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Podcast

Sea Control 472 – Littoral Security with Dr. Prakash Gopal

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By Jared Samuelson

Dr. Prakash Gopal joins the program to discuss his dissertation topic, littoral security. Dr Prakash Gopal is a former Indian naval officer with over two decades of experience in maritime security operations, policy and strategy. He was a Research Fellow at the National Maritime Foundation, India from 2016-18. In 2018 Prakash took up a PhD position at the Australian National Centre for Ocean Resources and Security, University of Wollongong. He completed his PhD in April 2023.

Download Sea Control 472 – Littoral Security with Dr. Prakash Gopal

Jared Samuelson is Co-Host and Executive Producer of the Sea Control podcast. Contact him at Seacontrol@cimsec.org.

This episode was edited and produced by Jonathan Selling.

Capability Analysis

The Royal Canadian Navy Must Be Equipped for Real-World Pacific Scenarios

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By Dr. Julian Spencer-Churchill and Alexandru Filip

Introduction

With tension level ever increasing in the Pacific, Canada must prepare for future naval threats from revisionist states, which threaten international order and the peace of fellow democracies. In August, Ottawa deployed three frigates of the Royal Canadian Navy (RCN) to the Pacific to demonstrate freedom of navigation against encroachments by the Chinese Coast Guard. This posturing, coupled with a willingness to act along side allies, sends a strong signal of determination to maintain international norms, while also preparing for a fight against aggravating Chinese and Russian hostilities which will no doubt pull Canada into a wider conflict if deterrence fails. But Canada’s current naval capabilities fall short of meeting great power threats, which may diminish its usefulness in supporting allies in a Pacific conflict.

Canadian Mission Sets in Pacific Conflict

In the event of war in the Pacific, most likely confronting China over Taiwan, Ottawa will adopt postures and mission sets in support of allies. Canadian military missions could consist of a wide range of missions to include convoy protection across the Pacific (possibly up to the East coast ports of Taiwan, Philippines and Okinawa) with an emphasis on anti-submarine warfare (ASW), air defense against long-range and submarine-launched and island-based missiles, and littoral duties to include defense against small attack craft hidden in estuaries.

Beyond warfare mission sets, Canadian military forces could be used for blockade enforcement in the open seas, along the Ryukyu Islands, at the Malacca, Sunda, Lombok and Makassar straits of Indonesia, the Straits of Hormuz, and in the Indian Ocean against Chinese allies like Iran, Pakistan, Sri Lanka, Bangladesh, and Myanmar. If the Kremlin provides material support to Beijing, the Royal Canadian Navy (RCN) could assist or reinforce U.S. arctic inspections for war contraband at the Bering Strait and the Northwest Passage. Canadian military forces could also help escort U.S., Japanese, or British aircraft/helicopter carrier groups operating in the Philippine Sea or the Indian Ocean. Canadian military forces could also provide support to other allied platforms capable of conducting long-range deep strike missions against bases and sensors within mainland China. However, supporting such a kinetic mission sets during wartime may escalate Chinese Communist Party (CCP) retaliation to Canadian soil attacks from conventional hypersonic weapons against economic targets such as at Fort McMurray in Alberta, or the Great Whale hydroelectric projects in Quebec.

PACIFIC OCEAN (July 18, 2016) The Royal Canadian Navy Halifax-class frigate Her Majesty’s Canadian Ship Calgary (FF 335) transits the Pacific Ocean during Rim of the Pacific 2016. (U.S. Navy photo by Mass Communication Specialist 2nd Class Ryan J. Batchelder)

Canadian military forces could also conduct surveillance of key transhipment points against states Beijing-aligned states, such as the Republic of South Africa and the Cape of Good Hope, and Cuba and the Panama Canal. In the unlikely contingency of an attempted breakout from the first island chain of the Chinese PLAN (People’s Liberation Army – Navy), Canada’s Harpoon-equipped Halifax class frigates may be employed as part of a surface action group (SAG). Canadian ASW helicopters operating from the deck of the Halifax frigates, and Aurora maritime surveillance aircraft, could also could also support high-risk contingency mission such as assisting allied submarines to hunt the PLAN’s six Jin class ballistic missile submarines (SSBNs) in the South China Sea, the Central Pacific, or even Russia’s SSBN bastion in the Sea of Okhotsk.

