested chokepoint such as the Strait of Hormuz.² ³ Ships routinely set General Quarters for the transit itself and relax it on either side. Yet under persistent drone or missile threat the tactical problem is not simply how to respond to a single inbound salvo; it is how to sustain elevated readiness over hours without cycling the entire crew through full GQ repeatedly. A Condition II GQ posture—elevated manning at critical stations, Zebra pre-set on the main deck and below, and designated continuity watchstanders—would allow the ship to treat the transit as a high-threat Condition III baseline and transition to full GQ only when the next inbound threat is detected, rather than defaulting to the all-hands surge for the duration of the transit.

Figure 1: U.S. Navy Watch Conditions

Watch Condition Description
Condition IV (Peacetime Readiness) Condition of readiness for optimum peacetime cruising. No weapon batteries manned. Engineering plant ready for speeds as ordered. Material condition Yoke (modified for access during daylight). Adequate watchstanders for safe/efficient operation. <33% on watch.
Condition III (Wartime/Heightened/Tension Readiness) Sufficient personnel to man limited weapons systems for prolonged periods while retaining capability to conduct or repel urgent attack and surge to General Quarters. Non-weapon requirements of Condition IV apply. Modified-Zebra set. ~33% on watch. Ships are designed to fight from this condition with augmentation as needed.
Condition II Increased manning for a specific warfare area or mission (e.g., Condition II DC for damage control). Rest of ship at Condition III. Modified-Zebra set. ~50% on watch.
Condition I (General Quarters) Highest degree of readiness. All combat/repair stations, weapons, sensors, damage control, and engineering manned. Material condition Zebra set throughout the ship. Prepared to fight at maximum capability. ~100% of ship on watch.

A New Approach

The Navy should therefore formalize and codify sustainable practices already in widespread (if uneven) use during major combat operations and while operating within adversary weapons engagement zones (WEZs). This refined construct—here termed “Condition II GQ” for discussion—blends Condition II’s increased manning and sustainability with Condition I’s continuity and survivability focus. It does not replace traditional GQ or dismiss existing adaptations but makes them more explicit, repeatable, and easier to train to across the force.

Framed this way, “Condition II GQ” is not a proposal to create a new numbered condition of readiness alongside Conditions I–IV. Instead, it is a standardized way of employing existing Condition III and Condition II (including Condition II DC) to maintain a sustainable high‑threat baseline while enabling rapid, continuity‑preserving transitions into Condition I.

The core of the proposed approach is to treat sustained high‑threat operations as a Condition III baseline, augmented by mission‑tailored Condition II postures and pre‑set survivability measures, with a more deliberate and continuity‑preserving transition path into GQ.

Practically, “Condition II GQ” would mean three things. First, key combat watchstanders remain in their Condition III positions during the initial surge to GQ, with the off‑going section reinforcing them rather than relieving them. Second, Zebra is pre‑set on the main deck and below, with clear guidance on when to order full shipwide Zebra. Third, repair lockers and critical damage‑control functions are manned at Condition II levels even while the rest of the ship remains in Condition III. This creates a sustainable high‑threat posture that closely resembles how well‑run ships already fight, but in a form that can be trained to and evaluated consistently across the fleet.

First, ships should preserve continuity among key watchstanders when shifting from Condition III to GQ. The most proficient Condition III watchstanders at critical positions—such as the officer of the deck, tactical action officer, CIC warfare coordinators, and key weapons and sensor operators—should remain in place when the ship surges to GQ. Instead of rotating those personnel out at the outset of an engagement, the previous watch section should report immediately to assist, back up, or relieve as required, while remaining personnel report to repair lockers and other assigned stations. This principle is not absolute. Certain one-of-one or dual-hatted billets will still require relief; the model simply prioritizes continuity at the stations where tactical situational awareness is most costly to lose and allows the previous section to reinforce rather than fully relieve wherever possible.

Figure 2: Example OOD Rotation Under New GQ Model

Watch Station Section Assigned Section 1 GQ Section 2 GQ Section 3 GQ Section 4 GQ
OOD 1 ENS Constitution On Watch Assist Bridge Repair Locker 2 Repair Locker 2
OOD 2 ENS Congress Repair Locker 5 On Watch Assist Bridge Repair Locker 5
OOD 3 ENS Chesapeake Repair Locker 2 Repair Locker 2 On Watch Assist Bridge
OOD 4 ENS President Assist Bridge Repair Locker 3 Repair Locker 3 On Watch

Second, ships operating in high-threat areas should pre-set a higher material-condition baseline before contact is made. Specifically, commanding officers should consider setting Zebra on the main deck and below while retaining the ability to set full Zebra rapidly when circumstances require it. Modern anti-ship cruise missiles and ballistic missiles can compress warning and reaction time to a matter of minutes, and in some scenarios, less than a minute. A ship that must shift from a lower baseline to full survivability measures only after detecting an inbound threat may have insufficient time to do so effectively. Pre-setting lower-deck compartmentalization offers a more realistic survivability posture for prolonged operations, while avoiding some of the strain associated with maintaining full shipwide Zebra indefinitely.

Figure 3: Crew Reaction Time to Modern Missile Threats

Threat Speed (Mach) Speed (knots, sea level) Min. Detection (~44 NM) Reaction Time (Min) Reaction Time (Max ~200 NM)
1 661 44 NM ~3 min (239 sec) ~18 min (1,089 sec)
3 1,983 44 NM ~1 min (79 sec) ~6 min (363 sec)
5 3,305 44 NM <1 min (47 sec) ~3 min (217 sec)

Note: Detection ranges are based on the line-of-sight radar horizon equation. Times are approximate and based on open-source SPY radar height and worst-case (sea-level) missile speeds.4

Together, these changes create a practical middle ground between traditional Condition III and full GQ while incorporating the increased manning and sustainability of Condition II. The ship retains continuous watch rotations and a more sustainable battle rhythm, but it also gains greater survivability and a more seamless path to full combat posture. The proposal is less a claim of a wholly new watch condition than an effort to regularize and clarify a set of practices that many commands already approximate under pressure, making that intermediate posture more explicit, repeatable, and easier to train to for sustained combat operations under persistent threat.

Such a model would also clarify an increasingly important doctrinal point: in modern missile combat, readiness is not binary. The choice is not limited to either normal steaming conditions or a fully surged GQ posture that can only be maintained briefly. Surface ships need an intermediate posture that reflects the operational reality of long‑duration exposure to threat. In many cases, the decisive factor will not be whether a ship can reach full readiness eventually, but whether it can maintain the right level of readiness continuously without creating avoidable vulnerabilities through fatigue or disruption. What is missing today is not the ability to operate at Condition III with Condition II and Condition II DC overlays, but a codified, fleet‑wide model for preserving continuity at key watchstations and pre‑setting survivability measures so that ships can move between these postures and full GQ with minimal friction and tactical disruption.

Implementation Considerations

Implementing this approach will require changes to shipboard practice and, potentially, to fleet guidance. At the ship level, watchbills would need to identify specific continuity billets that remain fixed in place during a GQ transition, as well as which personnel surge to support them from repair lockers and other battle stations. This model should align with and build upon existing NTTP guidance for Condition I manning; watchbills would simply designate those continuity billets explicitly and ensure that Condition III, Condition II, and S&A watchbills are constructed to flow into and out of one another with minimal disruption. Damage control training should include scenarios that test prolonged operations at Condition III with rapid transition to Condition II GQ, building on existing Condition II DC drills by incorporating continuity billets and pre-set material conditions into the same scenarios. Commanding officers, executive officers, and damage control assistants would need clear guidance on when to pre-set Zebra below the main deck and when to order full Zebra throughout the ship. Fleet experiments aboard a forward-deployed DDG or in a carrier strike group, coordinated through a type commander or the Surface and Mine Warfare Development Center (SMWDC), could refine the details, including how the model should vary across ship classes, missions, and threat environments.

At the doctrinal level, this would likely take the form of amplifying guidance in OPNAVINST 3120.32D and NWP 3‑56 to describe sustained high‑threat operations in which ships are expected to remain at Condition III, with designated continuity billets and pre‑set material conditions below the main deck, for extended periods inside an adversary’s weapons engagement zone.

The proposal also carries trade‑offs that deserve consideration. Preserving continuity among key watchstanders may increase fatigue among the crew’s most critical operators if not managed carefully. Pre‑setting a higher material‑condition baseline could impose added wear on equipment and create additional burdens for daily shipboard routines. Those concerns are real but manageable, and they are outweighed by the risks of relying on a readiness model that assumes ample warning time and short‑duration engagements. The point is not to eliminate strain; it is to distribute and manage it more intelligently.

Figure 4: Current GQ Model vs. Condition II GQ

Aspect Current GQ Model Condition II GQ
Key Watchstanders Mass turnover upon setting GQ No rotation; previous section assists on watch
Material Condition Full Zebra set throughout the ship Zebra pre-set main deck and below; full Zebra optional/rapid
Repair Lockers All manned All manned
Watch Rotations Stopped Continue as in Condition III

Conclusion

Missile threats, persistent surveillance, and the demands of the twenty-four-hour battlefield have reinforced the limits of traditional General Quarters as the sole framework for prolonged high-threat operations. The fleet already understands many of these limits and has adapted in practice, but those adaptations remain uneven and loosely defined. The Navy should retain GQ’s core purpose while refining its execution for current combat conditions. Preserving continuity at key watchstations and pre-setting survivability measures in high-threat areas would give surface ships a more sustainable and tactically sound approach to readiness. If the surface force expects to operate for extended periods inside contested missile envelopes, it must better capture, standardize, and train to those lessons in its readiness doctrine. Doing so would not replace the existing conditions of readiness in OPNAVINST 3120.32D or NWP 3-56; it would operationalize them for an era in which ships must fight from condition watches under persistent surveillance and missile threat.

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

References

1. For recent operations against Houthi attacks, see U.S. Naval Institute, “Red Sea Operations Offer the Wrong Lessons for the Pacific,” Proceedings 152, no. 1 (January 2026).

2. Congressional Research Service, Iran Conflict and the Strait of Hormuz: Impacts on Oil, Gas, and the Global Economy, R45281 (Washington, DC: CRS, March 11, 2026), https://www.congress.gov/crs-product/R45281.

3. Department of the Navy, Standard Organization and Regulations of the U.S. Navy, OPNAVINST 3120.32D (with Change 1) (Washington, DC: Department of the Navy, July 16, 2012), chap. 4. Figure 1 summarizes the doctrinal conditions of readiness as defined in OPNAVINST 3120.32D and illustrates the gap between those formal conditions and the sustained, high‑threat environments in which ships increasingly operate.

4. Author’s estimates based on unclassified SPY-series radar performance data and typical anti-ship missile profiles. See Lockheed Martin, “Aegis Combat System,” fact sheet, accessed May 2026, https://www.lockheedmartin.com/en-us/products/aegis-combat-system.html.

Featured image: Sailors fight a simulated fire during a general quarters drill, June 25, 2026. (U.S. Navy photo by Mass Communication Specialist Seaman Apprentice William Lawson)

Information Warfare

New Organization, New Rules: Information Warfare Can Thrive in the New OPNAV

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By Adam Reiffen

Working afloat and ashore, the U.S. Navy’s Information Warfare Officers engage adversaries, create plans, connect circuits, and drive operations around the world every day. In May 2026, the Information Warfare Community was directed by the Chief of Naval Operations (CNO) to reorganize itself within the Pentagon, a large-scale change to the manning, funding, and authorities required for global operations. When taken with the December 2025 creation of the Information Warfare Line designation, the current moment marks a generational opportunity for broader community to make the changes necessary to take its hard-earned and permanent place among the Navy’s elite warfighting communities. The Navy’s Information Warfare community will need clear focus, strong leadership, and decisive action to make best use of the new paradigms wrought by administrative change, starting at the highest echelon of Navy command.

On May 21, 2026, the Chief of Naval Operations released Naval Administration Directive 123/26, “Realignment of OPNAV N2N6 Responsibilities,” a title which perhaps undersells the importance of its contents. The directive is the first major realignment of the Navy’s Information Warfare Officers and their roles on the Navy’s top Pentagon staff since 2009 and lays out a series of significant changes in the short and long term across every community designator. The message begins with a useful discussion of the community’s history that ties its past orientation to the present day. In 2014, Navy Information Forces was established as the Type Commander tasked with administering community training, manpower, tactics, readiness, and fleet integration within a constantly evolving number of fields. Left unsaid in the message is the community’s raison d’être: The ability to consolidate and streamline the man, train, and equip missions across subspecialities as varied as intelligence, cryptology, oceanography, communications systems, and cyber warfare.

Operationally, each discipline benefits from the skills of the others, and the community is stronger by virtue of its size, resourcing, and impact. The composite structure of the former Naval Operations (OPNAV) for Information Warfare (N2N6) reflected this reality, if imperfectly in spots, and the community’s early identity benefitted from OPNAV and the Navy Information Forces working together to promote and professionalize the newly formalized community. For example, OPNAV resourced the Warfare Tactics Instructor program, giving the Information Warfare community their own professional tacticians to develop tactics, techniques, and procedures for the Fleet. And when Navy Information Forces was given responsibility for overseeing Maritime Operations Center resourcing across all numbered fleets, OPNAV worked in tandem to expedite resourcing. The previously mentioned new administrative changes fundamentally upend that structure, and senior leaders must be attuned to historical approaches to resourcing requirements.