The Canadian military could also provide at-sea-replenishment, a key enabling mission to overcome vast distances involved in a Pacific campaign. This mission could be will be fulfilled by Protecteur class vessels, currently being built. All of these contingencies will involve the RCN, in conjunction with Canada’s maritime surveillance capabilities, to operate from allied Pacific bases, such as in Japan, the Philippines, or Taiwan, protected by elements of the Royal Canadian Air Force (RCAF) and Army.

Canada’s Naval Capabilities

Canada’s current naval capabilities are inadequate for a determined operation in the Pacific theater. Canada currently has 12 multi-role Halifax class frigates, four Victoria class submarines, and 14 CP-140 Aurora maritime patrol aircraft. These platforms, and Ottawa’s future Canadian Surface Combatant (CSC), must be assessed as seriously deficient compared to their most likely combat missions. Modern vessels are judged by the numbers of vertical launch system (VLS) tubes, of which the U.S. has 9,044, China has at least 2,000, and Canada will have zero built-in VLS for at least the next half-decade. Canada’s 288 obsolete above-deck VLS on its Halifax frigates, are far more vulnerable to shrapnel.

The current Halifax class frigates that are the mainstay of the Canadian surface fleet are outclassed and limited in combat against opposing navy’s ships or even as deterrents. Their older Sea Giraffe 180 HC and SMART-S MK2 radars only provide surface and air radar coverage to a maximum of 100 and 135 nautical miles, respectively.

For comparison, PLAN’s most common frigate, the Type 054A Jiangkai II (of which they have around 30 vessels) has a Type 366 radar. This variant is a reworked Chinese version of the Russian MR-331 Mineral-ME radar, covers surface targets to 135 nautical miles. It also possesses a Type 382 radar, an adaptation of the Soviet MR-710 Fregat M2EM present on Russian Sovremennyy class destroyers, which provides coverage to 161 nautical miles for air and surface searches. In terms of weaponry, the PLAN Type 054 outperforms the Halifax class in the form of its YJ-83 anti-surface ship missile (100 nautical mile range) outfitted with 32 VLS cells, which exceeds the Halifax’s compliment of RGM-84L Harpoon II (75 nautical mile range). While it may seem that the disadvantages posed to Jiangkai II are peripheral, these seemingly marginal issues will be further compounded because the RCN will be operating in an environment in which it is outnumbered. It will also be deployed against a seemingly pervasive littoral air threat in the form of PLAAF (People’s Liberation Army – Air Force) H-6 bombers and other sea denial anti-ship cruise and ballistic missiles.

Despite the present surface capability gap, the Canadian Surface Combatant (CSC) project of fifteen warships by the early-2030s, offers enhanced capabilities for many of the Royal Canadian Navy’s future operational requirements. Each CSC will feature multi-load-out capable 32 VLS, AN/SPY-7 radar, and RIM-66M-6 (maximum range of 90 nautical miles) missiles that will enable a far greater surface to air capability. The BridgeMaster E radar provides a surface search capability of around 96 nautical miles, which is a slight reduction from the Halifax class, but compensates with a complement of RGM-184A Naval Strike Missiles (NSMs) with a 100 mile range.

This puts the CSC a step above the Halifax-class with radar and weapon arrangements that are closer to China’s Type 052 Luyang III, China’s most common destroyer class. While the Luyang class fields YJ-18 Anti-Ship Cruise Missile (ASCM), which boasts a range of around 300 nautical miles, the CSC fields Block IV Tomahawk cruise missiles (Raytheon has been looking at turning into antiship missiles for naval combat). Their retrofit could offer a solution to longer range targeting and act as a deterrent against Chinese and even Russian surface vessels, allowing these ships to engage in blockade operations along strategic sea lines of communication from a significant distance. This would allow the RCN to carry out escort missions supporting convoys through the Indonesian Archipelago to Australia, Japan, and Taiwan, while also providing surface, air, and anti-access/area-denial (A2/AD) against Chinese long-range bombers and attack aircraft.

Concept image of the Canadian Surface Combatant. (Canadian government photo)

The PLAAF H-6’s principal anti-ship missiles (ASM) ordnance outranges the CSC’s anti-air capability. However, the H-6’s Type 245 radar only has a range of 150km, and the CSC’s Electronic Warfare (EW) countermeasures could jam the bomber’s sensors, and even the Airborne Early Warning (AEW) radar of Chinese aircraft patrolling nearby, from exactly pinpointing its location, forcing the enemy to get closer and possibly within range of the CSC’s surface-to-air missiles (SAM). The CSC’s AN/SPY-7 multi-mission radar is capable of tracking missiles headed towards other ships in its flotilla.