After establishing the background of Navy Information Warfare, the Chief of Naval Operations’ (CNO) message sets two principal directives for the OPNAV staff. Taken in order, the first change is the separation of intelligence functions, including support to plans, policy, and strategy, from Information Warfare requirements and capabilities. Under the previous construct, the three tenets of Navy Information Warfare–battlespace awareness, assured command-and-control, and integrated fires–were collectively housed under a single OPNAV staff code. A newly-created position, Assistant Deputy CNO for Information Warfare (IW) Requirements and Capabilities, “…will serve as the principal advisor to the CNO on IW policy and lead policy matters pertaining to information technology, space, and cyber and will serve as the Department of the Navy, Deputy Chief Information Officer Navy.”

More technically oriented functions like cryptology, oceanography, and information technology shared common cause within the Information Warfare community, bound by their shared emphasis on technology, natural sciences, and history within the Navy. Therefore, moving these technical fields into their own section within the Naval Operations (OPNAV) staff flows logically; it bins the complementary skills and interests of their practitioners in a dedicated lane to work on critical issues unique to their communities. For instance, senior leaders have directed the force to roll out artificial intelligence tools and speed the adoption of other digital technologies. The technical experts within Information Warfare are on the front lines of those critical changes; integrating and streamlining their work within the new directorate will hopefully provide the best circumstances to expedite progress.

Intelligence professionals rely on the technical acumen of these Information Warfare communities for collection, processing, and dissemination of information, but do not themselves necessarily possess the same technical mastery over the disciplines in question. For its part, the Intelligence component of the community will now report to the Deputy CNO for Intelligence, Operations, Plans, Strategy, and Warfighting Development for “operational intelligence support, intelligence production prioritization, and policy clarification and changes.” As the old adage goes, “intelligence drives operations, and operations inform intelligence.” We see this in the Fleet and Joint Force increasingly, as space-based systems, cyber effects, and electronic warfare have played central roles in recent and ongoing campaigns. OPNAV’s new structure now affirms this at the highest levels of Navy decision-making. Furthermore, integration with the Plans, Policy, and Strategy directorate ensures Intelligence is integrated directly into strategic planning for future operations. The Plans, Policy, and Strategy Directorate’s output directly informs and begets requirements, which are needed to generate authorities and funding. If operational relevance is the goal, Naval Intelligence only stands to benefit from this reorganization.

Still, for the first time in nearly two decades, there will be an administrative division between Information Warfare officers on the OPNAV staff, and the community must avoid creating conflict by failing to clarify mission, functions, and tasks. A schism within senior Information Warfare leadership at the OPNAV level would run counter to the increasing degree of the community’s integration and prominence in the Fleet today. After the Navy released message 094/24 that broke Information Warfare officers out of their previous Restricted Line status, a designation for technical specialties who officers are precluded from command at sea, Navy Information Forces has worked to define what it now intends IW officers to be. Notably, these efforts include establishing opportunities for IW officers to command at sea. The Information Warfare Squadron concept is in pilot right now with the first community’s officers serving as independent warfare commanders afloat vice holding staff positions. If successful, this would mark the beginning of a future in which the Information Warfare realizes its decades-long goal of operational autonomy. Rearranging OPNAV staff Information Warfare functions seeks to align the highest echelons of Navy strategic decision-making with operational and tactical objectives, not the least of which being resourcing and sustaining Information Warfare squadrons across the Fleet. Senior leaders must promote that unity of effort as personnel transition to new roles, responsibilities, and workflows within the Pentagon to ensure that the community’s capabilities, personnel, and effects are synchronized and deployed to maximum efficacy across the Fleet–especially if the community’s individual specialties are well served by splitting up across the OPNAV staff. The organizational rearrangement brings danger that OPNAV and Navy Information Forces can run in opposite directions. Mitigations must be put in place to ensure operational requirements continue to be captured and reflected in program development, even if the requirement is from an Intelligence analyst and the program is “owned” by another directorate.

The second directive in the new administrative guidance has the greatest potential to change Navy Information Warfare’s capabilities and standing within the service. Unrestricted Line communities–traditional naval operators in surface ships, aviation, subsurface, expeditionary forces, and special warfare–have dedicated branches within the office of the Deputy Chief of Naval Operations for Warfare Systems, or OPNAV N9. OPNAV N9 is the resource sponsor and requirements manager for each of these warfare areas, essentially determining what the Navy needs, how much money will be required to meet those needs, and serving as a central node for coordinating and integrating all of the analysis and oversight needed to turn spreadsheets into ships and memos into missiles. Each warfare area is broken out into a subordinate element—Expeditionary Warfare is N95, Surface Warfare is N96, Undersea Warfare is N97, Air Warfare is N98—and collectively they are known as the “High Nines” on the OPNAV staff.

Previously, similar functions for Information Warfare communities were performed within the now-defunct OPNAV N2N6. Information Warfare is now split between OPNAV Intelligence (N2) and Information Warfare Requirements and Capabilities (N6N9). These entities are focused on resourcing and requirements for each of Information Warfare’s distinct specialties. Following this year’s administrative realignment, Information Warfare has its own dedicated resource sponsorship and requirements office: N99. This marks a promotion for Information Warfare, putting the community and its portfolio—Tactical and Enterprise Networks, and Nuclear Command, Control, and Communications (NC3); Oceanography and Navigation; IW Resources and Manpower; Intelligence Capabilities; Integrated IW Fires; and IW Future Capabilities—on as close to an equal footing as it has ever been to its Unrestricted Line peers. The new N99 office will not report directly to the OPNAV Warfighting Requirements and Capabilities (N9) office like its sister branches do, which does keep Information Warfare somewhat siloed from other communities. But when taken together with new opportunities for command at sea, Information Warfare Officers and their mission areas have never had so much visibility or influence within the Navy. A major issue for now, however, is that the number of billets available for Information Warfare requirements officers on the OPNAV staff remains largely unchanged. This means that in the near term, the newly-established N99 will likely perform the same job as its previous incarnation but in a different part of the org chart. This means a bigger pool of officers hunting for resources but with the same number of IWOs. Without significant manpower changes from Millington that realign the operational and staff rotations in officer careers, IW is liable to lack firepower in these resourcing fights.

Less heralded but no less important are the professional development and career progression opportunities now available for Information Warfare Officers. In the long term, this change may prove among the most profound of the whole realignment effort. There is a tongue-in-cheek aphorism that appropriation is governed by the Golden Rule: Whoever has the gold makes the rules. Unrestricted Line communities have built their officers’ career progressions with requirements officer and financial management tours. These key roles are delineated in official career path guidance promulgated by Navy Personnel Command, called out in promotion board precept language, and reserved for high performers who are often recruited and talent managed. The net effect is that trained personnel bring their critical expertise to the Navy’s seemingly endless stream of key requirements and resourcing discussions, ensuring their communities are best represented when budgeting. The Information Warfare community will stand to gain from prioritizing the billets and officers that fight for these resources. 

By carving out its own “High Nine” within the OPNAV staff, Information Warfare can push to achieve parity in both job execution and career trajectory with Unrestricted Line for officers assigned to N99 billets. Navy Information Forces and Personnel Command must first address inventory problems for Information Warfare officers at the O-4 to O-6 ranks, where numbers thin out dramatically. A retention bonus would surely help, but a more cost-effective solution would be to fix the billet structure for a career trajectory that better balances operational and staff roles. Information Forces and Personnel Command should then begin to call out requirements officer and financial management positions by name in board precepts to ensure upwardly mobile and successful officers are assigned to them. Subsequently, they should expect those officers to both excel in their work and be competitive for future promotion to positions of authority. This could begin to look more like the “golden path” that defines traditional officer careers. Common career markers like requirements, financial management, and OPNAV staff jobs bridge the cultural and operational differences between officers in otherwise separate communities and provide a common framework to build leaders in the Fleet. For their part, N99 officers should integrate into the rhythm and pace of their directorate counterparts, using that organizational parity to give Information Warfare programs their best shot in budget battles. Also, the new N99 can and should create its own culture internal to the organization to both breathe life into its daily tasks and project an image of unity and identity out to the rest of the Navy staff.

NAVADMIN 123/26 affords the Information Warfare Community a once-in-a-generation chance to overhaul its officer career paths and shift attention to resourcing and requirements, changes that would yield significant long-term benefits for both the community and its personnel. Information Warfare remains a growth industry within the Navy, and for good reason. As the Fleet generates, processes, analyzes, and demands more information to plan and execute operations worldwide, Information Warfare personnel are poised to meet those needs and innovate to fight and win our nation’s wars at sea. The challenge now is ensuring we continue to modernize resourcing, requirements, and mission sets without losing the advantages the community gained by forging a unified effort over the past two decades. The threat of intra-community drift is real and requires proactive leadership, clear guidance, and consistent cross-specialty engagement to ensure that administrative separation does not lead to operational and cultural divorce. The realignment of responsibilities outlined by the Navy’s recent administrative updates has extraordinary potential to both facilitate and make permanent those changes, but Information Warfare must strike while the iron is hot to build the kind of weapon system it can wield with great skill and confidence for years to come. If Information Warfare’s many communities can remain united through these changes, they–and the Navy–will be stronger than ever.

Lieutenant Commander Adam Reiffen is an Intelligence Officer currently serving in the Wargaming Department of the Naval War College. He previously served as a Federal Executive Fellow at Brown University’s Watson School of International and Public Affairs, as well as a Requirements Officer at OPNAV N2N6.

The opinions expressed are those of the author and do not reflect the views or policy of the U.S. Department of War, the Department of the Navy, or the U.S. government. No federal endorsement is implied or intended.

Featured image: A U.S. Sailor stands watch in the combat information center aboard Arleigh Burke-class guided-missile destroyer USS Donald Cook (DDG 75), June 8, 2026. (U.S. Navy photo)

Maritime Law

Discipline as a Tool to Achieve Readiness: A Utilitarian Approach to Discipline

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By Lieutenant Colonel Pete Combe, USMC

The goal of this article is to articulate one past commander’s approach to discipline, with a focus on improving operational readiness.  The author does not mean to imply that other O5 and O6 commanders pursue discipline for solely punitive reasons.  Rather, this is an attempt to articulate an approach built on rehabilitative potential and getting Marines “back in the fight.”  The framework discussed will rely largely on a “utilitarian” theory of discipline – one in which each decision a commander makes, and each punishment imposed on a Marine serves some larger purpose.1 

In this framework punishment does not exist for punishment’s sake, but serves some goal.  The article will proceed in four parts.  First, a description of the purpose and theory of discipline under the Uniform Code of Military Justice (UCMJ).  Second, a discussion of military theories of sentencing and their utilitarian value.  Next, outlines a utilitarian framework and potentially useful rules of thumb in  applying that framework using non-judicial punishment (NJP) as a demonstrative.2  Finally, a brief discussion of how to connect punishments to utilitarian principles.

1. Nature and Purpose of Military Law

The statutory mission of the United States Marine Corps is “… to provide fleet marine forces of combined arms, together with supporting air components, for service with the fleet in the seizure or defense of advanced naval bases and for the conduct of such land operations as may be essential to the prosecution of the naval campaign.”3  In short, the mission of the Marine Corps is to provide ready forces which are organized, trained, equipped, and staffed to conduct operations.4  With this larger mission in mind, the goal of any subordinate commander is to conduct operations as directed, and necessary to that end to maintain her unit at the peak of operational readiness.

One responsibility of commanders that is relevant to ensuring operational readiness is the use  of measures to impose appropriate administrative or disciplinary sanctions in response to substandard performance or misconduct.  These can range from purely administrative measures such as written counseling5 or extra-military instruction,6 through courts-martial.  Regardless of the tool employed, the purpose of military law is to “promote justice, deter misconduct, facilitate appropriate accountability, assist in maintaining good order and discipline, promote efficiency and effectiveness, and thereby strengthen the national security of the United States.”7  This broad statement of purpose encompasses a number of goals, both utilitarian and retributive, in order to serve the broader “strengthen[ed]…national security purpose” which exist exists outside any perceived need to punish the accused for the sake of punishment.8

There are other offices within the military disciplinary system that exist to deal with offenses of such heightened severity that punishment for the sake of punishment could be the most appropriate theory of discipline.9  The Offices of Special Trial Counsel come readily to mind, as they are tasked with making referral decisions and prosecuting the most serious offenses such as homicide, sex offenses, crimes involving harm to minor children and domestic partner abuse.10  For these types of serious offenses, retributive justice is a more viable theory than utilitarian for reasons beyond the scope of this piece.11

However, for many of the less serious offenses, I offer that retributive theories of punishment should not weigh in a commander’s calculus.  Non-Judicial Punishment (NJP) in particular is a commander’s tool, and one exercised solely within the discretion of the commander.12  Non-Judicial Punishment provides a commander with a broad range of disciplinary approaches to address minor offenses for which court-martial is not necessary to meet the needs of justice.13 NJP is intended to maintain good order and discipline, and promote positive behavior changes14 without the stigma of a court-martial conviction.15  It is this commander’s opinion that NJP is appropriate where the “needs of justice,” do not require punishment of the accused for the sake of punishment alone.  Rather, NJP is an appropriate tool where the circumstances of the offense and offender favor the primary goal of achieving positive change.16

II. Military Theories of Sentencing

The military justice system recognizes five theories of sentencing or punishment:17

  • Rehabilitation of the accused.
  • Incapacitation of the accused to further offend, sometimes couched as protection of society.
  • Maintenance of good order and discipline.
  • General18 and specific.19
  • Punishment of the accused.

Of these theories, the first four are primarily or solely utilitarian in nature – they serve a larger, if somewhat abstract or intangible, purpose aside from the imposition of punishment itself.20  The last is expressly retributive.

I argue that a purely retributive approach for cases of less serious offenses is both unnecessary and inconsistent with the policies governing NJP.  As previously expressed, NJP is intended to address minor misconduct for which permanent incapacitation is not required.  The purpose of NJP is to bolster military efficiency and good order and discipline, while returning Marines  who have demonstrated rehabilitative potential “to the fight.”  With that in mind, how then to apply a framework focused on achieving positive goals on behalf of both the individual Marine and the unit?