The CSC also provides an enhanced underwater sensing capability. The CSC’s Modular Multistatic Variable Depth Sonar System and S2150-C Hull-Mounted Sonar System allow the ship to navigate through mined sea lanes. The CSC’s can embark the CH-148 Cyclone helicopter, which hosts a suite of sensing equipment to conduct Intelligence, Surveillance and Reconnaissance (ISR) beyond the ship’s horizon. The CSC’s sonar capability, in conjunction with the ASW capable CH-148 Cyclone helicopter, will serve instrumental against PLAN and Beijing-allied submarines, such as North Korea, which can launch long-distance torpedoes and stand-off anti-ship missiles. The RCAF’s anticipated procurement of the P-8A Poseidon maritime patrol reconnaissance aircraft (MPRA), equipped with an outfit of sensing and attack equipment to include magnetic anomaly detectors (MAD), sonobuoys, surface-search radars, and Mark 54 Torpedoes, operating with the CSC will critically enhance ASW capabilities.

These ships also will fulfill the Anti-Surface Warfare (ASuW) mission set that involves targeting enemy ships and aircraft, which would conduct similar adversarial mission sets. The CSC could fulfill the role of a picket, technically the supporting role of being used as a “forward radar observer,” because of its radar and electronic warfare (EW) systems that could mask friendly ships and aircraft by jamming. Through an integrated or combined effort, Canadian or allied P-8As could launch long range anti ship missiles (LRASM) or Rapid-Dragon anti-ship cruise missiles (ASCM), while receiving over-the-horizon (OTH) and midcourse guidance towards their targets from Canadian CSCs. This would allow aircraft and ships in the area to utilize emissions control (EMCON) procedures to remain hidden from Chinese passive electronic intelligence (ELINT) sensors.

Canada is overdue for an upgrade to its submarine fleet. This new fleet should be composed of nuclear submarines capable of deterrence patrols, surveillance, and action across both the great distances and extended deployments required of the Pacific or Canada’s Arctic archipelagic theatre. Theses subs should conduct patrols to avoid a repeat of the lacunae of the Cold War, when the Soviet Union operated submarines through the Northwest Passage undetected. In peacetime and in the lead up to conflict or war, these submarines should conduct intelligence gathering operations including signals intelligence (SIGINT), in conjunction with organizations such as the Canadian Communication Security Establishment (similar to the U.S. National Security Agency), responsible for foreign SIGINT operations.

Operation Ivy Bells is similar example of peacetime SIGINT conducted by the United States during the Cold War. From the beginning of the 1970s until 1981, submarines would transport divers into the Sea of Okhotsk where they then tapped into Soviet undersea communications cables. Despite advances in technology, there is still a distinct operational necessity in regards to using submarines for intelligence collection or observation operations, which would require them to penetrate deep into unfriendly territorial waters, or even sabotage operations in the event of hostilities.

Conclusion

Any military action will have significant implications for Canada’s domestic politics and Ottawa may choose to opt out of certain taskings, especially regarding sentiments of the substantial recently immigrated Chinese-Canadian population. However, aside from the difficulty of politically micro-managing the daily mission of Canadian vessels in a rapidly changing operational theatre, this type of participation avoidance may provoke a critical response from Washington. Worse still, not having sufficient fleet capability to confront the contingencies faced by Pacific allies will leave Canada severely marginalized, with implications for its interests in the Arctic, commerce, and even Canada’s strategic autonomy.

Dr. Julian Spencer-Churchill is associate professor of international relations at Concordia University. He authored Militarization and War (2007) and of Strategic Nuclear Sharing (2014). He published extensively on Pakistan security issues and arms control and researched contracts at the Office of Treaty Verification at the Office of the Secretary of the Navy and then for Ballistic Missile Defense Office (BMDO). He is a consultant that conducted fieldwork in Bangladesh, India, Indonesia, and Egypt. He is a former Operations Officer, 3 Field Engineer Regiment, from the end of the Cold War to shortly after 9/11. Follow him on X (formerly Twitter) @Ju_Sp_Churchill as well as other following links: Publishing 7, Muckrack, Concordia, Canada, Youtube, and the Canadian Centre for Strategic Studies.