III. The Framework

I argue that the commander should ask three questions in assessing potential courses of disciplinary action, and that the first question embraces a theory of sentencing other than punishment.  Rehabilitation. 

A. Determining an Appropriate Forum

The three questions I ask of my staff and subordinates, are as follows:

  • Does the accused have potential for further useful service in his current assignment?
  • Does the accused have potential for further useful service in the Marine Corps, but in a different assignment?
  • If the answer to either question above is “no,” how do I go about creating a vacancy so that my unit can obtain another willing and motivated Marine?

Once those three questions are answered, the appropriate disciplinary forum is readily apparent.  If a Marine has the potential for further useful service in a special duty assignment, then administrative counseling alone may be sufficient.  If a Marine has the potential for further useful service in the Marine Corps, but not in a special duty assignment then relief for cause may be sufficient.21  Even if a Marine has potential for further useful service, NJP may still be appropriate.  The goal is simple.  So long as the Marine has the potential for further useful service, how do we go about realizing that potential? 

However, I contend that only by considering rehabilitative potential at the outset can a commander determine  the appropriate course of action.22  Imagine a commander neglecting to consider rehabilitative potential, and referring a Marine to a special court-martial at which the Marine is sentenced to a punitive discharge.  Even if the commander believes the Marine has rehabilitative potential, and would welcome the Marine back into her unit, she has lost that decision space.  The commander should also consider the “demand for court-martial,” should a Marine exercise their right to refuse NJP.23 In the event the accused refuses NJP, the commander must consider what actions to take.  Is court-martial appropriate, though not required?  Could the commander proceed with purely administrative actions such as relief for cause or administrative separation?

B. Assessing Rehabilitative Potential

How then to assess a Marine’s ability to return to productive service in either the unit, or the Marine Corps?  One needn’t start from zero – as there are a number of rehabilitative factors described in law and policy.24  These factors bearing on rehabilitative potential can generally be grouped into three categories: offender specific, offense specific, and unit impact related factors.

Offender specific factors relate to the accused’s past performance and future potential.  These can include individual character observed over time, the accused’s performance of duty, the accused’s moral fiber,25 the willingness or determination of the individual Marine to be rehabilitated; past instances of misconduct by the accused26 the impact of NJP on the Marine, and whether the accused has accepted responsibility for his actions.27

Offense specific factors include the nature and severity of the offense, which is a particularly relevant factor when determining appropriate forum.  Other offense related factors should include the accused’s role in the offense – was the Marine the principal offender, or did he aid or abet another?  Was the accused somehow induced to commit the offense by another more culpable person, or was the Marine naturally predisposed?28  In addition to taking corrective action at an organizational level, if the commander cannot put in place appropriate guardrails to mitigate against the same offense by another then a punishment consideration based upon the goal of general deterrence may be appropriate.29

Finally, unit wide considerations should also inform the appropriate punishment.  Perhaps the accused cooperated with the commander or law enforcement in investigating and addressing other offenses within the unit.30  While less concrete, there may be instances in which a certain disciplinary measure is appropriate to enhance good order and discipline within the unit.

In many cases this concept of rehabilitation is procedurally “built in.” In many instances a Marine must be counseled concerning shortcomings, provided an adequate time to rehabilitate, and then only if failing to do so can the Marine be processed for separation.31  Once the commander determines on a course of action – in our case, NJP – then I argue that the commander should focus on the four utilitarian theories of punishment discussed above: rehabilitation of the accused, incapacitation of the accused to reoffend, preservation of good order and discipline, and general and specific deterrence.

C. Nature of Punishments and Connection to Utilitarian Principles

Once the commander has assessed that the accused Marine has the potential for further useful service, but that imposition of NJP is still appropriate then she should consider what form of punishment is appropriate.  Punishment should be aimed towards the four utilitarian principles.  While the range of punishments available to the commander at NJP are not particularly severe, most utilitarian sentencing theorists argue that punishment should be no more severe than necessary to achieve the goals (deterrence, rehabilitation of the accused, or incapacitation of the accused) the sentencing authority seeks.32  Furthermore, while concepts of restorative justice aimed at restoring victims to a status quo ante have gained traction in civilian systems and certain administrative proceedings, the NJP process provides no function to achieve restorative justice.33

In crafting an appropriate sentence, it may help to consider which forms of theories best support a particular utilitarian theory of sentencing.  An admonition or reprimand may best support specific deterrence.  Restraints on liberty may best support general deterrence, and incapacitation of the accused from offending in the near future.  Reduction in grade is a visible action that may contribute to general deterrence, as well as preservation of good order and discipline.  The commander imposing NJP should carefully consider what forms of punishment will best achieve her goals.  This framework and concepts hold true for other administrative and disciplinary matters within the scope of the commander’s discretionary authority.

IV. Connecting Punishments to Utility

Assume at this point, following the rubric above, the commander has assessed the Marine’s rehabilitative potential, and whether to proceed with some form of discharge or administrative reassignment.  However, NJP does have lasting consequences and will remain in a Marine’s record for the remainder of their career.34  This is likely to have significant impacts on a Marine’s future opportunities for promotion or special duty / screenable assignments.35 Accordingly, the commander should carefully weigh the appropriate punishments, and give consideration to suspension, mitigation or remission and set-aside. 

A commander may suspend part of a sentence at NJP, declining to impose that sentence at the current time but retaining the option to impose any suspended portion of the sentence at a later date if the Marine commits further misconduct. The impact of a suspended punishment which is not later imposed is effectively no punishment – the suspended portion ceases to exist if the Marine stays out of trouble for an appropriate length of time (ordinarily 6 months).  The same is true if a punishment is remitted or set aside after imposition.36  Similarly, just because a commander considers a Marines case at NJP, does not mean that the commander must impose any punishment.  The commander may determine after hearing the evidence, that the Marine did not commit the charged offense(s), or that the misconduct is so minor as to warrant no imposition of punishment. 

These concepts can seem amorphous or difficult to pin down in the abstract.  Accordingly, a series of hypothetical examples which emphasize different theories of sentencing as appropriate to each individual case may be illustrative.  Each hypothetical case below is intended to highlight how a different theory of sentencing may appropriately contribute to utilitarian goals, getting Marines back into the fight, and ultimately bolstering readiness.

A. Staff Non-Commissioned Officer Fraternization

Hypothetical:  A Staff Non-Commissioned Officer (SNCO) assigned as an instructor at a formal school is suspected of violating a lawful general order which prohibits unduly familiar relationships with student personnel.  The SNCO has been counseled previously for non-sexual instances of unprofessional conduct with students, across several classes / school years. 

What punishment is appropriate from a deterrent standpoint?  In terms of specific deterrence, a verbal or written reprimand appears unlikely to deter the SNCO from offending further.  He’s already on notice that his conduct is unacceptable.  Thus, the commander should consider what punishment is apt to have a deterrent effect.  Restraints on liberty and forfeiture of pay are both available options. However, their deterrent effect on the SNCO is not entirely clear.

In this case the interests of good order and discipline are directly impacted by the accused’s position.  Removing the SNCO from his position, including any direct contact with students is likely an appropriate administrative measure.  Administrative removal and punishing the SNCO to restriction – including twice-daily check-ins with all other Marines on restriction – will send a powerful message to the unit.  All are subject to discipline, regardless of their grade or position.37

Restraints on liberty, coupled with administrative reassignment may also work to incapacitate the SNCO from offending in the future – at least in the short term.  By restricting the SNCO to locations in which students are not likely to be, along with administratively reassigning him to a role that has no contact with students, his access to students will be curtailed. 

If the commander determines that the SNCO lacks rehabilitative potential in the school environment, then a range of options including removing the Marine from the particular school either for the Good of the Service (GOS) or Relief For Cause (RFC) may be appropriate.38

B. Non-Commissioned Officer DUI

Hypothetical:  A Non-Commissioned Officer (NCO) with a history of alcohol related incidents is ticketed, but not yet convicted, for driving under the influence of alcohol (DUI) out in town.  The NCO has no prior history of DUI, nor do prior alcohol related incidents involve violence.  After initial actions including Substance Abuse Counseling Center assessment and treatment, the command must assess whether to proceed with NJP.39

Is an admonition or reprimand formally imposed at NJP likely to deter the NCO from further DUI or other alcohol related incidents?  As a threshold matter, it would appear not.  Aside from the imposition of NJP itself, there is no directly foreseeable link to remaining available punishments (restraints on liberty, reduction in grade, forfeiture of pay) and specific deterrence.

The interests of good order and discipline may also require that this NCO be removed from his position administratively.  In particular, if the NCO has a security clearance, his repeated irresponsible consumption of alcohol may impact his eligibility for access to classified information.40  However, from a disciplinary standpoint the visibility of the NCO’s conduct will likely be an important factor to consider.  If he is an NCO In Charge (NCOIC), then removal from his position or reduction in grade may be appropriate. 

The NCO here may be rendered incapable of further abusing alcohol either by restriction, or by limiting his disposable income by forfeiture of pay.  In conjunction, this may work to limit the NCO’s ability to commit the same or similar misconduct in the future. 

Should the commander decide that the NCO does not have rehabilitative potential, then the commander may choose to recommend separation of the Marine for failure of alcohol rehabilitation.41 

C. Non-Commissioned Officer on Barracks Duty

Hypothetical:  An NCO assigned overnight barracks duty falsifies logbook entries indicating that she made her required rounds.  The greater weight of evidence indicates that not only did she fail to make her rounds, but that she left her post without authorization.  Her whereabouts during this time are unknown.

Whether an admonition or reprimand is likely to deter the NCO from similarly offending in the future may depend on the circumstances of her absence from post.  For example, assume she is a single mother, who during the course of questioning freely admitted her misconduct, and explained that she left because pre-arranged childcare fell through. 

This case on its surface has a direct connection with good order and discipline, through the regular maintenance and accurate logging of security posture in the barracks.  However, in the circumstances described involving childcare, there are likely better ways to reinforce good order and discipline than through severe punishment.

D. Thoughts on General Deterrence

In theory, any sufficiently visible form of punishment serves general deterrence.  The concept of general deterrence is also closely related to the preservation of good order and discipline.  If Marines are aware of their fellow service member’s misconduct, and there is a visible consequence for that misconduct, this serves general deterrence.  If Marines are sufficiently deterred, this bolsters good order and discipline.

Commanders may also maximize the effect of the NJP proceeding itself.  This may include “command observers” during the NJP, to demonstrate to Marines that the commander is fair, impartial, and approaches the proceedings with integrity.42  If the accused requests witnesses be present, then the commander may permit those witnesses to remain in the room while the commander considers the evidence and makes a final decision.43  The commander may also provide the unit senior enlisted advisor a chance to address those present.  However, if deviating from the NJP guide in the JAGMAN,44 the commander should closely coordinate with the senior enlisted advisor and servicing Staff Judge Advocate to avoid any impermissible actions.45

Commanders should consider publication of the results of NJP to their units.46  The intent is not to embarrass the accused, but to show all Marines how the commander addresses misconduct.  Publication can also be used as a teaching tool for other Marines, and highlight where even “good” Marines may succumb to outside pressures.  Publication should be anonymized by removing the name of the Marine and the specific subordinate unit or section.  However, the publication should provide sufficient facts so that unit members can understand the misconduct and any mitigating factors.

V. Conclusion

Ultimately, this framework is about accomplishing one overarching goal – bolstering operational efficiency through exercise of the tools at a battalion or regimental commander’s discretion.  However, I argue that below the level of a court-martial punishment alone as a theory of sentencing has no place.47

At the root of this approach is a simple question, that should be foundational to formulating an appropriate punishment: does the accused have the potential for further useful service?  With this question as a basis, commanders can craft appropriate punishments at NJP, and either return good Marines to the fight, or create a vacancy for another willing volunteer.

Lieutenant Colonel Pete Combe is currently assigned as the Staff Judge Advocate, Marine Forces Reserve / South.  This article is informed by his career as a Marine Judge Advocate, and his experience as the Commanding Officer, Region 5, Marine Corps Embassy Security Group from 2024 to 2026.

The views expressed here are those of the author and are not intended to reflect or convey any official policy of the Department of the Navy, the Department of Defense, or the U.S. Government.

References

1. While this article uses the term “Marine,” one may well substitute the Service neutral term “servicemember,” or for that matter Sailor, Soldier, Airman, Guardian, or Guardsman.

2. Why non-judicial punishment (NJP) pursuant to Article 15 of the U.C.M.J.?  Because, when accepted by the Marine it is truly the only form of statutory punishment under the U.C.M.J. which is wholly within the discretion of the Commander.

3. 10 U.S.C. § 8063.

4. 10 U.S.C. §§ 161, 162.

5. Marine Corps Order 1900.16 w/CH-2, ¶ 6105.

6. JAGINST 5800.7G w/CH-2, ¶0103.

7. Manual for Courts-Martial (2024 ed.), I-1 (emphasis added).

8. See, e.g., Charles L. Pritchard, Jr., Punished as a Court-Martial May Direct, The Army Lawyer, 33 (December 2015).

9. One viable theory where the other four theories of sentencing may also play a role in crafting an appropriate sentence.

10. 10 U.S.C. 824a; 10 U.S.C. 1044f.

11. Pritchard, Punished as a Court-Martial May Direct, 35.

12. This in contrast to Administrative Separation Boards which include members, and generally an outside “separations authority.”  See. MCO 1900.16 w/CH-2, ¶1603.  Also, for courts-martial in which counsel, military judges, and panel members will play significant roles – and in which the commander must abandon desire for a specific result, and instead work to ensure the integrity of the process.

13. MCM, V-1.

14. I would argue that the use of the plural “servicemembers” here indicates the intent to effect positive behavior changes on the part of the accused, and others.