Alexandru Filip is an International Relations student at Concordia University, Montreal. He is also an analyst and editor at the Canadian Center for Strategic Studies research institute. His research focuses on strategic and security studies, with a particular interest in naval, air, and nuclear capabilities. He has previously published in RealClearDefense.

Featured Image: The Royal Canadian Navy Halifax-class frigate HMCS Calgary (FFH-335) departs Pearl Harbor, Hawaii (USA), to begin the at-sea phase of Rim of the Pacific (RIMPAC) 2014. (U.S. Navy photo)

Drones/Unmanned

Unmanned Ships: A Fleet to Do What?

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By Jonathan Panter

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Missions of the Navy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Risks of Concentration

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

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

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

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

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

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

Beware Innovation for Innovation’s Sake

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

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

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

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

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

Indo-Asia-Pacific

Advocating by Doctrine: The Pakistan Navy’s Experience

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This article is adapted from from a research paper published in Comparative Strategy, Volume 42 – Issue 4. 

By Dr. Khuram Iqbal and Muneeb Salman

Written military doctrines should inform the most basic principles on “how to fight.” But what happens when a doctrine does not primarily concern itself with this question and instead resorts to advocacy? Take, for example, Indian Maritime Doctrine, to which Indian naval expert Iskander Rehman ascribed an advocatory function. In a recently published paper, we argue that the strategic culture of the Pakistan military, characterized by an aversion to documented instructions and the perception of advantage in maintaining strategic ambiguity, led to a similar expression of advocacy in the Maritime Doctrine of Pakistan. The strategic cultural imprint is so strong that it has allowed only limited change in response to external factors, such as the intensifying major power competition and changing strategic stability in the adjoining maritime region. Developments like these can have implications on how military-strategic doctrines are seen, especially in developing countries with smaller navies.

Military Doctrine in Pakistan

The strategic culture of Pakistan is rooted in a quest for security that is influenced primarily by three factors: perceived hostility with India due to contentions following partition, including the war in Kashmir; the threat of a two-front war due to tensions with Afghanistan; and the perception of lack of strategic depth due to the concentration of Pakistan’s population and infrastructure along the Indus River. These factors prompted Pakistan to adopt a policy of opposition to India, prioritizing defense by procuring foreign (mostly Western) weapon systems and seeking diplomatic and military alliances. These policy choices became a part of the country’s overarching strategic culture.

The military-strategic doctrine of the country also evolved in the same strategic cultural context. Due to the perception of lack of strategic depth, the overall strategic doctrine was based on deterrence by denial and, in the event of war, starting a limited conflict that would terminate early due to high costs and third-party intervention. The same concept was extended to the use of nuclear weapons after nuclear tests by both India and Pakistan in 1998, when Pakistan rejected a mutual ‘no first use’ offer by India. Despite these developments, the military doctrine of the country remains informal and ambiguous. This is due primarily to two reasons: the military forces of Pakistan inherited the British aversion to written doctrines, and the intentional strategic ambiguity that Pakistan maintains to have leverage over a disparately advantaged adversary.

The British military has a long history of avoiding written doctrine and relying instead — like many allied countries in the years during and after the Second World War — on joint doctrinal documents, such as the NATO Allied Tactical Publication series. The first British Naval War Manual came out in 1960, yet there was a 35-year gap between the Manualissued in 1960 and British Maritime Doctrine adopted in 1995 for the Royal Navy. In Pakistan, all the manuals and guiding documents of doctrinal nature used in the armed services have been either classified or restricted. Even the latest military doctrines of the Pakistan Army (2010) and Pakistan Air Force (2007) are restricted to authorized service personnel only.

There is also a tendency of adopting ambiguity at a doctrinal level due to Pakistan’s conventional asymmetry vis-à-vis the traditionally perceived adversary India. Decision-makers in Islamabad believe that maintaining an ambiguous doctrine and posture will leave India without any firm estimates about the cost of war with Pakistan, thereby deterring war. This view has been accepted by scholarship both at home and abroad.