15. Id.

16. Pritchard, Punished as a Court-Martial May Direct, 35.

17. Pritchard; DA PAM 27-9.

18. Deterrence of others from committing the same or similar offense(s) in the future.

19. Deterrence of the accused from committing the same or similar offense(s) in the future.

20. Pritchard.

21. Relief for Cause (RFC) is a term of art used in Marine Corps screenable billets, and encompasses removal from a “screenable” billet prior to the expected / designated end of tour.  RFC is ordinarily used when a Marine’s conduct falls below that expected of a Marine in a high visibility assignment, and can either follow or be independent of NJP.  See, generally MCO 1326.6 w/CH-1, and MCO 1300.8 Chapter 3.

22. Obviously other factors will weigh in, such as the severity of the offense, impact to the unit, etc.  There are clearly offenses of such seriousness than rehabilitative potential should not be a consideration in determining an appropriate forum.

23. MCM, V-2.

24. See, for instance, MCM II-148 (RCM 1001(b)(5)); MCM V-1; DA PAM 27-9, pp. 116, 2051; MCO 1900.16 w/CH-2, ¶ 6309.

25. Though not entirely clear from the DA PAM 27-9 paragraph what this entails, perhaps it includes rescuing multiple students from grindylows in the Black Lake a la, Harry Potter.

26. MCM, V-1 (para. 1.d).

27. DA PAM 27-9, p. 2051.

28. Id.

29. A particularly useful tool for general deterrence, and one used by the author, is to publish the results of performance and misconduct proceedings (sufficiently anonymized to avoid the potential for embarrassment or humiliation) as a means to bolster the general deterrent effect.  See., e.g., JAGINST 5800.7G w/CH-2, ¶ 0115.

30. DA PAM 27-9, p. 2051.

31. MCO 1900.16 w/CH-2, ¶6105.  See, e.g., MCO 1900.16 w/CH-2, ¶¶ 6205 (Entry-Level Performance and Conduct), 6210.2 (Minor Disciplinary Infractions), 6210.3 (Pattern of Misconduct) – all of which require counseling and consideration of the rehabilitative guidelines discussed in ¶6105.  Contrast, for example, with ¶¶ 6210.4 (Sexual Misconduct), 6210.5 (Drug Abuse), 6210.6 (Commission of a Serious Offense), or 6210.8 (Sexual Harassment) – none of which require said counseling and consideration, and for some of which processing for separation is mandatory upon substantiating the conduct.

32. Bentham, supra, CH XIV, pt. XIII, “punishment ought [not] be more than what is necessary.”

33. See, e.g., MCO 5354.1G, Chapt. 7 and the discussion of informal resolution through conflict management (mediation) between a victim and accused in instances of sexual harassment.

34. MCO 5800.16, Vol. 14.

35. MCO 1326.6 w/CH-1.

36. MCM, V-7,8.

37. Though speculative, a SNCO in a special duty assignment may find acceptance of NJP preferable to either risking a court-martial, or being relieved for cause from that special duty assignment.

38. See, generally, MCO 1000.6 and MCO 1326.6 w/CH-1.

39. See, MCO 5300.17A.  The command will also potentially be required to initiate separation proceedings pursuant to MCO 1900.16 w/CH-2, ¶ 6209 – thought the commander may recommend retention if assessing the Marine has rehabilitative potential.

40. 32 C.F.R. 147.2.

41. MCO 1900.16 w/CH-2, ¶ 6209.  Separation processing may be mandatory at this point, but the commander may still recommend that the Marine be retained.

42. JAGINST 5800.7G w/CH-2, ¶ 0110.c.

43. MCM, V-3.

44. JAGINST 5800.7G w/CH-2, App. A-1-f

45. See, e.g., 10 U.S.C. § 837.

46. JAGINST 5800.7G w/CH-2, ¶0115.

47. And perhaps even at any level below a general court-martial.

Featured image: A U.S. Navy staff judge advocate questions a witness in a mock trial. (U.S. Air Force photo by Airman 1st Class Elizabeth Davis)

Information Warfare

Russia’s Drone Machinations: Reflexive Control and Cognitive Warfare in the Maritime Domain

1 Comment

By Catherine Marie Abbott

A version of this article was originally published by the Center for Maritime Strategy, a non-profit, non-partisan think tank and research institution dedicated to studying maritime issues and their context within wider American national security policy. This article is republished with permission.

Reflexive Control in the Maritime Domain

Originating in 1960s Soviet strategic military doctrine, reflexive control (RC) allows the user to employ and orchestrate manipulative tactics, including disinformation, deception, overload, provocation, and distraction, to compel adversaries to voluntarily adopt courses of action favorable to the user’s interests. Since the intensification of the Ukrainian-Russo War and NATO’s extended support to Ukraine, Russia has attempted to reconfigure the environment’s balance of power and assess the limit of the alliance’s collective deterrence.

The Federation, using its fleet of shadow tankers as a tool for asymmetric coercion, has leveraged the vessel’s plausible deniability to enable drone incursions for reconnaissance against the Western alliance. Flyovers have reportedly occurred in proximity to civilian areas, airports, critical infrastructure, and military installations, with at least 39 drone-related incidents between September 2025 and October 2025, and a suspected incident as recent as June 2026. Despite being generally interpreted as surveillance operations, drone incursions launched from naval platforms have received limited attention as instruments of cognitive warfare designed to alter NATO’s decision-making and induce strategic miscalculations.

Cognitive Warfare: Leveraging Plausible Deniability in the Maritime Domain

Russia’s augmented strategy leverages grey-zone asymmetry to conduct cognitive warfare against allied states by exploiting maritime legal safeguards and persistent drone activities. Notably, cognitive warfare, according to NATO, is deliberate strategic synchronized use of military and non-military to influence human cognition, degrade rational decision making, and secure a cognitive advantage over an adversary. Within this context, cognitive warfare specifically targets allied rational processing, strategic beliefs, and threat perceptions under the cover of constant, exploitable intrusions. In recent years, drone technology has fundamentally altered the calculus of modern conflict, allowing comparatively weaker states to counteract the air superiority of major powers through inexpensive, adaptable, and deniable means. While the vast majority of drone incursions occur along NATO’s eastern flank, with Russian and Ukrainian assets encroaching on Estonia, Latvia, Poland, and Romania, these instances are widely recognized as spillovers from the adjacent conflict. Notably, these incursions require sustained and aggressive air policing operations, as well as increased investment in NATO anti-drone capabilities.

However, unlike these generally regarded accidental land-border spillovers, drone operations launched from maritime platforms represent deliberate psychological efforts to impose societal distress and sow distrust between citizens and state authorities. Russian-affiliated sanctioned vessels such as Astrol 1 and Pushpa have been observed launching and operating airborne assets into NATO airspace. Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy has noted the use of these civilian-marked vessels for reconnaissance and potential sabotage coordination. Notably, when navigating in the Baltic Sea, shadow vessels operate exclusively within international waters and the exclusive economic zone (EEZ) of European littoral nations, using the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS) as an international legal shield against allied interdiction and seizures, effectively weaponizing international law to conduct cognitive warfare with near impunity.

NATO continues to contend with shadow vessels, with varying solutions and effects, including increased sanctions and barring known sanctioned vessels from accessing allied ports. However, the primary nexus constraining interdiction and seizure efforts being the region’s strict adherence to international conventions. Accordingly, UNCLOS does not permit seizure or interdiction operations and obligates states to allow freedom of movement on the high seas, with vessel authority delegated to the designated flag state. Shadow vessels notoriously employ deceptive tactics to maintain plausible deniability on the international stage, including opaque and decentralized ownership structures, shell corporations, flags of convenience, and opportunistic flag registrations. By amalgamating the legally insulated fleet into a nearly impenetrable mothership for drones, Russia can maintain plausible deniability while leveraging drones as an exploitable means of regional coercion.

Altering NATO’s Decision Calculus

Viewing itself as diametrically opposed to the West, Russia has leveraged a cumulative cognitive warfare diaspora, including deniable offensive cyber campaigns, misinformation operations, and the weaponization of existing migration pressures, to destabilize Western states and diminish institutional trust. Ideologically, Europe has exhibited political fragmentation, with NATO member states such as Slovakia, Hungary, and the Czech Republic shifting toward illiberal democratic models. Through these targeted efforts, Russia seeks to influence and exploit the vulnerable domestic political environments of NATO member states in ways that weaken alliance cohesion and reduce sustained support for Ukraine.

Because Russia’s RC strategy operates just below NATO’s Article 5 threshold, the Kremlin can observe and evaluate NATO’s collective responses, operational timelines, and escalation thresholds. Since the onset of the Ukrainian-Russo War in 2022, and following the annexation of Crimea in 2014, NATO has dynamically increased its kinetic deterrence posture. In conjunction with initiatives such as Eastern Sentry, the NATO Force Model, and the Allied Reaction Force, NATO has adopted a deterrence-oriented defensive posture, increasing conventional presence along its eastern flank. While these efforts strengthen deterrence, this shift from crisis management toward sustained territorial defense increases the frequency of NATO-Russia interaction, raising the probability of strategic miscalculation within a persistently contested operational environment.

Notably, maritime-enabled drone incursions function as a key instrument of Russia’s RC strategy to diminish institutional trust and generate perceptions of insecurity among NATO allies. Russia’s maritime hybrid campaign has coincided with repeated damage to subsea infrastructure in the Baltic Sea domain, alongside sustained surveillance and mapping of NATO’s critical undersea infrastructure (CUI) as pre-crisis preparation. Repeated incursions conducted via shadow fleet vessels function as observable probes that evaluate NATO’s deterrence, attribution capacity, and response timelines within the gray-zone threshold. Despite increased defensive measures, the persistence of such incidents may erode perceptions of institutional reliability and alliance security guarantees.

If NATO responds to persistent gray-zone activities with kinetic measures, it risks reinforcing the central dilemma of RC: restraint is interpreted as strategic weakness and an inability to provide security guarantees, while escalation enables Russia to frame NATO as the aggressor, thereby reinforcing broader narratives of anti-Western sentiment, hostility, and escalation.

Strategic Considerations for NATO

While NATO has undertaken significant aggressive efforts to counter Russia’s shadow fleet activities, including initiatives such as Baltic Sentry and the Nordic Warden System, these mechanisms primarily focus on protecting CUI and monitoring suspicious maritime activities. Notably, these strategies do not address the vessels as drone-enabled platforms, requiring NATO to consider initiatives targeting maritime-enabled drone incursions.  

Firstly, NATO cannot allow maritime-drone-enabled incursions to become a normalized non-kinetic activity. If left unchecked, Russia will perceive the passivity as permissive, emboldening the Federation to test alliance resolve through escalating behavior. Russia’s reflexive control strategy primarily relies on sustained ambiguity to reconfigure the decision-making calculus of a target; therefore, such incursions are likely to continue, if not exacerbate, over time to achieve its salami-slicing tactics to gradually reduce alliance credibility and security apparatus without invoking Article 5. Accordingly, NATO requires a comprehensive attribution mechanism addressing continual unauthorized drone activity, including a coordinated identification system linking vessels to drones, as well as non-kinetic interception strategies such as leveraging radio frequency jamming to diminish links between drones and pilots. Coastal states maintain sovereignty over their territorial sea and the above airspace, providing a legal basis for states to regulate unauthorized aerial activity within territorial waters.

Simultaneously, NATO must continue to expand legal efforts to address shadow vessels. Although, according to UNCLOS, surveillance conducted by vessels operating within a coastal state’s EEZ is not inherently prohibited, with its legality depending on the activity conducted and the status of the vessel permitting it. Shadow fleet vessels equipped with specialized surveillance systems, military-grade communication equipment, or drone launch capabilities may challenge their designation as ordinary commercial vessels, especially when operating in proximity to CUI. Given that civilian vessels under UNCLOS do not maintain equivalent sovereign protections afforded to military vessels, NATO member states should reassess whether vessels engaged in state-directed intelligence collection or military support activities can continue to benefit from the legal assumptions afforded to legitimate commercial actors.

Conclusion

Russia is leveraging multi-domain campaigns as part of its greater RC strategy. While not actively seeking conventional warfare with the Alliance, it is simultaneously defining the informational and operational environment in ways that preserve escalation optionality and strategic positioning in the event of a near-peer conflict. In this sense, Russia’s maritime-enabled RC has increasingly determined NATO’s decision-making environment through sustained uncertainty and ambiguity by leveraging regional vulnerabilities and international frameworks. Given the fragmented and expansive nature of the maritime domain, NATO is likely to contend with this challenge over an extended period, as efforts to constrain shadow vessel fleet activity are offset by Russian adaptation through vessel reconstitution. Currently, Russia is incorporating known sanctioned vessels, such as Pushpa, now Feniks, into its naval directory while continuing to acquire new tankers for shadow fleet activities, sustaining conditions that enable sanctions evasion, infrastructure disruption, and its maritime-enabled drone incursions as part of its larger RC strategy.

Catherine Marie Abbott holds a master’s degree in security policy studies from George Washington University and a bachelor’s degree in political science from the University of Missouri-Kansas City, specializing in maritime security, intelligence analysis, and counterintelligence. Her research primarily focuses on maritime logistics, emerging technology, and intelligence processing, with a distinct focus on analyzing overlooked variables and externalities that disrupt strategic decision-making.

The views and opinions are those of the author and do not reflect or represent those of her employer or any other organization with which she is affiliated.

Featured image: The Tactical Resupply Vehicle-150 lands on the beach after a series of contested logistics experimentations from ship to shore as part of Project Convergence-Capstone 4 at Camp Pendleton, Calif., Feb. 29, 2024. (U.S. Army photo by Spc. Howard Lee)