Doctrinal Culture in the Pakistan Navy

Doctrinal ambiguity also persists in the Pakistan Navy, and it is most pronounced in the area of nuclear deterrence. The development of the service’s sea-based nuclear capability started as a response to the perceived threat of India’s rapidly developing naval nuclear program. Senior naval officials in Pakistan claimed to have the capability to deploy strategic weapons at sea as early as 2008. While the Naval Strategic Forces Command was established at the Naval Headquarters in Islamabad in 2012, Pakistan did not test fire the Babur-3 submarine launched cruise missile (SLCM) until 2017. However, ambiguity around second-strike capability persists because the Babur-3 SLCM is not capable of long-range strategic (counter value) targeting. Contributing to this ambiguity, the Maritime Doctrine of Pakistan (2018) states that “Attainment of sea-based second strike capability in the neighborhood demands a robust sea based strategic deterrence. Completion of nuclear triad would enable Pakistan Navy to reinforce strategic deterrence in the region.”

Another reason for the lack of written doctrinal documents in the Pakistan Navy is that a culture of reading is absent in the ranks and ratings, and most instructions and orders are learned and communicated through customary practice and oral communication. One of the few doctrinal documents in the Pakistan Navy is the restricted Compendium of Fleet Orders that describes the role, functions, tasks, code of conduct, etc. for all officers and ratings in four volumes; however, it has little readership even among the officer cadre, which relies largely on customary conduct and anecdotes. Importance of the latter is reflected in the fact that anecdotes from the Navy were collected by a retired officer Rear Admiral Mian Zahir Shah and published in two volumes by the Pakistan Navy Book Club in years 2001 and 2016.

Ripples of Major Power Competition in the Indian Ocean

Across the border, the Indian Navy has also strived for increasing its influence among the armed services. Rehman’s assessment of the Indian Maritime Doctrine as an advocatory document was rooted in the oft quoted status of the Indian Navy as a “Cinderella service” — in reference to the neglected sister in the Disney story — and its limited involvement in Indian strategic decision-making. Yet, the Indian Navy supplemented its advocatory doctrine by an Indian Maritime Strategy published in 2007, and consequent updates of both the Indian Maritime Doctrine (2009) and the Strategy (2015). The Indian Navy also built a case for itself and succeeded in initiating major plans for modernization thanks to the increasing volume of India’s economy and the country’s strategic leaning towards its status as a “net security provider” in the region.

The strategic environment in the Indian Ocean region has transformed rapidly in the past decade. The Quad that formed in 2007 as a coalition for disaster relief and non-traditional security concerns has now consolidated into a regular platform for military exercises between India, the United States, Australia, and Japan. The India-U.S. partnership has cemented with the signing of the Basic Exchange and Cooperation Agreement (BECA) and its associated agreements, as well as the increasing procurement of military platforms, including the P8I Poseidon maritime patrol aircraft. India and France have also been expanding their military cooperation with permanent deployments at Reunion.

At the same time, the United States deployed a nuclear ballistic missile submarine at Diego Garcia last year, a rare move for the U.S. Navy at its remote base in the Indian Ocean. Lately, the AUKUS deal has also sparked debate on increasing nuclearization of the Indian Ocean region with the Indian strategic community particularly divided on the matter. These webs of alliances in the region are all concerned with one security risk as their referent: China.

China’s interests in the Indian Ocean have increased significantly over the past decades. Even though they are primarily commercial, the basing of Chinese Navy ships at Djibouti and the commercial acquisition of Gwadar and Hambontota ports have raised eyebrows in India and the West. The presence of Chinese survey vessels have also increased in the region, which India frequently protests and even resists. China has its own reservations in the broader Indo-Pacific region against the formation of an “Asian NATO” that includes India in its web of Western alliances.

Amidst these changes in the Indian Ocean region, the Indian Navy successfully put in pipeline plans to modernize and grow its fleet to 170 ships, including eighteen conventional submarines, six nuclear submarines, and at least two aircraft carriers by 2030. However, given the present resource allocation and fleet size of 130 ships, the Indian Navy may fall short of its target. Regardless, the present fleet with an aircraft carrier and a nuclear ballistic missile submarine, and another one of each platform under construction, has enough potential to create ripples and disturb any perceptions of strategic stability in the Indian Ocean region.

The Pakistan Navy’s Course in the Indian Ocean

Situated within intertwining alliances and the interactions of great powers, Pakistan finds itself between a rock and a hard place. The country has been a traditional Western ally, assisting the West and the United States intimately during the Cold War, from the U2 crisis to the Soviet-Afghan war, and later after the Cold War in the War on Terror. Pakistan has also been an important maritime partner in the Combined Maritime Forces (CMF) coalition that started in 2004 to ensure maritime security in the Western Indian Ocean. Subsequently, the Pakistan Navy commanded CMF’s Combined Maritime Task Forces 150 (Maritime Security) and 151 (Counter-Piracy) on 12 and 10 occasions respectively, the most among all participating countries. However, Pakistan’s close diplomatic and security ties to China and its participation in the China-Pakistan Economic Corridor (CPEC) led to a debate both within and outside on whether the country did, or needs to, change sides. Given this backdrop, Pakistan now situates itself for navigating the rough waters of increasing major power competition in the Indian Ocean region.

Returning to the doctrinal aspect, if the Pakistan Navy falls in line with the culture of maintaining ambiguity and is inclined to operate in the absence of widely documented doctrines, why did the service release a formal service doctrine in 2018? The official press release announcing the doctrine stated that the “MDP [Maritime Doctrine of Pakistan] will act as a stimulus in sensitizing the public at large, shape opinions and become instrumental in providing a sense of direction to the national maritime sector of Pakistan.” This is an affirmation of the advocatory purpose of the document, resulting from the fact that the Pakistan Navy has been the most under-resourced of the country’s military services despite dealing with the gap in nuclear deterrent capability and embarking on an ambitious fleet modernization program in the mid-2010s to offset conventional asymmetry. The outgoing Naval Chief Admiral Zafar Mehmood Abbasi in 2020 announced the target for a 50 ship fleet by the next decade. However, for this to materialize, the Navy needs more resources.

Vying for a Greater Slice of the Pie

Resource allocation has always been a problem for the Pakistan Navy. During the first budgetary year (1947-48), the government of Pakistan spent around 70 percent of the budget on defense, amounting to Rs. 43.2 million per month. The Navy only received Rs. 18.1 million for the whole budgetary year, while the rest was allocated to the Army fighting India in Kashmir. The budgetary issues continued for years, leading to the resignation of the naval chief HMS Choudri in 1959. After suffering losses during the 1971 war with India, the Navy adopted a strategy of sea control within a “defensive zone” to avoid a blockade of the country’s ports. The war experience and threat perceived from India continue to drive the Navy’s strategic considerations to date, very much in line with the overall strategic culture. Therefore, the increasing fleet size as well as augmentation of nuclear deterrent of the Indian Navy necessitates sharply the qualitative expansion of the Pakistan Navy to maintain strategic stability vis-à-vis India.

In addition to seeking greater resource allocation, the Navy also enjoys considerable influence in providing direction and expertise to the maritime sector. The Navy dominates key positions in several maritime institutions, including the Karachi Shipyard and Engineering Works, Karachi Port Trust, and the Pakistan National Shipping Corporation. The government tasked the Pakistan Navy with formulating a National Maritime Policy and National Maritime Strategy in 2010. Both documents, prepared in 2011, are still awaiting cabinet approval. Lack of government interest in maritime issues also incentivized the Navy to advocate for the overall development of the maritime sector of Pakistan. The present emphasis by the Navy is on a greater share of the budget for itself and for development of the maritime sector to uplift the national economy and support the defense budget.

The Pakistan Navy’s doctrinal experience shows that written military doctrines may carry other objectives than improving warfighting, such as advocating for greater relevance of a particular service or increasing government policy attention. Regardless of the objectives, such advocatory doctrines still reflect military-strategic cultural considerations even if they deviate from established norms, which in Pakistan’s case are the norms of doctrinal ambiguity and the absence of documented doctrine. The strategic-cultural considerations mediated the influence of major power competition upon the development of the Pakistan Navy’s doctrine. However, the service’s immediate priority still appears to be balancing parity with India rather than picking sides in the regional competition.

Dr. Khuram Iqbal is an Honorary Associate Professor in the Department of Security Studies and Criminology at Macquarie University, Australia. He previously served as the Head of Department at the Department of International Relations, National Defence University Pakistan, where he also lectured for the National Security and War Course.

Muneeb Salman is an Assistant Research Associate at Islamabad Policy Research Institute, a think tank affiliated with the National Security Division of Pakistan. He previously worked for more than two years at the Maritime Study Forum, an Islamabad based think tank focused on maritime studies.

Featured image: KARACHI, Pakistan (Feb. 13, 2023) The Pakistan Navy ship Taimur fires rounds during the multinational naval exercise Aman near the country’s port city of Karachi. (Asif Hassan/AFP via Getty Images)